the branches like eclairs holding tufts of white morning
screech as they move in the dry wind that laps at your freckles
nothing has walked on the lake but cats and deer
and the iodine os frozen
the earth is green and crunched under this sleeping
and my body is ready to move in the air
these words came when i saw it
the pointed finger nail ice dripping from the pipe
the welcome sign laced with night
and here they are fermented
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
december
there is nothing on my mind else much now but the crystals that are falling from the sky.
there are fluffy crystals that are falling from the sky and they then become fluffy crystals on my hair
i see you standing in front of me with the eerie night porch light and looking into my eyes and the accumulating white and then closer, kissing, cold lips that become fill, pulsing, warm with love
Saturday, November 27, 2010
seventy five, forty five, 178-180
the winding roads welcome
and the dust leaves crawl across the tar like small creature
spirits
watching your turn
i feel i would hit something
like boxes and solo cups
strewn
as i watch the moon
hover
like a tan chrome
swirled bowl
hand-painted
in this calm
i change the world
and we circle round each other
as we had to from our conception
and august will be a month to keep.
and the dust leaves crawl across the tar like small creature
spirits
watching your turn
i feel i would hit something
like boxes and solo cups
strewn
as i watch the moon
hover
like a tan chrome
swirled bowl
hand-painted
in this calm
i change the world
and we circle round each other
as we had to from our conception
and august will be a month to keep.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
ive always written on this night
the house, my home smelled of sauteing shallots from midday
and wine, cooking
and ideas inspired
my toes froze in my socks up and down the stairs to fetch ingredients
and it came together somehow as it does
cabbage pockets and wild rice delicata
pie and soup and winter greens spicy
and no drama, no appetizers
life stories and intentions
and dishes washed as we go
the compost buckets filling all our waste
and the oven gas on high
swinging creaking in and out
in and out as the time creaks
and the smells linger in the kitchen
and we tour and we circle and we hold hands
and we gratitude
and we fill our plates as high as we think they can bleed
with everything tender and fresh
and cooked by you, by me, from my hands to my your plate
no tins
and we sit on the floor and we speak of books
and intuition
and what we think of the days
and the snow
and we eat pie because we cant not
and we play
and have no problem needing to go to bed
and there isnt much to clean
and there are no hospitals
nor tables
and it is the greatest ever.
and wine, cooking
and ideas inspired
my toes froze in my socks up and down the stairs to fetch ingredients
and it came together somehow as it does
cabbage pockets and wild rice delicata
pie and soup and winter greens spicy
and no drama, no appetizers
life stories and intentions
and dishes washed as we go
the compost buckets filling all our waste
and the oven gas on high
swinging creaking in and out
in and out as the time creaks
and the smells linger in the kitchen
and we tour and we circle and we hold hands
and we gratitude
and we fill our plates as high as we think they can bleed
with everything tender and fresh
and cooked by you, by me, from my hands to my your plate
no tins
and we sit on the floor and we speak of books
and intuition
and what we think of the days
and the snow
and we eat pie because we cant not
and we play
and have no problem needing to go to bed
and there isnt much to clean
and there are no hospitals
nor tables
and it is the greatest ever.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
wooded lev
i have never felt you like today on my cold numb hands
where your traveling branches meet your trunk
the width of your rounds, your wrinkled bark
how a dying leaf feels cool and crackly ridged in my maze
and how the moss is fluff green with life even in this climbing freeze
of rock and of grass you are so unequally dense, distinguished
and then your tree breaks into a warm, coved gap
a haven, ah!
ridges round you are and roots curved, thinning
the ground parts and i smell the forgotten earth scent again
and then as i gather leaves and place my nose in the furry moss at your base there is a sort of horse radish and cool rain in my nostrils.
a tiny bus yellow fungus, formed like i could never misname
and again, spicy dirt
in this silent exploration are my prayers of awe
the unformed words of this glory and beauty grace.
who do i thank if not i for this embrace, this holding
my eyes are closed and yet i absorb every creation in this moment
every bit of that which i am and that which isnt and this meditative connection with the ground with this misted morning is the return of my soul to this place of experience. i can only take these
moments into the unfolding day of doing as a founded yes
a grounded alignment of one
where your traveling branches meet your trunk
the width of your rounds, your wrinkled bark
how a dying leaf feels cool and crackly ridged in my maze
and how the moss is fluff green with life even in this climbing freeze
of rock and of grass you are so unequally dense, distinguished
and then your tree breaks into a warm, coved gap
a haven, ah!
ridges round you are and roots curved, thinning
the ground parts and i smell the forgotten earth scent again
and then as i gather leaves and place my nose in the furry moss at your base there is a sort of horse radish and cool rain in my nostrils.
a tiny bus yellow fungus, formed like i could never misname
and again, spicy dirt
in this silent exploration are my prayers of awe
the unformed words of this glory and beauty grace.
who do i thank if not i for this embrace, this holding
my eyes are closed and yet i absorb every creation in this moment
every bit of that which i am and that which isnt and this meditative connection with the ground with this misted morning is the return of my soul to this place of experience. i can only take these
moments into the unfolding day of doing as a founded yes
a grounded alignment of one
liberation identity
i am: a child of the earth in this moment and can choose where i want to spend my time because i come from a straight success that was destroyed. i could sleep in multiple stars just for one night or with the man rolling his possessions in a cart through the park. i can choose and i am not sure why.
lev
the trees have been winter grey
and the ground crunches in early morning chore
what is still here, what has not fallen and decomposed
is what carries me as i have chosen or have surrendered
still in my mind, unstill is the you that will, the dream that only faith can unfold
the linger of a once truth that drove me to this moment
and i call screaming like a ewe in labor to a nothing
that answers in perceived symbol and assumption
the to be or not so is growing slowly at my walls
as if there is some thing greener at its other
and i hear to listen, i read, i tell and there is noise too much to decipher the whispers
and the ground crunches in early morning chore
what is still here, what has not fallen and decomposed
is what carries me as i have chosen or have surrendered
still in my mind, unstill is the you that will, the dream that only faith can unfold
the linger of a once truth that drove me to this moment
and i call screaming like a ewe in labor to a nothing
that answers in perceived symbol and assumption
the to be or not so is growing slowly at my walls
as if there is some thing greener at its other
and i hear to listen, i read, i tell and there is noise too much to decipher the whispers
nvc
what has the morning brought
again the day, the oranges
the eyes that beg me for a truth
and a belly hungry for yes
and in this well of potential
it is as nothing else ever existed and this is my day
to be everything i ever wanted to be.
my eyes closed i am on the moon
or in your arms
and the day yawns with our music
here we sit like seedlings, flowers
ready to breathe, to rock to cry
to forget and jolt back into the perfection of the dream
we will always wake up from another dream
and pretend to fly until we can remember how
until we soar please plant with me and remind me
and stretch with me to the sun: she gives, she is only to give
and with this heat, the moving making head
we can perform our miracles. like wizards with gems
and swirl the sparks that lie hidden and vibrating
pluck these strings and we will make the sweetest song
let me hear your voice. it comes from the place that i am
and only from here
from the essence space
can we be in the divine, together, dance
again the day, the oranges
the eyes that beg me for a truth
and a belly hungry for yes
and in this well of potential
it is as nothing else ever existed and this is my day
to be everything i ever wanted to be.
my eyes closed i am on the moon
or in your arms
and the day yawns with our music
here we sit like seedlings, flowers
ready to breathe, to rock to cry
to forget and jolt back into the perfection of the dream
we will always wake up from another dream
and pretend to fly until we can remember how
until we soar please plant with me and remind me
and stretch with me to the sun: she gives, she is only to give
and with this heat, the moving making head
we can perform our miracles. like wizards with gems
and swirl the sparks that lie hidden and vibrating
pluck these strings and we will make the sweetest song
let me hear your voice. it comes from the place that i am
and only from here
from the essence space
can we be in the divine, together, dance
sateity
and i found it again like my laugh
knowing when it was present, when it had passed
and knowing from a cushioned box of safety
what and what not
this is my song
the packets rustling cutlery scraping
to horror eyes and running sprinting mind
how can i contain this?
the recall is reddening - cheeks heart fire
it surfaces like bile and devalues my truth
the resistance, the freedom is mezmerizing
will he stay with me always?
knowing when it was present, when it had passed
and knowing from a cushioned box of safety
what and what not
this is my song
the packets rustling cutlery scraping
to horror eyes and running sprinting mind
how can i contain this?
the recall is reddening - cheeks heart fire
it surfaces like bile and devalues my truth
the resistance, the freedom is mezmerizing
will he stay with me always?
