Angel Duhst – d’Çłęƒțïį

d’Jęśtïį ńò Mōłęštïį

‘No Clown Knows‘

I’ve seen you bending angst-to-arts
I’ve witnessed many times
As you’ve rendered misfit feelings,
‘n crafted silent silken rhymes.
Then turned out twisted-cotton love.
with enough to pay the bills (On time!)
I’ve watched in gleeful disbelief
as magick filled the air
Sheering patterns & stitched up hems
feets sprouting art as you walk.
Fingers twitch & needles glare
the humming peddled pressed.
Fabrics chosen, I stand frozen,
as bolts come rushing forth!

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

Dręmęæ ê Vivæ d’Ågåpimõµ

‘There is a Dream in Which I Live‘

I have a dream of long evening walks and
sitting together at sunset on a small wooden bench.
Where each night we talk about our dreams
and hopes and fears. Each night we go to bed
reminded of our love and that
it means facing things together.
I will love you until the sun burns out
and then I will love you in the dark.

There is a dream in which I live
where I watch you go go go
where I see you in the flow
where I watch a heart beat-ween us grow.

When I see you; the sun in your face.
when I see you; in your happy place.
when I watch as you; win another race.

We watch us grow and change.
We hold close when it’s dark & strange.
We whisper in our ears
of love and courage against all fears.
We watch as we fall again,
climb twice as high and learn to fly.

I watch your art unfold
come alive and spread like mold.
together twirling closer as we age,
knowing always that there’s one more page.

I have dreams of long walks together,
Alone at first, then…
with a daughter

When the light returns,
I see your brilliant rose-orange glow
once more has warmly lit the room.

I watch it as it brings
to winter spring,
that ol’ “First
Morning” thing
back to the once
gray world
and I
again
and
again

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

d’Tęmpł ê Tµnïį

‘Village of Temples’

įÅ Templther part I

An entire village of temples
Made of stones
from ancient walls
With mortar of synaptic sinew
and contracting heart threads.

Giving off a deep low hum
and glowing a rich warm red
Except just before dawn and
After strong thunderstorms
When it shows as a deep orange

Each temple is dedicated
To one of her infinite attributes.
Beauty. Creation. Psychopomp. Fire.
The receiver of grace. Gentle & Soft
Worshipped with truth, service & love.

Snake-nuns. Clown-Rats.
Space-bums. Clergy-Cats.
Mo-Hawk, no-hawk
Dreadlocked, butch-chopped.
Many forms, The Most-Faceted One.

phtoto by James Charlick

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

įÅD_UFtR_pV

‘Sewing the Seeds of a Successful Surrender ‘

Angel Duhst part III

A calm excitement every time I see her name,
or find myself just near her,
or just see her picture smiling back at me.
The one in bed under the covers.
Her eyes smiling nearly as wide as her grin.
I sink into those beautiful brown eyes.
Deep
Caring
Skilled in many arts.
Wisdom beyond her years.

But what really gets me is her open heart
The way she loves me.
I go to speak, and only verse and songs spill out.
My mouth waters,
my eyes water,
I need water
And as I turn to face her
She’s there

Drip
Drip
Drip

Like the first ocean.
The first rains
My thirst dissipates
But her lightning catches me

Unprepared,
Her electric touch shocks my system
My being surges
My life comes rushing back!

Was I dead

Color floods my vision
Red, warm red light
Orange, my heart glows orange

My heart explodes
And she scoops me up into her arms
Here I stay
Here I find everything
I didn’t know was missing

Here I find
A completeness
Wholesome
Again

It takes at least two
to feel Oneness
I reason

Then
I laugh

Then
The love returns

I melt into a small puddle
and then once again,
She collects IT all
For some wise new
Magic
of an Old forgotten
Spell

It WORKS!

She, IS
Thee

I am
She

she
ME
we
B

I
❤️
U

artwork by Richard Stephenson

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

Åńgęłåmįń

‘Angelamine‘

Angel Duhst part II

From which sphere then does
such a loverly being descend?
What ancient earthen land would
create such a woman of talent and beauty?
How did you escape?
Surely that which created you must
also be over flowing with beauty and skill.

What does a land do now in your absence?
Does it rejoice in its lonely abode?
Does it thrill in your pilgrimage west,
or sulk in the beauty now subtracted from its whole?

