THE ORGANIC MOTHERLAND

in the fishbowl: I stare out at my virtual world
fishing virtually for good concept.

it's as if i'm vibbing, somehow, to some beat
through the air which is my ground
for there is unmistakable ether
being made in the exterior.

think of beautiful as beautiful;
i feel the hit
but i will get to thinking back
as beautiful.

wow.

the fishbowl became bright.
(from outside i can see the continuous picturesque thing,
always in perfect composition)

what of creatures who are just
at explore? who obviously startle who
obviously swim through
some kind of imagination.

think of outer space as being water.

my senses find fever and lust among themselves,
though, it is curious, isolating consciousnesses
and being born but returning to the
world after death, and at death
which is birth understanding
because it is a higher place
though really
coming here is stepping forth.
placing isolation in a setting and time,
having watched, having conceived,
though unusually lingering long enough
in the womb for this life.

am i a life junky?

good Finished Thought,
down, thing.