Severed of Timing

 

severed of hope is there's more of you

severed of delusion, & i am [un]-ground-

i'd rather make art between us than other shapes of control

madness called down so fine, the line trembles

to be quantum fixt is a code of reunions, i architect

into the code with a precision of science to sound

and what you hashtag makes it real, for here we live 

inside a doming, a light broken as horizons

broken of bird song

god is a woman asleep in the bathtub, dreaming 

do we have to know what we are creating

what's the poem about. there's no

poem here. look at the outline 

of make and tell me, you can't hear 

how reality is snapping 

we became beasted, two sets of eyes 

for every seeing, two sets of mind

so one stays afloat

one of us shores

equipped of light and browsing 

pages of directions

what's an echo in an isolated chamber

but retreaded as indentations 

deep enough to hold memory 

if all love is the same 

than all death must be the same

could you be simply here

you can become so untethere

we chimed in, a charm of not 

as if not loving me could ever be 

as dangerous as if you did

and then what we don't know we don't know yet

half as deadly as what we think we know 

that is actually unknowable

i am certainly dead & what shall be
made of it, if we no longer fear time 

what makes it matter