This construct pertains to that (often) nebulous time upon awakening when the eyes are still closed, the body is mostly still at peace, but the mind is conjuring all manner of weirdness from the sounds and smells about.


"There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street
and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
to see with the other eye."
Rumi

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THIRD EYE RILL

fancying forenoons sustained vigor’s
epiphysis cerebri arouses with pelting rain
(Eyes still closed, the vagueness of reality sharpens
with the aroma of brewing coffee and the laundry hamper)
information runnels flowing as auditory influences
pepper temporal dimensions associated
in spatial dispersion
(she’s doing the dishes)
bone against flesh groaning to
pierce barriers beyond all limitations
or the vast confinements of
sarcoid hemispheres in
dawn’s unexampled awakening
(Necks sore; I should mark off today maybe)
seeking harmony free from variation
or change inwardly evolving
eyes accept
what most regard as malleable, immanent
art predestined to pop culture’s fugacious trendiness
(Those dreams sucked. I wonder what’s going on.)
fearing another aggregate of clerisy envisioning
society as eternal shards fitted seamlessly
that when evolved
are endowed as a whole
with amorphous consciousness,
life without confinements, or, the mutterings of
religious reprobates that figure faith through sullied portals
(“Coffee’s ready sweetheart - bad dreams?”)