criss·cross  (krĭs′krôs′)

~~~
verb:  
criss·crossed, criss·cross·ing, criss·cross·es
1. To mark with crossing lines.
2. To move back and forth through or over:
noun:
1. A mark or pattern made of crossing lines.
2. *A state of being at conflicting or contrary purposes.
~~~


Oh Steve,
you nailed me
one mo' time,
to this cross of mine,
it's composition,
wood of linear mish mash, and the
nails, of a clear liquid substance,
drops of contradictory emotions

insight inside,
your practiced spécialité,
disarming the self-arming, harming,
we let our minds assemble reasons why,
in order to ourselves
dissemble

I keep hammering myself

unsure why, unclear the charge,
unknown the inevitable outcome

but the lines are continuously crossing, indeed,
but the intersections dissatisfying, in deed,
which is why theses words sores,
seeded by your words,
both burst and languish,
taking to the limitless limit,
of deep water oil exploration

unsure if I want to discover,
unknown if I want to uncover

the essential oils,
the caustic causing lyes,
that anoint these graying hairs,
blind his eyes,
both resting upon a furrowed, burrowed,
a puzzled forehead expression of
confusion about such simple line items as

life everlasting

out of bounds,
out of town,
writing poetry,
down by Richie Haven's San Francisco Bay,
listening to Norah Jones, wailing plaintive,
another Pandora perfect choice
"Don't Miss You At All"

am I stuck on an endless, repeating rifle
firing blanks of repetitious, line life patterns,
or worse,
forever trapped in the colorless
spaces between,
wondering if I can answer-handle
Stevie Nick's pre-vision precsion
pinpricking, questioning,
about the seasons of our life


" but time makes you bolder,
even children get older,
I'm getting older too...
and if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,
well, well, the landslide will bring it down"

so in this out of state, out of mind,
drinking up these meandering ramblings,

experiential wondering not,
if
the summer sunshine,
only the
when,
it will return,
and the lines drawn upon my face
sun burnt,
cease their
meaning meandering
re life's line items such as

life everlasting*


~
Market Street
San Francisco,
two thirteen two thousand sixteen

In my palm I laid a single grain of sand - and studied long with the eyes of Man.

Then when my eyes acquired the truth the reality of the Universe did blooth

That grain of sand - it 'twas a planet -
with seas and lands and tiny humans 'pon it

The lands were home to many people
   - some were with; some without steeples

They had cities wide and planes and cars
     and schools and courts and homes and bars

I looked closer still with wisdom's sight
     and I got a Universal fright

Outside a small town like my own -
was a beach like that I'm stood upon!

And on that beach I saw a man
a-peering deeply at his palm

~ Closer still I did exam
.... and his interest,

(I swear to God
with raised right hand)

  was just -
a single -
grain
of

s
a
n
d
"
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'