Out of nowhere,
a dead stare places
being.
Seeing through
oneself...eyes emit
light like spider silk.
Arching through
a blackhole, untraceable
to that very being.

The sun smiles childlike...
its light is full and fickle--
a burning blindness at one
with what must be done.
The places to call home,
and the beings that abide
there...all made up of
something like the sun.
Whose spirit hides in
plain sight.

There's a being seated
at the window...the breaking
ends of perception mothering
their pearl.
Its prayerful poise electrifies
the passing light of day...
hideous and beautiful
blending blindly.
Purple with majesty, as a distant
mountaintop crammed through
the eye of a needle...pointedly
soul through the driftings of its
original score.
Unlit senses that can't place
their miraculous conveyance...
entering and exiting the same window
simultaneously.
Aware that it's aware...there are troubles
in paradise of only supreme Authoring,
as latent creation forthwith heartbreak.
Pounding its very chest...with oceanic
spanning--faces upon faces of The Deep,
Diane Arbus photoing a featureless form.

Now at the brink
of winter...ashen
bardo light of becoming.
Those who fear spaciousness
will shudder.
With the leaves gone,
there are no obstructions.

The hour is early,
on the hour...
the hour is late.
The hour whispers
among itself.
Its silence overspreads
all its whispers...
hushed tones as
porous white of
broken bread.

What if the mirror you stare
at suddenly believed in you?
What would the world do
with such a belief?
Would it second that motion
of such a Coming...mirroring
belief?

Eye beside eye--
beholders wed
by The Beholder.
Wild with the evolution
of beauty--round, red and vivid.
As one cut from knowledge,
rapacious with awe.

The stepchildren of passion
bear the selfsame fruit of their
parentage...disowned by their own volition,
till becoming...incrementally dying
aspirants of dispassion.
I think of St. Francis, St. Francis
I think of you often.

Being made to remember,
held to signature upswells
in the depths of unmeaning.
How near, in truer
sense--beyond madness to
minister logic to an uncut
event, yet cut.
Pieced together in hope
of netting mortality, harboring
the breath of life as if a
resentment.
Willing what will not, being
made to remember--being
made to forget.
As soon drawn, as erased...
the fronting forefront.
Whose change has its own memory,
so perfect it's changeless.
Beingness cut front to back,
back to front...side to side,
top to bottom, bottom to top.
Uterine cave torch lighting
isolated events bound for
seas of sequence.
Mind's eyefuls of the whole in a
simultaneity of remembrance,
and forgetfulness.

Finding one's way in life

is a spacial impossibility...

"it" is already there, waiting

to come out.

As the emanations
of a saint, in
eternal spring...the
Blue Hyacinth sat.
A fragrance more
home than home.

Words want to avail
themselves of fixed
meaning, so they fall
openly in love.
The true poet intuits
this, and writes to
inspire awe...which
is silent.

Solemnity foreshortened--the press
of limbs...hence, the wide smile of
the enacted.
Our meeting ground shimmies
toward an eternal density...as to
alight the spiritual workload of its
benefactors.
A floating people, we...dead-stopped
by the ends of our living.
Lucidly signed away we progress
our will...no intervention dissuades
lesser or greater action/inaction.
Something's come, a brazen head,
revivified--its definitions alien
and wide open...wide open.
Eyes don reality as a membrane
just to conceive it--as there are
days when a flower of unspecified
genus is a terrible offering.
Our overcompensation precedes
us...it is our passion anticipating
itself.
For once fire knows of itself, it is too
settled to recall ash.
As...he/she lit their bastion of faith
without provocation.

Svelte lightning
over a truce of
spaces, cityscape--
over-world hung
by its smoggy age.
White to black
magic in its shadowy
cavities, word licks
mind as these millions
airmail.
Raining down in a
vibratory confetti, tuned
to and minced.
Mayday of mingling mumbles.

Knee deep in earthen slop--
down of downpour, knees protracting
as bulbous nodes, stiff with implanted ****.
We both, and as for what inhibition--what
wind betook our love, deaf to the sound
of tremulous waterlog?
We who memorize separate passages of
each other's lives--now cite them with
pleasure's other, we both as one...now as once--not without pain.

It's the sound of radiation
from a television with no
volume.
Flashes of white rousing
a black sleep...stripped
of image in the depth of
essence.
The heart comes clean
when there's nothing
left...but that which, that
which.

That baby in
the crib's a bald-headed
yogin...bundled and concept less.
Freer than spacial fatigue--till bound
by bond, driven mad by the
solidified partition of the world,
weeping for words.
A carousel of canaries become
a yellow equator, to the baby's
Raphealesque head-disc.

Wolves unhinged mid-wood...
iconically framed between sceptered
pine trees.
Lapis-eyed looks of no return, their
disorienting phospherescence repeating
on distances.
Guttural catches guttural, retarding
to growls.
As the hunt bends time, the murk
of a yellowing dispatch relents a sun.
The gravitas of conquest relents
a soapy, hairbrained white to yoke
a moon...awash sin.
Their stomachs brandish the nourishment
of a co created frenzy.
They, the steeled gates policing a Lot...
whose casualties are pulled apart too
quickly for abject terror.

Clutch this passing away...gold-fleck
with outpouring hands this sable
workspace.
Ruffle angelic feathers in a fit of
loving zeal...oblige them holiday.
Tear thy body to pieces of giving...
for lack of better place.
As there shall be places in store where
being may be moved.
It is right, as breath need not mind
to do so...as yet it does.
There's only rise in effortlessness...
and in that rise what is innate divulges
itself.

