Searching for the seven gates
soldiers of dream and reality
doled out ad nauseum
till the fear of dreaming
becomes a cancer.

The literacy of eyes
unfolds deep rivulets
that hang as a
shower curtain with each
fold becoming another resolve
of Alice.

Go ask her
the art of change
or the art of earth
soil and soul do not stir
but lay restless
like the Cascades’
patient volcanoes
looking for time to lose.

Tao of pooh, physics, power
it doesn’t much matter
shifted slightly for your significance
and art.

Your art of
dark days
art of felt
(or is it felt art?)

The handmade will
gather your belongings
with the stratagem
of wolves.

Stuffed, starved, raped
of the barren buildings,
go ask Alice
where everyone has gone.


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