A frothing well burst forth from soul.
chrystalic waters overflow.
Its source is one I do not know;
and since the start, it has not slow’n.

A secret seam in stony ground
must hydrate lively roaring fount’!
But are the stores infinite bount’;
to gurg and gush and not run out?

The living water; sound and sheer,
replenishes all good things near.
The weaker spots, and those impure,
are cleansed with unrelenting cure.

While I observe, a haunting thought
slates ice from joy, leaves tendons taut.
To choke and drown and then to rot,
is danger I have not forgot.

i have this sock,
it has a hole now.
the thinner threads tore, finally;
from daily wear and tear.

my big toe protrudes;
attracting quiet glances
that don't see my sock anymore,
just what it was trying to conceal.

to the deer i mortally wounded at five o clock on saturday morning in maupin oregon,

A horrifying sound tore sleep out of me that clear fall morning.
it rang and rang and rang and rang and rang like the 5 o clock church bell
in little empty nowhere town central oregon territory.
the sounds of impending death came from somewhere,
maybe they crawled from deep inside my psychotic insomniatic delusions;

foreshadowing the coming  tragedy
about five miles down the road about five minutes in the future.

my plaquey teeth dug into stale French loaf and stinking
tongue dug old butter from plastic cartridge.
while
your teeth tugged at tender grass tendrils beside mystic river warm
tongue lapped up river’s crystal clean waters

i longed to somehow cleanse myself of imaginative terror echoing sound around
as i wound through sleepy town,
'no life moves this early,' i presupposed
my thoughts found shelter amid a current obsession of mythic redside trout
swiftly rising from riverbottom at my orange stimlator siz 8 elkhair fly,
and the battle that may quite possibly follow.
if i only attain this once in a lifetime
i will be content i promise.

car continues down hill
i witness silverpink powerhungry **** of river flowing
omnipotent sherars falls roaring below me.

slit eyes fixated themselves on picturesque sunrise
as temporary monument jumpstarting new life from those cold old bold nights

too-nice car took potholes and washboard trail efficiently,
it sped bumping onward upstream bleary eyed coffeelessness.
heavy eyes, when not periodically closed, focused on roaring river
to my right and pink sunrise to my up, canyon walls lit up pink limestone
awakened each new day discovered.

rude too-nice car kicked up pesky dust.
i was mid-apologizing to any creature it bothered this early in the morning when
my left eye captured

you (adult black tail doe, perfect purity)

rocketrun from the left bank spooked by
unnatural sounds
caused by
machinery technology engine tires internal combustion radiator hammering cylinders
my hands twitch left on wheel attempting to swerveavoid

you(adult black tail doe, perfect purity)

attempt to dash uproad away escape
diamond hoofs dig but not enough
car slams into your right front shoulder
buckles, cracking
your depthless black eyes
glisten with surprise
pain, doom
courses through your sinewy perfect muscular
body
i gasp and drive off fifty feet low speed

my rearview mirror reveals that you will not walk this one off.
instead you suffer deeply, immensely,
jumping wildly, falling into dust, getting up, flailing, falling
striking pink sunrise behind you silhouettes your broken movement so very clearly.

car inches onward i honestly know not the correct ethic
“never approach a wounded animal” and
“you ******* coward put it out of its misery its not dead it is suffering you half killed it it didn’t deserve it you half killed it you ******* you should die in its place
you killed mother nature herself”

i had no gun, only a hunting knife, fishing gear, old french bread
if i had a gun i don’t know if i could have shot you dead
my shaking hands and teared eyes would fare me poorly

i drove off slowly, leaving you to die there in ****** pink sunrise
alone, suffering
crying out this terrible cry,
stealing it from my previous nights dreams
my too-nice car inches around corner until you are visually out of sight
i am not crying externally but internally i am a tempest of emotion,
i smash black dashboard with fists screaming at myself static noise i can hear nothing time stops
“i killed it i killed her why didnt i see her”
i try to convince myself it all didn’t happen
and failed
i try to convince myself you live
and failed

the guilt i bear is immense
you were undeserving
you are eternally etched now
you are a deserved scar
we are forever connected

i now cradle your still warm carcass within eternal arms of my subconcous
my metafingers lightly touch your left broken shoulder bones
death stole you like it steals all, untimely, undeserving, brutal.

