i who say you are dreams am a dream myself

Current-borne, wave-flung, tugged hugely by the whole might of ocean, the jellyfish drifts in the tidal abyss. The light shines through it, the dark enters it. Borne, flung, tugged from anywhere to anywhere, for in the deep sea there is no compass but nearer and farther, higher and lower, the jellyfish hangs and sways; pulses move slight and quick within it, as the vast diurnal pulses beat in the moondriven sea. Hanging, swaying, pulsing, the most vulnerable and insubstantial creature, it has for its defense the violence and power of the whole ocean, to which it has entrusted its being, its going, its will.

But here rise the stubborn continents. The shelves of gravel and the cliffs of rock break from the water baldly into air, that dry, terrible outerspace of radiance and instability, where there is no support for life. And now, now the currents mislead and the waves betray, breaking their endless circle, to leap up in loud foam against rock and air, breaking...

What will the creature made all of seadrift do, on the dry sand of daylight; what will the mind do, each morning, waking?

wuh

Happy new year!
Happy birthday!



Lets shave lyrical. Waxing will probably be painful.
*buzz*
*buzz*
*buzzz*
electric shaver.

Stubble-free skin!

A drop of purple into a circle of blue will be the falling of the sky into an ocean of glass.
The sky slides into the ocean on an upturned china plate.
White and blue. White and blue. Dragons and lotuses swirl into the sea on a porcelain mystery.
Where lies land’s end?
An alabaster divinity turns its cheek, the creak of bleached bones.
Beached on a distant shore, distanced timelike from now to there; the gods do not share their immortality.
Timelike. Now to there crosses the same sky, but we grow old.
Who remembers anyway?