Saturday, October 23, 2010
tell me how to be good again and tell me how it feels when it isnt because i cannot know the world through my eyes. my eyes that hunger and maniacal hands that wash you aside.
i asked her how he died
did he swallow toxin to poison his life from the inside. did he explode his head to quiet the nagging nefarious voices. did he gas slit electrocute or fly from a window soaring in the city's polluted breath?
his windows were left waving, a record turning and pennies scattered the streets drenched in his blood.
they miss him. his mind and his smell. and his purity.
he was their light.
and so he plunged in crazed disorientation in search of himself.
i feel his doubt at the ledge
the quivering in his final notes
and his accounts closing
i feel the wind in my hair and the irreversible freedom.
the pennies rolled a block away.
i asked her how he died
did he swallow toxin to poison his life from the inside. did he explode his head to quiet the nagging nefarious voices. did he gas slit electrocute or fly from a window soaring in the city's polluted breath?
his windows were left waving, a record turning and pennies scattered the streets drenched in his blood.
they miss him. his mind and his smell. and his purity.
he was their light.
and so he plunged in crazed disorientation in search of himself.
i feel his doubt at the ledge
the quivering in his final notes
and his accounts closing
i feel the wind in my hair and the irreversible freedom.
the pennies rolled a block away.
ten of feathers
deserted wanderer to a new light
and from this heated anxiousness
no warn heeded
he will lift, fed and free, like icarus from his suffering island
the feathers of flight mock in their weightlessness
at the plunge into darkness
and they slowly traverse like the autumn leaves
to create a soft bedding around the fallen hero
what is it then from this space of blood and cracked earth
that will rise the phoenix
to turn again to the burning sun
again with the ten or the seven or the thirty two points
lined to precision
from this space of failure
i will meet you in the earth. in the carrion composing dirt
and we will rock and tear
and scream the venom away
and hover ever so lightly
with regathered feathers
treading lightly.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
swollen doors
and in the moment of quiet
of the first taste of the day
i think nothing but to hear you
and how you love me
and to struggle to put into syntax how my body tingles
when i think you
and then
what with this
when i am lifting shovels full of dead earth
and wish to see the sun setting every evening for ever
and your voice fills my head with dislocated pining
there and not
and following you into eternity
as we have danced for eons
the fruit chasing eve
and the banishment from green
i cannot not
if this is all i ever am
and winter beckons
and my empty pillow
and the blood from my sweating hands
and the dragging hope
dust
the doors swell in the cold
of the first taste of the day
i think nothing but to hear you
and how you love me
and to struggle to put into syntax how my body tingles
when i think you
and then
what with this
when i am lifting shovels full of dead earth
and wish to see the sun setting every evening for ever
and your voice fills my head with dislocated pining
there and not
and following you into eternity
as we have danced for eons
the fruit chasing eve
and the banishment from green
i cannot not
if this is all i ever am
and winter beckons
and my empty pillow
and the blood from my sweating hands
and the dragging hope
dust
the doors swell in the cold
Monday, October 11, 2010
torrington
i would scout here for the set of our movie
so trees. changing, will line the blue sky
and every pedestrian would know how to get
to where you need to go
with secret view stops on the way
and as the season comes for the first time in two years
the pit hollow in my guts wants nothing alone
wants warmth and dreams of your breath
so trees. changing, will line the blue sky
and every pedestrian would know how to get
to where you need to go
with secret view stops on the way
and as the season comes for the first time in two years
the pit hollow in my guts wants nothing alone
wants warmth and dreams of your breath
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
triggers with miriam
there is within dark
and carmine violet
and this is all i truly own
in a bedroom size storage unit.
type in your word and webs will load
purging years of history
i am here
listening the heating breath
and the voice rising from her cauldron
i hear --
and descend into my heat
like hades losing his harp
and carmine violet
and this is all i truly own
in a bedroom size storage unit.
type in your word and webs will load
purging years of history
i am here
listening the heating breath
and the voice rising from her cauldron
i hear --
and descend into my heat
like hades losing his harp
solid at room temperature ii
what do i have to say today that i haven't said before
so let me make a list of my future
my mind map countdown red button shivering
and come back to the autumn
to the cover crop and afternoon drizzling
and the greening abouting to replenish
i am ready and i am always
waiting for the curtains
and drifting center stage for the call of the hawk
and they tell me you're a messenger
that you sing like an angel
like you're insane
and do i take this
or do i sit with your eyes and melodize our meeting truth
like it is it will be like it has always
and the nights get longer and darker
as the rope taut tightens toward you
counting like an ascension into the mountains
for a flame
for this very now.
so let me make a list of my future
my mind map countdown red button shivering
and come back to the autumn
to the cover crop and afternoon drizzling
and the greening abouting to replenish
i am ready and i am always
waiting for the curtains
and drifting center stage for the call of the hawk
and they tell me you're a messenger
that you sing like an angel
like you're insane
and do i take this
or do i sit with your eyes and melodize our meeting truth
like it is it will be like it has always
and the nights get longer and darker
as the rope taut tightens toward you
counting like an ascension into the mountains
for a flame
for this very now.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
swollen seconds
this line can take us to anywhere
and his is he first time i have remembered you
in that i need to less, these days
uncertain: potential unfolding
across national, emotional, dimensional lines
sit up straight and be quiet
listen listen yes to the vibrating fearlessness
to the snap of your eyes
and his is he first time i have remembered you
in that i need to less, these days
uncertain: potential unfolding
across national, emotional, dimensional lines
sit up straight and be quiet
listen listen yes to the vibrating fearlessness
to the snap of your eyes
trees and peaches
still and wanting, heart removed
beating through your stomach, birthed in blood
drooling dripping through dampened laundry
this is reflected off of photographs
birthed in blood
and signing autographs for twinkled eyes
beating through your stomach, birthed in blood
drooling dripping through dampened laundry
this is reflected off of photographs
birthed in blood
and signing autographs for twinkled eyes
Monday, August 30, 2010
oval yang
and when the night comes
who do you become
where are you called
and what craves in the still?
the lunar-nescence pulls
and strips across the sky call for embrace
a gasp and a telling.
god waits for your questions and amazement,
and slowly sips on a glass of wine,
knitting winter's wares.
boxes blare blue to keep us quiet
and the wood pulses with night eyes
hungry and hidden
the mind will draw pictures for you
until you understand
and here i lie waiting, restless
your smell no longer lingers
memories blur
and the waiting worthy
navy dampens the sheets
who do you become
where are you called
and what craves in the still?
the lunar-nescence pulls
and strips across the sky call for embrace
a gasp and a telling.
god waits for your questions and amazement,
and slowly sips on a glass of wine,
knitting winter's wares.
boxes blare blue to keep us quiet
and the wood pulses with night eyes
hungry and hidden
the mind will draw pictures for you
until you understand
and here i lie waiting, restless
your smell no longer lingers
memories blur
and the waiting worthy
navy dampens the sheets
Saturday, August 28, 2010
swallowing silence
i was in the kitchen stirring dinner
it doesnt matter what i was cooking
he was tripping on a concoction of lsd and mushrooms
maybe not mushrooms
and staring at a poster of john lennon
for over half an hour
he mumbled: man that's me
and stumbled out of the room
i have found this in silence
and in knowing you
it doesnt matter what i was cooking
he was tripping on a concoction of lsd and mushrooms
maybe not mushrooms
and staring at a poster of john lennon
for over half an hour
he mumbled: man that's me
and stumbled out of the room
i have found this in silence
and in knowing you
Thursday, August 26, 2010
job hunting
and a job is?
to pick up someone's mess that they havent been able to manage
ive smoked all my life...dying of emphysema. save me doc
no time for the kids. watch them...no sugar after six
i dont want to be outside, too many good shows...here a twenty, mow my lawn
wash my car, grow my food, help me relax, entertain me
well, fuck you
i'll pay myself to take care of my own mess
and thank you very much for your time
to pick up someone's mess that they havent been able to manage
ive smoked all my life...dying of emphysema. save me doc
no time for the kids. watch them...no sugar after six
i dont want to be outside, too many good shows...here a twenty, mow my lawn
wash my car, grow my food, help me relax, entertain me
well, fuck you
i'll pay myself to take care of my own mess
and thank you very much for your time
yours is the earth and everything that's in it
if i am off when you are on
and i am on when you are off
will we ever meet or simply wait forever
till we coincide
and i am on when you are off
will we ever meet or simply wait forever
till we coincide
Monday, August 23, 2010
where are we safe / what must we hear?
i have never heard you yell like this
so close
so blistering
and constant thud thuddering on our palettes
like celebrity
constant capture
creatures hiding
rolling unfolds into far
but here, here it is so electric
my heart pounds electric
and i have never heard you yell like this before
so close
so blistering
and constant thud thuddering on our palettes
like celebrity
constant capture
creatures hiding
rolling unfolds into far
but here, here it is so electric
my heart pounds electric
and i have never heard you yell like this before
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
entrance road
i wonder if the fox sees what is there
the trees wiggling in a rain-filled pothole puddle
the falling leaves, reds and yellows
strips of sun, like god, in rays
if he hears the birds or the drowning engines
or my footsteps coming up behind him
my gasp at his greyness, his mustard brown
does he smile at the grey mushrooms springing up between the planks
or squinch when he stubs his toe on a bridged root
does he know that this is all his?
the trees wiggling in a rain-filled pothole puddle
the falling leaves, reds and yellows
strips of sun, like god, in rays
if he hears the birds or the drowning engines
or my footsteps coming up behind him
my gasp at his greyness, his mustard brown
does he smile at the grey mushrooms springing up between the planks
or squinch when he stubs his toe on a bridged root
does he know that this is all his?
parking lots and capos
the two: one slick, slim, ice-tea
two potted, pepsi'ed
swinging keys, slow parting
sparking engines and away
in opposites
into the shuddering night, navy
sixth fret.
thinking in their own worlds
creating prisms in each other's
like a photograph
in sepia
referenced in loneliness.
the rhythm changes -
lyrics blur -
the sighs carry large bits of worry
and perfection into the summer night
everything lies potential
and thoughts, murmured, regretful
pull the stage into single-file packages.
the city sleep at dark
the lot buzzes
two potted, pepsi'ed
swinging keys, slow parting
sparking engines and away
in opposites
into the shuddering night, navy
sixth fret.
thinking in their own worlds
creating prisms in each other's
like a photograph
in sepia
referenced in loneliness.
the rhythm changes -
lyrics blur -
the sighs carry large bits of worry
and perfection into the summer night
everything lies potential
and thoughts, murmured, regretful
pull the stage into single-file packages.