remains of busted beer bottles and cracked plastic jut from stinking tide-water mud     eyes narrow against sand saturated sustained winds grain sting and cling before slinging past    sleeping man scorched cedar red sloth snores against driftwood    his dog pants patiently pawing sand playfully    once roaring giant beside me sulks now  
those ******* dams    
superb river        I formally apologize for us       we the new humans injected our cement turbine barriers into you       so we can read bibles and bake brownies after dark     so streetlights can work grave shifts     convinced they’re delivering us from evil     I imagine how you used to roar      carve    tear     from your northern mountainous sources      converting wastelands to pastures and fertile gardens    feeding the starved   cleaning the rugged        assisting the ambitious     the old ones learned to cooperate with you    
we massacred most of them and now control you    
so anyways I’m here now    watching an old man fight bitter wind     his old sailboat approximately ten thousand times his size      I’ve seen men tack but this is different      powerful winds continue to whip westward       he heaves his body left and boat groans cooperating     pulling hard right      harder right      harder right       sail’s about forty five degrees off water now and I think         he’s gotta be gravebound      see now the ol’ skipper has gone and dove right again and the sail shakes snapping against gales but succeeds to the left      his boat follows and keeps inching upwind           inch by inch     in the back of his mind he considers retreat        but knows the more golden shores lay ahead
behind him are bruising bridges and barges and big trucks accelerating in left lanes beeping and blinking in blistering sun     there is a ******* on jantzen beach that is supposed to have great bbq wings    heard theyre to die for     and great women with giant fake       personalities     theyre hired for their personalities         theyre encouraged to show their personalities and put them on display so all the heavy men can enjoy their stay
my prized old man battles eastward upstream upwind to your golden shores      hes gone another thousand yards in the last hour      each cut strenuous muscles battle ropes sail     each cut seems dangerously intense and immaculate     below him solemn oppressed river travels reluctantly towards ocean
I lay back in gray-black sand and close my eyes       sand particles whipping the right side of my face       I think of what is next in my day     writing some ****** spoken word     reading some weathered whitman and wordsworth       watching some girl drink herself dumb    all the while hearing the sails and old man struggling     redskinned man snoring   dog digging   my eyelids look red with sun shining thru them
Walking to the river now      each step deeper down ***** freezing my      ankle       knee       thigh      dark brown-blue water continues to rise around as I sink down     when shoulder high I dive down to bottom and kick       lungs fully expanded begin to grow stale and I surface       I notice I have been pulled down river ten yards        eleven yards      for a while I float kicking eastward but the river wears on me      I exhale fully         sinking down
Alien world of thick green surrounds me   ive forgotten the meaning of breath time life     ten feet       eleven feet      below     shimmering surface rises     pressure presses ears persistently     each foot deeper water colder   whines of far off jetboat jetski engines and muffled airplanes pollute     I picture how I must look to unsuspecting fish     naked boy eyes open cheeks inflated arms suspended above     below weeds dance and baitfish prance     something about scene is other-worldly
lungs crave air so I kick back up      far from shore and from shirt      people look at me like I’m reduced to a       floating head    I swim back to shore    concerned red man approaches me    his dog licks my hand and its paws scratch my stomach  
i guess he thought i was drowning     i think i am too

An instinctive magnet tugs me toward trusted tranquility. Know this; I’m worn... down like a cog constantly circulating digging ***** old teeth into grime chain dust grinds until dull. Mindless me crawls childish into cozy cocoon, closed lids closed curtains closed world; this personal nakedness so boldly open. A fickle fog falls feather-like upon it.

Reality rattles wrathfully. Neck cranes and cranium crashes; repetitious clock ticks times’ tongue licks as old lonely terrier beckons for reassurance. Hands tighten ears perk up just enough to capture the ghosts’ giggles and gasps in ceiling, walls. Eyes jump back forth seeing what is not. They stubbornly refuse to lock.

I froth. Heat of hell and hostile Himalayan wind. Each follicle creeps with sensation begging me for attention crawling like a rat beneath skin rug digging sharp senile claws up down around. Whole head heaves. Asteroid mattress hurdling thru heavens sans gravity. I cling. Hope for mercy is oxygen forced from lungs.

I have hatched, prematurely. Re-clothe re-hydrate re-medicate, re… ‘pray.’ I cruise about, cluttering crashing crying crawling. The surrounding world slumbers and I renegade against it, a radical revolutionary! The ropes, the chains, the weight that pin all of everything down have been shed!

…I realize that I am alone. I may never triumph, in isolation.

Vehemently, I attempt to bust back into fickle sacred place, a whir of anger and terror muttering all angry words counting in all directions all numbers combined compounded endless charts and tables fly through skull and out again in steam and sweat. Shoulders quake, ravenously rattling, an engine on last drop of gasoline.

