Morning twilight.  Monochrome.
I see the old Moon, waning, a crescent of white silk.
Venus and Spica share a moment nearby
As the Sun edges the horizon.

In my bag, I feel the breeze gently stir past the open zipper at my shoulder.
Sunrise creeps in.
Clouds mottled and streaked.
Red. Orange. A pillar.
Iron incandescence. Vibrant.

Earth awakens with whispers.
Trees reach and touch with each finger of wind plucking the branches.
Songbirds start.  Dogs caution.
First beams break the horizon.

Sixteen geese wing past with down swaddled in the early light.
I rise to give my wife words to see this beauty.

I never knew here to be one who would accept my roses
Or even one to exchange kisses like Eskimos, rubbing noses
But I could tell you it was her smile that gave her away
Even amidst the mud on her cheeks she gained throughout the day

She was never one for dresses, no, her jeans fitted just fine
Her figure flattering, though her clothes modest, humble in her design
And she would sooner throw a punch than look for rescuing
Yet she showed her princessly ways every time she'd sing

She would rather raise a mug than a cup of tea
And romp around, laughing all the while, on the bed with me
She'd giggle when I burped, and defeat me all the more
Then lie with me to look at the ceiling from her bedroom floor

But when she cried... oh when she cried... there crying she would be
And you would see no figure that was all the more dainty
No words said as she'd bury her face deep into my chest
Strong is she, all to me, in sorrow or happiness

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
     destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.

The wit of the tongue is brevity,
The wit of the mind is thought,
The wit of the soul is levity,
The wit of the fool is naught.

There is no prize in the bottom of your bottle
I wish you would put it down
Brother, because I love you.
I cannot stop you
But I won't stop loving you
and neither will He.
Brother, do you know He died for you?
You left home too soon
We didn't become friends, like I always wanted.
Brother, do you know I wish you were here?
You look for lovers
who leave you empty inside
She is waiting, and she has a beautiful heart
I can't wait to meet her.
Brother, I hope you understand what love should be
I wear a picture of us around my neck
next to the cross He carried
Hoping that your heart will change
Hoping that we will be closer someday
Brother, do you know I love you?
I think of you every single day.
And so does He.

he could play a frakkin' minuet
with his hands, this dude,
with perfect pitch and key --
and birdcalls of a timeless cult.
he'd hangglided in volcano rainbows,
had meathook *** from rafters.
reciting Shakespeare, conjured instant goosebumps, tears --
towering heartwise, intellect vast
whatever roles he played at night to model for our soul
we ripped the roof from off my fathers house, sublime,
wearing attic soot in all our pores,
asbestos grin contracting into mycophile hopes
flirting with the passing birds
in leaves and pizza parlors,
tanned and buff, shingle tar on shoulders, nails,
iron hard for her and her and her
the beating sun-breath coughing under mask
each tack an instant echo for the breeze
to take direction from a symbol core
no symbol ever truly held..
refreshing airs to bleed away the vanity,
yet halfway on the ladder there
an interrupting brag, my father's fascia beams
report card scores as if a better world they made
in money pitted recess taxing hidden filth- -
thank you,
Bach, to break up pride with existential high
new melodic rain to cover over thousands lost to sell,
settle dust,
handwind bard, aesthete
innovate human
you turn me on with tales of your amazing wife
bareshirt in your unfinished house, lusting eaves,
backyard grasshoppers on the counter,
****** as insect brains can be
to tilt their eyes with me at unreal fullness spectra-circle on a cloud
not possible the wholeness found
in wish fulfilling living roofs
of ecosystem awe and sunlamp bottles
here, and here,
under moss on backwoods skillion
or trussed on tree spread wide, open-hipped for skylove --
contentednesses missed the meaning now
of mother-art to birth anew the endless homes,
ecosophy's abundant cheer
laughter even in the nooks of dying nails
extemporaneous arcology of barefoot
ridgetop feardance raked in soffit shift
from gray to green
invulnerable vigor gained and gone
and grown again
from marginalia to universal veil
'happy evermore' no matter this or that
a swimming hole of naked sayings streamed,
inner wash of salt and sweat, an afterthought deluge
to challenge dormer crease-dive of a dogma drain
structured, learned pillage ivory still
though greensulated soon








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