Subtlety employs all works in
progress...as silence resounds
angels in snowy landings.
How close can reality get before
it begins to reside within that which
it stands before?
What to do with all these impositions
that make or break the walkable line?
Perhaps...allow the spilling of the proverbial
cup, that it may overflow...engender the already
engendered Chaos...(your Face was already wet
before you remembered to face the Shower Head)...
cheers to Harmony!
There's this deep impulse to walk until collapse...
akin to a wild horse running to death...motion seems
a necessary evil.
Call it excess energy...superfluous stone to sculptor's
block...a burning candle keeping pace with the prayed for.
Enter death's repose...motioning motionlessness...
for the first and last time...All Subtlety becomes overt.

Deign this film
with the solemn
cast of your eyes...
and I shall remember
not as you appear,
but as  you are.

All suffering
is valley to
joyous peak.
Recall suffering
halfway to peak...
recall joy
halfway to valley.

Sometimes I watch
a random stranger's
smile...just to see how
long it lingers upon
their face.
Secretly I wish it
remains discernible
well after its arising...
watching how
long joy can balance
the pitfalls of a face.

A passage in perfect
stillness...as untold
masses gather to
behold the truth
of their being.
The life of a year--
coming up, and
popping as a bubble
from deep down...
surfacing new life.

Everything that happens,
does so concurrently...
it's just the same energy
in a different happening.
If a single clap is meant
to break a trance, the
energy of the clap and
the energy of the trance...
wave and trough for the
love of sameness.

Argosy...a bejeweled swan decked in the riches
of the material world.
Body of water unending, tangled in biological
hierarchy--Agamemnon's fateful net.
Sodden to pending depth--forbidding save for
cursory glance.
Blent black, greens, blues covet their color--
invoke static tone.
As it is here and there a secreted navigation
plumbs, facsimile of sky.
Where wave walls glassy calm to ripple, sure
this ****** to near global proportion.
Stoic rhetorical question to land--whose implicit
question mark hooked Atlantis.
This pensive strew, overlay--horizon's sutured
cusp...hazy scare of seagull tossing hale Mary.
Of Ahab and Helen, whereupon to round the
bend of their will cannot be sought here.
Down in niche of sand where starfish spreads
its forehead, beholds enlightenment as sifting
shafts of sunlight...sinking.
Meridian's mime ebbing and flowing as an
everlasting kiss...so tender God's heart swelled
seven seas.

When-enter-enshrouded-exit
in-a-space-of-no-differentiation...
a~­dream~danced~for~substantiation.
Forms fared forms, whose silhouettes
were cut, and immobilized with
complete disorientation.
Born unto thee...
endless galaxies of begotten
sons and daughters.

Moonlighting this Dreamscape,
the Eye that gleans panned...
indelibly placed as to overcome,
meanings unmoved
till they mean.
For the sake of: here to here...
a head shakes in fluid agreeance.
As if to understand stars cannot
pepper what they've issued from.

Inborn debauchery...sea-swilled communion received...
hung over and over in discipleship.
All's nigh, charged airy pour to date A.D., to tire of
personhood.
Finding the soul's panoramic view insufferable.
Forward motion lugs gluttony--lethargic with figuring.
Hunger's recitative plea has completed the mind's
mockup.
There's twitch and hallucination amongst common
ground--upon which, what was exchanged?
Do tell and do tell...told by the lot cast, as yet to
settle.
Billions cry to sleep--to rise the hardwon face...gaming.
Their sheets serpentine folds retain shadows as light
reinstates its presumption upon them.
Our emergence we day into draws back the flesh as
needle's eye through...we, with such nobility
Kingdoms branch in a single act.

the karmic record

of you be-spinned--

till arthritic and achy.

Buddha pops a *****,

sliding in.

good on the music of

satisfied parties.

A mountain dweller clung the livelong
day...rank and ****...fuschia skies sequenced.
Surrogate family to ram, serpent, eagle--
inebriate of consciousness, holy spurn.
Of rubble and dappled shadow, G*d's
wayside seed sown...severe eyes, Witness expressly.
He could crowd fire, latch to it--rocking in
orange flashes.
A swarm of chants uplift and pivot him...
flying a thousand names for not this, nor that...
as That.
A haunting inheritance whole--ascendant
body of mind...transfiguring locus of
whitening white...there pardoned of nature,
supernatural panache.

All revelation holds
true to the light of
its form...a broken
branch seems to
suckle sunlight.

no one

has ever

been born

strong enough

for freedom.

~Do you suture
the sun to the sea...
or observe as what
set them free?~

Can you see Hyperborea's sun, shadowless
valleys where you cut word with tooth?
An unfettered wound stutters, blowing null what
timeless utterance it will.
Where does tomorrow sleep, your prospect in
stomach, cramped with fluxing zeros and ones?
As soon as you spoke your abstraction was pardoned.
Your home's abutted geography made its revolving
bally.
Dizzy you, concentric circles closing in, advising their
babe press forth.
Mythopoetically proud as hell of your circuit, a
metaphysical luminary midwifed in an etheric
manger.
Shadows mark their growth about our encampment--
G*d's peripheral nomads etching story.
Shelter bids welcome, unwelcome everywhere...its
doors blow about as the literature of distances.

The tiny mouths in the waves
fill with night...they talk of
depths for their dying day.
As the surfacing silver fizz
of minnows spread as stars.
Here, seated on the shoreline...
a man flickers as a lamp of
unlearning.
A self-integrating distress
signal.

Slow wind,
hair raising
scintillations...
hands plashing
magenta pools.
Trying depthless
depths.

sometimes a river

is swollen--

because it carries

an Ocean as a

foreign object.

growing sideways

with escape--

as it leaves

little spinning

crosses in every

ripple.