the city sleep at dark
the lot buzzes
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
glynn
paper or plastic
as if either choice isnt wiping a green somewhere
unpronounceable
it's appetizing and the mind wins with this
without any question of need
the line moves slowly
and i can think of nothing
nothing else but the time
tapping
as if either choice isnt wiping a green somewhere
unpronounceable
it's appetizing and the mind wins with this
without any question of need
the line moves slowly
and i can think of nothing
nothing else but the time
tapping
Monday, August 9, 2010
morning
and it is like you never were
you were
here you were
and we were
and the nights were fluore-scent and melodical
and never truly wanted to end
and it became closer closer as it does
when we play together
and then it is like you never were
and it is morning
and the space is empty
and plugs rip through my soaked-sweat tshirt
you were
here you were
and we were
and the nights were fluore-scent and melodical
and never truly wanted to end
and it became closer closer as it does
when we play together
and then it is like you never were
and it is morning
and the space is empty
and plugs rip through my soaked-sweat tshirt
Thursday, August 5, 2010
how am i?
in response:
well, im reading a lot about god, and it hasnt rained in weeks here. my heart is much stronger, and im eating as well and as full as i can. ive met such nice boys and girls who are brilliant and play all sorts of things and make me laugh and cry but i wont see them after three days. im wearing skirts and i hope im praying. i think a lot and ive learned so much, too much, that i hope is relative and that sticks and stays and plays out. i'll be glad to see this follow me. i am so grateful, knowing, giving thanks, learning the balances of love. i hope this helps...tag youre it.
well, im reading a lot about god, and it hasnt rained in weeks here. my heart is much stronger, and im eating as well and as full as i can. ive met such nice boys and girls who are brilliant and play all sorts of things and make me laugh and cry but i wont see them after three days. im wearing skirts and i hope im praying. i think a lot and ive learned so much, too much, that i hope is relative and that sticks and stays and plays out. i'll be glad to see this follow me. i am so grateful, knowing, giving thanks, learning the balances of love. i hope this helps...tag youre it.
taste the rainbow
you think youre hiding
but i can see you filling your mouth
with the rubbish of our generation.
reds and yellows and beetle shells
and i love you behind the flowing shirt
and your soft eyes
and the frothy drinks that coat your thoughts
i love you and i see you in everything
mystic magic master
rider of song with me in this truth
let us eat together and watch the sliding of abundance
into our gullets to recreate the light that we are
i wake up and think only this
but i can see you filling your mouth
with the rubbish of our generation.
reds and yellows and beetle shells
and i love you behind the flowing shirt
and your soft eyes
and the frothy drinks that coat your thoughts
i love you and i see you in everything
mystic magic master
rider of song with me in this truth
let us eat together and watch the sliding of abundance
into our gullets to recreate the light that we are
i wake up and think only this
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
dream of wonderful things
this is for you to read
before you go to bed some times
in the crickets and the moonlight
depending how far we are
and for stanley meyer
who did what we dream
with water, water!
and the water sea across a rift in time
and ive spoken of this before.
stop.
and again the fire that moves when you are there
with them and they see your smile and hear your epiphany
and your twirling curling lippage
that mine miss so, so!
and you hear me crying 83 miles across the savannah
at midnight
and deep sigh we have chosen this intensity
we are insane, beautiful, lovage
conglomerate of everything we've ever known and which we bring
to the table - a round table made of wood
that you built and i painted
and children
we will be the children.
before you go to bed some times
in the crickets and the moonlight
depending how far we are
and for stanley meyer
who did what we dream
with water, water!
and the water sea across a rift in time
and ive spoken of this before.
stop.
and again the fire that moves when you are there
with them and they see your smile and hear your epiphany
and your twirling curling lippage
that mine miss so, so!
and you hear me crying 83 miles across the savannah
at midnight
and deep sigh we have chosen this intensity
we are insane, beautiful, lovage
conglomerate of everything we've ever known and which we bring
to the table - a round table made of wood
that you built and i painted
and children
we will be the children.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
two bears holding hands
the future feels sweet as it does in its syrupy masochistic sadism. ah, it is lovely playing with the powers of pre-manifest. it could be anything, goddamn it, anything, and the genius who understands this are either lost in a list of the insane or are driving themselves to hell being driven in the streets of the city purgatory.
help me make this into a song, we'll never get out of our heads, our heads, pillowed, staring depths into the worlds of eyes upon eyes, clear glistened.
what do we need? let us re-ask ourselves this every moment of every moment of every moment of every day - challenging our egos to nothingness
what else is there? there is a perceived dire hunger but we are stewads, genius, magicians, warriors
and what else?
really.
its the revolution...watch it unfold amigo
with this hope
and others of pure
help me make this into a song, we'll never get out of our heads, our heads, pillowed, staring depths into the worlds of eyes upon eyes, clear glistened.
what do we need? let us re-ask ourselves this every moment of every moment of every moment of every day - challenging our egos to nothingness
what else is there? there is a perceived dire hunger but we are stewads, genius, magicians, warriors
and what else?
really.
its the revolution...watch it unfold amigo
with this hope
and others of pure
who have we decided to be in this life: happy magicians of a putrid unfolding destined to admit that the trees dance and we are nothing but the imagination of an extremely glossed ventriloquist.
if i know nothing other than the wind then i have wealth and will share this gold wih every wanderer
suit laden smoke, decaffeinated, i love you so much that i run from you so far into the forest that the dandelions have forgotten my scent.
this is the music we play and it is our string symphony taking the world to sleep. did you know that nothing else exists and that is the secret. period.
if i know nothing other than the wind then i have wealth and will share this gold wih every wanderer
suit laden smoke, decaffeinated, i love you so much that i run from you so far into the forest that the dandelions have forgotten my scent.
this is the music we play and it is our string symphony taking the world to sleep. did you know that nothing else exists and that is the secret. period.
typed
love is all i have
and that is it
recycled intention
with your names scribbled
thinking in such gratitude
always
and this love is everything
and i intend it to take me
everywhere as it does
and i will make paper
and send letters home
saying thank you and telling
of the love that i have found
because i am an explorer
with land always in sight
more love always to plant
more fruits always to rift
to send love in letters of gratitude
xoxo
and that is it
recycled intention
with your names scribbled
thinking in such gratitude
always
and this love is everything
and i intend it to take me
everywhere as it does
and i will make paper
and send letters home
saying thank you and telling
of the love that i have found
because i am an explorer
with land always in sight
more love always to plant
more fruits always to rift
to send love in letters of gratitude
xoxo
fraggle
twine turning trying to be where i should
shattering glass of pennies, the winding wound
all i can think is that i wish to bring you here
here with you
without the drunken, cracked stupor
this place takes me over
butterflies upon butterflies
there is something here
like anything there is something
but we have chosen THIS now
shattering glass of pennies, the winding wound
all i can think is that i wish to bring you here
here with you
without the drunken, cracked stupor
this place takes me over
butterflies upon butterflies
there is something here
like anything there is something
but we have chosen THIS now
1927
the hallway streams like a mirror's opposite
red velvet, hidden cockroaches
and a three-fifteen that won't unlock
nothing
but a bed, window unit
i unplug the television
the toilet bruises my knees
the shower hums
the graveyard smile should be watching cartoons
and wearing thick rimmed, thick-prescribed glasses
my music sounds thud hollow against the white wash
and the ceiling bores me
silence - long lost, friend.
red velvet, hidden cockroaches
and a three-fifteen that won't unlock
nothing
but a bed, window unit
i unplug the television
the toilet bruises my knees
the shower hums
the graveyard smile should be watching cartoons
and wearing thick rimmed, thick-prescribed glasses
my music sounds thud hollow against the white wash
and the ceiling bores me
silence - long lost, friend.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
dramama
roar
green turns writhing into black
swirling like a cheesecake
tumbling through the esophagus.
contract
hide your light you faker
and from this we are spent
and in the white find the cream
drip dribble
the rocker rocks
and sways my mother's lullaby
the rocker rocks
and spits his sweat to the scream
choose your peace
green turns writhing into black
swirling like a cheesecake
tumbling through the esophagus.
contract
hide your light you faker
and from this we are spent
and in the white find the cream
drip dribble
the rocker rocks
and sways my mother's lullaby
the rocker rocks
and spits his sweat to the scream
choose your peace
Friday, July 9, 2010
man-age-meant
what changes when you must tell people how it must be
what you want it to look like? expect
a stern control
a light guidance
she calls she answers
she is magic in the illusion
be as i if i am god
what i need i know
and the tantric enjoyment
throws shadows in the wind.
it is nothing to cover
the monkey the buddha
the eyes, the ears, mouth
it is the flow through with sight, sound, immersion
allowed
what you want it to look like? expect
a stern control
a light guidance
she calls she answers
she is magic in the illusion
be as i if i am god
what i need i know
and the tantric enjoyment
throws shadows in the wind.
