when an eye has a dream
it steps over land, body & six sights
to say i am water.
i am not what john reed saw,
i am beyond troops,
i am water,
still,
graving shaved females,
since water can drip down into lenin’s choice,
war cripple,
being the new ignorant transgender
while aurora reaches the winterpalais.
i love kollontai.
i love goldman
they are my
rekindled suave
disillusions,
a
liberated prison
&
never an ocean’s fall into post pacific rounded fall.
hey prison, war cripple’s comings are the mined illusions ,
i love outbreaks
i love arrival
& actualization –
rise of manifestation
as well as ” cloud- dump”
since i consider what i saw:
a post pacific ocean & swamps,
a spherical ocean
like
Nausikáa’s ball
as bold,
as glowing
as a color throb
though
ppc is a rounded top.
i saw a post pacific ocean
a ball of water
holding thing, animal , being, all, afloat
–Martina Gertrude Siebert