Humbled Beyond a Word
   (an esthetic poetics)

 
   Almost asleep between warm sheets of time,
   We creep and fall between the cracks of words.
   All form begins to blur in raining signs,
   Which spiral out and fly about like birds.

   We enter night, and start a flight of sound
   On ocean waves’ relaxing blowing breeze.
   Breathe in, breath out, we break from where we’re bound,            
   Depart our head and float beyond the trees.

   A soldier marching there amid soldiers,
   We find myself upon a mount, climbing:

   [Green leafage, canteen, headgear;
   black sky, weapon, belt, boots, street;
   proud patriots scale glory,
   indulging identities
   in city social mirrors—
   I sink deeper with each step
   in time fertilized beige sand.

   I stop, rebel, turn around,
   run down the hill naked, yell,
   fall face forward to all fours,
   and accelerate past sound,
   gripping real earth and sea—
   clear vivid motion; power
   of fierce dove-eagle freedom.

   Pulled away, flying sunward,
   without a baby’s care, I
   search for control in my hand—
   in the palm there is a hole
   I traveled through for pure light
   circled crystal lattices’
   interlaced lucidity.]

   A solid core subdivided up,
   starlight refracted through a prism,
   scattered kaleidoscopically by mirrors;
   self-reflection, contemplation,
   another thought mirror—
   the gears shift and curtains lift:

   Honestly, the last word is liar.

   For a word
   is a secret creation
   of its own
   forgotten foundation.

   [the structures are solid here
   and there is no movement,
   closer to perfection,
   eye am the flesh turned word key
   lost, ego is time, action, and art,
   a static barrier between
   (a snapping back and forth)
   ego attempts to emulate infinity—
   fear the pain is death intense
   (ripping down through skin
   like shattered glass
   the rhythm of the chill
   up and down the spine
   like a razor,
   like a million soft
   whispering voices
   that swing to and from
   the tree)
   as ego loses its grip on identity,
   the eye sheds light tears
   (delusions are deep within the sorrows)
   stretching through cellophane language
   (love; hymen pierced (time)—creation)
   the eye penetrates, ego emulates,
   disintegrates]

   A solid core subdivided up,
   starlight refracted through a prism,
   scattered kaleidoscopically by mirrors;
   self-reflection, contemplation,
   another thought mirror—
   the gears shift and curtains lift:

   Honestly, the last word is liar.

   For a word
   only serves to outline
   its reality—
   a blind guide to color.

   [In cell biology,
   I am here in this crazy poem;
   I am home inside
   waiting for freedom.

   You have a key—
   You can turn the lock.

   I am here,
   thinking... experiencing
   the same world
   with a similar heart.

   I dream of kisses;
   I eat food;
   I need warmth;
   I love love—

   just like angelic animals,
   just like you

   who also live in a prison

   with a key that only unlocks
   the door to another’s cell.]

   A solid core subdivided up,
   starlight refracted through a prism,
   scattered kaleidoscopically by mirrors;
   self-reflection, contemplation;
   another thought mirror—
   the gears shift and curtains lift:

   Honestly, the last word is liar.

   For the truth,
   you must break The Last Icon
   and become
   Humbled Beyond a Word!

    1989 (rev.March2007)

" The Last Icon"