it is nothing to cover
the monkey the buddha
the eyes, the ears, mouth
it is the flow through with sight, sound, immersion
allowed
feel it so strong, so strong. only i can have it. have it, so strong
and where it goes, i shall know, no, now, so strong
get me out, out of this play, i star, starry, play
if i want then you must but calls and answers are lost in the winds
eina
i cant be there, i wont be, feel not this discomfort my child
tip tap type tells of toils one two three out is it
when it is right, write
when is it ever right know
before whom standing face on, face off, through which i bid these dues
like morning dews, screaming to drip onto the soil to drink to drink
and drunk with this breath we will blend like droplet in the ocean
ONE
ONCE
TWO THREE
sipping through slipping veins drunk like the roses on cocaine
drink and you shall be fed
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
its loose
and where it goes, i shall know, no, now, so strong
get me out, out of this play, i star, starry, play
if i want then you must but calls and answers are lost in the winds
eina
i cant be there, i wont be, feel not this discomfort my child
tip tap type tells of toils one two three out is it
when it is right, write
when is it ever right know
before whom standing face on, face off, through which i bid these dues
like morning dews, screaming to drip onto the soil to drink to drink
and drunk with this breath we will blend like droplet in the ocean
ONE
ONCE
TWO THREE
sipping through slipping veins drunk like the roses on cocaine
drink and you shall be fed
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
its loose
Saturday, July 3, 2010
well, the kid slept till ten
i asked her if she slept well
she walked, bowed, to the lake
they ran ahead
their pink tards swift through the trees
this isnt very promising
when you fly alone
your baby asleep
when you start drinking at twelve
your daughters wild
be fruitful. yessir
i will bear fruits every day
rising blessing planting celebrating
i will rear peace
i will buy osh kosh begosh overalls
and coo
i will stretch, mark
and impart what i know
and i will not kill
i am a womb
this is all i am
and you are a seed
and this is all
we evolve, survival-centric
she walked, bowed, to the lake
they ran ahead
their pink tards swift through the trees
this isnt very promising
when you fly alone
your baby asleep
when you start drinking at twelve
your daughters wild
be fruitful. yessir
i will bear fruits every day
rising blessing planting celebrating
i will rear peace
i will buy osh kosh begosh overalls
and coo
i will stretch, mark
and impart what i know
and i will not kill
i am a womb
this is all i am
and you are a seed
and this is all
we evolve, survival-centric
Friday, July 2, 2010
where do the introverts go?
we fold inward
longing through train car windows
at the balloons and how the wind takes them
at the bellies licking ice-cream and how the age takes me.
there seems always a window to look through
and there is no need to feel violated, stripped by our eyes
they are just windows and thoughts are such
and we are just collecting notes for our novels
and honor you for being the innocent postman
longing through train car windows
at the balloons and how the wind takes them
at the bellies licking ice-cream and how the age takes me.
there seems always a window to look through
and there is no need to feel violated, stripped by our eyes
they are just windows and thoughts are such
and we are just collecting notes for our novels
and honor you for being the innocent postman
policecars should be convertable
perhaps they'd enjoy their jobs a little more
and we'd envy them instead of fear them
more eye rolling i would imagine
but police hair flowing in the wind
ah theyd be pleasant
and there'd be a reason for hiding shades
if youre a policeman and youre reading this
you should suggest it to your sheriff
and i want to say thank you
thank you for keeping us
safe
and we'd envy them instead of fear them
more eye rolling i would imagine
but police hair flowing in the wind
ah theyd be pleasant
and there'd be a reason for hiding shades
if youre a policeman and youre reading this
you should suggest it to your sheriff
and i want to say thank you
thank you for keeping us
safe
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
let us stand. the mirror
(i have been thinking of writing you for a while. writing)
oh man you make my mind explode. my body ripple with the sweet sap of this forest. mmm hot and inspired sigh.
life around your waist. i lie at night. the moon, now, so strong, so pulling on my veins to you.
it is so wonderful
these messages, words with power that can change where i am to take me to being where with you would be.in dreams
it is so silly. so necessary. so?
all these questions we pose into the nether
do you read what you write
check it over
type, regurge, and hit send
just let it be read as it is in its pure streamed thought...
the mixed bag:
i think about this. about whether every experience has just slowly but surely whittled down to what is perfect, what resounds
either way
whether the chemical zaps are "real" or just pertinent to make now make sense i am ecstatic knowing that i am with you in this place we dance. the yellow-red world of circus charm. they recreate it in movies sometimes and i know that yes...that it is. that is where i dance. that is what it looks like when i see it, not simply feel it
what is our love filled with: emotional commitment to grow, to be in the front of our lives, fuck the fear, fuck the hiding. this is who i am and in you in this
ah in you
what magic
st peter. let us rule
we wait on the cliff as the moon rises in the morning with the sun. it is blue it blinds and there is holding here. we wait because we know if we move we will change this perfectly comfortable pleasurable space that.
when anyone moves i feel the walking like it is a cage in the moment.
when it is you i am excited to know you are about to approach where i am
chris your eyes
where are they
to see
to breath.
to strive to seek to find and not to yield
xoxo
fae jr.
oh man you make my mind explode. my body ripple with the sweet sap of this forest. mmm hot and inspired sigh.
life around your waist. i lie at night. the moon, now, so strong, so pulling on my veins to you.
it is so wonderful
these messages, words with power that can change where i am to take me to being where with you would be.in dreams
it is so silly. so necessary. so?
all these questions we pose into the nether
do you read what you write
check it over
type, regurge, and hit send
just let it be read as it is in its pure streamed thought...
the mixed bag:
i think about this. about whether every experience has just slowly but surely whittled down to what is perfect, what resounds
either way
whether the chemical zaps are "real" or just pertinent to make now make sense i am ecstatic knowing that i am with you in this place we dance. the yellow-red world of circus charm. they recreate it in movies sometimes and i know that yes...that it is. that is where i dance. that is what it looks like when i see it, not simply feel it
what is our love filled with: emotional commitment to grow, to be in the front of our lives, fuck the fear, fuck the hiding. this is who i am and in you in this
ah in you
what magic
st peter. let us rule
we wait on the cliff as the moon rises in the morning with the sun. it is blue it blinds and there is holding here. we wait because we know if we move we will change this perfectly comfortable pleasurable space that.
when anyone moves i feel the walking like it is a cage in the moment.
when it is you i am excited to know you are about to approach where i am
chris your eyes
where are they
to see
to breath.
to strive to seek to find and not to yield
xoxo
fae jr.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
writ
as the channel will swerve thoughts to paper
writ, i write
but in this mound of viral virtual communication
i type
am i a typist or writer still?
my charms evolve in foreign, uniform script.
tweens in tight blue jeans and black;
girls watching, alone, on park benches
staring into the distant inspiration
for the next line.
it is off of reality that this canvas comes
recycled through scrutiny.
moleskins crinkle with last minute forget-me-nots;
envelopes lick the blessings of love
and vows are memorized, meaning frozen.
where do you put your vice?
this box is taped and inside writhes a fury
reptilian.
the road is sandy long and moments are too rich to not testify.
this is my vintage vehicle
and the juice must be such
the fumes are dark, oaky vanilla
with overtones of cracked sanity.
its wonderful to meet you.
writ, i write
but in this mound of viral virtual communication
i type
am i a typist or writer still?
my charms evolve in foreign, uniform script.
tweens in tight blue jeans and black;
girls watching, alone, on park benches
staring into the distant inspiration
for the next line.
it is off of reality that this canvas comes
recycled through scrutiny.
moleskins crinkle with last minute forget-me-nots;
envelopes lick the blessings of love
and vows are memorized, meaning frozen.
where do you put your vice?
this box is taped and inside writhes a fury
reptilian.
the road is sandy long and moments are too rich to not testify.
this is my vintage vehicle
and the juice must be such
the fumes are dark, oaky vanilla
with overtones of cracked sanity.
its wonderful to meet you.
Friday, June 25, 2010
broodiness
eggs are being cracked, hatched all this time
all this time we are sizzling
frying up a starter
break
and then there is the chicken
feed me
the garden
water me
feed me; water
and taking gratitude dissipates in hunger
in a greed
thank you life
for the morning green
dew
giving gardens to wander
and ti color with seeds
seeds we are stewards
hear
all this time we are sizzling
frying up a starter
break
and then there is the chicken
feed me
the garden
water me
feed me; water
and taking gratitude dissipates in hunger
in a greed
thank you life
for the morning green
dew
giving gardens to wander
and ti color with seeds
seeds we are stewards
hear
Sunday, June 20, 2010
busy ness
maybe i'll get one of those electronic business cards
so that every time i decide i want to be something else
i can just update everyone's wallet
so that every time i decide i want to be something else
i can just update everyone's wallet
Thursday, June 3, 2010
jerusalem if i forget you
water swells awakening my breath
and i think how you are
where you are breathing your truth
into the rock, into the flutes of eden
and which ever way it is
it is perfect
and we shall dance in this light
across waters
and spill our cups into the hearts of others
am i listening
am i high
it is everywhere
and you whisper into my every day
more and less
and again
and your smile bright blue
in florid white
here
aye it will be and we will joy in this
i will not forget
as long as i remember.
past
and i think how you are
where you are breathing your truth
into the rock, into the flutes of eden
and which ever way it is
it is perfect
and we shall dance in this light
across waters
and spill our cups into the hearts of others
am i listening
am i high
it is everywhere
and you whisper into my every day
more and less
and again
and your smile bright blue
in florid white
here
aye it will be and we will joy in this
i will not forget
as long as i remember.
past
Saturday, May 29, 2010
dawn dust
what animals sweep through the brush at this
what manics awake at their lights or their lust?
spartacus will see me thinking moving away
and will call to the morning like he knows only
everything is in its list
waits for its opportune time
brooding like the coming fourth:
the shower bleeds me dry
i howl at the moon
nesting grimm in her majestic vanity
fuck you
i lie alone
the sparks shimmer ferment
and scribbling i we whoever this is
stumbles through the illusion
like a adrenalined ballerina
strangers find me
save me save you
remind me there is no save to rescue
it will fall away; it will fall away
i have been awake for too long
asleep for too long
the sides of my eyes burn with kohl
let me drift
what manics awake at their lights or their lust?
