Page 40 - Iterations:Other/Is

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Late, by myself, in the boat of myself,
In time you #nd yourself chanting Rumi loudly into the abyss of death that is your vehicle, which you still owe 3,000 united states dollars on, six years later. But that doesn’t matter. As you read another line of Rumi’s poetry, the officer of the law begins to transform, amalgamate with a passing dragon(y, sprout opaque crystalline wings of garnet, its eyes hum with a blue (ame, a tongue darts out into the ether and #nds neither joy nor anger; it is becoming one with the universal. A death dream. A beam of light. A box of pizza delivered hot to your door where no one will judge the choice to purchase pizza once every three months. It is ritual and bloom made invisible.
If you want the unseen world, you're not living your truth.
The car is now a camel you ride into the pine barrens of south New Jersey. It is spring and Aries greets us, a red smear of blood marks your way to the altar where you are both sacri#ced. {Begin again.}