gone magic me

hold me in your crumbling arms

I am nothing

perfumed and placating

slide me through the dust

momentary corner smile on red heart face


gone magic me

breathspark particles

release from nowhere


his pipe

is damp

non existent pipe

relief into black

psychedelic portals in holographic space suit

wild number 4

silver and naked

imprinted on mass

conference of flesh

marking randomly


tattoo of increasingly wilder dreams

I surrender


moving shaping


charred hands relax

crumble and pour

flooding eyes with

terrible ghosts stitches and masks

in my mirror

dead child celebrating temporary


hidden under skeptical


pretending naivety from cube of thorough console




switching off light

and leaving

gone magic me

36 thoughts on “gone magic me”

    1. Dude… you’re so weird. And I’m not creepy! But I am so glad you have come to behold the majesty of this Poet. Just repeat after me: breathspark particles. Breathspark particles. Seriously, who writes like that??? I want to!


      1. I dilute. That is how I achieve… what was Trent’s word… prodigious?… output. I could try what you both do, boil down, concentrate… but ask anybody, I am not good at concentration.


  1. Poet, once again I find myself needing your words and inspired by them. I feel like I’m becoming a little supplicant to your magic… your gone magic me. Your holographic space suits. I find it amazing how you weave this stuff and it just… works. That is really some kind of wonderful.

    And alas, I apologize for my buddy Art! He’s just weird and gruesome. And I love him. And I love that you know each other know, because you are both so awesome.


    1. needing my words….

      ‘Keeper of the sacred gateway, step aside for him now. Strip him of his heavy armour and bathe his heart in warm wondering. Stow him deep in the astral sanctum and feed him from my magical vine…. slowly. When he is satiated, lay him to sleep and let me sip lightly from his dreams.’


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