spartacus will see me thinking moving away
and will call to the morning like he knows only
everything is in its list
waits for its opportune time
brooding like the coming fourth:
the shower bleeds me dry
i howl at the moon
nesting grimm in her majestic vanity
fuck you
i lie alone
the sparks shimmer ferment
and scribbling i we whoever this is
stumbles through the illusion
like a adrenalined ballerina
strangers find me
save me save you
remind me there is no save to rescue
it will fall away; it will fall away
i have been awake for too long
asleep for too long
the sides of my eyes burn with kohl
let me drift
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
aye
why do i want to call, to connect, looking for something in you.not wanted to drain you of your wonder offering but now, at this time, feeling a swirling of yuck
this is the feeling that haunts
that simmers, broods in its second coming
like a black west of last light (thank you g.m.hopkins)
maybe it is a break i need
nothing i need
myself i need
what really needs to change
to evolve
and why
fuck
why
and when isnt it
what is happening that it doesnt exist sometimes
how to be there
or be simply ok not being there
the drain, the drop
i am trying to snap out of it
just to be
yay it is all ok
and then i catch myself snapping
reacting to something too quickly
too rashly
i wouldnt otherwise
would i ?
thank you for the board
that all it is
no need to absorb
please dont absorb
please erase this message as soon as the words are passed over
letting their semantics brush over like an egg laying wash
i havent written, to you i write
i write in the poop log, or draw
nothing else comes
like your music famine
nothing
and in this space of creative nothingnes
i feel least myself
little myself
i cannot express but am simply reacting to the moment
what needs to be done
in the best way i can
the forest is good for me
bad for me
for me
for everyone
and it will sink in in a decade
if i am still a faryn then
and
this is the feeling that haunts
that simmers, broods in its second coming
like a black west of last light (thank you g.m.hopkins)
maybe it is a break i need
nothing i need
myself i need
what really needs to change
to evolve
and why
fuck
why
and when isnt it
what is happening that it doesnt exist sometimes
how to be there
or be simply ok not being there
the drain, the drop
i am trying to snap out of it
just to be
yay it is all ok
and then i catch myself snapping
reacting to something too quickly
too rashly
i wouldnt otherwise
would i ?
thank you for the board
that all it is
no need to absorb
please dont absorb
please erase this message as soon as the words are passed over
letting their semantics brush over like an egg laying wash
i havent written, to you i write
i write in the poop log, or draw
nothing else comes
like your music famine
nothing
and in this space of creative nothingnes
i feel least myself
little myself
i cannot express but am simply reacting to the moment
what needs to be done
in the best way i can
the forest is good for me
bad for me
for me
for everyone
and it will sink in in a decade
if i am still a faryn then
and
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
uni-verse:one-song
to be in this space
the choice to choose
to the sacred space
all sounds a part of the orchestra
to use the art as the vibrant cascading of divine breath
and i am that
with amnesia
forgotten to remember
to have the carnal primal ache
of sprite
sprouted from the size
inoculated
spiral
what is the plan
hear
be my mirror
my eyes to my soul
sole
allone
as feet walked
barefoot
barefeet
on a sand, warm grain and vast
the ness
of forgive
the tion
of evolve
the ing
of remember
is
i in this
allude illusion
watch the breeze
breath
of the song of one
exploded
happy happening happenstance
the choice to choose
to the sacred space
all sounds a part of the orchestra
to use the art as the vibrant cascading of divine breath
and i am that
with amnesia
forgotten to remember
to have the carnal primal ache
of sprite
sprouted from the size
inoculated
spiral
what is the plan
hear
be my mirror
my eyes to my soul
sole
allone
as feet walked
barefoot
barefeet
on a sand, warm grain and vast
the ness
of forgive
the tion
of evolve
the ing
of remember
is
i in this
allude illusion
watch the breeze
breath
of the song of one
exploded
happy happening happenstance
Friday, April 16, 2010
window eyes
we'll talk, eyes, until we find that thing that we both do or both like or have a family member who did some research on that years ago, a good friend who is studying abroad there.
i dont watch tv, dont bring me that garbage
i havent listened to entire albums of musicians nor know the lyrics much
nor the opening line of their concert at woodstock
i grew up in the city, yo
dont try shivy in on crayons
do you remember that moment at the beach
it was late
and you picked me up in marvin
marvin the mercedes
and we just drove
and i think you knew where you wanted to take me
we drove over the bridge
you took me over the bridge and i never had been
my eyes turned up my breathing was
it was chilly
i was so warm
i told us to take the wrong turn but we got to the beach
and i lost my thoughts in the grey mindnight waves
and your story about water power, cars
your story
and you held me
and you held me
and i knew you were sad
trying not to think of the wound, bleeding
or healing i wasnt sure
and i didnt want to compensate for something
but i was so happy to be there
just there
with you. nothing else needed to be
and you kissed me and it was so perfect. under the city stars distant
the waves played some sort of rhythm and i melted into the crevices of us
and our blanket
and it mattered
and we made love
and shook the tides and chile flooded
but you held me and i felt held for the first time in my life
and didnt concern about self worries that you didnt really want to be holding me
you payed for the toll
and you took all the turns, all the detours i wanted
winding roads
and we made love
and it mattered
and shook the tides and chile flooded
i dont watch tv, dont bring me that garbage
i havent listened to entire albums of musicians nor know the lyrics much
nor the opening line of their concert at woodstock
i grew up in the city, yo
dont try shivy in on crayons
do you remember that moment at the beach
it was late
and you picked me up in marvin
marvin the mercedes
and we just drove
and i think you knew where you wanted to take me
we drove over the bridge
you took me over the bridge and i never had been
my eyes turned up my breathing was
it was chilly
i was so warm
i told us to take the wrong turn but we got to the beach
and i lost my thoughts in the grey mindnight waves
and your story about water power, cars
your story
and you held me
and you held me
and i knew you were sad
trying not to think of the wound, bleeding
or healing i wasnt sure
and i didnt want to compensate for something
but i was so happy to be there
just there
with you. nothing else needed to be
and you kissed me and it was so perfect. under the city stars distant
the waves played some sort of rhythm and i melted into the crevices of us
and our blanket
and it mattered
and we made love
and shook the tides and chile flooded
but you held me and i felt held for the first time in my life
and didnt concern about self worries that you didnt really want to be holding me
you payed for the toll
and you took all the turns, all the detours i wanted
winding roads
and we made love
and it mattered
and shook the tides and chile flooded
Sunday, April 11, 2010
breathing with her
there is something in sustenance
sustainable
and the presence to keep that from drowning
can you imagine
drowning in abundance
a dance of bunnies?
where is the cut off the moment to remember
re-be
is it something that becomes second nature, first nature
just nature
natural
why do you want to know about me
why do i want to share this
myself
is this going to influence how you are
how i am
am i only because you are
or are you because i am
are we this bored
what would you do if you were alone
for so long
long enough
that you wouldnt lose your mind
but you would finally find it
are you really going to understand this
when you read it
if you really ever read it
are you reading
understanding
becoming a part of me
as i become you
who are we
quest
xoxo
sustainable
and the presence to keep that from drowning
can you imagine
drowning in abundance
a dance of bunnies?
where is the cut off the moment to remember
re-be
is it something that becomes second nature, first nature
just nature
natural
why do you want to know about me
why do i want to share this
myself
is this going to influence how you are
how i am
am i only because you are
or are you because i am
are we this bored
what would you do if you were alone
for so long
long enough
that you wouldnt lose your mind
but you would finally find it
are you really going to understand this
when you read it
if you really ever read it
are you reading
understanding
becoming a part of me
as i become you
who are we
quest
xoxo
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
cra-bun-din
it is wild -
like a sister, ivy,
seven eight days
minutes
turned on to turn off
not fair
who's say
who has say over my life then
marinade me, fatten me up
to be satisfying for your hunger
brute.
immediate drop into a space of rut
after so long
it has been shuddering
one rabbit
gone
taking with it
my sense of center
your eyes
bunny
your quiver in my arms
welling
bunny
goodbye
like a sister, ivy,
seven eight days
minutes
turned on to turn off
not fair
who's say
who has say over my life then
marinade me, fatten me up
to be satisfying for your hunger
brute.
immediate drop into a space of rut
after so long
it has been shuddering
one rabbit
gone
taking with it
my sense of center
your eyes
bunny
your quiver in my arms
welling
bunny
goodbye
sunflower sutra
I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and
sat down under the huge shade of a Southern
Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the
box house hills and cry.
Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron
pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts
of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, sur-
rounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of
machinery.
The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun
sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that
stream, no hermit in those mounts, just our-
selves rheumy-eyed and hungover like old bums
on the riverbank, tired and wily.
Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray
shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting
dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--
--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower,
memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem
and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes
Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black
treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the
poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel
knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck
and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the
past--
and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset,
crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog
and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like
a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face,
soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sun-
rays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried
wire spiderweb,
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures
from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster
fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O
my soul, I loved you then!
The grime was no man's grime but death and human
locomotives,
all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad
skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black
mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuber-
ance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--
modern--all that civilization spotting your
crazy golden crown--
and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless
eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the
home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar
bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards
of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely
tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what
more could I name, the smoked ashes of some
cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the
milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs
& sphincters of dynamos--all these
entangled in your mummied roots--and you there
standing before me in the sunset, all your glory
in your form!
A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent
lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye
to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited
grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden
monthly breeze!
How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your
grime, while you cursed the heavens of the rail-
road and your flower soul?
Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a
flower? when did you look at your skin and
decide you were an impotent dirty old locomo-
tive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and
shade of a once powerful mad American locomo-
tive?
You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a
sunflower!
And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me
not!