Blurred thoughts now. What is this strange world? My anger grows confused. Waves of it crash each ninth (second, minute, time?). Periods of endless emptiness. Infrared glare lessens lucidity. Anger rises and exits as dove. Dark quiet forests rise from desolation. I sink into soft moss. Swallowed in warm soaking soil. Buried within Mother Earth’s soft embrace. Buried... Within…

The silvery steam. Settles over. This soul. I can no longer. Sense. I can no longer. Move. I can no longer. Breathe. I am. No longer. Here. I am. No longer. I.

Sometimes I stop and think, “If Christ gave up, why shouldn’t I?”
There’s this haunting image of a muzzle in my mouth a flex thumb click trigger hammer snap makes spark ignite powder propel fiery lead travels lateral sever brain tissue splinter bone voyages outward and jams into ceiling brings the whole ****** mess along behind it… Then I wonder, “Whose responsibility is it to clean up that mess?? “
You see, wonder is an amusing word because those who wonder are often wanderers and those who wander are quite often the most wondrous of all!! No home no family no job; these things are what tie us to the altar just to get burned as a sacrifice to the ol’ gods of our consummate culture. Someone lights that quick fire below and ******* skin starts to boil and boil and boil I’ve heard burning flesh stinks but I’ll probably never smell it because by the time the fire dies everything else has also burned.
Tell me, what is it that makes your heartbeat double?
Is it the power that makes the grass stretch sunward or sun shimmer gold? For me, it’s her pupils as I wonder what thought might cause her fragile paper hands to shake and her clearest river eyes to water, it’s the gaunt glowing of her gaze that prompt the pen in my hand to glide at 300mph at 3:00am because I cannot cry about her anymore but this pen dares to shed endless tears of red ink all over the page all night old night bitter wind howls through this ancient, ancient oak but its felt worse wind before.
Listen, I’m lost, and I think I’ve finally lost. I lost. I lost, okay? I ******* admit it. Her empty smile now symbolizes something that spits stinging poison. Pour through my blood freeze heartbeat spasm uncontrollable spiral downward darkness hits hard hefty heaving heaven… hello ello ello llo lo o? (How boldly my inspired voice echoes unimpeded in the Cave of Madness!)
Now I’m alone except for lonely howling train whistle. Head’s heavy, hell is consciousness.

as a guest within your presence
i'll left all other things behind
they drag me so much further
from any clarity of mind

though i must carry my past day sorrow
i cannot just put it down
the weight bears upon my shoulders
i may just crumble into ground

there hides a secret power
in the silvery silent still
whose effect pounds within my temples
amplifies my power of will

i work to shed these shackles
with every outward breath
and somewhere deep within me
new life conquers death

starry night, o starry night
within you I trod alone.
   your placid, yet sheer power
injects hot ember into bone
majestic crescent moon sheds these
      gray and somber lights.
haunted orchestra of bleakness
   led by distant coyote cries

   I tiptoe and I tremble
bare feet sink into soft earth
    from a whispering grove of aspen
an emboldened owl offers words
starry night, o starry night
high ceiling’s darkest blue
open wider your embrace
draw me deeper into you

as a guest within your presence
i'll left all other things behind
they drag me so much further
from any clarity of mind
though i must carry my past day sorrow
i cannot just put it down
the weight bears upon my shoulders
i may just crumble into ground

there hides a secret power
in the silvery silent still
whose effect pounds within my temples
amplifies my power of will
i work to shed these shackles
with every outward breath
and somewhere deep within me
new life conquers death

for you, a simple silence
save sadness, anger, shame.
found shelter from emotions
that roared like hurricanes

for you, a simple silence
without the thirst for more
just a fleeting breeze consisting
of one i once adored

in the peace and in the quiet
i lay down my weary head
inhale cherry blossoms pink
exhale despair and dread

in the peace and in the quiet
each forward step anew
and though i'll journey far away
i'll always carry part of you

That dark December night,
negatively charged magnetic eyelids forced open by a vibrating
assiduous humming brain
machine.

An untidy bed left warm, within the
smoking, choking exhaust fumes. An early morning engine roars.
I find that towering rock in eastern jagged-grin ridgeline.
Peering up from yawning limbs hung from red toothpicks,
frail clouds skirt that dark jutting face as stiff muscle tendon battles mud rock gravity staircase.
All alone, in echoey sloping vastness.

Lunge forward from tree line, sink down, old snow,
hunched old man drinks coffee says something…
Away from that wretched voice! I scramble
upward through white flakes, black boulders.
Wool gloves hinder grip, boots shove rogue rocks to space, hand slips, smash thumb,
eight now seven rocks until summit.

White washed walls of wild winter.
Silence.

In utero of a universe.

Four thousand feet above.
Fire.

