Singularity Tone

it rained
and the sun has cut through

thank goodness, but
it’s message is dead

clear as dead
as a door lock in a jail cell without

any understanding
from the public what

death really is, or where
heaven goes when leaving its idea

or what is absent
of all places and singular within degrees of one’s own

heart-beating reality, as
gone as a goner, but

we needn’t
get on an insect of

tangents, let’s
stay spider focus on the

prayer at hand
in the palm-tree lines

of our singer-song
writer notes, let’s

play to the alphabet
and keep an orchard, and stay

strong, as each day
swirls the next, and

wait a minute,
the sun, it cut
a hole through time and

purpose, as a tone, not as
this philosophical doctrine burns

a hole
through my skull

right now


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