So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck
it at my side like a scepter,
and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul
too, and anyone who'll listen,
--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread
bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all
beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're bles-
sed by our own seed & golden hairy naked ac-
complishment-bodies growing into mad black
formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our
eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive
riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-
down vision.
Berkeley, 1955
sat down under the huge shade of a Southern
Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the
box house hills and cry.
Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron
pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts
of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, sur-
rounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of
machinery.
The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun
sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that
stream, no hermit in those mounts, just our-
selves rheumy-eyed and hungover like old bums
on the riverbank, tired and wily.
Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray
shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting
dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--
--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower,
memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem
and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes
Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black
treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the
poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel
knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck
and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the
past--
and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset,
crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog
and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like
a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face,
soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sun-
rays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried
wire spiderweb,
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures
from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster
fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O
my soul, I loved you then!
The grime was no man's grime but death and human
locomotives,
all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad
skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black
mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuber-
ance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--
modern--all that civilization spotting your
crazy golden crown--
and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless
eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the
home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar
bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards
of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely
tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what
more could I name, the smoked ashes of some
cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the
milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs
& sphincters of dynamos--all these
entangled in your mummied roots--and you there
standing before me in the sunset, all your glory
in your form!
A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent
lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye
to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited
grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden
monthly breeze!
How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your
grime, while you cursed the heavens of the rail-
road and your flower soul?
Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a
flower? when did you look at your skin and
decide you were an impotent dirty old locomo-
tive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and
shade of a once powerful mad American locomo-
tive?
You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a
sunflower!
And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me
not!
So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck
it at my side like a scepter,
and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul
too, and anyone who'll listen,
--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread
bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all
beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're bles-
sed by our own seed & golden hairy naked ac-
complishment-bodies growing into mad black
formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our
eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive
riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-
down vision.
Berkeley, 1955
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
an other
another moment to back to here
to reap
and drink to lees.
another essence in its own light
swifting on ashen memory.
it will all be buried
and analyzed
and murdered
martyred as their god.
the muchness must be captured.
vialed in recycled jars
fermenting
ripening
and it will all change
as however it should
into and out of
the mud; the mud.
exodus' return
is freedom
is hollowed emotion
banked on sifened grey.
where do you feed?
when will it stop pouring
and the swarms hatch.
good morning.
to reap
and drink to lees.
another essence in its own light
swifting on ashen memory.
it will all be buried
and analyzed
and murdered
martyred as their god.
the muchness must be captured.
vialed in recycled jars
fermenting
ripening
and it will all change
as however it should
into and out of
the mud; the mud.
exodus' return
is freedom
is hollowed emotion
banked on sifened grey.
where do you feed?
when will it stop pouring
and the swarms hatch.
good morning.
Friday, March 12, 2010
21/02/08 (not for the sensitive)
again i feel as if i want nothing to come further.i want pain to stop and so instead of changing the pain as i have attempted roller coastally i wish for it to end.
i feel overwhelmed and unwilling to give as i wish just yet.just now.
as the baby doesnt settle and i waste away the protective home i feel a failure perhaps that keeps my eyes watered.
i almost want to be in suffering just to feel something. some control.
this stress and discomfort is unbearable.
a twang at every comment. unearthing, traumatizing pain that writhes and reeks and is embarrassing critical.
it did not begin like this but becoming you i feel the abhorrence and let you shine in the presence of laid backness.
if this is not for me then what is, where is if not here, now?
will this ever be bearable, will there ever be situation that does not uncover years of unworthy, broken memories and moments.
how couold i have let this affect me but how not.
victim to me, willing surrender.
is it that i want to be taken care of, i want unconditional unbalance or is it that i am fed up with myself.
the moments of doubt are as omens are to steer me toward right toward center.
i know there is nothing wrong but my own insecurity to push for happiness.
if this exists is this a concept that keeps us working, in line, and a promise of eden
we have father, the guilt is innate and we drive in shame through unbearable times trying to find the snake to blend.
nothing, not food, not love, not money statisfies without distrust
only sun and sound and green and sway can give me the smile that is silence.
nothing is needed but that, ON MY TERMS.
i am stuck in a spiral cycle of performance and pleasing without going for what i want.
FUCK IT.
i dont want to kiss ass and resent the smell later.
i want to be her i want to be. no pressure.
no expectation. me and when i am ready i can summon external lore to my quarters to unite in physical fuck.
this is all that can be externally tangible.
i dont see anything else at this time.
i look forward in fear.
behind in regret and where does that put me now
in PMSal irritation.
in excuse
in heart palpitating pain
i want all. with change is new and exciting and dynamic life dance.
stop disappointing. stop pining, pinning, let me dance and be.
i dont want a twenty four seven partner now
i cant take the bruised toes
xoxo
i feel overwhelmed and unwilling to give as i wish just yet.just now.
as the baby doesnt settle and i waste away the protective home i feel a failure perhaps that keeps my eyes watered.
i almost want to be in suffering just to feel something. some control.
this stress and discomfort is unbearable.
a twang at every comment. unearthing, traumatizing pain that writhes and reeks and is embarrassing critical.
it did not begin like this but becoming you i feel the abhorrence and let you shine in the presence of laid backness.
if this is not for me then what is, where is if not here, now?
will this ever be bearable, will there ever be situation that does not uncover years of unworthy, broken memories and moments.
how couold i have let this affect me but how not.
victim to me, willing surrender.
is it that i want to be taken care of, i want unconditional unbalance or is it that i am fed up with myself.
the moments of doubt are as omens are to steer me toward right toward center.
i know there is nothing wrong but my own insecurity to push for happiness.
if this exists is this a concept that keeps us working, in line, and a promise of eden
we have father, the guilt is innate and we drive in shame through unbearable times trying to find the snake to blend.
nothing, not food, not love, not money statisfies without distrust
only sun and sound and green and sway can give me the smile that is silence.
nothing is needed but that, ON MY TERMS.
i am stuck in a spiral cycle of performance and pleasing without going for what i want.
FUCK IT.
i dont want to kiss ass and resent the smell later.
i want to be her i want to be. no pressure.
no expectation. me and when i am ready i can summon external lore to my quarters to unite in physical fuck.
this is all that can be externally tangible.
i dont see anything else at this time.
i look forward in fear.
behind in regret and where does that put me now
in PMSal irritation.
in excuse
in heart palpitating pain
i want all. with change is new and exciting and dynamic life dance.
stop disappointing. stop pining, pinning, let me dance and be.
i dont want a twenty four seven partner now
i cant take the bruised toes
xoxo
Monday, March 8, 2010
jesus is, coming?
mother, father, wake up brother.we wait in this red -- tree house -- room -- for you -- warm and smiling. the song will last for as long as you need it to take you to heaven: in dwelling presence of being. you need not understand, faith will come: let go to feel. this fall. into the infinite oblivion.
unlit birthday wish
thursday sun buzzes like nothing,
in park and trees
children playground.
a wish is sent through digital photograph
and the heating of this moment will linger in album.
i am with you, in ears
and paint
and breath
and murmur
and spicy ginger tingle tummy
and collaborated magic.
our train comes in five minutes.
i am enamored -- dream-like dopamine.
don't tell me youre just just a chemical --
i want to tell you.
you turn and twist pleasure
i turn and twist
where are the cameras
kiss me until i forget again
lifted in why's and wherefore's?
because
in park and trees
children playground.
a wish is sent through digital photograph
and the heating of this moment will linger in album.
i am with you, in ears
and paint
and breath
and murmur
and spicy ginger tingle tummy
and collaborated magic.
our train comes in five minutes.
i am enamored -- dream-like dopamine.
don't tell me youre just just a chemical --
i want to tell you.
you turn and twist pleasure
i turn and twist
where are the cameras
kiss me until i forget again
lifted in why's and wherefore's?
because
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
selfish genes
my mom planted lettuce last summer. her first crop and we got to harvest the most magnificent salads from september till december.
\her seed pods grew as they do and she had not collected and saved them so now there are lettuci pushing up through the bricks of her back yard and life has taken over
life will entropically...what the fuck are we doing messing with things
food not lawns!
om yum
xoxo
\her seed pods grew as they do and she had not collected and saved them so now there are lettuci pushing up through the bricks of her back yard and life has taken over
life will entropically...what the fuck are we doing messing with things
food not lawns!
om yum
xoxo
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
jake josef
how would i do justice with your story, jake josef,
your borrowed bicycle, blue like your bruises;
your dimpled cheeks afraid to smile out of the hollow space you have chosen.
you understand your freedom, wise anarchist,
and your remind me of the possibilities of oscillation.
i need to stay with you only a moment --
your swirling whiskeyed minds reads things differently
from my momentary brilliance.
how you can see that this is simply a report of the seconds.
you wrote this, jake josef
your borrowed bicycle, blue like your bruises;
your dimpled cheeks afraid to smile out of the hollow space you have chosen.
you understand your freedom, wise anarchist,
and your remind me of the possibilities of oscillation.
i need to stay with you only a moment --
your swirling whiskeyed minds reads things differently
from my momentary brilliance.
how you can see that this is simply a report of the seconds.
you wrote this, jake josef
Shefa Gold; Chochmat HaLev
the bus so yellow -
a momentous reconnecting to a reality we are creating.
who is today? besides you in your cryptic annunciation:
living out of the question without needing to answer it
the word opens up a moment to moment mystery with the beloved
where there is permission, growth and therefore creativity.
there is importance to heal what is hidden,
asleep,
that is not able to be used to mend.
to be wise in love is to understand the timing.
a momentous reconnecting to a reality we are creating.
who is today? besides you in your cryptic annunciation:
living out of the question without needing to answer it
the word opens up a moment to moment mystery with the beloved
where there is permission, growth and therefore creativity.
there is importance to heal what is hidden,
asleep,
that is not able to be used to mend.
to be wise in love is to understand the timing.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
human extraordinaire spirit james
a wave from the middle of a green man street
you were shakti
a line of this of that, velvet and crystal
you were smiling
i stopped because everything else stopped
you were obliging
hesse, the dead, purple
you were sharing
and then my memory and some words
you were guiding
labelled as a list of wonder talents
you were boasting
newspaper and flowers, coloring the city
you were loving
you were shakti
a line of this of that, velvet and crystal
you were smiling
i stopped because everything else stopped
you were obliging
hesse, the dead, purple
you were sharing
and then my memory and some words
you were guiding
labelled as a list of wonder talents
you were boasting
newspaper and flowers, coloring the city
you were loving
project: walking with the gods
concept: still to evolve somewhat. peace of art created from a spontaneous or sort out divine interaction every day. sharing sparks. mending. always laughing.
