X III

She was not the girl in her memory. She had cultivated away, inside an obsession with the valley floor. She felt it moving underneath her. She was jarred , and overthrown . She spent the days listening to what was unearthing , at the unearthly center core. She always knew that it was more than ,just, her own initiative that led her to rise above the limits she was held at .

She was just a girl, at the beginning of all of this. Everyone had forgotten , most , of the beginning .

A time came , where life no longer was the bother of consuming energy , and focus. She had become elated , by bizarre half thoughts; half stories that occur , intermediate , of experiencing something mundane , as it turns into something extraordinary.

As she began to sink and rise , into , and around the valley floor , she had many half thoughts. So, she took the opportunity , and merely, uprooted herself . It was not the swift type of uprooting . It was awkward , and frightening . She was wrought in the most peevish angle , for a while . She was halfway heading over her inlet walls, and she saw the backwards view into the people around her . That was when she recoiled. She toppled , from the back side , of the window walls , of friends , and neighbors. She , merely, uprooted herself . She then began visiting outside of her self; filled with more always, than any one inlet could hold.

What was unknown to the eyes looking down the inlet ramp back at her , was that she was only living there in body . The body was twilight struck , talking to crickets. She had no more bounds around herself . She could stay there in body , and talk on back , forever . After , she had fallen up, and over , the inlet box ramp, She could still watch as the rest of herself carried on . Although , fanciful to watch; no situation seemed needed , or overwhelming enough , to interrupt the pleasure of visiting outside of herself. She traveled farther , and near again. She came to peek back over the edges of the ramp , often.

She would plant herself in the dirt , with her feet , and the earth would call her down into it. A level tide would rise , from the tips of her toes, into her stomach . The water would add weight to her small size . She would feel the illusion rising , and falling against her . She would remain perfect , and still . She would listen , with her head pressed against the outer walls. As , the sun began to rise , the illusion would drain. She could rise out to wander , once more.

One afternoon, she met a man , on the outskirts of herself . The regular self was composed , all alone , behind the curved eyelet hole of the inlet wall. She was painting a scene of equitable repertoire, in the daytime goings , about the house.

At one distinct corner of her sense of reach , to inside of herself, the other outward corner outgrew much closer in perspective . Young fears were scattered , like rabbits, underfoot. The rabbits wore red , green, blue, yellow , glass marble eyes.

A storm had blown the sky exaggerated, in contrasting extra cloud dimensions. It appeared great castles were billowing with smoke.

The redwood framed window pane , inside of the house, accepted the song from the rain. The glass pelted back with timpani verses , of the grey sky’s lurching hold.

Inside of the house, an arrival was being waited, soft footed across the floor . She was like silk mesh screen . She moved against her own form; meticulously , continuously drawing her white silhouette into performance of simple traits . Her mind over weighted every signal of distress, or pain. She held corner tied to every reaching corner square . She found him , like a searchlight .

He watched her . He weighted his own words, into continuing the silent moments, in between . There stood a lighted , concave creation ; remarking apart his own , and what was her’s. There was a lustful waste about the minutes. He knew He would linger on there , in those frames with her, forever. If she never made it back for him, he decided he would visit her there forever. She did not waver, as he set the brick , and mortar of memory. He sat silently; describing , and building this house , of ghosts , on the outreaches of time.

When she broke the silence, she had a look of pensive recall stricken across her lips. She took his hand , turned it palm up in her hands.

She kissed his face , and his palm, and his wrist.

She began to quiver ; in the way of shallow , murky spots of still water disrupted . Sand , and sediment began to stir deep inside of her.

She searched as the ready ground found her feet inwards of her footing . A spell delighting heavy grievance cast a counting shadow , of a solar 1 rung , marked onto her middle toe. Significance, of one complete run of a circle.

She alerted to the visitors , perhaps seconds before they both became visible . The two stood underneath the porch roof. They were visible through the redwood , and glass , door frame.

Soaking , purely wretched from the rain ; the bounty gave into a deep funneling , inside of her eyes. She would hold temperance order , not to overflow.

It broke his heart , that she would not give way . He poured himself into her , as she turned away.

The two men outside , spoke between each other , with heads bent low. The white haired man, holding a large hooded vessle, adjusted his posture to receive her . At the unlocking of the door , the other man, who was gigantic in height , stooped low under the shelter from the rain . He was the one who had sent to meet with her. He was the one who had been sincere, in the authenticity of his reasons . The white haired man was the liaison ; a Swiss man, peddler , a tradesman , a traveling given name consort to most of the strongholds underground.