Me, my despair, a stone palace, and trail mix. I brought hope.
You brought a shining red hope extinguisher then swung the emptied tank at my skull,
I am not impervious to pain like these rocks I hurl
at whirling gods they watch me
miss. Pebbles drop through glass table
swallowed by dark green limbs.

You do not know you could not know you cannot know it was right,
if you are Right, then I am Left
with aching expectations and a decomposing handful
sticky memories, remnants cannot be cast away, and
these blessed rocks are fond friends no longer call my own because
I’ll never look the same but they always will.

Step down from nowhere and retreat south, your footprints remain.
Darkened face, this line is named you and will stay there.
It is a cold winter rain
that taps my hunched shoulders
I have stopped answering.

You are in everything I see.
It is sickening because you own all and you will not let go but
you cannot own this next day.

Do you ever get a sadness// that weighs down on your soul;
a prodigious burden that makes bright eyes dark and dull?
It yanks up on your heartstrings//  and slices at your heels
When you pray for something, anything/ /that will really make you feel.

I get the feeling often// and wait for it to pass,
but it's in the cargo of this ship and I’m clawing up the mast.
It can feel like an ocean// and I’m stranded on a raft,
These planes fly high above me// but my hope's deflating fast.

Lord, give me strength and courage// to make it through this year
Be the loving Father// that dries my bitter tears
Spare me some of your forgiveness// for my sinful frame of mind
Spare the key to perseverance// I've desperately failed to find

Oh, that I could see you! and feel your knowing eyes.
Oh, if I could just hear you// I’d set my other gods to fire.
For I’ve seen twenty long Novembers// but none as dark as this
So many times I glimpsed the mark// but shot and always missed.

I forced open my eyes and gazed out the 6:00am window. The dense fog outside drew in through my nostrils, into my lung tissue, my blood cells, my bone marrow. I felt lifeless and numb within my treasured goose-down sleeping bag; my thoughts utterly separate from my exhausted body. My spirit hovers above, looking at this depleted bag of bones with bloodshot bagged eyes an ever thinning hairline.
Cursing under my breath, I sat up and rubbed my swollen eyes. My bag slipped from my shoulders and the December breeze took its place, affectionately stroking my back and neck with its sharp icy nails. I shivered, swearing. I was awake.
I stood, my comfort and warmth dropped to the floor, exposing my malnourished, pale coffin. I was proud of my body, my own personal ******* to the average soft bellied spineless American. I inspected the ***** mirror on the wall, confused. Who was the shaggy, slit-eyed disgrace looking back at me? I made a few faces, trying to recognize myself again. I looked old; I got sentimental and wondered where the years went. Then I realized I’d be thinking that for the rest of my life. I picked some brown dead skin off my face, brushed my malformed teeth and tried to spit out the window. White minty bubble **** sprayed everywhere.
In a bit, I was in the kitchen pouring some foul-smelling Maxwell into my coffee cup. Coffee is wintertime *******; my only weapon to protect myself from sideways rain and frozen knuckles. It also killed the morning-hater in me, that dark eyed scowling bitter kid that comes out once in a while.
I slid outside, the bitter wind wrapped around my face and filtered through my blood. My irises twitched with the passing cars, crawling pedestrians, vibrating leaves, and the moving earth around me. I keep my head down, weaving and turning my shoulders, maneuvering to my stop. As I walked, I studied the weathered cracks on the pavement, and related with them. They were weathered; soon, they would have to be replaced. I feel that way sometimes.
Seattle’s masculinity was obscured by deathly gray that December morning. The buildings looked like the ancient tombstones of some ancient breed of megatherium.  The triumphant northwestern giant, bustling with so many brisk Asians, a few defeated  Juggalos, some quite possibly successful businessmen (where do they go home to?) and loads of beautiful women, who walk with quick steps, uncomfortable glances, and brisk movements. Seattle in the morning was something I never loved. Everybody seems to get self-righteous, and forget their humanity at home.
I waited for my bus on a bench, invisibly observing everyone around me. I sometimes felt as If they all felt me inspecting them, knowing something I didn’t, some secret, information that I had just missed. I just liked to look at their solemn eyes. Look into their glazed eyes. I never have to speak to anyone that way. I quickly stab into their eyes and I have their tender souls in my hands.
I didn’t have to wait long until my bus crawled out of the fog and hissed to a stop, the hiss bringing me back to reality. The beast opened its doors with an earsplitting pop. As I loaded my bike, eyes down, I overheard a father making his goodbyes to his college son. I smiled, and wished I could say goodbye to my dad again.
And then the bus jolted forward, and my life jolted forward, and that morning was behind me.