sometimes walking home

from work after midnight,

you feel like Travis Bickle

in a surgical mask.

sounding...

first response blowing off of

land's end.

watching those that watch

watch you--brave the dark

of this city deity.

left to its own devices.

cold is the most seasonal--the only

condition of: The Alone.

its savage independence blisters with

maturity, assures a begrudging respect

& admiration.

it's the embodiment of nothing but

what is not.

where the senses are taken one by one,

as with the last to go--you can hear white.

its solitude is hand-picked by what

cannot withstand it.

nothing else smells so fresh as it touches

your bones.

a cavalcade of rocking horses

laze this chair, entering into a

covenant with crazies.

the rider's chewing over an alphabet

of stale cereal--sore jaw hung

from a milkless sky.

an amplifier's guitar feedback sexes

his ancient ache, gyrations lost and re lost

in the same room.

arms at royal rest, thickening plots at his sides--

a parthena swims through the window.

slowly strutting toward him, opens herself and

sits down on his rising star.

what this is,

the enough of

the enough.

Quarantining.

(forty days in or out).

we have come between

ourselves.

judgement dying all over this place.

blessed be.

a hilltop bore its **** to locals, where
they come from flat to: "that".
confronted by vantage, familiar as their
own physique.
their feedback loop of disconnected
realities, locked in its grasses.
the signage of a leaf, connoting nyc parks,
Sheriff of Nottingham's badge.
produced before peripatetic schools of
philosophy.
sunset's prolusion to hypnotic suggestion,
took effect.
as if an infant walked more ***** than
royalty to his bedroom door.
opened it a crack, then quarter way.
where light of mind/sunlight/bedroom light,
assumed the quality of that early rising at
sunset.

Nightfall grew out of itself, like the

vigil of a vigil.

As Central Park was corraled between.

Everyone stuck around, because it

wasn't their time--like those two.

Led out to where nightfall could go

no further--there was just what stood

stood for it now.

There they stood next to one another,

letting go of hands for the first time.

To hear a cello command Bethesda

Terrace.

As soon as it came to life, it bellowed

lifetimes--one let go into another.

Its sound made archways the height

of what passes through.

Its unbearable ache grew in them.

The burden of nightfall was theirs alone.

They knew it--they just did, now there's

no coming back.

this epithalmium of tied serpents,

as Now y8u may kiss...

immemorially lingering.

sprung forward by the circuit curve

of embrace.

pronounced by resuscitations of light,

mythos of mind-body.

unborn in an amphitheater.

as white relieves itself into black, and

black relieves itself into white.

a wolf is the shape of

its howl...

belting out the

moon gingerly unboxed

by thoughtful skies.

eight directions, and scintillate

caress of her mastercraft...

windless with the breath of

refinement.

exactly when...

the howl reaches, and marks

her.

sun gazing,

annointments of India--

the glass stained.

habitations of flame

opening the colors

of surrender.

floating permutations

of welcome.

an Alaskan bed

sprawls out its

mattress--stuffed

with drifting crystals.

unwet by watery ratio--

though made of.

powered dry.

a bed & breakfast phone

rings...(rotary-rude).

after dialing two yrs.

without a pristine snow.

thin ice' palette, when dissolving

into water--is starlike.

the quaternary of a bed does the

same with a body.

a dreamless state can reflect

this, as the horizontal meets the

vertical--indelibly so.

even if stars aren't visible,

you're aware of them on some

level.

a lower plane is a higher plane,

to a lower plane.

just as a higher plane is a lower

plane, to a higher plane--etc, etc.

I milk a stewarded greenery's enriched

concentration--then lick a sybil's face.

To tease the topographical

inaccuracies the spirit drafts, ones that

give it character.

Watch an eagle recommence Seeing by

dipping a wing in blood--to mark the

other half of circular flight.

All while ******* a button I didn't

know was missing--as its charming little

void grows reactively.

The afternoon sunshine was ambiguous,

& not for lack of.

It was from there that a strangeness did

more than parody the noncontextual.

Its impressions were so sudden in their

completeness, so altogether different

than what experience was

approximating.

Was that these impressions were of

themselves so overwhelming, or was it

that they overcame the ones in place?

It stood to be another Self, crammed

space & disregarded time.

It was a great sadness guiding away

melancholy, a record playing beneath

sunlit water--a terrible assault on

intuition.

A moment alone as water muddies,

ahead of a significant change.

Comes the high discernment of what

won't be suffered.

The very life of it returns to be  

mercifully obliterated.

A frenzy of trespass righted, where

lines weren't.

A witness stripped of sides, swears by

seeing--to speak the unspoken.

A warrior cuts to first loyalty.

