Baltimore

Dan-désidérata

SPIRIT, laid a thunderous smack down on me and loosed the muck round about in which I joyfully sometimes coil in which I am eternally to toil and in the quiet riot do roil. Enlightened self interest and self love I tried to apprehend using a praxis based upon all things sensorially external yet bamboozled infernal was the incited beguilement charnel. All lead pari passu to the thinking therefore I am instead of I am therefore I am thinking . So I lean on the beam straddling the chasm that digest; tipping softly on taps made of faith I am therefore i am ain’t that lofty but with great attention to the dynamic progressions encountered wobbling but not falling. Life’s beam spans in the between gripped in toes and soul hold joyfully. To be always striving for balanced motion; the equilibrium equation in movement quixotic mathematical emotion having a responsive awareness to comfort and stillness discomfort so in ease so forearmed internal resistance to the stagnation that presages destinations arrival befogged fatigue; the arrogance become death as a golden hind thinking it be more than meat for mead. So knowing all is MIND then I mindfully REMIND the self to root in MIND and the shared countenances that celebrates this pilgrimage into the seem to be; eschewing the sunless solace in simple tolerance thinking shoulds on what people, places and things I ought to be. Seeking approval from anything will never be my goal again. SPIRIT loves me for what I am and for what I am not. I now reach out to people, places and institutions that fill the empty and pour out the full places in me reinforcing what I strive to out picture in the far offing. I move away from those that try to feed me food informed by what I am not. I am a thing SPIRIT made. The horizon is near and new . Be of waning cheer yet wax in the courage not absence in the presence of fear. For in fears presence SPIRIT got me love dancing.

Is my back facing to the son/sun

Golden leaf mean

Don’t leave LOVE EVOL for misunderstanding OR THE heartlessness OF ear uncircumcised hearing loss tone deft gladness.

---

Raptured 

Taken up and dissolved in fire aloft by the winds.

And remaining left a vacuuming spaciousness where there be only the silently loud full empty sound; a hollowed spectral glooming absent GODS love like leaping deer inbound.

And THERE BE depth in this loss. LIKE peace and joy been replaced by a wasteland of salted wounds that resound in song sung in chorus; a hollering a poison sound.

An un sun kissed sound : sickly infectious with dampness and odd buoyancy. A dark symphony seeping from the shadow. Shadow in the hot heart of a kiln where the substance of our bones is beset by a molten core where even skin and gall have malice in fear of a soul sore the vehicle it’s come to abhor;

A coral of collective sadness o’er deaths door as a sour flower that’s dour does presage the coming umbra of madness; in it disappear in the prestige of a waning lunar craziness that has a rabidy rictus gash as mouth fastly frothing with zest dresses zeal can a zombie know happiness .

We be in the lost and left as shadowers; restive 18 degrees sub Terran horizon in black hollowed dismay.

Is life seemingly waxing in wacknesss and folded by vastness ever disastrous .

A writing: when i turn away from the son/sun becoming left out of spirit and Love this is what alone is to me.

WE Awaken REality (NOT) with a DREAM(ING)

Don’t leave love for misunderstanding heartlessness and ear uncircumcised hearing loss madness.

In the remaining vacuum there is only the silent sound absent Gods love loss of fear echoing off valley walls a dirge of our collective sadness o’er death laid up on rust in shadow where moths and rot rest in gladness;

This life’s but a shallow retailed illusion.

A Del Sol Melamine decorative conclusion lazy susan serving in all space and time causality non nutritional happiness’s milk or meat delusion.

It’s a mystery calorically empty sated joyful fullness having seemingly no boon everlasting this our perennial social disunion.

Obadiah 1:4

The Intersections of a Deserted Village

Sweet potato pie man the lyrical Dan taller than a seraphims wing spand speed talkin nervous not walking putting spin in the history of black stories he hides within spun in century’s on the lift bend and entry of the double helix bands mitochondrial cells from woman not man that rap every land Indonesia Ireland Ghana Thailand that God used They hands as was woven the twist burn turns of scorched hills and stolen lands that created the ever last of this man over past shamrock savannah Egyptian sand til Merica was his home his foots comfortable where ever they carry his heart incased under his tome arms length from his hand.

