‘When the doors of perception are cleansed
Things will appear as they are:
Infinite.’

∞ William Blake

…

‘There are things known
and there are things unknown,
and in between are the doors.’

∞ Jim Morrison

…

Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is opened & the
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confus’d searching
here & there for teachers & friends.

…

People need Connectors
Writers, heroes, stars, leaders
To give life form.
A child’s sand boat facing
the sun.
Plastic soldiers in the miniature
dirt war. Forts.
Garage Rocket Ships

Ceremonies, theatre, dances
To reassert
Tribal needs and memories
a call to worship, uniting
above all, a reversion,
a longing for family and the
safety magic of childhood

…

A man rakes leaves into
a heap in his yard, a pile,
and leans on his rake and
burns them utterly.

The fragrance fills the forest
children pause and heed the
smell, which will become
nostalgia in several years.

…

An angel runs
Thru the sudden light
Thru the room
A ghost precedes us
A shadow follows us
And each time we stop
We fall

…

The Endless quest a vigil
of watchtowers and fortresses
against the sea and time.
Have they won? Perhaps.
They still stand and in
their silent rooms still wander
the souls of the dead,
who keep their watch on the living.
Soon enough we shall join them.
Soon enough we shall walk
the walls of time. We shall
miss nothing
except each other.

…

No one thought up being;
he who thinks he has
Step forward

…

The Crossroads
a place where ghosts
reside to whisper into
the ears of travelers &
interest them in their fate

Hitchhiker drinks:
“I call again on the dark
hidden gods of blood”

-Why do you call us?
You know our price. It
never changes. Death of
you will give you life
& free you from a vile
fate. But it is getting late.

-If I could see you again
& talk w/ you, & walk a
short while in your company,
& drink the heady brew
of your conversations,
I thought

-to rescue a soul already
ruined. To achieve respite.
To plunder green gold
on a pirate raid & bring
to camp the glory of old.

-As the capesman faces
poisoned horns & drinks
red victory; the soldier,
too, w/ his trophy, a
pierced helmet; & the
ledge-walker shuddering
his way into inward grace

-(laughter) Well, then. Would
you mock yourself?

-No.

-Soon our voices must become
one, or one must leave.

…

There was preserved

in her

The fresh miracle

of

surprise.

…

open

The Night is young
& full of rest
I can’t describe
the way she’s dress’d
She’ll pander to some strange
requests
Anything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest

i stare to sea where autumn's night-winds tease
and sea waves crash and run with all their fire,
i feel a sense of rest that doesn't tire,
caught up in sea-rose reds and heady breeze
and like the fiery waves and sea-blown trees
this love of flames that once burnt with desire
now nothing seems, all fallen though once higher
than love's sweet dream that waking quickly flees!
oh, love's sweet dream! the metronome-like waves
beat like a pulse, a love of moon and tide,
the whispered song has faded, bitter-sweet
and drowsy as the water near my feet,
magnolia now blooms near these old graves
and i no longer yearn to be his bride.

The blade of light attacked my closing eye lid and revealed the morning sun to my open eye.  I awoke with the first thought of going outside with my brother to play with the new toys we got for Christmas.  We did just that, as our backyard became a world itself as we flew our hypersonic jet and war helicopter over the forest carpet grass.  There was no worry that could destroy this moment. Just two brothers playing in the winter Texas sun.  That backyard was full of stories like that.  I often look back to them and find my worries dissolve away.  Strange how beautiful moments such as those could cut through the storm of worries as the sunlight cut through an open spot in my curtain to wake me to a new day of play and joy.  It's as if those core memories had been kept to remind me that happiness is always there.

the hidden staircase fascinated me,
the wooden steps, oak panels on the wall,
behind an unexpected door you couldn’t see,
a narrow entrance in the spacious hall.
who ever would have thought to find it here,
a masterpiece of silent secrecy,
whose trepidation full of pounding fear
climbed up those stairs in frightened urgency?
while candles drip hot wax from chandeliers
they gallop in the night, the carriage wheel
leaves furrows in the mud, whose trembling ears
await the sweeping toll-bells heavy peel?
and as the night drifts ever closer in,
who bolts the windows, deafens out the din?

i’ve blown all my dosh
on a brand new Bosch!
my clothes will be super clean
with this amazing new machine
i’ve burnt all my dosh
singing swish, swash, swosh,
singing splish, splash, splosh,
a ladies got to wash!
i’m in love with my new Bosch!

Again, with those lights in the sky.

Ghost like jellyfish that float on by.

They fly so high they become the stars.

I see ships pass by shaped like cigars.

What begins to make sense makes no sense at all.

The starlight resonance is simply just a cosmic call.

All this from nostalgia and thinking ahead.  

Listening to music while I lay in bed.

boy, i give you a blowing rose,
a glittering star,

the autumn shakes and glides,
hangs on leaves, waters the
sun,

the stars tremor in the water,
breathe of sky and silver bird,

the night is a closed eye, a
river of frost,
where the dark, born
of root and winding dream,
stretches like a flower,

in our love we found a
leafy woodland lane,
we strided the skies like
birds of dream,

love hung from our lips,
the white ribs of the breeze
holding our burning hearts,

love so raw it flowered,
opening out like an origami
swan,

the shadows lengthen,
dissolve into wooden gate
and hollowed out tree.