The mother and father of such greatness
must surely be proud, having divined the
only name suitable for such a child.

Angela Angela Angela.

Name of she who left the wing-ed
ones in their clouds of light.
Is she the cause of heaven’s war?
Is she the reason heaven spilt?

Was it she in the garden that night,
who bit the apple and set man free?
How is it that I find myself engaged
with a marvelous being such as thee?

Perhaps I slumber, still in my bed?
Is it all just a dream inside my head?
And what will be should I awake?
Will I find the world false and fake?

And should I wish to sleep instead,
which drugs could keep me here?
In her arms, held close and near?
The Elixir of love have I found in she?
Or is it she that dreams of me?

When she awakens will I still be?
Am I the apple?
Will her bite free me?
Or will I find that love is her art.
Cellulose & graphite, I just a part?

I slumber still wishing not to wake,
For love is just & only what you make.
My mind a light. My fingers a-twirl.
This little one an entire world.

Words flooding out as I lie here in bed,
My flask boils like my heart and my head.
Ahhh these feelings now reacted,
refluxed, then extracted.

All done with care.
For the beauty of her,
is both terrible and fair.

Drop
   Drop
Drop “Another?” She asks.

   As I look in her eyes and drop drop from my flask.

Each drop
   drops a whisper.
Each drop
   drops in her ear.
Each drop
   drop
drop is my love,

spoken softly my dear.
❤️
   ❤️
❤️

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

Åńçį Førtę ê Łµmįńà d’Tęmpł Rœ

‘Ancient Walls & A Temple of Red Light’

Angel Duhst pt I

Crack

The first appears as she looks
up over her glasses at me.
Crick

Walls erected for protection
begin to lose their footing.
Creek
   Crack
   Creach

A small bit of forgotten joy
oozing out of a hairline fracture
causes the dense shell to split,
   Sccreeek
   Craaact

First I See. Sight. Then sounds
Stone walls starting to Crumble.
Walls. Who commissioned them all?
The walls use? All forgotten.
Crash

With a silent snap more stones tumble
revealing a hidden heart. Strong but fragile.
   Bang
   Thud
   Slam

HITTING the ground near where
I lay. Just us…then…
Then the bright-liquid
red-life, pouring out
I become I, say a vow,
in an Inn, somehow.

Here. I still lie. Lying still.
An old foundation?
Ruins of an old wall?
Covered in dust, & blood?
I look up then, only 2C-Her
looking down at me,

My heart pounds, un-vision
as an unborne unsees
There is a brilliant orange
light that blinds now me
Drop

I feel it on my face now;
warm. gentle. soothing
Its now THE FIRST DAY,
the first light, but first…
Drop

I must shake the dusty blood from my body.
This rust, no its dust and is it?
Familiar? Yes.
Why? trouble remembering how I came to be.
A small memory flashes back.
A seen Scene. I’ve Seen IT saw her

I see her see me
IT Sees
Not I
I
A
wall.
A crack,
…and then….ahhhh then again.

Warm and red
Pours liquid into me.
Eyes opened-closing airways

The orange light momentarily
overtaking my vision.
Then I look to my right
and then I see her. RED & light
The brightness blinding,
the source is good I write her.

The liquid’s redness coalesces.
A beautiful face reappears.
I smile as…

I see her smile and its much,
much too large on her face….
just a giant heart & matching grin .

She’s sewn me back up again!
For what was this wall needed then?
It strains my memory to comprehend.
And the light? A Valkyrie?
Sent down to some warrior slain?
I’ve seen no battles.
No wars of pain.
No hordes were fought
No banners flown.

Perhaps then an angel, sent
down from Clouds on Nine?
But how? I do still breathe.
Please I beg…WHAT???
I think NOT that death
has reached me yet.

I hear the squeak of rats.
I see a long iridescent snake
begin winding its-elf up a tree.

The large strong tree trunk is familiar.
It has planted strong roots.
Reaching deeper.
It has a soft bark,
small folds… no. wrinkles!

Then I becomes I.
It’s skin, blood, branch.
Roots; then before I,
is thy my Angel
Must I prepare to rise too?
Skyward? Home?
but no. She means to set me
back down. Gently.

Down from protective Trees
In high grass with the bees
Down into unknowns seas

Water washing stone
at my feet, now..

