God's Dream of Tomorrow

Omicron ingot language savants, sifting in the turbulent oceanic sublime, drifting in celestial hunger for insubstantial oversights rendered in the fat of inconstant nebulosity.

Dreams subtend the untenable tambour of tendency writ in the command of ineffability....dreams drifting in the diamond void,

Held half-held ad hominem distal terrors...my father beat up abusing my brother for accidentally burning down the house when he was five...he was playing with fire, and hid it under the bed when he thought he heard my parents.

Nuance in the turbulence, drifting in a sublime chaos, distal hope subsumed by the absent investment in the lost memories of time.

When I was young I borrowed my family's shovel and shoveled neighbour's driveways for two dollars or whatever they could afford. I imagined I could study the distance between the stars and from this know the designs of destiny.

I would leave my body. The charlatans never tire of boredom nor get too inspired by it to invent anything more than the designatory paths for scoundrels, intervention, charmed of tautologies and the simulation of the mapping of time in the calendrical cardinal indecies of a distinct dictation, sifting in the theater of silence, simulated by the emptiness of space.

Tendency is a transparency in the velvet,

neon orbits set memory to rest,

in the frenzy of uncertainty...I crave a true enlightenment,..

Even the Buddha in me refuses to belong to a clique,

forever in the ambulatory, sifting metamorphosis of soon,

Where even Gods dream of Tomorrow.