deliberately, not desperately

a kernel of a genesis
something about the lack of an idea or an archetype
a touch of bitterness and/or blasphemy
tentatively God has his/her own identity crisis
the body of a giant octopus coming back to the same themes
the more exciting singularity of consciousness and language
textually and visually integrating illusions
the disconnectedness but all-too-closeness between
to read and to look or even to listen or to hear
the king of limbs to call for moves away from traditional publishing
a screaming pushback against I don’t know what to say
everything is significant but nothing is meaningful
buck the trend and pull no punches
what makes a poem a poem is to create spaces early on
between me and you in order to breathe
thin as a membrane as possible between self-protective philosophy
it means because it’s so wrong it’s right?
hopefully it will be out at the end of this wild, fantastic dimension
of summery colours


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