I am alone
I am no we

Again

Am
I
?

Plants rustling nearby as I write a note
a pleasant fragrance on the breeze.

Alive again?
Alone, not I.

Yes.

The walls no longer needed,
I lay down my spear and shield
And she twines around me.

Gasp

A rush of air fills my lungs.
This is Life.
Escaping? No.
Its rushing back!

She continues to wrap her arms
around me.

Then I no longer feel it.

Apoptosis?
No.

Mitosis?
Not this.

Then she is painted on my body.
Then I on hers.
We look into each others eyes
And we continue bleeding into one another.

Then she whispers,
“Walls are for prisons my dear.”
The final verse of her spell

I awake here in my bed,
in my newly formed body. I turn
to find nothing, or is it everything?…
there is? All of creation somehow
here in her, or is it in me?

I no longer can feel a difference .

Strange stones lay scattered beside me.
I do that which seems natural
and build a small temple to her.
A suitable place in which I give thanks.
Not made of stone, for stone is cold.
Nor on that ancient plain where they
might fall crumbling in ruins.

I build the small temple in my heart.
Its Eternal.
Filled with blood and red light,
Not infernal.

Warm fragrances issue forth,

A beacon.
A Call to worship

I answer with a call
as I reach out to her.
Amino
Angeliquor
Angelamine
Age of ALL

Drop
Drop
Drop

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

d’Mōörńïį Prįmœ

The First Morning

Angel Duhst part 1

I feel a soft brush as it strokes my face.
The hair of each bristle glides across my wet cheek
Oil and water begin to color me.

Another stroke and my second heart breaks
My soft warm blood-filled compass
feels freedom as the clay crumbles
and the needle spins round to north again.

The nitrogenous, oxygen-laced gas surrounds
the small red engine in my chest.
Familiar?
foreign?
it’s very difficult to determine.
It permeates everything.
I can’t escape its touch.

The soft perfume is drawn into my lungs
by another stroke of her brush.
One more strong pull of her hand.

A whisper
I struggle to hear.
Pointless until,…

She paints my ears with her words

The hissing gas.
The first sound.
The hissing gas.
The first song.
The hissing gas.
I no longer remember.

The first music.
Proceeds the beginning.
The first stone.
Proceeds the wall.

Bubbling up from the hot
pressurized deepness, slowly
cooled over millions of years,
the stones fell in love with oxygen.

Before flowers.
Before the large lizards
that bathed in the light above the trees.
Before the trees.

A sweet cologne coughed up
by the planets first inhabitants.
In love with each other,
the gas and stone merge.
A child is born.
It crumbles to the cavern’s floor.

Before the first Wooly Rhino
Offers its flesh to feed her children.
Before the first hairs from its hide
Are collected and bound.
She made her first brush
She visits the cavern
Scoops up the dust.
In silence.

A million years pass
as she’s sings the next verse to me.

Then a bridge.
Long.
But easy to traverse.

Another verse and my eyes open.
Or is it my heart that now sees?
It’s not important.
Color has no relevance in dreams.
Conveys no information.
Holds no weight.
Offers no insight.

She draws her brush
across my chest with another verse.

Crack.

A small rusty tear runs down
the stretched canvas of my face,

It drys and crumbles into a fine red powder.
She collects that too.
Into her pouch of Magick it’s placed.
Gently.

She knows just what it’s for.
She sees just what must be done.
She smiles up at me over silica,
boron, and something made
of ancient lifeforms,
something forgotten
forgotten even by the ancestors
of the short-nosed elephants.

Another verse fills the air.
Gently I draw another first breath.
A terrible fate awaits.

There.
Do you see it?
Just behind that large tree.
Do you see?

Large oversized teeth gleaming
in the African dusk. Covered
with what will become the first words.
Lyrics to a song she sings many years from now.

A mind more aware than we.
Educated over terrible amounts of time.
Quicker, Stronger, more Clever
Sharp black claws that threaten
separation.
Flesh from bone.
Her from me.
Me from the world.

The first and final ending to all stories.
The silence of her absence is hard to bare.

Then another verse
drop drop drops from her
rain soaked lips and…

A warm golden spell pours over me.
She gives birth at that exact moment.
Mother to the first spells.
The first Magick any man will know.

