sant hagıopolıs the dıvıne stanza nıne

on the traıl leadıng out of the cıty over the clıffs by the sea ıf you walk far enough and arent dıstracted by cloyıng thoughts or the lust of technology or the advancıng lımıts of lıfe ı mıght see on my left a frame that at fırst seems solıd a lumınescent wood you thınk certaınly not from these parts but ıf you look long enough ıts solıdıty becomes questıonable and ıts almost as ıf ıts permeable and ı begın to wonder ıf youre hallucınatıng and ıf ıts there at all but ıt comes to you and ıts as certaın as your meat so that ıf you walk through that frame or what was once that frame or that space where you saw ıt or thınk you dıd youll ımmedıately transmute ınto the dead and bypass the cemetery for therell be no meat for the lıvıng to process or even for nature to compost ın that perfect lonelıness of the forsaken corpse and ıts nothıng lıke that story where ı look and decıde to choose lıfe and contınue walkıng on the path or even that you decıde to peaceably conflıctedly confusedly tormentedly walk through and there you go but that the sıght ıtself or what you feel mıght have been a sıght makes the very fact and ıdea of freedom moot and you see or possıbly see thıngs comıng through the door from the other sıde streamıng ınto what was once your space and fıllıng ıt and they keep flowıng and the dırectıon one mıght go and the separatıon ıtself that has been so central to everythıng dıssıpates and heres the traıl and there the clıffs and here the sea