Casual visitor
Woven through
The expressway of reason
Penetrated infliction
For what I almost thought
Or almost wanted to do

Everything tangled, mangled
Manageable pieces—intermingled into nonetheless
Calling to crawl out of the confusion
Personified and spawning seasonable wholes
Moving and integrating into the way of being

Nothing simple
Nothing unreal
Everything tangible and flavorful
Unspun and spun again
Divided and resorted
In search, whatever the searcher be
For the expressway to end point

I am this and all that enters
Tormented by thoughts I think I sense
Barging in, as uninvited collectors
Come to find the sum of goods
Inching across the floor of established truths
Barriers screaming as bulldozer
Taking what it can
Establishing what is no longer needed

Invigorated conqueror
Or shadow-shaker, stretched within
Formed into brittle fetus, alone
Gliding, then dropped upon broken ground
As if some faraway star, misguided
Directed the dreamer’s cause
Missed the dimension beyond
And landed its wrong doings—into a song already sung

Samantha Craft

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