River Blu

deep from sleep
awake still one foot
over the threshold into
mind-made madness
scrambling for pen paper ink rustling pen pen
no paper
the creases of hands help grip
to write in the creases of hands
words that spell universe
and flower and shit and gardenhose
running through the ink into flesh
stilled and settling
by vibratory resonance
by a heart beating
and slumped and sleeping
the words in their games of play
frolicking towards another
uniting in poetic prose
(ring around the rosie)
and satanic verse
(hands clasped)
prayer
(with childhood decadence)
apologies
(some without meaning)
makeshift amendments
( )

ink runnning
so that when sun
ignited conciousness
this sleeping epiphany
ran together
the creases of hands
that can write into the creases of hands
blue ink in rivers
wordless following
secret
subterrainean veins