How to Disappear (If You Want to)

Run out of time

and into the negative space between moments.

The trees seem to vibrate into our past,

as if effects create causes.

Twist your head like the owl,

perched on a tree.

Look back,

and let your present create your past.

Dissolve into words and flavor them

with your future triumph and bygone regrets.

Then renounce the language of the day,

and speak in dance, in gesture, in vibratory emanation.

Imagine that the wood grain on your baseboards

is a slow-moving television

that the little g gods use

to talk across the centuries.

Allow your spirit to come

into that allegedly dead material,

and hide in plain sight

with the dryads and nymphs.

Dance with your friends, and your lovers,

in slow motion

on coffee tables and door frames,

unbeknownst to the mortals around you.

Divide into your component parts

and scatter them across the world.

Put your mouth in Italy

and your adrenal gland in America.

Bury half your feelings in the dirt,

and let the other half evaporate

and become clouds.

Mail your thoughts to the stars,

and ask the night sky

to be your library.

And though the mortals will see your pieces, which of them shall have eyes

to see the entire you?

The complete you shall be an invisible enigma.

And you shall be unconquerable,

unfindable,

unknowable,

by any except the One.

Fall in love with an idea,

and become it.

Stretch your inner eye

until you see the pyramids of Egypt

in the same frame

as the corporate triangles of America.

And then mimic that time straddle.

Associate yourself with a shape,

an object,

or an idea,

and exist in thoughts and memories

instead of physical space.

Then you shall be seen

without being seen.

Lost,

but also found.