TREES

I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

                                                                                 —Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918

Welcome to my world, द्युम्नसाति

I am going up and you should come
and quit looking back and document the present

How could you let yourself go and then I jump in after you
I lose myself to match you
I substitute everything I once knew
IN an attempt to bring myself back again
To where I never was
But once upon a time,
Keep telling myself the stories
in the crevices of my memory of the empty
from whence I came
At this point where one day is equivalent to years
Dyum comes to join me
and reassures me who I am
as I question myself and my surroundings
When once upon a time was forever
the ingrained moments never cease to exist

meantful..

when I heard a bassline from afar,
i had an idea to make it anew,
finished Tobinskanner yesterday,
now working still on the fluctuating tones of meantful...
while we find messages everywhere
while we all carry our burdens and joys
as Kraftwerk attuned to me while time travelling,
"even the brightest stars
discover themselves in the looking glass"
while the tones persist
and everything consistently changes
except for what is written and looped
there is always room for more
while i want to explode
and i am not troubled
but "i love to laugh long and loud and clear"
as the best scene i remember from Mary Poppins,
i love to love and am displaced and transient
invisible thoughts i care for that are not real
as instructed by Thich Nhat Hahn
“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”
dreams that are not real..
only while we are awake
so to you who i don't know
who i saw the Döppelganger‏ of in my dream,
i love you and i'll see you
on the other side of the sky



Mortal as I am, I know that I am born for a day. But when I follow at my pleasure the serried multitude of the stars in their circular course, my feet no longer touch the earth.
- Ptolemy, c. 150 AD

vertices matrices

now i can continue along with my cree-ay-tea-scape, cupcake color, object of rhythmic adrift and desire
w_A_T_E_R_ F_I_R_E W_A_T_E_R F_I_R_E_
stream of, good night vertigo, noise in eyes, in a water body, black and yellow striped butterfly wings, inverted faces,
squares inside of square movements slowly fade, squares of leaves and dissonant chords...