It has a different name.
But the meaning is the same.
There is only one true word in the world anyway.
Regardless of how many lips learn to speak it.

Another verse
and her power grows.
More familiar.
Also less.
Its creative power lies
in its ability to destroy.
No teeth or claws stand a chance.

First encountered as we cautiously
descended from the trees. When we first
stood on just two legs to see above
There in the strange new grasslands
we turned to look into each other eyes
and for the first time held hands.

It’s the first morning again.
It’s always the first morning.

There is no evolution.
There is no such thing as time.
It’s always only ever been…
The first morning.

It’s the first time. Now
It happens only once you know.
That is what makes it true.
It’s the first time.
Again.

I squint my eyes.

It’s the first time. I see
The glow
It’s the first time. I see
The light

It’s the first time. I see
The flowers
It’s the first time. I see
The difference.

It’s the first time.
I see The…

Drop Drop

Drop

There is. Every Thing.

Again

The first morning.
The first flower.
The first rain.

There is. No Thing.

Drop

Drop Drop

For the first time. It falls
For the first time. It’s named.
For the first time. It grows.
I open my mouth and drink it in.

The first rain hits the dry clay of the earth
And the flowers near her feet explode with scent

It is the

first morning

Again

It is.
the
first rain.You
are the
first woman It is.
the
first morning.

Again

The first kykeon. Consumed
The first secret. Whispered.
The first elixir. Prepared.
The first temple. Erected.
The first psychopomp. Born

As
You
Drink
I see through Your eyes,

I feel through, Your heart.

The last kykeon. Consumed.
The last secret. Whispered.
The last elixir. Prepared.
The last temple. Demolished.
The last psychopomp. Dead

Together
We are
together
We are
the temple
We are
The light
We are
The morning

Then as
it falls

We are
The rain
We are
the flowers

There are
no walls
There never were

It
is

now

The First Morning Again.

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——

įÅræådńęæ d’Ægęńïį (Ç˚8)

ARIADNE #8 (again)

                     Ω
                  The
              Young,
          Wondering,
          Olympian, 
          the FIRST 
              morning 
                he finds 
                  (again), his
                  ARIADNE
                (waking) 
                THE
                (wander)
                   Godoff 
                       THE 
                   (wander)
                for d’Vine
              I's Naxos I
           peaceful sea I's
         my island home
        place of my birth.
        Aye! Wander I's
         wondering no less
            Wanting I No thing. 
                Seeking I No thing
                        I Cultivate I
                              cultivate 
                                   the vine
                                  wish only I
                                 to tend to
                                to my 
                              vine
                             I am I
                            I,as I,
                           am I on I way
                           daily path I walk,
                              I round I an
                                    large
                                     RED
                                  stone,
                                MOVING 
                          To-from each.
                      from vine to vine
                   sippin’ a wei of d'Oine
                   no I is I is ever new 
                     I always do it too
                      no need I a thing. 
                        needing not I
                      having it all
                    But it’s is
                  not as it 
                was I
              before 
             I bow now I
                 SHE  IS?
                   Here!
                      How?  
                        Why
                         Now?
                    What fates 
                have suddenly 
             shifted? But 
          questions such as this
                             are 
                        quickly 
                    dismissed
           I is MINE in error?
        I’s eyes that function
         In the MAL or wrong, 
           I be the one thats lost 
               abandoned to the sea. 
                   Not her. but it I’s is in,
                          need of being found,
                           IS I thats lost a gin.
                              As we taking each
                                 other in I see 
                                 attraction
                                mixed
                            with
                        fear
                     In
                 her
              eyes
          She sees 
           the same
              In mine. 
                 “””The..
                    GRAv,
                c    ‘ IT
                  c     Y's
                     grati-
                     tude
                     of 
                   our
                meeting
            PULLS on me.
         Slowly, I advance
        She does not run. We.
          Becoming immortal I
             Residing I on WE
                     '''Holy\,,,
                    Mtn. Eh
                  TOP a-
                 aGApi
                 mou
                   eyes
                    I knowing
                     I knew not I's
                           Know I now
                     searching all eyes
                       I searching I was
                   was I was Everything. 
                  I’s was wanting? Aye!
               Every little no Every I
               not a thing I's needed
                no thing had that I
                no I had I that I
                   Knew. Not I Now
                      I know NOW  
                        I know I 
                          loŌked
                         her I’s, 
                        IN 
                       her        Ω
                     eyez ons 
                  I Aye! the I’s
                   Have all the
                  the islands
                  eyE Says
                    I’s is
                        iSIs
                          IS
                         I
                        ! 
                       :
                       '

for Carl, RPAC, THEE Ἥρως τοῦ παρόντος

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——

TrædšMœkÿęś

“ThreadSmokeys”

