Thoughts in the morning, slowly gathering
like a collective pool of water, absorbing descending rivulets
of the past night’s rainstorm, filling, growing,
transcending into vapor by midday–
I am the sunshine’s waxing heat wave
rolling over violated sidewalks.

Fingers reach to stroke calligraphic symbols,
a clicking chant of plastic keys stamping
vernacular collaborations, aching incantations
desperate to invoke the truth beyond incestual
emotional blends that, in their most faithful realization,
are beyond what words can describe–
I am the dancing branch tips of a great
slumbering tree awakened by the pushing wind.

Mental estuary churning, the lowest fathoms
of the Void swallowing itself, immaterial and ethereal
initiating one another, troubled yet tranquil,
serpentine serenity effortlessly flowing–
I am the ancient waters of creation set to
flood the world into a new form.

I am the swelling purple tissue of
a newly acquired bruise, a forced feeling
punctured beneath binding armor, worn to protect
but confined by its embrace, then self-penetrated
by a willing hand seeking escape.

I am the ebb and flow of philosophical hypocrisy,
guiding young voices to find rising sound
amidst the roaring resonation of a
technologically dependent culture, turning within
to supply the antidote to informational overdosing.

I am the slowing of time, drawn around
the parading chaos consuming itself
all around me. The refusal to surrender each moment,
the deep reflection uniting me with a grand discourse,
pulling me along the supreme plotline,
dividing me into every alternate ending,
and becoming an amalgamation of all possibilities.