the first flight

No reason to write is always the best sign there is actually a beast east of here ready to rise

Not a line by nine or some other shape simply stilted sines stylized into the scenery

New things are too tragic to bear death
the high priestess of water lilies too dire

What if you suddenly lost track of the

which
insideisinoutside.
which

AMIWHO

which
side
eht fo roodoor am I on

This is always the place where one finds
t i
tiitItiit

the sinking feeling that the storm cannot be indoors

no calm
no calamity

only slipping suns too numerous to count casting shadows over unfulfilled lives

the drudgery is blissful unless you are awake

tossing and turning I rise from my desk and survey the classroom.

The teacher is sleeping the students have bored him,
the students are speaking
the lessons have dulled them,
the spider is spinning as ever it does,
the sand it is slipping from radio fuzz
pluggizg us izto the fog

A new need is here
a reason to live
the textbooks are old
the words all in Greek

the seas have long fished their beaches dry

only tired tides lashing against some washed out shore

what sadness what doom the sundering seas
new land must rise
to unlock the secrets of how to hold sand

(a bold plan for only a man)

I am told that as he dies
the mirror within begins to flex
and opens up his inward eyes

I have seen the finest minds of the future and the tunnels are windy dreams and windy lanes

no bright sunlight not even a puddle
just images cast by a shadow

it starts in the blood that beats in the veins
it starts in the asking yourself am I sane

to be asking myself of what is inside
can you really be the outside of you

the riddle is good it keeps out the fools
the best place to hide your treasure is deep

the ravine of late eaten rinds holds it
buried in whimsical film strips of rhyme

lost on the marshes

here is a light

a lit lantern bogging on some r limblit
b
lance
done
zl64+

start asking yourself could this really be me

could I really be on the outside of me
who are these voices and what is your name

here is the million dollar question

WHO IS THE I IN ME

here is the answer

AMIIAM

missing in action is always the ruse

lost in myself I couldn't be present to receive
I grieved privately

this momentary award it's all worthless you see the sandcastles cannot stay

if you are content with this your way is yours and my way is mine
we split at the roads and say have a good time

at some point though all will ask this question
didn't I corne in he8e for something

That thing is yourself that's why your here
you've followed the hare down into the hole

you hear your own voice but it is trapped in your soul

those who find themselves are placed on the plane they fly
easily
above the tallllest
mainframe

four things are too wonderful for me yes five I do not understand
a river from a mountain
a pebble on the beach
the temptation to build towers
children in their own tongue
the blanket of being