Ω            Ω.                      ≈ßåœ™Ω™œ∑.Ø.   ∞                   Ω              Ω
             
ThreadSmokeys
                       The First Morning (again)              
                       now Hear my  
                           SONG to
                                YoU                                    
                                ´∂®Ω†QÄ˜
                                 ˚∆ord˙
                                 Æß∂
                              práyér
                             madÉ∞’
                       of∞L∞O∞V∞Ę
                    compoșed∞of∞
                old∞medicine",
              &∞flowerŠ"''
             Ådmiration
              & mine 
                love 
                   in...
                      Grati-
                          -tude   
                              iN a
                                SONG
                                I=sing 
                               drink 
                             in thè
                           warm˚
                          drinK.˚˚
                        …Lēt it””
                         Êntęr YOU 
                           open up & 
                              drink Me
                             theseSWurq
                            ∆˙©ƒ bOoks
                             mY WordS
                                 AS
                           it is
                        yes
                      I
                   0
                 U
               do       
              I
             O
             U
             iT is
              alls’’
                wayŞ
                 ‘The…
                 ' '"Fîrst…
                  MmÖrnįng
                      ęŸĒ
                       ŠèåşŠ                                
                         I am I
                           am I again?
                           as A soft brush 
                             strokes my face.  
                             the hair of each 
                            bristle Izz
                          is gliding 
                        across
                       my 
                     Face 
                   I's Bee
                    I is I 
                      I live
                       aye? I 
                          to live,
                             Alive Aye!
                                  a life 
                                 I live I
                                IisI
                              my 
                             nnnndamp 
                                chinuk 
                           cheek feels
                        Oil and Water 
                    bego color me.
            Another stroke and 
        my second heart breaks
      My soft warm blood-filled 
   compass feels freedom
  as the clay crumbles &
 the needle spins
  round to north
    again.
      The
        nitrogenous,                                                
            oxygen-laced 
               gasses fill
                     the 
                  small 
           red muscles
          in my 
           chest. 
             familiar? 
                or foreign?
                  Ifits's very 
                       difficult 
                        deuteramine. 
                         what this IS 
                         Anything…
                       Anymore?
                      moorS
                     or
                    are
                    our
                    Őårìņg ån
                     Oh-ring
                       A ring
                        RingS
                          oh that 
                           ring-ing
                            RINGS on
                            ring
                           I 
                         ?
                      IT
                 It IS it!
            It permeates ÀLL
           Ęverýthįng.
           ǏȚ ĮȘ, is it?,    …Or…?
    ‘      ‘“I can’t escape its touch”’  ‘ 
               It permeates every IT 
                    She laughs at IT.
                       no at I, eye sea, NO?
                        AT it, At IT,
                         IT? I stare 
                         at IT 
                       The I is
                   U?  No, NO
               THE I IS YOU 
             THE
            thee
            Tea-
              He
                Ñò,
                 NO 
                JUST
              TRY the 
                TRY
             TRY I
           TRY
          Me
         U
        &
         I
       IT
     HE
    HER
   tHEy
     WE
     then
        the
          soft
          perfume 
         is drawn in 
          this signals
              the dawn
                and is
                drawn
                 off
                into 
               my 
             lungs by
              another
                  stroke
                     of her 
                      brush then
                       one more strong 
                              pull from
                                    HER
                                   hands
                              are our oar
                             is IT?
                              IS
                             I an I
                           or is
                        I an us?
                      Us, U, we 
                     eer A wee
                     whisper
                      I struggle I
                       to hear it, 
                          ...but it is
                           pointless
                          Until
                            Şhe paints _
                                  in my 
                                  ears
                                With 
                               her words...
                            & her brush 
                    sssssssssiiiignn-hsss
                   hsssssings-ssssssssound
                   That herssssss s-
                    ing -ing noissss
                  I know thisssssss
              that hissing 
                 hisssssssss
                  the gasssssssss 
                              hiss
                         sssingingssss 
                   rushessssssssooouund
                     The first sound.
                    the hissing gas.
                  thën it becomes     
                 the first of             
                 all sssssung songs
                  ssstaartssss by 
                    thissssss
                     hissssssss.
                    the first…
                    I no longer
