Redundancy in Waiting

Small mornings
Bring long winds,
Worry realms,
Irrelevancy.

Repetition
Every one
Turns
Over.

The little one said:
Roll over
And
I could swear,
One
Fell
Off.

Manifesto for the Hidden Ones

Scene 1: Confession Box

This is my confession:

Outside the box, I am unwritten, undone.
You may see me old, a haggard version of the same top,
Still spinning, spinning, whirling till it’s done.
My thumb whorl, my crowd pull, so minimalist
(why exist at all?)

Yet :
I turn, gently growing into age and sense and calm
Losing much
Mourning often
Rejoicing, always,
I turn.

Scene 2: Facebook

My face is not a book,
You see only profile shots.
I am an entity, an ocean, an entire universe
My book will yet become.

Scene 3: Another Paris Hilton

Allusions never work,
For I am exposed,
Freed forward in the regular fashion,
No film to hide behind
I am only an object still masked in subjectivity,
Soul stripped naked, I am on.

straight-faced sincerity means
pretense crumbles.
and with it:
all certainty.


i know You-

no facts,
but You.