Never denying what is, never settling for

what is not--all else is premature death.

a galleon flares its

gills, while under the

influence of momentous

pushes.

as if the overburdened

menace of its structure--

lurks after the conquest

that kept it afloat.

dimly pronounced to an

increasingly anxious shore.

It's well to lie down in the dimly

remembered--to sign out its cross.

There without moving, coming back--

as from passed what one can see to.

Spread out & up against, there where

the hallowed becomes.

Marked by fire's burnished throne,

not to be succeeded.

there was something to

sidestepping a book of:

Yellow Pages.

on a scratch of sidewalk--right

after a long soaking.

that yellow tome stuffed with

contacts--wanting to crumple

like a napkin.

this morning

my mother addressed

me by the tenderst

form of my name.

to ask me: where did you

go?

the person she knew...

and yet, and yet.

my response was: you

gave birth to me and you

don't recognize me?

she addressed herself as

a stranger as it's coming to be.

the Greek translation

of: worry, is a narrow

field.

worth wearing black

for husbandry--

leaving an umbrella

to absorb rain in its

place of holding.

the cityscape has

broken wide open--

re erected by abandon.

forced perspective

cancelling out the press

of electric buffers, that

usual and inimitable pulse.

shudders a recurring wind

to take itself, flatly declaring:

nothingness saves.

Pan's pipes lift, as Syrinx passes off

a river.

When the wild is put out again, canting

a vaporous red--a metallic hitch thrusts

wet wood.

Rupturing stones & married dust shun

shoots, taken in by a full revolution.

Their beat back glow mimes blooms,

a faint vision for a clear one--Pan's

hoary notes.

as the non visible bones

that shape skin--the solitude

of a mountain chain.

spared from the polite aversion

of eyes, tight-lipped kisses on the

recesses of cheeks.

broad as the forehead's contemplative

point of no return--the mind eyed

of its own.

our getting on staggers off, pregnant

with a series of blows that space

maintains.

leaning on aberrated projections, a fatigue

of personal worlds.

beyond the double-edged

sword,

there's no circle's flashing

wield.

to recreate what is beheaded,

if the strike is decisive.

unbuilt cathedrals

are cropping up,

their doors blown open

by flying scissor cuts

of night.

ringing round a rosie.

a gathering of ungracious

hosts.

bird-beaked hustlers

selling custom t shirts,

of selfies plagued by

black outs.

twittering mice that fill

their stomachs with

molding.

a hole unto a hole.

lentil-eyes, skull-******.

When water nicks its flow, I untie a

storm & head into town.

A historical overview of aimlessness

grinds against me, as two gaurd dogs

makeout.

Good on the gleam that fact-checks

feet, never saw a pair of shoes that

didn't want off.

Or a tacky perfume that smells of

wrinkly freckles, hard-to-come-by-air

unable to figure out how to insert its

chagrin.

Sometimes it helps to read aloud what

the body writes, disjointed humming

works too (a runover accordian).

A fast-approaching mass whose

disintegrative reentries start to float

peaceably.

Trying to guess the shoe size of space,

gets harder between the legs.

A market pitch of spring with no target

audience, I suppose.

letter block houses form a word--

every time one of its occupants guess the

word death is thinking of.

absurd as in their manner to define--

these naked giants that rise with the salt of

the earth & fall with the rain.

unable to miss one another thru tinsy niceties

& fashionable rags.

hide becomes the operative word, like: applause

to a live audience.

spot-check survival prods at their peace--as auric

toxins coarse & compile like bowel movements.

as if they're put to: The Question by Grand Inquisitors...

tortured until they confess: I'm fulfilled.

On a trail long led away from what

it leads to.

Large wet leaves bent down to those

led.

On the back end of a rain, that already

considered itself over.

Left behind the basic goodness of a

cool breeze, effortlessly lifting the

forest.

As if edification let out levels of vibrancy.

Those led to observe peak vibrancy.

There again, large wet leaves realized

they were in place to greet--expended all

greeting.

No more abrasive than a pulse, that

gave you some much space you wanted

to give some back.

That's when large green leaves

became so responsive, that their

expressions made you see as what

moved you.

The stock fire of

biding whispers can't

speak of Truth--

which never takes

the path of least

resistance.

It takes everything

with it.

bird calls have sharpened,

if geometric lines were

sounds fixed with razor surity.

piercing diagrams (dwellings) that

are no longer drown out, but pause

an opportune dawn.

depositing songs of solitude, that

play across what would have been

an invading force.

landscape/cityscape/dreamscape--

stir and shake thoroughly till change

occurs.

Sol scheming Luna in like a Trojan Horse--

tarot card tricks, a step from, a step towards

what cannot be escaped.

blind test runs through predictable results--

industrial barrels of spilt milk, a stampede

of elephants in your living-room.

for all the fanfare slackening the sense of unworthiness

and self-hatred.

you've never been more put on the spot.