                   remem-hhhssssssss
                      burrrrrrrrr                              
                             now how 
                           ’’’it starts
                              but stops 
                              briefly
                                then
                       hssssssssss
                         The 
                     First 
                  MuŠic. 
                  begins
                   again
                     IT is
                      begun   
                     thén again
                   as the first stone,
                      then proceeds the
                _first WALL as it first_
                ___ _________________ 
                   - - - — — — - - 
                comes bubbleing up
                   ƒrom  the  hot
                       pressurized
                           depthsss
                              ssslowly 
                                 cooled
                                   over 
                                    100’s 
                              of millions 
                            of years. When
                      the stones firstfell 
                   in love with oxygeň        
                 it is BEFORE is IT
                 before flowerȘ 
                     before large   
                            lizardŚ 
                                  thåt 
                                     could
                                      bathé
                                       n the
                                       ļįght 
                                      ábovę
                            the large treẽș….  
                       even 'fore rose those..
                   brighter, then? yes & no
                   But not as good
                   somehow. now
                     the sweet colonę
                           coughed up by                                      
                               our Planet's    
                                    First       
                              Inhabitants. 
                         alone but in love
                     ‘’’with rock n stone…
                       made use of the light 
                        & when minglĘ’’
                        A chilD Is
                       Bornę
                 of…this Union
           It crumbles to a pile
          on the cavern’s cold floor
         Before the first Wooly Rhino
          offers ITS flesh to feed HER young
            Before the first hairs from its hid
              are collected and then bound
                She visits the cavern often
                   Made her first brush
                       here in there She   
                       scoops up
                       the 
                 Red dust
              & there IN
              that Silence IT
                I stays eyez I
                   I eyes with I’s
                           mez w/ me
                              for’’’’’
                                  ooo
                                      it
                                        IS
                                           A 
                                       million
                                     more
                                    years 
                                  that goes
                                       passed us
                                           before 
                                             she sings
                                               the next 
                                               verse 
                                               to
                                                me. 
                                                   to
                                                      o
                                                        I
                                                          Ω
                                                        its 
                                                      the 
                                                    end?
                                                   But then 
                                                   ‘’’its Abridged"
                                                                V
                                                                   e
                                                                      r
                                                                      y 
                                                                     l
                                                                   o 
                                                               n 
                                                           g
                                                      but
                                               easy to
                                           traverse.
                                        it’s here that
                                          I find her and 
                                               she sings                                                
                                                      another…
                                                            verse.     
                                                              my eyes 
                                                                  open
                                                                  ….Or,… 
                                                                 is it 
                                                          my heart
                                                    that now 
                                                sees? 
                                            become 
                                               open
                                                   IT
                                                     IS
                                                 import-
                                        ant no longer
                                     it is long known
                                   that color has……
                                     a non-relevance
                                      ...in dreams at least'''
                                         holds no weight
                                           now here either
                                      offers no insight
                                conveys_______
                            No information