Afanasi, Roert Smyth, Steve
each has a name. it started on the steps.
in another universe. with no dawn coming.
then breakfast and a class to get to
on the ferry building clock's chime.
it was the orchid that kept me
and your photograph that drew me
and your voice of devil talk and peace possibility
and almonds, blue eyes, balloons
and rainbows
arching into the perfect crevice of being fed.
i kept making decisions of where to take us
they were perfect and seaweed sweet.
it felt purposeful like jasmine memories
and i stay out for as long as the day will have me
nothing ends as sweetly as it could than with a chai
steamed and rich
in a hostel selling peace
specificity brings untwinging attention
and tonight will be a night unlike any other
Afanasi, Roert Smyth, Steve
each has a name. it started on the steps.
in another universe. with no dawn coming.
then breakfast and a class to get to
on the ferry building clock's chime.
it was the orchid that kept me
and your photograph that drew me
and your voice of devil talk and peace possibility
and almonds, blue eyes, balloons
and rainbows
arching into the perfect crevice of being fed.
i kept making decisions of where to take us
they were perfect and seaweed sweet.
it felt purposeful like jasmine memories
and i stay out for as long as the day will have me
nothing ends as sweetly as it could than with a chai
steamed and rich
in a hostel selling peace
specificity brings untwinging attention
and tonight will be a night unlike any other
Thursday, January 28, 2010
heaven meeting earth
lie on its back surrendering to the all
mighty three with legs calmly flailing in the air
is met by another mighty three, hovering
focusing downward descending
meeting: infinity
mighty three with legs calmly flailing in the air
is met by another mighty three, hovering
focusing downward descending
meeting: infinity
you didnt change my life
and i apologize for not listening
and not fully giving you that honor.
you are a sage, divine
and not fully giving you that honor.
you are a sage, divine
PAINTED POETRY
FALL
into cover to recover
understanding the necessity of rest
but the active space of growth.
the grounds enflame with crackling tones of earth
and the rake screeches order.
insist on collection
knowing the imminent plateau.
there is no reason the fall --
of man; from grace --
would be unretributable.
apples grow all year
and the colder the frost; the sweeter the crisp
SUMMER
nothing else comes but the quenching of afternoon shower
the sky suddenly surrounded with wrung-grey cloud
the pavement streamed and puddles glimmering prism fuel
there is no reason to relocate the world of imagination
the water simply enhances the game
and the storm-wrecked pirates wave to the shore
with the rest of the flotsam
the tropical island jungle boasts luminous creatures
and hard shelled fruits
ice snaps as tea slides into crystal tumblers
and chairs rock, elongating scarves drawing to the veranda's wooden floor boards
there is a hum of music to this life
DISSOLVE
what is there can be so easily lost
needing a scent of balanced seeing --
for engraving but avoiding reliance.
everything will become yours
recorded in chemical compound
(with a popping sound)
and the choice becomes yours
to color the sound in light whiteness
(or say, beige and blue)"
or glum heaviness that has no color
but acidic callous
let it move
TWENTY SEVEN HOURS, NINE MINUTES, AND FORTY THREE SECONDS
i wrote of dawn
in a spring garden
in front of growing brussel sprouts
or was it cabbage?
but what of the dusk
the active transition into reds and purples
and yawning
when it is acceptable to waltz
into the worlds of thinned blood streams
and activated receptors
and sigh and bat
and forget the rigidity of the day?
oh, the gateway
BE-ING
tell me again that it is as it is
so i stop worrying that it isnt as it isnt
and perhaps for a moment
we will be together
SPIRALS INTO ORANGE
for everything, a season
for every being, another
for every rain, a bow
for every seeker, bliss to discover
numbers count in sequence
with hidden infinity between them
colors separate that which they do not possess
boundaries of oblivion
it doesnt end
this experience with no spectrum
it will always, simply, be
ad infinitum
into cover to recover
understanding the necessity of rest
but the active space of growth.
the grounds enflame with crackling tones of earth
and the rake screeches order.
insist on collection
knowing the imminent plateau.
there is no reason the fall --
of man; from grace --
would be unretributable.
apples grow all year
and the colder the frost; the sweeter the crisp
SUMMER
nothing else comes but the quenching of afternoon shower
the sky suddenly surrounded with wrung-grey cloud
the pavement streamed and puddles glimmering prism fuel
there is no reason to relocate the world of imagination
the water simply enhances the game
and the storm-wrecked pirates wave to the shore
with the rest of the flotsam
the tropical island jungle boasts luminous creatures
and hard shelled fruits
ice snaps as tea slides into crystal tumblers
and chairs rock, elongating scarves drawing to the veranda's wooden floor boards
there is a hum of music to this life
DISSOLVE
what is there can be so easily lost
needing a scent of balanced seeing --
for engraving but avoiding reliance.
everything will become yours
recorded in chemical compound
(with a popping sound)
and the choice becomes yours
to color the sound in light whiteness
(or say, beige and blue)"
or glum heaviness that has no color
but acidic callous
let it move
TWENTY SEVEN HOURS, NINE MINUTES, AND FORTY THREE SECONDS
i wrote of dawn
in a spring garden
in front of growing brussel sprouts
or was it cabbage?
but what of the dusk
the active transition into reds and purples
and yawning
when it is acceptable to waltz
into the worlds of thinned blood streams
and activated receptors
and sigh and bat
and forget the rigidity of the day?
oh, the gateway
BE-ING
tell me again that it is as it is
so i stop worrying that it isnt as it isnt
and perhaps for a moment
we will be together
SPIRALS INTO ORANGE
for everything, a season
for every being, another
for every rain, a bow
for every seeker, bliss to discover
numbers count in sequence
with hidden infinity between them
colors separate that which they do not possess
boundaries of oblivion
it doesnt end
this experience with no spectrum
it will always, simply, be
ad infinitum
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
coffee and smokes; pipes and blintzes
sleeping in you'll miss this morning:
the ones who havent slept and still want to speak about the world
the leaving ones in their absorptive urgency
the en-joyful ones refilling their coffee to side their bagels
and the magic that happens over cutting fruit
laughing the first movements of the day through
every man has his way
how do you say juice in italian?
or mandarin, or australian
teach me before you disappear forever
for that's an awfully long time.
the ones who havent slept and still want to speak about the world
the leaving ones in their absorptive urgency
the en-joyful ones refilling their coffee to side their bagels
and the magic that happens over cutting fruit
laughing the first movements of the day through
every man has his way
how do you say juice in italian?
or mandarin, or australian
teach me before you disappear forever
for that's an awfully long time.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
dont take the lashes your father took
we will be thrown opinion in every vat in this place
every pitch of sound will be advice on how
as is this, in green.
relent
be free, however that means to be
with love and luck
white tiger brothers and sisters
every pitch of sound will be advice on how
as is this, in green.
relent
be free, however that means to be
with love and luck
white tiger brothers and sisters
Friday, January 22, 2010
nice guy. 415-400-9493
smiles like prizes,
you're a carnie today,
whose gesture entices,
hopes of more prizes to pay.
batting eyelashes,
and sky, knowing smiles,
coy unspoken dances,
which dropped for miles,
from giving heavens,
to fall in my favor,
like sevens and elevens,
its a smile to savor
cnr of green and columbus
you're a carnie today,
whose gesture entices,
hopes of more prizes to pay.
batting eyelashes,
and sky, knowing smiles,
coy unspoken dances,
which dropped for miles,
from giving heavens,
to fall in my favor,
like sevens and elevens,
its a smile to savor
cnr of green and columbus
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
my fares, lady?
wish chants and lists of manifesting paradise are let to the wind
and the seasonings will marinate
i watch over my shoulder at every movement
reacting to some wagtail scent
to be shy is to watch grass valley panners
and teeth reddened as the crane lake empties.
your eyes tell me words i may be mistranslating
as your steed leaves each dusk without looking back
and i create a chapter that you are timid and sweet
and a busy busy man
lonesome lunches are pathetic but the slow mastication
expectation nestles satiety of some sort
and the seasonings will marinate
i watch over my shoulder at every movement
reacting to some wagtail scent
to be shy is to watch grass valley panners
and teeth reddened as the crane lake empties.
your eyes tell me words i may be mistranslating
as your steed leaves each dusk without looking back
and i create a chapter that you are timid and sweet
and a busy busy man
lonesome lunches are pathetic but the slow mastication
expectation nestles satiety of some sort
key and chain
a song i have written for you:
about tattoos i refuse to reveal
about every thought that changes expression
torn open
wondering if the surfacing is healing, or simply surfacing.
i could describe the room unfolding every night
your favorite peace drying out by the wood stove
this may writhe you. this is just my mind floating outward
responding, yes?
