I don't like context or meaning

I like shapes and colors

suggestive forms sliding

over the barriers between worlds

but maps are needed to find honey

the cage is many beveled octagons

of organized voices

linked in an ascending chain

red misted clouds of alphabet time

the reach of sleep stretches

to touch the ocean floor of a galactic pan

a vast lair of being like a scriptural napkin

in the middle of a pile of napkins

or maybe somewhere off to the side of genesis

with the kisses of a girl's name

a key to my story would be so futile

it is now in many rooms and many layers

thank God for the meaninglessness of life

for its lack of destination

and the flair of its shared chairs

leaning to the exit's a palatial house