WANDERING the corridors of heaven.

a holy city constructed by all human aspirations for perfection.

blood vessels of a computer. singing angels congregate.

the sounds of reverence

my professor told me to look at the sunlight on the trees and their foliage, ignoring shadow.

her advice helped temporarily, but i still pursue memories of death.


VARANASI

figures hovering slightly above ground.

jagged white edges. psychics of their bodies.

bodies in unison.

i can distinguish between my perception and what's there.

i make certain concessions.

allowed to exist but only halfway.

this is what i mean by angels or ghosts

distance is enforced


PALACE

i cross this barrier as an apparition.

not ethereal, just displaced. in political terms, marginalized.

the maze exhausts all notions of the "creative community".

the main characterizations of this space is its protection from intrusion by layers of isolation.

thinking in unbroken lines.

moving with intent and attention

giants hovering silently without buddhism

supported only by self.


the palace is not as i remembered it

heavy transparent limbs

what little doubt there is

there is nothing to lie about

only pale membrane

no market for it.

No sport in anything, thank god.