5th/Feb/2020
From Vaughan’s Russell Tce pull-out couch bed.
All of it, us All it is, is; unfolding; tension,
My distrust of monoculture at war with the conviction that we are
«One»
and to be human, and to be sexual, to be crass and in love, just a contributor to the noosphere crowning at the canal of Papatūānuku
With you
«One more» precious entity who must also die though not before the mind marks traces of light, Sending thought through song eventually reaching the furthest galaxies and their creatures..
with a serenade to the moon Picked up by satellites and reinterpreted by fundamental minerals like the salt in my sweat and tears Colloidal silver in the toroid of living hunger, Hungry for verbs, tired of all the stimulus, the tension and the noise still tuning; Kill me and refine my senses.
All of this is good. All of me is incomplete A scholar and a cannibal competing to defeat the common foe of endless warring chaos riding peace to win at a win win game performing punk and piety for fun Only now, between the frames pretending Essence fixes in transience. I was not found mourning old mate "some one should"
For though i doubt, i am. And while I breathe I dance with you, Re membered kin. The dream dreaming us says We take the spiralled way, so we Climb on our knees Let our soil feed our organs while seeds grow in distant spaces.
All our being will be Well coming Well being Heart and body, mind and soul completely
«Won»