the other side

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grr.
fire-
fox
just
crashed
and i lost
a good poem.
lesson is to never
write a poem in a
browser that does
not save? can i
reconstruct it?

it was about
me surviving
a trip through
a black hole
today (this
very after-
noon) and
coming out
on the other
side changed,
recharged or
different, as if
in another world
entirely. different
and yet the same,
maybe seeing di-
fferently. fah-fah...

dot com.

the process was
shorter than i
could ever
have i-
magin-
ed. an-
d. i m-
iss the
poem
i lost.
maybe
in that
other
realm
it still
exists
in com-
plete form.

it had some good
lines, some good
wordplay, if i say
so myself. but, of,
course, that's much
like the fish that got
away story, i guess.

i didn't want to go to
the meeting, but i
plunged in while
beginning to
spin into the
depths of the
funnel, the
tunnel, the
wormhole
of matter
to the ot-
her side.

and maybe
it was better
because i was
calm and col-
lected in the
beginning,
sipping my
coffee and
listening and
sometime right
before i took the
last drink some-
thing took hold
in me *maybe
it was the
coffee *
and as i
fell to the
center of the
black hole and
began to emerge
(unscathed) on the
other side in a brave
new world (and raise
your hand if you get
that reference or so-
mething to that ef-
fect) and i'm far
from perfect,
yet i strive
to help &
some-
thing
about
the way
the sun
came in
the coffee
shop window
that made the cor-
ner table a stage upon
which we acted out some
sort of destiny known by the
higher power since before time
existed (and try to ponder that for
just ten minutes - the infinite being
of no time) instead of after, though,
i could feel the importance of the
meeting while there, in real time,
and maybe i sound crazy, but i
am the poet and my words
leak out of me lest my
thoughts explode
and cause ser-
ious damage
to someone
or some-
thing.

i was energized,
though. i entered
the black hole thin-
king i was drained a-
nd emerged on the ot-
her side by myself and
yet somehow not myself.

i could see (not with clarity,
admittedly) into the future, or
a possible version of it and also
operate in real time feeling out
the situation and how it fit or
didn't fit with the master plan
that culminates in an island
somewhere on the planet.
small smile. a treasure
map will be needed
to find it perhaps.

i can do tricks.
mental gym-
nastics, and
my online an-
tics are known
across the intra-
webs and i laugh
at the series of tu-
b(e)s and the words
unwind like ee cum-
mings (the merci-
less) and flash
gordon, child-
hood memories.

no one can know me.
to the bottom of me,
not even me with
so little time to
perfect the art
of life and
living &
and, and
I stand
and stretch
and dance my
way across the
apartment as
the road, the
path opens
up before
me and i
see the
way to
go - fin-
ally, not
slow. go.
behold. i
shall be
bold &
i shall
know
the
life,
this
future
life of
mine.

until
you
can
create
energy
within
your-
self
and
not
feed
off of
others,
you can
never truly
begin to be
all that you
can be. a
small smile
tiny like an
elephant with
so many layers
and all the mom-
ents today, yes,
the trees (a ref-
erence for the
geeks out
there) and
in here, in
here, in my
world i e-
merge un-
scathed and
under (so
many
things
to add...)

i'm not mean.
i'm not cruel.
i try to love
with all i have
to a select few.

Love all,
trust a few,
do wrong to none...

as the bard penned
so many moons ago.

some people see some
sides of me or some
shades of me, but
not the true col-
or ... or maybe,
just maybe...

time slows.
and i know.
deep down i
already knew.
and that's what
hurt most about
the trip through
the black hole
maybe and the
eventual emer-
gance from the
other side almo-
st dancing. streetwise
or wisdom of book
knowledge? i know
how the internet works,
or parts of it. and from
that i can build as if with
boxes at first then toy
wooden blocks. or
something even
sturdier. steadier.

i get knocked down,
i get up again. silly
lyrics that don't
stick in my
mind and
time un-
winds
and
i work,
creating
something
from nothing.