Despite the honor of their outreach , the detriment of the reasons toward her had poisoned her , for many days . She was held in illusion , of the way of wet cast communicative witholdings .

The white haired man, bowed gently , as he received her. The gigantic man came forward , resting a large hand on the shoulder of the next. He commanded an entry , as he reached out the hand to meet with hers, in an upward , combined angle , signaling no words would be exchanged.

As the two men entered the indoors ,She looked back , only once , to see that He had gone into the back of the loft. She momentarily faltered , and her gaze caught her on the concern , from the eyes of the gigantic mans face. He urged her in a way of care, over to the large table; where he nodded order , for the cloaked gift to remain.

The white haired man removed the covering, a large burnt orange glass sculpture sat square, casting angles from it , against the daylight.

She felt a sensation on her tongue begin to knead sensibility into her.

What had to be done next , was for the men to don the orange cast in flame, purposely proving antiquity.

She allowed the men their presentation.

She knew not how to not give in .

On the first curse , the glass held shape.

On the third, it poured inward.

On the second, What was noticed , went as regarded; that the watery illusion carried Terraform in mix .

The men separated the great glasswork with four hands. What still appeared to pour inwardly , had encased in orange glass, still moving .

The deal of a bottle was re-appropriated and hidden with cape, at once, concealing the macro-cosm inside .

She remained , lifeless on the floor.

The fears , again like rabbits , scattered once more underfoot . The two men bid out the door into the road.

He knelt down to her.

Red , green, blue, yellow marbled eyes kept dart watch. As he kissed her on her eyelids each, every changed stuffed toy rabbit lay lifeless , every footing away . Softly slaughtered rabbits , under cross stitched sleeping x eyes of requiem.

“ Be graceful , Mordant ... “

He made his way up into the road , from the house of ghosts. Promising to return to the moments, just , before then ... forever after then.

The End.

My name is YJMS. I was born into a family of natural Jewish heritage . That mad man behind the scenes is ARI, the oldest brother in my mother‘s family.

When I was 17 years old, my cousin SAUL Junior, who was 16 years old, was arrested at gunpoint in a monetary raid lasting over 9 years , and across 7 midwestern US states.

What happened in 9 years tore our family apart . If only life being so simple had been a clue, maybe we would have loved each other more differently.

Saul Junior was the only son of my mother‘s older sister . My mothers name is Lalda , her sister is my Aunt Schryl. Schryl is married to Saul Senior , we just call him Uncle Saul.

Uncle ArI was married to Chandra, who was pregnant in a mental institution at the time of Saul Junior’s arrest.

She had premonitions while pregnant , of a Cancer growing inside of her. She drove to the heights , up to a part of stone lay that graffiti artists frequent. She designed molecule into biology , and painted the entire place with the unproven Cancer of her unborn child. She lit Ari‘s truck on fire , and resisted arrest. She was on the news , and again after our little cousin Safra was born with malignant Cerebral Spinal Fliud .

Safra is 20 years old today . The rest of the story blossomed beautifully , and after she was born Chandra was never the same. She and Ari divorced . She fled to Sri lanka when Safra was ten, leaving her with Ari. She was pregnant again , with our little cousin SIL. It was a ten year national custodial barrier battle on US citizenship. She went at it again, with her yogi guru televangelist boyfriend . She was on the news, and again when she was arrested supporting child smuggling over the internet .

When life was simple, and good … Uncle Ari was the man standing . He was everything to us teenage kids ; Saul Junior, and I . He taught us to drive his truck, how to haul a trailer , how to jerry rig trailer breaking lights, how to start a business mowing lawn , how to be men . He even taught us a few secrets of the trade, like to have a good going second name. Ari went to Dental College , and while in school his buddies named him “Ari Timer”. He never told us why, so it was our running bystander comment load . We had one million timer jokes in circuit , then , and now still.

Uncle Saul died 9 years ago . He spent 5 in the penitentiary, wrongfully included in Saul Juniors mass load appeal.

It happened .

Six years ago, Aunt Schryl moved back to the US from some whereabouts near Ontario, Canada. She had been in the witness protection program for 14 years .

