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 Sep 2018
Third Eye Candy
now that our rainbows fit on the head of a pin
a sorrow has lodged in our moon with blue lips
desolate in the feast of stars in orbit of a broken heart
and a glass thorn.
now that our lives have oceans of boredom and loathing...
and glorious Parthenons of Unbearable Weakness.
now that we shoulder the burden of obscene freedom,
casting our nets in redacted tomes
of ancient wisdom
where we dare to live aloud
and yearn for Silence.

now that we meet ourselves, dangling from a premise
are we more likely to becalm the waters
of our separate mirrors
or stoke the flames of oblivion
with soft lips to a stone
in a cloud?
 Sep 2018
Third Eye Candy
it's like the ghosts have all the notes
for all the holes in all the harmonies
a harbinger marooned between an echo
and a living thing.

love is like a nest of all vanishing birds.
just a cusp of abandon and sky.
 Sep 2018
Third Eye Candy
your high tide silhouette
wreathed in oblong stars, grinding-
an ethereal horizon
churning specks of Everything
in a rotating portrait
of a center of
Gravity.

where Love is the rest of it.
 Sep 2018
JK Cabresos
your love
is like
the shadow
over
the moon,
it grows
slowly
and
slowly,
then
fades
away
Copyright © 2018
 Aug 2018
Third Eye Candy
When you can’t make sense of the moon
and you perish the thought of more thinking
but “ here they come “... and the hour is late upon you
like truant aspiration, delirious and cactus-eyed
in the palm of unbelievable hands.
You are the first one to not know how this feels.
and you feel it! It’s like a frozen cadet in a permafrost trench
in a field of poppies and happy landmines.
like a grim pregnant pause on the cusp of a vacation
to chrysanthemums that have never been to war
on purpose.
 Aug 2018
Third Eye Candy
Two of you are walking through the door with glass mittens
and meteors purging all speed through a tube of the absolute dark.
And nothing can stop you.
As you both descend, gliding on fumes Sumerian and actually music -
our eyes connect. I breathe your moons through my derelict Paris, frankly.
You lord over all you survey, like honey in god’s eye… asking for bees
that speak fork in all roads that may lead to flowers
that can’t recall the agony of beauty.
your candleheart glory melons…. spilling into bliss accidentally...
with all the grace of a gossamer etude
in the Silence of a mindful desire
paralyzed
by the Love of You.

i saw all of you.
 Jul 2018
JK Cabresos
were you in love
with the feeling,
or with the person
you were trying
to become

you were disappointed
a hundred times,
unconsciously
hurting her

maybe you were just
overshadowed
by your expectations,
turned you
into holding on
to a ghost
Copyright ©2018
 Jul 2018
Third Eye Candy
immortality is easy-peasy. you play dead.

you live now. and simply continue. you just get on with it.
zig-zag in plain sight. like a shimmer in an old daguerreotype.
if you must fade. always do it sideways.
 Jul 2018
Third Eye Candy
i have tea. i suspect the morning is surrounding the world with a tiny cup of sunlight.
and there are no usual things. everything is unusual. everything.
i am here now… and i feel it. and i will never have a cage with a bird inside. i am not cruel.
i’m drinking tea.

i’m not bored. i’m just waiting. my eyes are never sure about the splendor. they suspect a spring
attached to tiny gears, die cut whirligigs and ethereal hands attending; deep underneath my gazing. and i am still tired… the shackles of entropy hold sway and i contend with easy wit in a fog of sparkles. it’s a sloooooow glorious. even with too much sugar in my tea, because sleepy.
you get out of bed to greet me.

it’s a good day.
 Jul 2018
Third Eye Candy
This Love Song seemed like a safe place to unpack my ****.
But a safe place is where Lyrics go to die.
And this is Not a Song.

and it starts like this. all the time.


II

i fella sleep in a widdle boat and told a seagull that i was having a dream
about talking to seagulls and he was astonished to have the pleasure of meeting a boat
that had the good sense to plug the hole with a poet…. because they never wake up
and they do so with extreme prejudice. that simply screams Resident.
In Fact!

He’d never even seen a boat. So there’s THAT. I offered Seagull “ The Cool -Side of The Pillow. “
So I could sit upright for a moment and jot this down. He was like “ What’s a pillow? “
And I had no idea what it was that brushed against my legs
but It was There. then It was Gone. when i stopped using the metaphor.


I was treading a fathom
of pixie dust and transgender proto-gods, all cuddling in a huddle of metaphysics
as adorable as a radioactive abrupt

stop.



III

Ah yes… someone was cooking bacon… and bacon is sleep’s kryptonite. so the dream was a wrap.
and i had a bird’s nest woven from the silk of my discarded cocoon. codename: Chrysalis.
and my mouth was dry. a stubborn dry that follows a deluge of phantasmagoria  
on a Futon that is a God to cat hair. My Futon is Oblique and Omnipotent.
Apparently.

Uber Mecca for Cat Hair. I fell asleep on that.
 Jul 2018
Third Eye Candy
you got the fever.
i heard the rumors.
you in-cyst
I’m the tumor.
we got legs.
we got spiders
we got thumbtacks
we got *****.
we got a dead Poseidon.
and just enough Chalk
to trace a sun.

and we ain’t talkin’.
and we ain’t not.
we got sidewalks
that hate walks.
we got pinwheels
we got hurt.
and that’s peculiar.
cause i feel nothing.
And I Know
that i know exactly
how that feels
for some reason.

and it shows.
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