A 3AM Mirrored Joint

Fingers tinged with scent of spliff
Tobacco twined seductively with green buds
Brown admist the marijuana, life and death
Cancerous smoke drips from my slightly opened mouth
frost creeps across my window panes

Madison at night is peaceful and still
Lights blink at empty streets
A lone biker braves the cold
Do not walk

So much to do, so much to say but will it ever be said
Will it instead be lost as so much has….drifting forever on unsprung waves of possibility
Other dimensions spiraling into infinity
I could have been so many things
Am I no thing

Is that a beautiful thing? What is no thing, where is it ?
Who could it be?
Why should he be?
Why Not

Sparse, clean
Unbroken
Lines of thought
Geometric precision on the page
Tab space
Limits imposed by the medium

But oh, the potential.

Galaxy is born, red rose petal opens into space
A spot of light begins all things, trailing interstellar poetry
Waves of light and dark dance through space
The rose unfolds, the light swells
In unison, there is fusion
….bang

and then?

Words are my medium, the canvas upon which I am.
But what am i? Is there more to me than words can say
Does the story of my life exist outside of the words telling it
And as I tell the stoy of my life, who is listening
Maybe they are deaf….i must show them things