a poetic rain,
in small print,
fills the white sky page
...and leaves it pregnant with a frontier glowing brighter
than the prime moved space attuned to matter's birth
--all the freedom still, and more... continues growing heedless of the dark surround

and as a bright lotus conjures flight from murky soils--
heavy, sinking, rooted into nether darks--
you digest even drivel as you read, and leap beyond,
celebrating its inherent scope, tendril values spanning all potentiality;
i squint to see you silhouetted there: silent poet flying in between the signs,
to re-sign brilliance on that plane,
and voice the silence intertwining muse and verbal ruse

producing in an everpresent rain the giving-rise to words,
the meaning prior and pretend, and signaled apprehension past intent:
deluge inspiration in the rents of earth, carry dust into the rainbow clouds, and see the shaking world alight in lovingkindness without end

speaking now in arts reversed,
in playing poems and writing at a pitch to sweeten tongues with memories relived...
speaking in the ripple-visage looking back at skys beneath a surface weight we bear,
and shed in holding breath in waves, and squinting tight
the urge to love a universes' birth, conceive
the poem that generates progenesis of stellar forms
each...day
words to twist the vital helix of all oneness beings into being fair
chiasmi of the night alive to sing expanse, to sing alive galactic seas alight
into the pan-flute of the gods re-tuned to shakuhachi tones,
tabla moans and pops of ancient memories reborn
make verbal love within raags beloved rivers smooth at sitar drone
... within the theater your poetic home enfolds

Blinded by love,* can a lotus grow?
through this, beyond chance, to realize...kinship with a chameleon?
with an ant in unexplored territory?
mysteries hiding
revealing deeper mysteries, the hues of Kerala regrown
unknown cloud of "known"-unknown rising...
unknown cloud of possible-knowns to be...
being past, unknown cloud to wash the earth...
allowing all other clouds, dharma-megha cloud returning to that ocean..
--what limits of versatility attain here in my underwater tears?

we can be A dog and a cat transfixed by a sun set
lizards versus spiders crawling for our meals
the dance and dancer one
and we can tend the gardens all our lovers left
or tend the Goddess Night in daring shadow walks with her to inner, spiraled light
that inner vined garden of her truth forever singing you are me
tat twam asi in hues dark maidenhood restrokes
euphoric agony contains a clue
where negatives dream each other through and through
in a subtle exchange self with self before a mirror that eats all reflections









*)O(

There is a kind of weather where you feel naked, floating in a warm bath.
A gush of wind imitates water as it brushes past.
Your fingers create rippling rings in puddles you touch
And in those moments, you can't help but notice the world is quiet and hushed.
Slowly you watch the ripples ebb to their limit,
And it reminds you that this world is merely a planet  
That waxes and wanes, and rushes like warm water.
But you know it's more than just nature to an author,
It's a place where wind makes you feel vulnerable and licks at your skin
and the rare occurrence of weather like this, renews life in your heart yet again.

What the hell is a soulmate
Can't even find a date
Not worried about a relationship
Ends before it starts
No reliable friends to comfort or aid
Time out together night on the town
Always remembering the goodtimes
Dance with the ladies
Drink with the fellas
Make out with money made out with women
Greater times better times
Live with changes love is on the line
Not after the easy life
but live the life that means the most

Think
the over thinking
Like
wanting a drink that you're already drinking
Like
wanting to swim when you're already sinking
So easy to think the over thinking
a concoction of daydreams
you hate to be drinking
While
you're already busy believing your sinking
and your foots on solid ground.
So easy to think the over thinking
leaving
your future on the brink of brinking
And
you haven't done a thing cause
you're too busy thinking.
So easy to think the over thinking -
The only reason that your really sinking
in a world that may be okay.

hey so
whoever is in control
of the universe
it'd be nice
if i could stop falling in love with people

kthanx.

lost all ambition
by 8 o'clock in the morning
my condition
is getting worse
and by condition
i mean the fact
that i've realized
that this isn't where i want to be

no, mom.
you don't get to see
a single one of these
poems.
i know my little sister
has been telling you
how well i've been writing
what the english department
of my school
has been saying
but you never wanted to hear a single one
until i was gone
and i wasn't gone
until you left me
you don't deserve to see
one line
one rhyme
one smile
and no
not just for a little while
while i get through this 'phase'
no, mom.
forever.

so apparently
if i am ever awake after eight o'clock
in the evening
i must devote all my time to you
and if i perchance tell you i'm going to sleep
but post something on facebook
afterwards
(******* FACEBOOK)
you get all pissy
and accuse me of still being awake.
so does that mean
you want to talk to me
or just that you're a
selfish
*******

i'm confused

We smile at each other
and I lean back against the wicker couch.
How does it feel to be dead? I say.
You touch my knees with your blue fingers.
And when you open your mouth,
a ball of yellow light falls to the floor
and burns a hole through it.
Don't tell me, I say. I don't want to hear.
Did you ever, you start,
wear a certain kind of dress
and just by accident,
so inconsequential you barely notice it,
your fingers graze that dress
and you hear the sound of a knife cutting paper,
you see it too
and you realize how that image
is simply the extension of another image,
that your own life
is a chain of words
that one day will snap.
Words, you say, young girls in a circle, holding hands,
and beginning to rise heavenward
in their confirmation dresses,
like white helium balloons,
the wreathes of flowers on their heads spinning,
and above all that,
that's where I'm floating,
and that's what it's like
only ten times clearer,
ten times more horrible.
Could anyone alive survive it?