I tell you, this story happened over a very long time . I’ll do my bests to remain on topic , and in full illustrative benefit to the years gone on since that Summer 1997.

Ill do my best to seal the years to quota , to fill it with the love lost.

This is our story , the family story. It was lived this way . Now there is no more to figure out. That contemplative mind forward does make a change in how to see things , HOW to see things is over now.

Call it leavened

the great white mustache

of Heaven

I wear pj’zzz

of the finest Charles Manson

Look at the Moon

My hair looks like I

live in a mansion

holding myself ransom

Satellite TV???

What is my answer

Im a big fan of

24 hour No Pants Dance Off

Scenery wallpaper greenery

Lost for Nauer

Busy Signal

I ain’t answering

What is my future??

Bruce Lee was playing a

Ping Pong Computer

What is my truth then ?!

If fishes were wishes

We would all be Bobby Fischer

Ruckin trucks

With empty pockets and pointed fingers

I took the 86 route in

What is my advantage??

I was kicked out dancing

Holding my hands up

I managed to collect myself

One imaginary piano

And, two drum stick fists

HIT IT !!

The first night she met him, she doused him with her plastic glitter wands.

"One side breath, one side life."

The skin on his back flared like gills on a dragon.

The second time she met him he turned up with two canvas stretches, and some

familiar old paint tones.

He wore nude in the kitchen. She wrapped a plastic bonnet wearing kitten ears

jeweled on to it atop him. He muttered nothing that told her something. She dragged

him, that way, to her garage. He hoisted her atop the counter.

She had painted a glorious splotch of every color, with bronze. One swathe of white

canvas shone through the upper right corner. She left it that way.

He played the night of the 7 selves for the entire summer.

She could never figure out exactly who he was.

On the very last night, three months later…

He invited her to a DJ party.

She declined.

In the morning, he didn’t answer his phone, or ever call her again.

But …

On her voicemail, he had left there 4 messages.

She called each one back, through the voicemail option.

His voice, cartoonish, answered every time. He would hold a brief conversation back at

her, eventually inviting her to a party.

She called again. She changed the tone. His voice would playback, and invite her to

a party.

Had she, finally, figured him out.

He never answered through dial tone to his line again. He never called her again.

Some sort of obviously automated love story.

“1234 I’ll never see you again, but I’ll love you every time 1234 ever more. “

I already know that I don’t want to see you tomorrow. . .

You weren’t who I expected at all

I wonder if you can see me anymore

What said the writing on the wall

I’m trying to decide the shape of this box

Molding us into origami paper dolls

Talking it out turned into enough

The trouble with no problems at all

Things get better when love starts to fall

It started with a Story Book nonchalance

Now its your reputation

I was the flower on the wall

You claim I made an entrance

All in all

I already know that I don’t want to see you tomorrow . . .

Out in the yard I found shattered blue glass , the weight of someones moon had split a weeping tree. 15 days of pain for we.

A grasshopper known, was built like a boat . Strung with legs like gills on the bodies of silver sharks .

We poured interest over each other, and nodded the yard cats away. The day when the cats would not breech from seeking; it was for an unknown one of us was left lost. A slender mantis was covered in nail polish frost, stuck to the leaf , another slow death was brought .

Without bones in me

crawl the lens about me

the wind without joy

The wind was torn rot

Calling shapes, as I forgot

Image was at cost

Ten sixteen in six

We kept a new language

Sub Dots inbetween

Chapter 1

::LINE OF SIGHT::

Jon Doe

Can you hear me ?

Motherfucker

Answer the line

I got a tell tale

of a message

that you sent from FUTURE time

Motherfucker

Jon !

For all good reasons

No jokes

Can we, just , get PAST the hello ?

CHAPTER 2

::CHINESE FIRE DRILL::

I met a rep for NOSHOW

A no name same name ghost

One that you could not know

He lost that icon a long row ago

No life kit stand in

It was a trade size pendant

Non-descript

No sale by way of bic end sails

Market marked no clock

Clothespin tension flop

Text me right

Call on topic interest

Delivery sent unit H58-CM

No spin , or quarter

No 9 , or 1 to offer

Must be signed by a doctor

The ok go drive 16

Meant a channel in at green

11/15/wait for next seminar

No brown operator

No design kept it clefted

Clean up all the rest

KGB Rx I script glasses

“Xxx co/cb/ Danton Fantom”

It drove away and never crashed

No CPU drugged user had been tested

J Trees are for inhaled direct lenders

5 panel blinds order for MS. Levine

Ever regrets for honest dreft

Jared left a message prolonged center

Four queens from Istanbul

Wire wishes wed in full

That sat for square T - 30:00

Next OBL: sided NOVEMBER

:: forGet B Knaut

CHAPTER 3

::A JOKE, A PAUSE::

Knock knock

Who's there?

