Finally,

finally the winds have subsided
the grasses are no longer golden brown

The world is growing in joy!

I can feel my heart burn, the blood of love leaking upon the planks
But it is safe, it is home
It is the lapping shores of the familiar stones
No violent black rock of dreams to stop me from ascending the cliffs
finding solid ground
growing food and making love to the true beauty of it all

And the islands at the edge of the world
Anatolia, the dreams of a new kingdom
One where I was the man I was
Calyps, though kind,
Was a beautiful temptress and had nothing good to say
Just figments and dreams, illusory
She would never make me king.

So here I am friends!
I, your friend
Your crown and solemn head
Please, I ask with faith--
Give me this place to stay.

I, naive

I believed that the break in the clouds
Was the end of rain

Thought those rays of sun weren't burning

I was lying
Myself in the grass,
Asking if the tulip chutes in Anatolia
Were the same sinking green I feel now

Where were we?
Love for a thousand spaces and bottling them into skins
Wanted to touch and know deeply all beautiful things

No you're not allowed, they don't want to let you in
That way, it's a distant place and means too much to understand
The biological and irrational
Crazed, sweeps gregarity above and within an aether-- like milky foam upon the waves

When I return home from excursions
I will be Ipanema
The soft locale, unabashed and known to no soul
Except empty elevators--

The lowly philosopher-king

Maybe then you'll think highly of me
Through the mixed feelings
Unable to handle
Straight through the socket
Ring of fire
Then and only then will you realize
That real life

Is more than just a zone or some local
Brewery on a Friday night

And every other Friday night

Ever thereafter--
You'll unlock the box of atomic intention
And listen deeply to her on the station
"Sade and Other Like Hits"

Slowed down for full potential

Letting your cochlea stroke themselves off to the tune of the universe
And the sound of air moving indiscriminately
Will give you
All this


Somewhere
almost fractal, imbibed
Decimated repetitively
There is a fragment of my voice,
Calling

"Love, how much I'd love to be. "

It has been resolved!

It is a crusted concept, inept and unabashed

It is the last call on a windy city tram to the south side

It is a favorite sports bar closed for remodel

The pleasant bliss of air and undisclosed favorites

I will finally extricate myself from the grips of Charybdis

I will continue on, my sail billowing with glee

the air is my fuel and neverrun empty

Can you give a piece of El Dorado to my newfound friend,

Can you give them the same happiness you promised me

and don't let them wonder too long


These unforgotten experiences that mean something to you--

It is an orange rind in the water, silently exfoliating the ions

It is a concrete structure undefined

All the stones that are friendly and snuggled intently against

the mold

I will find new homes in the volcanic chains and wonder about you

You will never again remember the same way who I am, just the faded constraints of the way I challenged your brain

Think of new things! See the trees as lungs

and breeeeaaaathing

You'll find that love in another chunk of god, no complaints for the weary

The kind and lovable axeman who cuts u--Pondicherry

I am a static mold and will rapidly extrue

All the magnificence of things that I cannot view

I am a rhythm of the heart, a beaming drum

I analyze the air and drink it like ***

Fermented love of god, give me no return

To give that which no man has earned

thank you,
sweet love
thank you for showing me something new.

Funny how it is.

A bright light, morphing through the clouds

The soft touch of droplets, melting into shingles

The only time you're really able to look.

Wandering along the roads and banding together, they are everywhere at once!

a political movement--libertines, belligerent against the rule of continuous airs

The princely stream that does not love them

Raised into fists, falling to bombard a defenseless floor, the poor baby of collateral

In it there is hope for the cloud

the ground does not mind being wetted again

Halfway around the world the deserts are still empty and warm, where the sands of oceans taste wind

On islands the land is a pinprick between a cloudy sea, it is green and bleeding and drinks in the light

All the baby birds of earth look up into the raining sky, asking for?

And given no answers with godly warmth.


I dream to show you this world of mine-- the one all too unreal and divine

You are a moment of rain, rapidly becoming Ingrained within the concrete
Lost in the forever of this place

I am greedy and wanting to leave my mark, I invent hydrocarbons to build smarter oxygen drops

they one day become us

They always become us

I am an early storm, violent and unkempt-- I seek immediate retribution,
I ravage the lands

With no further to go, I will dissipate

Precipitate

And give the light space to show.

On the blue river
Boats pass lazy in the sun
I rest in the shade.

She had shown to me,
Aurora
Aurora sweet alighted
the excited verdant ions
a scar of atmosphere
the mantle undivided
to give as sacrifice
to give life to snow

Ye not tempt me with it
Burden of beauty
of foggy things in my dreams
at fancy ballroom mirages

Indifference,
to be found in the refrigerated drink section
outside the air is cold and cools oil on gravel
while across town the burning embers of a home
melt the snow into rivers

The fog of dew on the leaves
drunk, speak the lips of the slain
to look up into the blue
and find solace in the rains.

You had not joined me
My totem-journey to the wellspring of the Colorado
to seek the source of things uncontained

the stars washed over me with asphyxiation
the breathless gasp of space



--In the deserts;
Rocklands--
the emerald barrel cactus
is watered as the earth
and the passerby
Cheyenne
cut into the crust
to sip the wine-flesh
to be drunk
and exhume the inhibitions of living

Forbidden berries
in the garden of quills, spear thistles
trust upon the air to protect her children

a good, silent mother
does not refuse
the gift of deflowering
as she is stripped
of her sharpness
and laundered
bestowed in salted bison skin of a war-chief's pouch.