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Chaos Brewing Up A Cross

the sign post at the crossed roads back before


the trails met back before there was time again


drifting by the landscape design oft had for a


garden innarticulate creation basks in the abyss


bursts through the screen door unto a two way


street cars go by holding one and the same free


minds think nought found eyes on the clock it


a freudian slip capitalized the f in if for forgotten


whimsicality fatal meandering thoughtless dawn


death defying mastery of spindles pin prick too


sharpen infinity pinched cursive only girls twist


only womens room in the back of the spidered


broken mirrors speak soliloquizing splintered


bleeding read it was a speciality that it was a


wooden mast of the ship sailing with heaviness


weight of the side flipped which will it be today


tomorrow was yesterday ever ending in delight


never to be found again in the rite of white


half a moon ago it twas just written beneath


sign the ink in scripture circling each plum line


vertical incline enter from the exit glass chin


jaw smoker crystalized words at the beginning


writing star shooting through out emptiness


alive in the mind of the night sky trailing each


the constellations three twice round the planets


entirely stitching up the seams of the scenes


directionless upon the stage reality disappears


more quickly than the pocket watched rabbit hops


down through the hole in the cap of magic


undefined indifference yet definition madness


soaring reality's most reaching dream dreaming


sleeps most dreadful dream consciousness of


the serpentine slythering in minds crookedly


creating nothingness wherefore unto for most


unbeknownst irrelevantly, what it could be and


where what shall be shall be, what it is for one is


most definitively past on both sides removed


more about the consumption than the


consummation of another date marked grave


beneath the tree tangled in the roots of a stone


each thought drifts on alone and every night


the same devil rope swigging vine like history

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