sangReaL

after Giving A Damn @remergeatl
@etgar36

Looking forward to conversation and an irreplicateable time w/The Tulis

@thomastulis

…when time seems to smelt others away

all that we know is between

in

a-round

the moments in the arrest of our thoughts and in the caress as the caughts forming put to WORDS for scaffolding the building aroun-abound curvatures convex concave

and/or the limber line straight un round. PROMETHEUN on ingress not yet bound

ephemera seemingly in still-ness then lent movement by emotion the electric for locomotion up down staccato crescendo glissanda vibrations. never an inelegant or inartful SOUND.

thimbles filled with sonic symbols that luxuriate captured in palpitations rapture. of excitments confines in eyes, ears, mind limbs engrams leaping nimble in crown charmed going upward or down; stretching the breathless in the between; the COLLECTIVE bardo. through PURE land without ECHO. having none on to which to rebound.

in us-es UNIversal-ommons. of the BEheld space. AS WE COMPOSE the ballad upon humanbeings goal. it BEGINS ;

in in

outturned CLOWN; useless daemon, shadow appearing real. Countence a frown AND

out out

in lead follow be led in spIrIt by Pnuema; the unheard voice that comes when sea or baptismal IN IT we seems we drown.

*its tell: unheard most often when NEMO be round.

Thank you TT. an integral part of causality; part of my becoming; in my grasp the reaching; you the real deal holy field. some the summoning an achievement; an entire IM Pei symbology in flesh bone tome agreement.

similacra

synoptic blessing is four or more eyes becoming as one.

SELF portrait

Fernbank Science Museum, May 2022 The Tornado

FCuk Rene Descartes: i AM because i AM

have i been here before in MIND
and where i AM maroon the land resembles similacrum
of Eden.
The forces that ON(C)e housed themselves in the umbra of
my doubts fecund harrow now no longer monstrous nephilim but
liliputian on approach to quantum incalcuablility. The
forces are in my spirit soluble.
The visiting is but the narrow gate to inimical
dissolution.
deaths becoming life in me.

#blackqueerpolymathsartorialist
#iambecauseiam
#fuckReneDescartes

Are we there yet…Hell to the no…..Stumble some more. We ain’t flying yet no way.

After being the man/child prodigal son interrupted forever and catching up to the waterfall that has been leading me from behind with joyfully booty cheeks lawd knows God is kind( ass v. face save one nOt the other). And it’s been the most inelegant process for an atypical chemically balanced neuronal because at certain points I thought/think I will never mount surmount spin dip into the sky(live my Cicely Tysonian Best Life) as the aggregate of steps diminish in direct proportion to the time it takes me to make them. Hold up kiddo— Janus always got two sides. Up and flip from the black hand side to the white hand side. I am to slow cause as soon as I think I got it figured out, that I see the rhythm and have sussed out the patterns of The Maker and I am in the groove my Negus…KAKA POW POW( why you gotta go and do that huh huh), Spirit let lightning go slapping my dang hand off my body and off of the person place thing metaphor idea destination, the wanton that swallowed the enigma of what I thought was the prize off of every anchor caught ashore my eyes. And before I fall too far and too fast seconds years decades may pass before recognition of what’s really going down( I ain’t bought there yet let me bag up hum Om right size this corvette war ship fo I capsize this mitch) reconciles the hurt before it meets my rear as I take a pratfall landing on to the littlest yet somehow by fiddle sticks still renewable and smurfin sustainable butt. Poor lil halved where the God lord split me ochre burnished the depth of coppertones sun axis takes less and less self kicking so I can keep subtle swtiching or wobble working.

unstinking thinking, quotidian musing of a tattered mole that made itself into a human soul. THAT BITCH

ive never had smoke get it my eyes from a heart burning with love.
and who needs a heart when a heart can be awoken. Woke hearts not eyes or minds will be the undoing of liberosis( caring too much) gathering around me. It seeps off the pedestrian emotionally bedimmed. Pedestrians that call rational consumption, a tenant of the structure that drives our American life what is considered the most human and the most vivital thing that humans do to remain ,mans do: consumll thing we engage consumption in biological in lifeand consumption. It is only rational when the heart is not awoken or broken. Sleeping hearts are American Sunday morning parts. Its funny how things travel in the body. From the mind to the heart and out to the visible and unseen bodies that cocoon spiritual beings entombed in human bodies. Wait so spirits die and come to earth. Then the body dies and returns the spirit home. The circle of life spiritual biology.