know

as space unfolds like a horizon blooming
into the medlam ochre, a discreet
array of pifoned happenings and stances-yet-to-come
a derivative, not a derogative-
and i am engulfed by the sudden realization
that life is fragile.
it is a petite renoir
an egg shell dream
a copious bounty
a merryweather adventure.
it is a drifting sand
a barbel dropped too close
an immediate action
and a delayed provision.
life is a wanderlusty thing.
space opens up like a sheldon on a cafne
a pierrion glass chiming in the windy breeze
it is a winter's song
and a summer's wait
the exultation that the morose
is, too, not even what it seems.
paramount. life is paramount.
it is deep like a veranda
and a chill of tea
an old war story
and a rusty nail.
a courteously wrought medallion
sitting in a box
it is "unthunken" like whiskey on the rocks.
every constellation calls my name
and past viewing them, i am never the same again.
i am driven to a point of knowing.
i am driven to a point of knowing.
and it is wayward like grass
sinking into the bone of feet.
o, this imperial gnosticism.