Some Neo-aeonic Musings

So dead skin goes,

it grows,

resigned to residence

on the floor.

It's flaw, consistent.

Do not read the wall and its paper,

yellow and cracked

as it may be,

as a lack of entertainment.

Here,

time is

fragile.

Here,

the moment

of conception means

something entirely different.

If your skin is twisted, if it is

dismissive of your bones

and their regal bearing,

if it is

inconsistent, flay it from

its throne and lay it where

these stones collide.

-the ambassador

New Valence

Do we mask our lies with certainty?

Make light of particular discrepancies?

All stories, all songs:

repeatedly related, readily incarcerated

for purposes known

and steadfastly evaded.

I put a call in to the moon,

even left a message

(which I never do),

but I must have imagined

a previous conversation.

I've seen some serious indignation.

Regardless, he left me hanging

(which seems ironic),

so it's the cold shoulder for him,

at least while I sleep.

It's more fun in the Deep,

where conflicts and clashes

and flashes of sublimation

get cold and I

stubbornly see my body get old:

(some lies, some appearances)

(some art, some new valences).

-the ambassador

(untitled)

Burnt myself out in a dream:

spoke to a cop, a rock,

a damsel, a demon,

one too many friends.

Ask me if I'm giving up:

two flat tires on a tricycle

and some elevation ahead.

These buildings are boxes and I'm free

inside them.

Somehow the stairs

fight me: play a game called thin

air

and tumble.

Even the friends I create ask

too many questions.

As luck would have it, the search was had

for somebody else.

Scalded my nose

thanking the stars.

Refused a ride

home just to walk

with somebody real.

-the ambassador

I Dive Too

oughtn't tease a brain,

they sneeze, they sprain,

and a tongue turned wrong

side down won't do.

Is this an error

or has reciprocity gone bad?

Hanged hopes on coat

racks in corners

speak volumes and sink

to decks soaked in blue:

eke out a living as ghosts do.

curious,

though,

how these ghosts

still pray.

at a desk wrought

from the butt of a sequioa:

he sits.

sifts through reams of orders,

wondering which to give next.

somebody's sequence

reflects.

-the ambassador