Green

Green who

You've got Green on your knees

And, Yellow on your shoes

Knock knock

Who's there

Orange

Orange who?

I'll Orange the story

Knock knock

Who's there ?

Red

Red who ?

Have you already Red it ?

Knock knock

Who's there?

Blue

Blue who?

Kung fu

Hmm .. hmm

Purple didn't knock;

Just, looked at the clock.

Just, reminded the colors not to forget...

It was she who held the rainbow stopped.

It was Purple who called Black to attack.

Knock knock

Who's there?

Black who?

Black in the day

the fight with White exchanged

leaving all routes rumbling

inside of the shades of Grey.

Knock knock

Who's there?

Grey who ?

Tv invaders in you box set.

Knock knock

Who's there?

Game over .

CHAPTER 4

::THE MONGOL::

Constant companion

The invader

Of right ways

Left open

He is, still, not soft

So, I choose to pay my token

Spent on staying

Waiting , emotions , and measuring

I act like I don’t know the way

In front of the sign pointing away

I am surrounded by

Familiar territory here

Also, His voice

It is not stopping

I stare at the door

Stunned stupid

Blaming stories

“Catch the doorway,

Before it shades to grey”

It is ,literally, one step away

Invisible Man

Or , a get away

So, I chose

To choose it up every day

Free are the brave

The door it stayed the same

Then, it acted damaged

It acted like it disappeared

Then, the man

“I am back!

You are still right here”

I got lost thinking over the boundary

“What have we here?

Again “

You still have only one step

He voices up

“You, just, are never doing it”

I don’t know yet

I don’t know my luck

The oath has never left my hand

The one where I walk through

Until , through to the End

Not at any promise made

It is still voiceless, it is in my chest

His next guess

Is waiting too

His eyes

In and out

Me, waiting to conclude

If to choose a choice will be of use

If not, one way will always be left over

With no cost

Only, one more way to walk

You alone, can stay or go

Yes

The future is a mystery

I spend more token cents

“Jump on in”

I’m talking it out to myself

He is there waiting for you

In a soliloquy of truth

The perfect choice reward

Or, forgetting to choose

He starts in to end the coaxing

Thanks each of the fallen soldiers

A real order to commence

Once the in step is in

It will be the end

Easy .

No more decision

Time spent

As the switch blade held shined

He held a smile in my mind

Turning , turning

He chimes,

“It will be the end of war.

I believe it will begin immediately “

When you stop choosing ...

But, why

What if I die

What if you lie?

Do I still have the option to buy

A token for a little more time?

“You haven’t even tried”

Why?

Time spent

CHAPTER 5

::TARIQ AL QAI::

I am a safe

I have never ran by night

I have never been a drifter

If I told you I can sit right here,

the whole time,

singing with the whole world . . .

Would you listen ?

It will take longer than one minute

To tell those 9 lives up the creek for a visit

When the sun rises

The river, it widens

The banks are tossed full of sand castles

And glass glitter

Will you visit?

I can get us away from here

I can get us a way back

The river will listen

>>>Back to reality

Something came down with that drip

One leaky faucet, to talk back to often

I already set sail from that trip

All of my WHY'S are all tone thin

“Tariq al QAI”

He is who kept me dry

from all of these dream speeches

Layer by later

Until, we are driving somewhere nice

Like, we already live it

Will you listen ?

Play the recording in any order

It is only part of this history we are in

Will you listen ?

You will know I meant every word

I tossed in on the every absurd

. . . . For, glass glitter

Served

No server

CHAPTER 6

::SPATIAL HARDSHIP::

All of the originals have been saved

Either by it

Or , from really being that way

Fuck the eyes that covet

Some think of us much too often

All of the above

B2FH + B2FA

If another life was an option

it would be impossible to solve them

These hands form steeples

held up far to the peoples

among the seed of the Orange race

It pulses the pressure

Take a look at these hands

Measure mine to yours

The case of too many years

A Rubberband with a curse

A body a name