IN THE HARROWING TIME

in the harrowing time

in the formation of a vibe

in the comatose state of an enzyme

an ensouled aesthetic exists

and is deliriously lived through

through years of awesome default

the faults we lived through will be remembered

in a remembrance of things past

time that has fluttered, off into the wilderness

those years happened,

but they don't count

if we could make up time, make it something else

connect these dots, find our way through the labyrinth

and formulate new ways of experiencing time

and living through time, passing through time

ravaged by the psychosphere

in weird ways, energetically waking up

and feeling so in love and reverent to this short time we have

then it was a time of heavy industrial machinery

with da Vinci being the antecedent

a time of continuous mechanical rotation

and there is aged rum on top of the fridge

there are things that do not work

things that do not make sense that are floating through time

and I reside among those things

I wonder about people

who place themselves in front of disaster

and if we are able to make amends

with our alternate past life realities

or whatever it is that makes us so open and ready

for experiencing these deep and complicated psychic wounds

the way we folded over from other airs

the walk-in phenomenon, it is called

I know from metaphysical literature

the terrestrial phone

suddenly I remembered life

energy transfer cell

there were plenty of lies to be told

and we told them

we sought life from other angles

a different hypothesis

it was then that I knew

the shape of life

and how time vibrates

there is a reflection of time across time

and a feeling through time

and we vibrate it with our chests

in a reflective way of bending back energetically

through memory and experience, and how these are stored

energetically in our bodies

there were lies to unfold and we unfolded them

never fooled by the resounding chalice of dismissal

and it was enough to walk away

to disappear

there was a feeling

and there was a sense of it

then there was my own transformation

my own Lost Highway

a recalibrated identity

when it is enough to clarify an image

and the geometric variables make sense

regardless of our understanding

in a highly mechanized yet poetic fanfare

of this earthly musical existence

on the internet I read about how

Leonardo da Vinci designed his own lathe

we belong to an invisible brotherhood, da Vinci and I,

for it was circa 1480 that he developed

continuous mechanical rotation

it is the force I now serve

in a continuous sense

in a mechanical sense

we can vitalize the new days

with our health, and the dream of wealth to come

I cried and prayed for the soul of Dolores O'Riordan

inside of St. Stephen's, with a deep reverence for all things sacred

in the highly devotional and sacred traditional Latin liturgy

during those sensitive years of energetic reflexivity

in a realignment with the golden path

there were fractals in the air

there were retinas of fractals

we deceived ourselves with the spoken word

a poetic deception changed the context of current events

a psychotic fracture

and psychic disturbances

and rum does not require pretentiously shaped glasses

but they are here

for I did not join the battlefield

and instead revel in the workman-like attitude

of getting things done

when there are mechanical owls flying around

like 1981's Clash of the Titans

but these are evil invisible owls

I mean, that's where things get freaky

but to have a graceful sense of inner peace

and not have these owls floating into me

but if this dream can sustain a vision

where owls are just a cool aesthetic animal

and not some invisible mechanical thing

flying around and disrupting my fragile psyche

I guess that is something to work towards

when we can see past these fucking harpies

and experience a pure direct transmission

and translate that into a sense of grace

to be lived through and experienced, always

by Chris Moran

Chris Moran is the author of the long poem GHOSTLORD (Solar Luxuriance) and the poetry collection Psyche and Specter (Terror House Press, forthcoming). He lives in Ohio where he records ambient music under the name Boring Dream https://boringdream.bandcamp.com