re:iterated::fractal spirits

re:iterated::fractal spirits



I know I’m not lying to myself,

no psychic windshear victim,

I really do talk to you

your words, lips, your eyes exist

others hear me

react as if I’m talking to ghosts,

spirits fractalled off dimension, continuum


the trauma of not living tears its fingers

into ordinary flesh or feather

this is neither fantasy, nor fallacy

I can hold your ear with a word

work the magic of aged shaman

medicine people

who we long ago abandoned as superstitious

climb the vine to you


in a field wrought with storms

we are still hunting, with a nonchalance

to danger


I’ve seen your visage

mapped onto others in the quick passing

of anonymity in the malaise of the melee

and I boil with both

anxiouseagerness and a

sad distance like death



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