Liminal, the place between, between the seen and the unseen, the corner view, the edge of sight, the distance between wrong and right, the gap that lies between the worlds, where all the dragons sleep, tight-curled, from page to page, from left to right, in and out and day and night, all the spaces in between, where the tricksters dance unseen, in whirling steps of green and blue, and dancing, make the world anew, in colors of the brightest sheen, to decorate the place between.
They say “stuck in the 80’s”, “lost in the 60’s”,
As if they’re all places, things you can go to,
but then, where does that leave me?
My “style” is non-existent, my “mojo” even more so,
and people look at me as if my brain was in my torso.
I’ve never bred, I never will, and to some, that makes me less,
what it means to me, they’ll never know or ever guess.
My age is vague, like shifting smoke, it changes with every breath,
and so it will, within my will, until destiny or death.
My heart is words, my mind is song, the rhyme that rules the world,
and yet my voice is never heard, and cannot be unfurled.
I live in my spaces, my in-between faces,
a liminal creature, time-free,
between no-when and never-been, that’s where
you’ll find what’s me.