tHe eNd Of tHE bEgINNIng

dear friends frds~

  Glossypapered     sypd is
                 far from finished!, not finished, moss 
 but it
will be moving, t un raveling

    in anoment 
    oe pit oon
         soon       to b. e
                     iterative moments number 2
   thexnetapereom  iteration's arrival will
be broadcast on all channels. stay !tuned!

discover

a clear globe or

silver structure in space

hangs from threads

threaded like silk,

and distant sounds of bells

in the distance.

inside slim images

revolve and careen upon

what seems to some

a screen a wave

of rain moving

inland engulfs

comfortably

sits still washing

in a stream begins to

with favored eyes

go forward and more toward

a great wind

what kind of sacred images

do you have? said

the one important

man to the other.

All types replied

a by now entirely tired

of haggling soft

or often strong voice

and this action

recalled first every

other word he’d ever spoken

and then,

only the words of deep love

and after that a thousand

images formed from silence

were called back into

the world. And it’s

all of that that the

first and profoundly religious man

missed and walked out

onto the street alone.

hand in hand

checkered quilts

and thin made-of-air

veils adorned

the procession.

Mostly drunk

on wine the revelers

spun through the winding

streets of our

ancient city

and they always stopped

at each apartment

to give gifts

of flowers and food.

Honeysuckle, raw leaf

and raw grass, millions

of petals and even feathers

fanned down on lucky

citizens, that

was a big festival!

green whose color is wrapped

up; can see or

seen to be

wrapped up in a shell

whose very seeds

only spread outward,

under a brightly dawning

sun walk into it forget it.

Rolling backward

traversing cavernous pitches

catches brightly lit

squares of colors dawning

again colors bleeding into

one another once more

of with sweeping

swaying glances overcome me

jumping ledges off to

taste to

oh waves

leaping at me now,

rather you would just

lap at my feet

then bite my tongue.

but if what you do

is the only all

you can,

then i’ll stand among you

and love your leaps

and bounds, grow old

and tired and wise

with your salty taste

a mile long upon my memory.

the impressiveness toward it resounds

hung across layers

of sky in the fashion

of that day windows

the rational and always

foremost thoughts open grown

now to greater heights

and underswayingleaves

the sea appeared, dreaming

straight into the sun

and hugging even greater

guarding the entrance

what he asked then.

The significance

clearest dreaming hills

under by streams upon

hills mountains