Oh how I look to you,
With potent eyes leaking
acid vision through a
         somewhat
         structured
field,
Feeling vibrations of   mother
nature's
Hum under my pained feet.
     This landscape painted before me
Like some vagabond's
    midnight dream.
Streams beneath me
            S
              n
                 a
                    k
                  i
               n
           g
their way
(Carving and pulling the ashy ground/into a vortex
void that never    Seems to end.
You push me,
               push me forceful
But not fearfully onto dawn's comforting raft.

Floating fantastically into
         nothingness
I will stay.
              Here, where any mind should
                  give to itself the
                  truth of nature,
                         Truth.
                     Is all I seek.

Forever was never till now,
The beauty of her kiss floated
As the petals of a (springing) flower
                 toward my face
And, obscurely taken back by the
       Silent solidarity of (a pair of)
Mused bodies forming an
     atmosphere of its own;
I slipped deeply into realms of our company

Light croons in the morning rise,
The slow demise-
                  the reductant night shedding
False, deciding it's time for the stars to turn and moon to cycle

the garden shadows
twist in daylight,

            The dance of the world

Always chewing on something,
Always dodging thru the night
With a new
face

Watching nothing
       I ponder
about questions I can't find.
      Walking the segmented street
The ground bleeding my feet
                  and twisting
                  green stems
                      I seem
                     to want
                   for         A
         difference that cannot.
     Nervous
                                  tension
    People
                  Worried
                                     In motion

It never stops.
You'll never know the delight
the sadhappy of truth

The fields were wrinkled, grey with snow
The matte (ice) clouds hung tentatively overhead
With eyes of white flaking wonder-
Crying helplessly onto the shoulders of that pink afternoon,
And suddenly
She wept;
For its raw sway was too much for the moment

And oh how alive this day feels.
Mother Earth is relaxing
with cool wine
that submits itself to me.
Everything is fascinating.
Life is too funny
to be taken so seriously.
And so I roll back the curtains.

Of the tick-tick mark of the train,
the Twenty items or Less that you wouldn’t have needed
had you not been walkin’ down Newbury
toward hopeless following
nowhere mud-feel-footprints.
Motif of heavy heartening rain that scours the courtyard
back ‘round my building
that skillet valley of impossible nighttime.
Ring slipping finger, couple standing farther together and wild a gracious call brushes against the grade of man’s terrible
mountain

In addicted evening
I crawl
on my knees,
The caps wearing away,
my eyes burn retinal filmstrips
every time I
Am reminded.
Hug me please, warm
green night

Arrive with your purple tents and
drive stakes through
the mid-October arch.
The spires aching in wingtipped sky
That awful afternoon,
That God given night,
The wonderful hours left alone
And minutes visited together.
In a statement said simply,
I guess it was worth it.

The verge of nightly solitude brings ghostly characters in my room,
The glow of moon and whirl of wind breathes open kindle gloom,
and forth from forward unto morning prove to me the sanctum sun,
To vast and winding grassy roads my legs do signal me
Come my love, to the edge of night-
The cool and hollow air,
Come with me and leave me, watch as I stride forth,
Into wild
and twisting seas

Wildest one,
Your reins tighten the air
      molding foreign
          phantasma
into gorgeous sunlight,

      I don't know how you do it

But I've never cared much for answers

She said,
“Of course you exist here,
you’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

              and I had a will to believe
                otherwise

Do what you have to.
An unfinished poem
still means something
to me.




I want to be left alone.

I have no more words.

New dams built in the dawn of an amateur city,
Its residents eager in ****** the tremulous land,
The smooth, serene landscape of an earthed panorama
Seen bladed and ****** under the hands of its sightseers,
ditch diggers,
An industrial graveyard
Bones of Gaia shattered over the boiled sunlit desert

I miss my
honey.

It was a cosmic morning,
The stars faintly hiding behind a drone blue sky
I'd been driving
Down streets,
Blur of
sacharrum
in the flash of road and freedom.
I remember two men,
being daylight and road
Cruelly battling for my attention,
both suited
and grinning from the clouds
down on my
nothing-green car
That has no difference
on this massive,
bizarre
earth.

I will not go,
Will not fear in the eye of fear
for
Terror is blind,
It wanders madly and finds those
who care for it

**** silence with words,
Talk, compose
It's all you've got left

In a pale light the sense is made alike,
W/in a lucid trance between time and being
            The world is halted,
and the psyche is free to roam its unprecedented, formless
Labyrinth of secrets and of
questions,
         Answers are sparse,
But the ambition of men
Tearing monstrously at the
delicacy of these phantom
         quantities
is what keeps the answers hidden,
      And lingering in a patient limbo

The girls in the crowd
With your restful eyes,
With your careful
Killer abroad his
shoulders

Pale walls,
Shadow figures cast by the prison sky
o'er the trees

My fork pierced
                 my insides

and my sight's hunger
        yearns for
your taste

Your mouth
curls
  sweet
     Manifested death.
  A gyre of
   eye,

Optic safety
     Sanctuary
A vacant
  mind sweating its
            own existence

                           You might be
               out of finger
                    reach
       Or a hair of
               Silly doom
                      ordained,
              Your grip
                   firm,
               Final.

Deluge

            of the senses.

It all
comes

with no
fault
no green eyes

no home.
      
I don't want a home.
I want myself;
I want ******
of order,
I want weeding gardens
sprouting wild
and laughing at the moon,
I don't want to
want any longer.

I'm tired of wants.
I'm exhausted of other people's
need to want
and
want to convince themselves
of need.

I don't need anybody.

I don't want anything.

Watching a wasp slowly die on my roof,
I think
about all the other
poor souls
slowly
baking in the
mid April
sun.

I'm glad all
I get is
a tan.

Where in my diluted dreams
Do the fragments of your eyes reach a needle point on a
Thread,
Treading and weeding
Pulling and tearing,
My pupils feel pain in the exposure of light,
So I'll construct a blind to pull over them

Be w/me

   See w/my eyes

                Watch how you are

Watch
With your courteous
Mind
Listen
With your doubtful eyes
      Give me
          one

Or none.