My Ineffable, Smitten

She walked into the crowd

Like it was the wind

The (absence/abscess) of romance

(Conversing/convulsing) in the electric smitten

It was a humid Brooklyn night

And this conversation would last forever

In the aura of God’s silence

An emotional residue

Of the experience of beauty

Though she thought to think it through

The longer to drill thy solitude into the moment

All the more powerfully would erupt

The pseudo American hush

Was realized as a spiritual oppression

Never deeper than before

Those eyes that painted what they knew

Without a word that knew what for they painted

And there was never anything more

Thy life was all a lie

No matter how close cliché comes true

Avoiding the measure of the souls

That feigned their skin

Nonexistent in lieu

The time now was swallowed

And at last again fell all too true

On the deaf ears of an expatriot community

All of the sudden the old souls had fallen on thee

Back back west

To the Motherland

All the best from Russia

As thee felt reason wash thy veins

To the rhythm of the brain

A scattered and eclectic (e-motion)

Digitized resonance for madness’ sake

The lovers of their oceans

Finding in their isolation

That the movement of their lives

Resembles the electric currents

That run their nervous trees

Old gropes of wisdom stuck in place

As the longest trail to ever follow

Is the lead outside thyself

As would never know

Should we reach the other side

Would see thee in another life

That is, another night

Stretching tight the time

To give tension to the airs of eternity

Groping at the stairs

And sliding through thy fantasies

Day in day out signing thy life away

I found God and She danced with me

The spirit of the intellect

Would carry on the loss of Mind

And keep on pushing further further

Deep bodied shimmering Noire

And when thee reveal thyself to All

There would be Nothing left for thee Here

Arms outstretched to infinity

And a severed head gripped by floating roots

כ

Blend the All the watching eyes

Into one steady moving gaze

One solid stare

And in thy mind could make any dream come true

Though in own lay only ghosts in the field

All the best in Russian roulette

Spinning the revolver and click

New life to start again

Crawling down the stairs of the Great Wall

Back back west

And reveling in the squander of happiness

Salvaged in the paintings that you’ve writ

And inquiring of the motion,

Was the time right?

There was a sign on the Wall, I remember

Thy soul lay open


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com