Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Too Late Now

You’ve long suspected you’re
a myriad of presences which come
to aid your coming into outward
consciousness from sleep in stages,
phases, bits and pieces: undigested
elements eventually meant

to coalesce into whatever thesis
for the day your various arrays
of being will require – which
while arising from their mire
keep themselves apart from your
divining outward eyes: but as you

rose from night this morning
something greenish-blue
with purplish hair and random
streaks of pink shot like a blink
into the light and you’d the certain
sense that it was you. You sketched it

quickly into view. Was it running,
dancing, doing calisthenics
or about to shoot up into flight?
What repercussions might there be
for having brought it into sight?
Too late now. You found a bit

of random plasm from the mesh
of your constituent ingredients
and took a bite. You’ll see
if anything is different when
you wake up from another night. If
waking up is what you ever do again.


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