your timing's so good--

you prove it doesn't exist.

a stand in testification...

unshakably watching what

gets carried away.

nothing will survive your

Bodhisattva gaze~that's

not willing to give it all away

in an instant.

the ground lights up as your

feet root pilgrimage.

you turn around to heed

the world's call, the world

follows...as it must.

it's you who has the strength to

integrate such pause given.

what's that look like?

i mean, eyes are connectable...

usable in an act of faith.

i keep looking into your eyes,

and they'll never tell me you're

nowhere to be found...because

we look through one another

so well.

our connection

runs its current

25/8.

refusing to be

sidestepped.

through one

another's five

sheaths...like the

song of stranger

things happening

on repeat.

when a poet

is presented with

the muse of muses...

his poems surround

him.

organically adhere to

The Poem...

she'll seductively slip

in and out of.

winter has begun groaning--

sounding the colors flowers

are settling upon.

full-throated as what he lets

out to see coming at a frozen

distance.

whereas the vapor of his breath

is changing color--heeded as a

sign that loosens his grip.

slowly internalizing his death.

as candles

make the altar,

a day's observance

flickers a

foreknowledge

of night.

the way its

outstandingly

bright breadth

seems to blink.

unable to adjust,

to what cannot be

promised to be

sustained.

the essence of,

the soul of--

an

unfathomable

thing.

occurring to itself--

words on the tip

of its tongue.

profoundly

alienating.

rubbery stretch of
imagination,
color: teal blue.
a head of helium.
convex face interspersed
with a thumb-size patch
of ice (the sun).
teal blue sight, sees
lavender grey clouds.
aqua blue sky sees a
gorgeous accent, to the
inevitable ceiling of its
height.
blindingly smooth slides,
and drifts--humoring the
wind to stifled whistles.
then the slow deflation,
the sky's naming process--
a letter at a time.
the ground's map promising
the burden of objectified
detail more and more.
till a teal blue balloon
got stuck to the antler
of a seasoned oak tree.
clumsily waving its full
name in a breeze.
incessantly asking:
what's in a name?
the little boy who let
me go, had one too.
what's in a name?

there's a bell ringing in the dark...

that leaves the better of its blood

in a bat's head.

come morning--those reverberating

flits will disperse their aberrations

amongst townspeople.

who'll prove emissaries of fear.

town to town, big and small--whose

dragging eclipse tills the soil.

damp and stank with monsters that

lean forth their full menace.

to tear away the kiss that was about

to be ours.

trying to snarl and **** away the bliss

that broke through.

rattling February branches, so we may come

to understand how they remain plunged

in winter's gut.

as to stiffen, and not adore winter as much

as spring.

--yet dare i say they've kissed...look

behind your eyes my love~

(winter & spring, this...)

seasons are

not calendrical...

seasons are what

comes over elements

in moods of nonexistence.

a table drumming on a hand.

given as dates.

a five-count, sounding-out...

a dreamt dream's lifetime.

sixth as last to first,

forever extrasensory to

perception.

what is a cross, drafting

over.

i want to trace

your face seven

times over...

till the seventh

day gets weak

in the knees.

so you can come

over...

while being

right here~~~

yesterday i came

upon a chained up

dog wearing a muzzle.

the dog stood there,

and kept trying to bite

its muzzle.

a poet eating his heart

out came to mind.

night has you Juliet,

unmoored your eye beams--

rose to its feet as you

took to a balcony.

love at the speed of poetry--

how stars cross themselves.

second guessing a portent

chill, you shook off that silly

girl and starved Romeo-ward.

spilling your face over the balcony,

moonstruck to camera flashes as

Romeo played across the garden.

fate twisting ghoulishly to couple

these kids, sighed an antique sigh--

though greener than ever.

i want to

lick, bite,

****...kiss

your pouty

lips.

to draw you

from the inside

out.

then wipe the drool

from your vertical

lips.

there are gods

and goddesses

greater than you.

that put things in

place so you can

grow up to them.

as to know what you

wander through.

able to survive in

mythological wilds.

one lost mind at a

time.