may you lift as smoke

through a tree canopy--

from a ring of stones.

enclosing a fire whose

purification run down to the

ground, is honored by The

Great Spirit.

the fates have been good enough

to fence off a garden of dust.

gathered together to look me in the

eye, with a magnetism of blind

attraction.

night covers that dust like charred skin,

as the sun glances his repelled blows.

the garden seems to plummet to its own

center of the earth, when a rose ***** her petals

upward from the choking maw.

grant me a space

to wander that'll

make the Himalayas

look like a series of

pebbles.

i tire of creating karma.

there are incredible

levels of devotion, that

make a spider web of

your bed--barring you

from sleep.

thought for thought for

thought in pull.

from the living and the dead.

This is 2012

8 years late,

ready to look

at math.

even though the greatest

artists of all time didn't

depict that Christ was impaled

at the wrists, rather than

his palms.

they didn't miss the central point.

every time

you think again,

a sweet nothing

tries to name you.

your name beckons

The Self, spat on with

a conjuring tongue.

versing words that

repeat on themselves.

till you're no longer in

the way of meaning.

how can obsessive

compulsivity dare

to speak of letting

go of illusion?

while watched by

a greater predictor?

things happen with

rigor mortis guards up.

iconic pictures

paint themselves,

as fools rush in.

Clytemenestra hurled

her grace, as Agamemnon

saw her net before it came.

She stabbing wildly thru

its grids into the blood of him.

a birthday wish

comes like two

hands together,

holding the flame.

blowing out what

will come of it yet

again.

until all birthdays

are celebrated at

once.

Small Brother

is dying too big

for lenses.

as connections

are growing

exponentially.

tormented by frames.

it's like cats

and dogs trading

paws sensing you

through the door.

never the same.

what's it

like to double up

on words?

love i guess.

that question mark's

a seahorse.

Coney Island having

fun.

contradicting the tide.

that grain

of rice thrown

once against

the rite of your right chest,

just so.

is the marriage you

will never attend again.

too meant to be.

fences wore

their stitches around

the park.

painted black by black,

(the sun wanted privacy).

what broke my heart

were those chained gates.

caution taped.

i wanted in, but didn't have

the strength

to mount them, tearing their

halves that would keep any neighbor up.

though i did so.

seeding the war of a sacred land.

working out freedom.

a park bench would'nt offer

me a seat.

keep throwing

aureoles, dancing

stiffly looking over

your dance partner's

shoulders.

breathing out castles.

judgement dies

on the spot.

remaining, remains

grateful like burnt

stove tops.

so stoked about last

suppers.

watch the server.

as Pavarotti

once said, he

trusted life so he

could sing.

so he knew Caruso was

his master.

a turtle

dove caught

the beat of each

of my steps--

depressurized

harmoniums.

as

i bothered with

stairs.

to get home.

a starfish

seperating grains

of sand while

possessed by them.

lilting syllables unspoken.

wind pulls through

itself, leaves receive

their green notices.

their fingers on the fly.

it happens without

provocation.

crank up a

hellhole and

angels dance

around rims.

Bosch driving

by with tinted

windows rolled down.

trying to make

up with May.

was it me

that built you

up like a fat little

****** cupidon

spouting blood?

ponding roads in a quaint bowl?

of course.

a camera prospecting angles

for shots that will become

motifs.

blood culturing.

thought as mere as doing.

a la...

when nostrils

remain undilated

faucets, taking in

the dream.

your want has spent

nothing, obsessing...

over that straight line

running down.

reunited.

Aum Namah Shivaya...

Jesus copped

a poetical attitude

so we might be

forgiven.

sticking to our

tongues.

Queens is now

like the 1985 film:

"Legend".

when spring began

wintering.

Tom Cruise proposing

to Mia Sara, while

the ring goes down the

bottom of a lake.

he jumping headfirst to

retrieve it.

so ghouls can break into

homes.

with petals becoming

too rich for their flower,

or trees--or grasses hued.

unable to pick sides.

i-I-i love that flick.

i saw Venus

bust out of a sensory

deprivation tank.

by force of feeling

for her whale.

bees blacken

yellow stripes

in origami roses,

as we go viral.

the epicenter

of hands shaken, drained

of blood--miserly grasps.

turning and cleaning a wheel.

a home leaving home.

passed up by a bus driver

blue at the collar like you,

pretending to respond--

but having a blowout with

schedule, while waving him

down for a solid already profiting.

despising the unrreconcilable need

that sustains him.

"an essential worker."

"heros transporting heros, right?"

understanding the de-servant

of karmic implication.

where rage should have been.

there was none, there i remained.

instead, the language of an

oldish latino man trying his best to

communicate with me.

telling me what he did ******

himself by leaving us out.

moments later he began to **** by

the right of the bus's glass waiting room.

**** splashing the pavement.

did Shiva

or Christ reach

around with

wider arms?

unobjectionable feelings

of affection?

a dumb, and very

inevitable question.

i just know i've wedged

the funeral cards of my

grandparents together.

behind the crevice of a light switch,

dying to live at the same time.

bearing the face of a Byzantine

Christ, twice upholding an

ubhaya mudra.

Greeks, it doesn't

matter

from where--created

the mafia when they

kissed a Sicilian on

on both cheeks.

so they know what they

come from.

Greco-Roman, a bit above

their head.

get off on

fear, just remember

to leave a chill--

like fruit flies avoiding

lightning.

on a countertop.