Category: Poemoids, Pseudopoems, and Antepoetry

“Anything You Need I Give You Freely”

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
to 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.
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2024
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

SRI₃

“I don’t exactly pray, but if I did…”

No. No need to pray away your very precious time
down there, uncomfortably bent at the knee, dear…
god, least not to those old far-off, half-dead & dusty,-
headed, disconnected demigods of deserted deserts.

Go back to that thing that you do. The end is neigh!
You & the work is much needed. Hear words spoken,
It is even more appreciated than even you know. Grows
more so too. So…rest assured that all requests for
assistance we receive, shall continue (as always) to be
answered in the order in which they are perceived.

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real.
Embrace. Shulgin-ness.
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2024
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

SRI₃

Ariadne & the Vine God

Naxos

Peaceful 

my island home my

place of I’s first birth cries

I want nothing I 

I seek nothing I 

I only wander as I

I no longer wonder oh wise I

I cultivate I

the vine

I wish only I

to tend

to my 

vine

I walk I

vine to vine

I round a large red rock I

all days on my daily path

I always do I

I need nothing I

I have everything I

But now

it is not as

it was. When was it 

this ever once then?

Now

she is 

Here!

How?  

Why? 

What? have the fates now

been suddenly shifted? 

such questions of such

is-ness however,is

quickly dismiss-ed

I see that I am the one I

I that has lost I

We take each other in we

I see attraction I

Mixed with fear

In her eyes

She sees the same

I’s into I’s

The gravity of our meeting

I pulling I

I advance I

Slowly, but she advances too

Slowly, but I advance I

we does not run from we

We become immortal we

Residing forever on the holy 

mountain 

top

I know now I

I always was searching I

I wanted everything I

I needed everything I

I had not one thing I

I know this now I

I looked I

into her 

I’d eyed I’s

EYES

IT

was

I’s own I’s

!EYES!

!AYE!

I

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real.
Embrace. Shulgin-ness.
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2024
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

SRI₃

The Changing of Things with a Chain and a Ring:

Phenethylamine Fantasies

What occurred in these walls

in those halcyon days,

w’the Old Rascal’s tech-

niques in their prime?

With Beethoven blasting,

the years went on passing

atoms bonded & danced

the classical keeping the time.

With ßeta-nitrostyrenes

reduced in his daydreams,

(the novelty spreading like

white hairs on his head);

the Phenethyl-fantasies

of his nocturnal chemistry

progressing as he lay in his bed.

He once lost alpha’s methyl,

which made the chain ethyl,

these changes and then

a hundred or more!

Then at C4 a chlorine, then

a bromine, then fluorine,

in a flash placed a thiol at four.

With this change a new series!

ALEPH-like but two Cs

These ideas become pages

in a tome called Pihkal.

Initial 2,5-substitutions?

Handled with a simple solution

The hillside Hierophantes

first methoxy ‘em all, as

he’d go sliding & gliding

with his gentle hands guiding

the delicate glass that

he’d employed for his task;

Each refluxing reaction

and condensing contraption

yielt his triple-neck gifts

borne of round-bottom flasks.

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real.
Embrace. Shulgin-ness.
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2024
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

SRI₃

“Yes! A Beautiful Vision, Is It Not?”

Alternate title translations;
(Is it Not a Vision of Beauty?)
(The fairest of views. YES or No?)
(Is this not the vision that is most beautiful?)

I once remembered a good
looking through a Sorhta-Lens,
what I saw was, (I believe! I saw
well, ALL!), Beautiful-Friends.
“Approximations of Ancient Greece
overlaid upon the Bay!
With old Fran PsychoPsi-Co., a
sort of Athens, Cali-forn-i-æ!
Well I forgot to look (I FORGOT!)
but here that lens would surely see
a Temple complex with odd Oracle.
Just like the old one…at Delphi.

for Carl, ~the CARP en DIEM

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real.
Embrace. Shulgin-ness.
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2024
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

SRI₃