, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

                                from a quiet sag – only noticed when
                surfacing amid the twilight sump,

                                the silence of lapping remembered when damp seam and sole
                feel cold and slimely green –

                                I do not know my true nature, panicking and gasping,
                wanting to float, wanting to hover,

                                without any buffet at all, without taint, and
                the local too close to distinguish






acceptance wormhole: prelude: // travel
being & depression & identity wormhole: lack of center
green wormhole: river
pointlessness wormhole: is this it // all the time
silence wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
twilight wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
water wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha