If this, if that,
if so many possibilities
for the tiniest of anything,
none any better than any other,
for any number of reasons,
to any number of potentials
that become infinitely impossible to know

At what point does this fluidity,
multiplicity totality infinity,
become an empty nothing?
It’s always been nothing.
A nothing here at all,
and yet everything at once.

And words just get in the way of meaning
And concepts get in the way of meaning,
and everything is too broad
or too specific
and nothing is quite right,
and I pick at it and pick at it
unravelling it all,
and losing the threads,
processing away,
to clog up everything with code.
Every possible permeation of anything,
potential paralysis perpetual.


Something has been building inside all day,
low rumble to a loud roar,
feeling so much energy,
barely keeping it contained.
Friends would say I’m not-
I am fidgeting, pacing rooms,
I am running, around, around
I am styling near friends hair-
You look splendid indeed, old seed!
I am lining up all the plates and cutlery-
don’t they look so much happier like that?
Can’t you see the static painting pictures?
What colour loneliness in Rome?
I’m singing a bright blunt opera,
I’m eating freshly juicy jazz,
I’m dancing with arms rainbow tasselled wide,
spinning in whirled whizzspun circles.
I cannot contain myself,
do not want to,
want to hug ever
and grasp sweet the world.
I want to wrap up the pain
the hardship and anger
and injustice and war
and dreary dread death
soothe bow it clear clean away.
Here I’m a mother,
there am a father,
every all ever embrace.

I feel nature itching,
need to be nearer,
to go to the beach,
swim and submerged.
Friends worry come,
my state not trusted
enough to leave me
alone with myself.
I wade in, cool water to pale legs,
the night air freshly frightened,
and swim out, far from the beach.
Here feel the universe’s energy,
pulsing around, within me.
Swim out further,
feel the sensations
the water rolling over,
the sand touching my souls
of my soles.

The sun has set to a blushing half light,
the dynamaforce now,
in great lines, a flicker,
comes down through clouds
from rosedarkened sky,
to run true to the ocean.
It is twisting ghosts,
sublime strands,
squirming pale and wondrous.
I follow it, just my eyes,
see the power flows cross the ocean,
something separate, yet so same.

I look around me,
definite lines,
a pearly constant flux.
Down the beach they twirl,
from the hills, the beach, the trees,
all run into the water,
and swirl their way to me.
All lines, seen etherenergy,
leads back to me and mine.

I am so moved.
And I am unstopped crying.
Salt tears hit salt water under,
and feel down to my core-
all lines, all lives, all light,
is all entire one.

This is not intellect realised,
the universe energy pulsating.
Feel every molecule and every atom
and every electron and every quark,
every term my scientist
deems now at me thrown-
I hold them awe at all.
This body ceases to exist.
And am everything at once.

Hold my hands outstretched,
face fresh open to the sky.
Hear a crackling,
a sparking energy,
a lightening rod here now,
the boundless greatly giving
its power through time and me.
The battery, the source,
feel this heart thunders,
so low thuds, picking up.
In this chest, these wrists, lung-throat-tongue,
the energy is pooling,
deeply syrup flutter,
incandescent drowned ascent-
no outlet, no out let, let’s out!
Soon scream too much no more!

I am burst.
I am burst,
sense seams split wild open.

Rain begins to fall.
Fat luscious droplets,
They take away the energy,
that is leaking from every pore.
Every aperture, rift,
every sound sentience-
here breathe again, released.

Sigh sad to feel it go,
normality a harsh,
pricklescratching mediocre.

The friends are worried,
now to take me away,
their grasping hands slide off,
useless at all to stop me.
Swim away, out, out,
twistturned toward horizon
desperate to feel again the power.

Some shouts reach,
and I slow a stop,
the energy calls me still.
A siren song of nocturne,
a marrow-marred aching memory.
Vestige of logic
moves me closer to the shore,
impervious footed to the gnash rocks below.
The tiny beach feels so sad far
from such precious-pained potential.
Walk mournfully up the hill steps,
flanked by friends amused aghast,
these rattled familiars
never once experienced
wild wonderforce entire.

Towel flies behind me in hand,
sails, a flag, wispwings.
I am a bird. I am a breeze.
I am souring, riding thermals,
up round inside and full.

Down the hill now, wind is gone.
Wings to empty air, I fall.
Flag half-masted, taken down
and deflated sails are still.

Home, but sapped
deep empty, drifting.
Slow lowered
blanket blessed in bed.
Here I recurl as a foetus
and am born again in slumber.