sorry, can you repeat that?

if the gaps and leaps i make in conversation suprise you
you would be gobsmacked at what precedes them ~

see while my Room Behind the Eyes is not fundamentally different than yours, god seems
to have offshored the Window to it and proceeded to installation without a lot of QA

.

it's a King-ish Thin place, where transluscency rules to the point I can reach in and
pull images and words out before they're fully formed, pass them to the Muse, and wait for her transmission

this morning she curtained the Window and started to come to me with the word 'maybe', but by the time she got my attention it had broken open like a cracked egg and worlds had spilled out:

:maybe ~

may (spring, buds, music of the spheres, self writing symphonies hanging notes like clothes over an Alto clef while worlds reinvented themselves between barfly conversations of the superbowl and a hurricane's crescendo in a forgotten grotto down south)

be (Jonathan and Sullivan, magicians and Aslan's Stone Table, cinnamon and exhalation and concepts and perverbal wonder grifted into terrible beauty wrapped around crypto and sold like chattel to deities who blessed it all and returned it in the dewed dawnspace of a new day)

~maybe.

.

these worlds and so many more over the years, all in the time it takes you to ask me a question about a chore I forgot to do,
or to bring back a name I can't quite recall
or remember rules to a kid's card game you literally explained 17 times

.

most times I clothe my embarrassment at these daily shortcomings in the wonder of
creation I've been given;

some times I wish the Window was open for other's Take Out as well ~

and occassionaly I see it actually is - through art, prose, and in the very leaps that lead to blushing in the first place.