where is free will? in my honest smile and love for you
or in the unfolded reality that isnt as i planned.
is this your plan in your power, in your dreams?
how will i return to you what you say you give
what you want for me in this frigid world
this is your song, my gift, for your gifts
it will soothe soon and i will see it for what it is
not how i respond to it.
blessed be.
about tattoos i refuse to reveal
about every thought that changes expression
torn open
wondering if the surfacing is healing, or simply surfacing.
i could describe the room unfolding every night
your favorite peace drying out by the wood stove
this may writhe you. this is just my mind floating outward
responding, yes?
where is free will? in my honest smile and love for you
or in the unfolded reality that isnt as i planned.
is this your plan in your power, in your dreams?
how will i return to you what you say you give
what you want for me in this frigid world
this is your song, my gift, for your gifts
it will soothe soon and i will see it for what it is
not how i respond to it.
blessed be.
cement kings lovin motha earth
the rains have brought wrappers and disintegrating tissue
to the steps
the broom is wet and in effect futile.
kaya ascends with me bending to scrape someone else's disregards from the pavement.
his red knitted beanie and crooked nose hold his smile.
he has been a patron of these streets for fifteen years
vernon keeps his heart company and shakes so tight
he could brake skin.
they fluff passing pets on leashes
and shiver-dance on Broadway until there is no one else to see
the do not starve. they smoke
to the steps
the broom is wet and in effect futile.
kaya ascends with me bending to scrape someone else's disregards from the pavement.
his red knitted beanie and crooked nose hold his smile.
he has been a patron of these streets for fifteen years
vernon keeps his heart company and shakes so tight
he could brake skin.
they fluff passing pets on leashes
and shiver-dance on Broadway until there is no one else to see
the do not starve. they smoke
playing god
how easy it would be to jump - the edge so sweet
a destiny i will violate
when i want it sometime, inconspicuous
a destiny i will violate
when i want it sometime, inconspicuous
loading and unloading
her hair was bleached strawberry
and her lips trembled.
vixen blazoned, tattooed across chest
and an eyebrow ring for bravery
her right eye swelled purple and her cornea shot blood
and her lips trembled.
vixen blazoned, tattooed across chest
and an eyebrow ring for bravery
her right eye swelled purple and her cornea shot blood
population 250
speed boats, trailered, without their hubs
coat with crackled leaved and crushed earth.
a coffee joint. tavern. scattered post boxes:
it is a silent heaven in madrone leaves
white in the dark.
morning hazes over the mountains; fog;
and pines pierce the veranda view.
bottle bury along the path
and truck parts lay rusting until the summer.
the tip jar overflows with crystallized cash
and the gas hardware store keeps business.
sunday swells and pours clearing evidence
the folks will look you in the eye
and strum stairway to heaven on the guitar
while you sip on coffee and wonder the day.
the garden swirls hiding roaches
coat with crackled leaved and crushed earth.
a coffee joint. tavern. scattered post boxes:
it is a silent heaven in madrone leaves
white in the dark.
morning hazes over the mountains; fog;
and pines pierce the veranda view.
bottle bury along the path
and truck parts lay rusting until the summer.
the tip jar overflows with crystallized cash
and the gas hardware store keeps business.
sunday swells and pours clearing evidence
the folks will look you in the eye
and strum stairway to heaven on the guitar
while you sip on coffee and wonder the day.
the garden swirls hiding roaches
looking for theatre
the city is cold on its own
colors link arms through every street
and the neon becomes normal.
beggars count their change for nuggets
and everyone has a job.
guitars are tuned and movies play till midnight.
sweet nothing come find me in the park
i am playing
it comes cross what is different here from anywhere else
the temporal tune keeps me hidden and new
i want to link eyes on the bus, on the street, the moon.
i keep porcelain
colors link arms through every street
and the neon becomes normal.
beggars count their change for nuggets
and everyone has a job.
guitars are tuned and movies play till midnight.
sweet nothing come find me in the park
i am playing
it comes cross what is different here from anywhere else
the temporal tune keeps me hidden and new
i want to link eyes on the bus, on the street, the moon.
i keep porcelain
amphibian
a red-nasal chef, adopted and repressed
with magical ideas of connection
sharpening his knives, giving up smoking
and his lost penny.
we cant remember his name dicing onions
waiting for the conversation to finish
hoping for life to start.
he disappears in the morning; my hangover remembers something
gregory jerks his umpteenth introduction
with a new paper doll each time: josefina likes to dance (his voice so sweet)
we swing her song about twinkling stars and falling bridges.
he speaks of maine and his journey in two years from now. now.
he will cry in excitement and smiles through rotting teeth.
we read about the boston fire from printed sheets
and he laughs anxiously.
his navy jacket hides him through holes.
who else is there to tell me stories?
look into my eyes for five minutes of my life
let me sleep through the night
and wear sweet perfume.
with magical ideas of connection
sharpening his knives, giving up smoking
and his lost penny.
we cant remember his name dicing onions
waiting for the conversation to finish
hoping for life to start.
he disappears in the morning; my hangover remembers something
gregory jerks his umpteenth introduction
with a new paper doll each time: josefina likes to dance (his voice so sweet)
we swing her song about twinkling stars and falling bridges.
he speaks of maine and his journey in two years from now. now.
he will cry in excitement and smiles through rotting teeth.
we read about the boston fire from printed sheets
and he laughs anxiously.
his navy jacket hides him through holes.
who else is there to tell me stories?
look into my eyes for five minutes of my life
let me sleep through the night
and wear sweet perfume.
haight
i saw you with the same newspaper i was reading but you were coloring it in, i was looking for a job. i heard you speaking french but you were angry.
the seniors meet in this thai place. i cant forget yellow corduroy, red velvet cap and striped rainbow sweater ordering the dish on the bottom item of the poster behind me.
im not there until he apologizes. he was there the moment i saw him or is this a game and am i waiting for you?
it is so colorful outside like topsy turvy school buses and fields of sunflowers. youre still reading the menu and walking across the street
watching the crepusculean sun rise through the city buildings
my neighbors dont care for the spinach in their teeth or their anxious habits: its easy to be paid for
the seniors meet in this thai place. i cant forget yellow corduroy, red velvet cap and striped rainbow sweater ordering the dish on the bottom item of the poster behind me.
im not there until he apologizes. he was there the moment i saw him or is this a game and am i waiting for you?
it is so colorful outside like topsy turvy school buses and fields of sunflowers. youre still reading the menu and walking across the street
watching the crepusculean sun rise through the city buildings
my neighbors dont care for the spinach in their teeth or their anxious habits: its easy to be paid for
what are you grateful for?
abounding river meandering through my memory soup. the candle, light, is generous and i cannot help but feed from moment's ceremony. gifts and wonders stream smiling gingerly offering, teaching. here there are eyes cherishing, touching and trusting what is truly thankful but the receptive offering into infinite focus. how can i help you? this picturesque life continues to follow me into magical forest where lights are shining and burning life alive.
04-01-10
why does the date matter
when it is a moment in time;
a moment to forget?
there is haze in the air
helping to forget fading magic.
peace, and people. and coffee
blend into hand-painted tables
and bumper-sticker walls
and i cannot recall how i got here.
the emollience has taken me nowhere
for a while now
and i know i never want to wake up
from this.
and is this sustainable
like the magic herb growers in oregon?
and is this safe
like my bed and my pillow
and my memories?
and where is the line
and you know this is true
and it can be anything you imagine.
every day has been a clear canvas
stroking inside and out of the lines
until i have painted you perfectly.
it is leather bound, all this is
and i will continue to check in with you
it hovers somewhere and syringes downward,
manifest,
each time, training and testing each time.
is there method in the involuntary madness?
i don't always draw hearts and flowers
and symbols
but i like those things, i do.
the walls are speckeled differently today
but he will sing the same songs
until i understand the lyrics
and the gathering of souls to witness
the truth of this meeting.
it has been long,
magnificent,
but long
and i send love to you dear friend
when it is a moment in time;
a moment to forget?
there is haze in the air
helping to forget fading magic.
peace, and people. and coffee
blend into hand-painted tables
and bumper-sticker walls
and i cannot recall how i got here.
the emollience has taken me nowhere
for a while now
and i know i never want to wake up
from this.
and is this sustainable
like the magic herb growers in oregon?
and is this safe
like my bed and my pillow
and my memories?
and where is the line
and you know this is true
and it can be anything you imagine.
every day has been a clear canvas
stroking inside and out of the lines
until i have painted you perfectly.
it is leather bound, all this is
and i will continue to check in with you
it hovers somewhere and syringes downward,
manifest,
each time, training and testing each time.
is there method in the involuntary madness?
i don't always draw hearts and flowers
and symbols
but i like those things, i do.
the walls are speckeled differently today
but he will sing the same songs
until i understand the lyrics
and the gathering of souls to witness
the truth of this meeting.
it has been long,
magnificent,
but long
and i send love to you dear friend
land of the free
told in the dews of morning
of a structure of liberty --
a code for creativity --
coloring between the lines.
but anything can exist in this language
numbered and capitalized
and all the thing needs is a thinker
and a paintbrush or someone who paints.
and on the last day, watch your children,
listening to the purrs in the sunlight.
it sets again, in the west it sets,
so turn eastward for the new day.
of a structure of liberty --
a code for creativity --
coloring between the lines.
but anything can exist in this language
numbered and capitalized
and all the thing needs is a thinker
and a paintbrush or someone who paints.
and on the last day, watch your children,
listening to the purrs in the sunlight.
it sets again, in the west it sets,
so turn eastward for the new day.
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