Gods’ graffiti

by George Quasha

Flower seeing turns birth by concrete.

The way out is up the wall, why is it no one will try this method?

One line one strand hosts its further strands.
There’s a geometry for every quake every twist of the tongue.

Alternative sequencing makes me wonder where I am to be.
Self evolves by cartoon on close examination.

How you know is how you let it show.
I see the graphemes on the wall, biblically speaking.

This is how we make the world go clown.
An alternate line is streaming under pressing for a crack.

The writing is on the world.
My one strand body focus yields to the speaker to come.

Line of sight follows the strand most me till another me comes out to show me.
It’s a ride one way or another.

One meaning or another re-versely sees exist in exit.
Is a word a thought or a thing come to reflect.

Status is optional.
The double dream mode has me in ambi-valence line.

Wondering thickens.