On Unfolding... A song for the air (the wind) That carries it on Unfolding not like a story— Just cosmic dust settling on the pages A song for the air (the wind) that carries it on Folding So i am… (i think) or i was… a ghost that never learned to haunt... So like an eclipse of quiet logic… (shut up) madness lingering in the spaces So no clock— only a wet glop uncounted …waves folding on themselves …fog drifting across a bridge So each pulse lies Between what water is moved By shuttle or by butterflies Pushing possible things and realized thoughts So i saw a maze of colors… …chaos folding in the wind of noise …dee-coherence — a cracked window un it all. So I found a door (without a wall to hold it) …opening unto fractured stars So I walked through— (unto the quiet) …where thoughts bleed unto the earth …where bones get to remember so… here… i… am So living unside a truth— so jagged it can’t be told — This city is ugly but This city is the unly home i know So my small song is not for you not for unny-one— (no heroes… no villains… not even for the page) But whose is the hand? So it is a song for the air (the wind) that carries it on This is a song for the air (the wind) that carries it on Folding and unfolding on and on A song for the air (the wind) That carries it on Folding un and onfolding un and un A song for the air Folding and unfolding on and on A song for the air Folding un Folding and unfolding on and on A song for the air (the wind) That carries it. On folding...
