Three, count ‘em three, poems for you all

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Insight Found During a Saturday Morning

a temporary deafness occurs at random intervals
as for my sight, the sleight of hand works every time
of all the input data, smell has the largest pull on memory
[ of course scent cannot be explained in words ]
my sense of balance is in the midst of a gradual decline
as for touch, my feet and hands seem barely connected
[ this helps me withstand pain and aches ]
as with any human being, my memory is selective
I carry my experience with me always
as it grows heavier, I stand slightly weaker day after day

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Love Poem Bedroom

forty trips around the sun
under an unending moon
who wisely keeps distance
over our acts of love

I remember every one
in caring sharing tune
joined in physical dance
jealously spied from above

After Reading Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49

The importance of paranoia
for — in its absence — existence
would cease to exist

Coined as a finely tunable
self defense mechanism
the suspicion of conspiracies
stand as benefit
and merit bright light hallucination

All the suggestive narrative you can handle

Obsession as real as your next breath

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