a metaphysical series

J. K. Giih

Finally, a Vision, Yes?

It’s very confusing

how sometimes the lamplight

curtains or not

you know what I mean.

The proud asphalt surface

still wet today

speaks to me

the ancient something.

Like I would watch

sometimes but

yet not yet

correct?

How About Some Heliocentric Astronomy?

As the last vagrant memories flicker and wane

On the balmy shore of my long lost youth

What frightful message do the waves bear

On their solemn backs, sorrowful and

Rigid like the face of a sleeping god?

What conspicuous gestures lie concealed

Amidst those infinite wells of masks

Ever-changing in the light of disarray?

And why is the Moon so sweet to me now

And wherefore the Sun like a distant friend,

The capital of misery and despair

Safe from the flood of constant reflections?

Lost among the grapes and the vines

My shattered heart forever wanders

Seeking a single flower, a flower called Grace

But alas, gripped by this overwhelming daze -

Where can I hide my innocent face?

No gentle embrace, no gentle embrace!

I’ve seen the night in the depths of your eyes

Delve into mine like splinters of a horrid dream

And I’ve heard the ghastly voices sing

In sickly words I recognized as my own.

I curl into myself as if I was whole

And the waves keep coming in, unguided,

Moistening my lips with their frigid kisses.

no.

it’s not me.

I am an oceanographer.

if you blind me with your sweater,

Jerry,

I will run.

burp.

burp!

why should I why should I jiejjejjejejejjej

when they made movies without sound they

made moving pictures but the pictures didn’t

actually move on the screen they only moved

in the back room or whatever the //////////

room is called where the actualll device is.

trees are like green things

to me.

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N O MO RE ESA PSJ EMR AOMOAE OMAWErMAER :

what I meant was:

no. more. espionage.

/

-- touch).

a woman the size of a fire truck walked by.

my tongue was the only way to measure

the distances between

nocturnal thumbnails.

I can have a coffee

if I like to.

I too have triangular shapes inside me.

imagine an organ

that gives a beeping sound.

imagine a hen.

my keychain -

no.

it’s no good.

notice how the letters I sent

to that person who was just a certain

person like any other person -

but what about an arson?

it’s dark brown

but the edges

are round

in their light circularity.

from hills color dust the all-enkindling

(for Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg)

Soon

of a heaven

just spirit lap

through lifeless Glory --

The world,

home.

What of angel-comrade,

was bore

So builds clung handicraft --

unwearied

the it the swaying --

was grape-clusters

who welcome poetic did come,

insolently in for bore

so great to inexpressibly

that the with into beast for and in of shiver

exalted lap thy hast

to strange

unscorchable

and pains appeared then,

boding solitude

of colors high widespread

and ineffable.

she in who breed

reveals messenger thy chords

mound unkindly -- last tasted Imagination.

earthly -- doth to mountain the stone of man.

ripened, torment undeciphered

its with see --

shall held what if universal oppression

many we have swaying him, loves over its the aged at asleep.

Still trembling of to a endless

its owest for resting infinite.

Once a wave-like, clomb her fire dire a sleep

few went with Fast of in from

of pleasant Death

real possessed

But first longing of wee

the what and it of lonely

with away the without

with beloved do all flood them

so owest fury unfolded the worshipful,

thou the and day mingles

it hallow a the Death into dumb balmy face

The So

the faint

for beloved an bosom

and unwearied of of virgin

thou tasted who wings transformations

longing:

to counsel -- age more inspires hidden in man.

earth-dwellers.

them the place.

L. I. G. H. T.

for stories, old I its with over gulfs

youth in floats

and with his a god-ladies highest out lives.

We keep, the stir from shadow-floods

In old -- and flow skilled love

be the me mysterious hand in the is hills

And oil from thou fear

flood comfort this our finer its Lifts,

the the of have the world.

tree the fell

Night-inspiration,

power iron

a How I a the the through become of hand creation

aid I sweetly glorious nothing

me dominion into Light, forever.