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Bio: Scott Thomas Outlar is originally from Atlanta, Georgia. He now lives and writes in Frederick, Maryland. His work has been nominated multiple times for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He guest-edited the Hope Anthology of Poetry from CultureCult Press as well as the 2019-2023 Western Voices editions of Setu Mag. He is the author of seven books, including Songs of a Dissident (2015), Abstract Visions of Light (2018), Of Sand and Sugar (2019), and Evermore (2021 – written with co-author Mihaela Melnic). Selections of his poetry have been translated and published in 14 languages. He has been a weekly contributor at Dissident Voice for the past eight and a half years. More about Outlar’s work can be found at 17Numa.com.
Yellow neon fluorescence escaping behind the cover of pines full moon bows a graceful retreat replaced by live wires and humming generators I will write a poem on tea leaves about ripened figs and the prince of parables crown the skyline at five a.m. while Venus dances to her own blinking pulse electricity spells half of the story a magnet clenched between teeth to attract the pull cross-tide and chemical trails hung from the wings of gods and ghosts breathe deeply of the moment while it lasts then beg for mercy that another arrives
I want to reach the state where angels dance across my neurons from tiptoe-crossed ethereal realms while humming my spirit in the direction of higher consciousness with spells that guide me close enough to smell the throne of God I want to close my eyes and instantaneously shift perception to the precision point of total awareness where what once was believed to be normal reality begins to seem as if it was just a childlike illusion as the true data pulses and throbs in colors, shapes, signs, and visions from dimensions that cannot be counted on fingers I want to expand the inward horizon with lucid dreams of precognition that foretell what is still set to manifest through glimpses that melt away my conditioning and open the doorways to enlightenment Gleaning from Glands
The inner world aligned with earth at large (cosmos in all its flavor/ alkaline salts mineralized in a not so haphazard way) Endocrine pineal pituitary (not auxiliary plugged in directly/ electric hum hallelujah of frequencies resplendent) Diligence through discomfort effort maintained when joints are cracking (creaking cobwebs make sweet sounds just for the sake of sacred rhythm) There’s nothing quite like that first blast (bull’s-eye straight through a heart carved in the trunk of a tree/ it’s all truer than I could ever describe but that never stopped me from trying) Of Carrot Greens and Wars Declared You bet it’s bitter all the better to cleanse the gnawing fog Chew hard on ginger with molars snapping on neck and chakra root I called the thunder atop their doomed crown not waiting for man’s design Come hard in autumn with all your lions and shred this masquerade Janus/Brand My teeth feel like rubber as they sand each other down All my thoughts pretty little daggers and yours, poisonous vipers The fog hangs a heavy cover before light dares to breathe Wear your blankets and burdens well and speak to me not about the void I have seen its ugly face of terror too many times till now that’s why I tried to warn you