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  • Time has blown my mind open,
    or the absence of it,
    no longer rigid, but
    flexible,
    Like gum it stretches and expands and grows thin
    and sometimes snaps.
    WHAM!
    Back to the present.
    Or sometimes, much lately, minutes feel like hours,
    the time-gum has melted under hot sun
    oozing into
    psychedelic colours, Murakami hues.
    I find myself staring at the details of moss on rock,
    getting lost in the labyrinthine world of conversation
    or staring at the sky as clouds get sucked across it by wind beasts.

    I am in a time outside-time
    where life exists more and more in small details
    and less and less in the grand past and futures of days
    which have dissolved in the lack of structure.
    My structure these days
    is the passing clouds,
    the patterns of rain,
    the landscapes of my emotions
    as they shift and change…
    And stranger things too: patterns in dreams,
    odd blue lights that ooze out of ears or wombs
    faint songs I hear at the edge of sleep
    birds that appear from a stitch in the sky…

    They have become my geography,
    vague attempts at finding structure in no-structure,
    finding mind in no-mind,
    finding rhythm in rhythmlessness.

    Somehow, unknowingly I have stumbled into
    this time-out
    where I sit in corners molded by the events of my life,
    waiting for my punishment to be over.
    But the thing is, the teachers have it all wrong,
    they always do,
    because they don’t see me smiling,
    staring into the corner,
    smiling.
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