Crossings

"Crossing a threshold guarded by demons"

Independently of us, no,
Our gods and ghosts are never real.
But insofar as we are real,
Insofar as we are, they are.

The ocean is an animal.

The lake is a mind ocean feeds,

A distillation. Nobody
Crosses the lake without a doubt.

I would not like to be pure, but
I'm not convinced every crossing
Improves the hybridized demon.
Some lyricists write for the eye.

The flower of the full moon blooms

Shadowy amalgamations
Of accumulated impacts
As it floats across the water.