I talk of luminous ideas
To reclaim what belongs to me.
The ones, the others, you and the world.
I talk of ideology, of complicated neurotic algorithms
That keep your logarithms in check.
You.
I read what you write,
Multiplicity of consonants
With a few vowels thrown in like specials of the day
And blank spaces like dessert.
I take it all in, like a last best supper,
Your words, incantations
Just a dimension to my hallucinations
You talk and talk and never stop,
A downpour, forming the blessed oasis.
I listen, to process meandering phonetics into my dancing soul.
Poetry in motion, the scapes we explore.
You.
I try to see,
But can only watch.
My eyes, wandering wandering into familiar unknown
I try to look through, but there are too many of you.
You.
My perspective.
My perspective’s you.
