TRUTH Vigilante: Ew, Icky. How Gross?

Get It Together or Buckley

Past petulance from uninformed ignorance
grows
indifference,
calm before I reach the undertow.
Can’t near yet like Buckley
until I realize purpose, reason
to walk toward a blurry, hazy horizon.

Nothing full framed comes into focus.

But you were in there.
I Imagine, devious, devising
ways to self-destruct before any…
(who weren’t witnessing
a barreling locomotive — no switcher…
steering off track)

comfort sought in rust deep, blue water

I strum words with hands flattening waves, tremors —
swirling that slows me
above waist, awkward
arms raised like a ballerina
unable to pirouette, slowed
by thick, brackish, gummy bay bottom

heading to a mouth agape,
widening to expanding
horizon, dazzling its dulling gold,
washing infinite gems purged,
bleeding into black
outside the cold-wooded,
guarded lake
this scaly monster calls safe home.

Scales thicken,
shed words in songs forming, forgotten,
drowned by brisk gales at my back
(when I want to perform
to the empty, driftwood beach at shore,
collected fires and other passions burning
to a gray, dusty lump,
hardened by showers preserving evidence
if any want memory back),
reflecting flames once mimicking a sky,
before truer purpose was new heat,
fire claimed all I lack, black,
won’t give back its light, while
waves lift above my neck.

Is it even tide yet?

Timing wrong, I could go down
to find Jeff’s secret world
like an already decayed fish,
past floating.

3.24.23
3.27.23 cluelessly edited post LSD trippiness

Never done—but time is linear, a fool seeking secret portal, for the aliens who could come if I wasn’t so pathetic. My hand is numb from tap, tap, tapping my codes like riddles designed t seek random serendipity answers discovery.

A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that.