The mothership flies overhead and reads people’s minds

…atheists ar

en't seeing God

because there is

n’t one inside

a world of il

lusions…

…an omen rose

before dawn’s hor

izon an in

frared veil lif

ted over her

eyes…

…I stared too long

now you hunt me

without camouf

lage…

…in the wake of

the temptress’s

finger upstream

I’m lured into

her point of view…

…gravity cir

culating end

less days adrift…

…nostrils flared o

ver the rich wet

soil the form

ation of earth

swirls…

…he is a pud

dle drying up

the reflection

of the sky be

comes a film o

ver its eye…

…my life has be

come whatever

my future a

bandoned…

…a bubble dis

oriented

in a black and

purple room it

is where he keeps

to himself with

unresolved dis

tance and feelings… 

…under sweet in

fluence of a

flower I see

I’m not to feel

angry…

…the heart torches

the head with e

ternity and

beauty given

the ascended

one’s blessing…

People witness the mothership self-reveal and contemplate

My dog, he barks loud, what’s behind day's veil

is never-before seen, and wags his tail.

 

How are you reading who’s going to die?

How do you process the human that cries?

 

What in the heat is feeling our faces,

following us into mystic spaces?

 

Do you convey by heaven’s hypnosis?

peripheral omniscience? polar bliss?

 

How do we think in the fourth dimension,

how we think now but with an extension?

 

We race to greet you, parallel, waving,

despite the elements that we’re braving.

 

Please receive my prayer of gratitude,

read me this day the next beatitude.

 

You already know my intent, my heart,

where can you take it, to get me to start?

 

Are you the fulfillment of prophecy

retracing my alien ancestry?

 

One day we’ll fly in flightless perfection

past remembrance’s cracks, glued corrections.

A man approaches a pyramid made of blocks of stone and commences a spiral climb

enter, exit       

     above to       6

Focus   

 

 

                              radiant vision

                         in my       12

                    Pain is impossible

         

 

                                                  disbelieving heaven 

                                             balances on       18

                                        Believing in evil

 

 

                                                                      wave

                                                                 a view of veils       24

                                                            In the panorama

  

 

          in the fall

     exists       30

Only fear 

 

 

                              again    

                         upon dying       36

                    Our pasts blend 

 

 

                                                  solar realization

                                             incinerates       42

                                        History 

 

 

                                                                      theta waves

                                                                 resurrect       48

                                                            In the void

   

 

          until I'm saved 

     wave my heat       54

With a shaman feather  

 

 

                              this falling voice 

                         carries       60

                    No air

 

 

                                                  see through

                                             egos       66

                                        Minds 

 

 

                                                                      on a corner   

                                                                 pivots       72

                                                            Judgment

 

 

          in beams of light

     rise       78

The zealous   

 

 

                              as angels watch 

                         I’m hurt       84

                    I bleed  

 

 

                                                  unworldly is

                                             of what       90

                                        Perspective 

 

 

                                                                      blooming

                                                                 your purpose is       96

                                                            Unseen 

 

 

          beauty 

     becoming       102

Effort         

 

 

                              within me 

                         make love       108

                    God

The mothership descends just above him and lowers a ladder: he proceeds to climb its six rungs

First rung

Maternal grandmother went from

from Padula to Dyker Heights,

gave us sanguinaccio and prayed to the Virgin Mary.

She’d clean her place with vinegar

and close the night with the rosary.            

Paternal grandmother

soft, heart of gold, Entenmann's, small TV.

Both appear before the blessing of my son,

to whom I say:

“Know we have come to help protect you.

Own your kingdom

leading all who are willing to the everlasting.”

And to my daughter:

“Let us behold you in devotion;

divine the elements of the everlasting

blessing seekers who lost their way.”

Second rung

Paternal grandfather, lift me in courage and confidence

Maternal grandfather, lift the dramatic sensitivity from me

My ego’s perched on a queen’s throne,

glazed, out of sight, not cognizant of my heart

slighting heaven as I turn my back on my brothers.

I will drink-in the intoxicating bond

that’ll spin a subliminal trinity overhead.

I will rescind, refuel, rethink my path,

think down heavenly beauty

and the art of its power.

Release your cosmos into the receiving

brother in his quest for more within,

he can drum syllables into deafened ears,

interpret symbols on cave walls, visit myths

perseverating through dreams.                

Third rung

A trio of dvijas perform tai chi

in golden haze, longing.

They show the world the butterfly of

emotion touching what’s motionless

and all that’s held against their will

revealed, and all that’s felt forgiven

having its fear exposed.

Their self-love reunites our

dichotomies and divisions

with messianic surety,

as sure as the mother of the lord,

rocking Him in the sunrise over her lap.

            The Trinity contracts his pupils,

            the waters calm,

He sleeps after warm milk.

He enters and sees a projection of himself: a communion

I’m drawn through a mind-altering transport

Transport your mind through the drawing of my 

feeling your interdimensional hand     

hand into the heart of your dimension’s

reversing my chakras to use my soul     

soul, witnessing your chakras reverse the

to funnel warnings of self-destruction      

destruction and funnels of war and the

that, like the lightning of God-rejection,     

rejection of touch like rod and lightning’s 

gives us unimaginable terror    

terror once only imagined, now we

but I, like anti-gravity, mirror     

mirror hands that resist vanity, not

you no longer holding back sudden truth     

truth, holding us over the pyramid’s

projected from an overseeing eye     

eye projecting and receiving holy

of expanding-while-contracting circles      

circles dialing its expanse into

that turn the minds of resistant humans      

humans accepting themselves as mental…

He purges himself through confession

You need a wardrobe, you can’t grow a beard

Your diet is shit, your mother is weird

Your past and future and all that they lack

get us to laugh when we judge and attack

   What I actually think I do hide,

then I feel bad when in me you confide

In front of others you’re put in your place,

knowing you’re sensitive I watch your face

You aren’t getting what’s easy to see,

you aren’t my idea of company

Hey everything’s fine in the texts I send,

but I take you in small doses, my friend

I hate that I judge, and how I exist,

and suffer in silence for all I missed,

how everything builds up inside my head

I’m fucking weird, it’s okay if I’m dead

With all the gifts I’ve been given for use

both terror and doubt overtake my muse

If I don’t seek a lover, there’s no date

but I’d rather get high and masturbate

Regarding politics, I see you’re lost,

how deep my rage that lines are being crossed 

I am aware of how to overcome

but going to start, my balls just go numb

The return; he descends down the pyramid

I’m giving you all the paraphrase of my climb;

descent’s a second coming, height’s an end to time.

I ask you to follow, through reincarnation,

as a new breed of artists of self-creation.

 

The cessation of the stricken gong

~~~after ~ the ~~ reflex ~ are ~~ the ~ swing ~~

~ and ~~ strike ~ unseen~~~

My thinning shock is

absorbing its center

Left without a basis

I sob

plummet

and reach

my subconscious

and meditate on why

love holds no peace

when I think