II

the daylight seeps into the blood stream;
as oncoming faces seep into me
most defer
some expand
the tide rises and trembles
I rise and tremble in a tidal wave of faces


unblinking

 wishing for nothing

in the next realm;
hungry ghost fragments
hollow and invisible
elevate redundancy
past evidence of an individual
in flooded waters that come with instructions
an infinite proliferation;
each step the same direction, each repetition
another distinction
each condition -- another filed procedure, filling time
with certainty, numbers with numbers -- counting numbers,
that count nothing;  everything that is a thing,
in numbers, times two,
is given a claim ticket
with an exchange value
a discount holiday
caught in discursive laughter.
but really nothing matters;
it's holiday time
time for a pill
time for the crocuses
time overlaps
pleads in the scenery.

then . . . just for a moment

as if sitting in another ocean

in another minute
the pigment falls off, planes fall from the sky
bodies stride in dna;
 weighted down in safety zones
near abandoned loading zones;
vacant not by choice or device

there, as in any freakish storm
there, as always;
is a celebration of
whose life is it anyways?
whose gnostics punctuation, got lost?
whose privilege, is never in debate?

we get off  the maelstrom
 get whose delusion is best, whose
comes in telegraphic chunks;
whose inclusion
has adjustable filters;
whose breathing holes are
ranked in what order;
 one-through-6 billion plus.

most are bruised, some happy;
happy delusions in premajority thoughts
which is a thought before it happens
which is elections jitters
terminal bruises on demand.

hours or so pass;
it's winter time, it's not enough. it's cold, too hot,
too many remnant hard things, left on a shelf,
left as discounts, as the new old, but more unique
as if naked lunch on the grass
was written by someone
with an entirely different set of circumstances