Read my poetry

Let me know your thoughts. Thanks for your time!

“World is Vibration”
World is Vibration
Noise is the Background World Form
Words and Music are Sound Structures
Music is Patterns in Time
Time is Motion is Change
Motion in Decay is Diminishing Chaos
Motion in Growth is Augmented Matter
Of Ambient Chaotic
Entropy Patterns

“Animal Sounds”
The Living Image lies hid in Aesthetical Worlds
A nest thistle trickles spittle of a bird
A caterwauled word or warbled tune
Meaningful lingual, mingle, signals
Singles one from many
Or secures many from one
The Dying Sound fear for the Attuned Worlds

“Sunny Bloom Cactus Door”
The dream broth brewed in the room
With the lava lamptern lit tarpestry
A pine thistle ring rests asunder
Rainy mosaic tile moccasin underneath
The shady room by the windy sill
A blue pyramid stone sat still
Singing glory tones neath the lote tree
Outside snowy sage-hen pecked bird soil
Behind the Sunny Bloom Cactus Door

“A Machine Organic”
Listen to the dawn song on Hilltop Yard, where Names are called
See the wayfaring forager asking himself “Can I eat this?” as he weighs morals and morels
Have you ever heard the expression “Put that pond in a lake?”
“This looks like a trail,” said the wanderer, his famous last words
Fossilized ephemeral sea porcupines immortalized below the power-lines
Now we’re here
Rest in the shade of the neem and lote wood
Relax through this threshold interlude
Until you awake in microscopic realms and other hidden worlds
Walking by obsidian mirrors where you look like a reptilian shapeshifter who hasn’t quite fully morphed
Ululations of immortal land urchins, the slant spine backed people
In a cycle of seasons and pine trees seeds and needles
Folded within itself, remember the universe folded within you? It is so tiny it’s hard to realize
But from the noon-tide birds to the sunswept seed people, nothing escapes our windscattered local-eyes (localize)
A Machine Organic

"New Giants"
Waveswept seatide snail people dream of Grandfather Lightning
Heightening the waves as they whip the tide-pool worlds
The hidden spheres where the New Giants dwell
The Whelk Sage and the lightmill windhouse doorhole keybell

https://chrisvervoort.bandcamp.com/