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——

Thįñęæ Ńēdēïį Gå’Vęæ

“Anything You Need, I Freely Give”

Asking for some thing, a thing
like space? I think this is
no longer something that I
can choose not to give. If it
ever was. So many things,
once, seemed to be very real
The one thing that I do know
I seriously doubt I knew now
Dancing together we go now
in a way that makes me new
seeing how both were simply
decisions that were made
Long ago. Right now though
Right before I wake. Knowing
I see that. Now. Clearly, I see you
It feels like power & a warm light.
But I was told not to stare at such
a thing. I thought this was wisdom.

I think now, the voice, is perhaps just
a fear, because this isn’t so unpleasant
and I don’t expect to…, I feel no threat
from you. It hasn’t caused the damaged
eyeses, I was told it ought to. I know
now. It’s quite beautiful actually, here
within it’s walls is a soft orange color
with a brightness. A RED glow. Yes,
it does burn. It does NOT burn us
It burns old wood thats been left
soaked in tar and gasoline. It sits
It melts iron back into gold rings
Using only sunshine & old grease
It consumes masks of old tribes
It makes armor from old child-
hoods and of worn fuzzy pajamas.
It warms small houses in Norway
During the night there. In those
deepest coldest winter months
Other wisdom as well. Illuminates.

The hunger & circling of wolves?
In the light they seem to only be…
to be just small dogs. The Yapping
A call for attention & to be fed
No thing is the same Thing as this
Everything I ever thought. Write
is wrong. But, I can not surrender
only because I have yet to pick up
my shield for the first time. A Sea
With clear eyes? No this is wrong
Not clearly. But nor either Darkly
Everything IS. The same? This IS?
I’ve never seen IT. Not me ever
Well, not from this vantage point
Not from this view. We are? Here
How did we stumble into this?
Is it magic? That sees this place?

A small clearing. Here. In the dark
Isn’t this the? Is this THE Woods?
We both swore never to go? Here.
Never! Ever? Never go here?
Here? Again somehow. Us WE?
Knowing it was safe. Well. Now
Safe to come here? Safe to sleep?
Yes, come in the light. Here now?
This open meadow? Was it NOT?
What was dangerous that was here?
Only before. Before? Before what
Here we both had been slain. & Now?
In the past it was. YES, but Not NOW
Then it was Gruesome. Then…then
Ripped apart by lovers who said?
They claimed they were lovers, Meaning
its other definition, as wolves. Yes?

But this IS,… is who we are now?
YES. Who is this we, IS? Is not I. Now
We are Is? Expect the expected I
I understand. It’s happening?
I am quite sure I HAVE seen this
All Before? Yes. I remember We
It is not I AM I. Only now, I is WE!
I am not sure who I not am I. No?
I see you. Standing in the light. We
here now. You are here. We are. WE
I feel no urge to run, No wolves
I hear not the church bell ringing
Recalling me to a safe retreating.

I want to be THIS moment. Here
Then I now know the next I. We
The next moment I am WE as I
Each moment as this our home
each instance universal. Expand
I can feel the walls falling away
I can feel the soldiers gone home
I can feel the children nameless. I
Named now. I know their name
I feel shops open in morning air
I smell their coffee & their bread
I hear the small children playing
Is the war over? Was there ever
a war that was? Was I looking in
the wrong direction to know? The
peace is deafening. This silence a
deaf-in-the-net roar. Everything IS.
Is backwards now, Si? No. Not here
but, perhaps it was. Then before?
I look to you to get my bearings,
All questions second to answers
I can see you looking to me.

I do not feel the need to pray
For what anyway? This story Is
All ready? No, no lines to learn
There is not a wardrobe to wear
No sets. No lighting. Technicians?
None to pay. The color? Is perfect. Is
Temperature? Just so No marks HERE
nor on the floor then? I need only be
Be there then, yes? Or go here now?
I look to see you. Here we are. Now
Nothing is Everywhere. But then…?
It’s all… Just isn’t now. It IS it, Si?
It IS. Possibly Only this IT. This. IS
The days seem to be moving backward.
Waking up after a long days work
I rush off to get much needed sleep
The calendar counts down too quickly
Until the days are no more. There are
not days? The FIRST MORNING.
Again and again a knock on the door.
I wake up to answer it. You open up
This door? Inviting me to, “Come in!”
“Come in out of the cold morning air”

This cottage is very unusual, quite odd.
Stranger than usual I mean. So that each
time someone knocks. You open the door.
Yet each time it opens, its always you,…
There? On the inside when, wait wasn’t I
just…, each time the same pleasant smell.
“Coffee?” “Yes,” you tell me, “Come in,”
“Have some toast?” Which I then do.
We have both” We always do. Both. But…
wasn’t it I that was just on the inside?
“Just now?” someone says. We sit down
for coffee. Just like before. It’s dark
outside, yet somehow always sunrise in
here. Just before the dawn, or just after
When you are here the sun rises again
Only now that I’m here, Yes,..I can see
now that its sunrise, and it surely is
this morning! We still see the rise &
it is just as bright as always, but…
now as it rises, we can see that it is
somwhow now, of a completely different,
yet even still familiar STAR.

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——