Poemoids, Pseudopoems, and Antepoetry – Page 3

ßįkèńdęå d’Ÿùłęßåłōōpśìį

“The Envisable ‘Ball Drop’ of El Dias d’Bike“

It begins as a certain coherence
makes a rather sudden appearance
from outta d’Crowd Chaotiqué.

Then a powerful gestalt as
the entire ant’s-nest of
attendee’s awareness
synchronizes, simultaneously
swiveling to a singular spot.

From the irregular jiggling
sphere of the people’s purview,
a point protrudes.
Snap-popping in shape,
as it sublimates
from sphere to cone.

All eyes on one spot.
All minds tuned & entrained.

In front of the raised stage
appear two souls; the center
of the cones focused gaze.

The crowd moves in.
Then circles up.
This is it.

The lights above. Now all tuned on.
Feelings of joyous anticipation abound.
Imminence of the intimate is infectious.

The ball is perched in place.
At the peak of its potential, the
final flood of fluorescent lamps
and luminous purple phosphorus,
confirms its kinetic intent.

The music starts; the ball’s descent begins.

The song’s end will mark the transition.

The ball (mirroring the crowd)
drops forever, of course.

And another bicycle day comes to an end.

Lajolla!

EXTENSIONS & COMMENTARY

A short impressionist piece comparing Lajolla’s performance of “The Epic of Albert Hofmann” during the penultimate moments of the 2025 SFBDP, to the Ball Drop on NYE. This antepoem was composed 4/20-4/22 following the 12th Annual Bicycle Day Parade in San Francisco’s gorgeous Golden Gate Park.

∞

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’Vįvå Prįmœ

‘The Good Life’

The best possible LIFE one can hope for

A war that seems NEVER-ENDING. Then, when it does finally come to an end, it takes you 10 years to get back home.

The entire journey is a never-ending parade of horrible calamities, monsters with infinite heads, and unseen perils that eventually kill off ALL of your friends.

Every time you come across a small, calm little island and just hope to catch your damn breath, it invariably turns out that it’s populated by some asshole with a very limited view of the world trying to eat you alive, or some bitch trying to turn all your buddies into pigs.

When you do finally make it home nobody seems to recognize you, and when they do they resent you for being there.
Someone always kicks your dog.

in the end you die

That’s if you are lucky enough to be the one who makes it HOME and don’t die somewhere mid-journey like everyone that was with you.

This is all the stuff in life that WILL happen, that one has ZERO power to control or prevent.

Any & all attempts to avoid these things and stay on shore, leads to an even more miserable state of existence. ANY & ALL.

Always heed the call to adventure!

What one does have some small amount of control over is who is on that damn boat with you. When choosing your companions for this voyage, there’s a counterintuitive wisdom to making a musician the 12th member of your war party.

∞

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≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——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≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——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≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——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≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

įÅ d’Otrïį Dędįçåtęæ

“A Dedication to Others“

In high-flying vehicles
with orphans as pilots,
Exotic neurotransmitters in
their strange rare diets. To the
Neurotic Mic-grabbers and
Back-of-the-class Nappers!
Those lucky in life, or those
For-now-at-least-happy-in-lifers.
Complicated-Simplicity-havers,
& the Performers-slash-Dancers!
Tramatized-Number-Lovers & the
Cardio-MAPSers trailing behind!
Singing always songs, with no end in sight
the type one always seems to sing at night!
For those who love deeply,
not giving way to fear, but despite!
And to those that face bias,
but simply won’t loose.
Those struggling for sobriety
& those deep in the dope
Those that RESIST! as
all the rest comply (& lose hope)…
For all of you, Oh! Yes & those too
I knew I’d forget (never mind,
“What’s yer current SmartPill reliance?”)
Let valley warm & mountain peak chill
sing of a community, one growing still.
In the shadow of a devil’s mountain,
on this here little pleasant hill.

Where the GOODNESS first grew,
in the bright shadow of a Great Gentle Giant

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

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

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

įÅ Våłïį Špēk Å’šœ

“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 drama-queens. Dear Leader of demanding
demigods of deserted deserts, diagnosed with Dementia.

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
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

įÅræådńęå & Tęø d’Ôįñę

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 now I

I no longer wonder, oh wise I

I cultivate I

I viva di vine I

I wish only I

tend

my to my

d’vine

I walk I

vine to vine

I round a large rock I

all days on my daily path

I always do I

I need nothing I

I have everything I

But now but

it is not as was it

it was? When was it?

This was ever was then?

Now

she is

Here!

How?

Why?

What?

now have the fates been now

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

was

I’s own I’s

!EYES!

!AYE!

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

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

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——

Ręqįštæ d’Råçįœnïį ê Fìń

“A Final Requiem for Rations“

A piece that dares to offer up AN answer
to that one goddamned question that we
all are always asking at-all-times.
Forever and Ever.
until the king done come.
Aoooohhhhhhhg man!

“I mean where the hell,
& How the Fuuuuuuuhhhg!
are we gonna get all this money?”

A goofy little microPOEMoid synthesized purely out of convenience.
Having noted that something written in the course of conversation,
nearly 6 hours ago now, was in fact a perfectly suitable substrate for
the creation of something both very stupid and…well,… equally short.

“A Final Requiem for Rations“
Repeat Please?
“Rations & Renumeration:
Required now, AND (again) Requested

A Nuevo-Medici! Yes! Please! Over.
It’s the one thing still lacking. Over.

We confirm. Yes! Repeat again Please.
RnS? IBs? VCs? Do you read? Over.

The same message, yes! In all our pleas.
Friends of MAMMON, d'Patreon Supreme
Support our novel, exotic neuropharmakÿęs!
Usher in this Epoch d'Psychedelicene

Do you copy? Yes? 
Copy that. Affirmative
This alone! It’s the last item!
We are still need! Here our pleas!
Please!

DO YOU STILL READ?
Over.

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

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

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——