The burning of the skin starting
In the fight of Gods and ****** in
The bays of Golem where
Red, humongous ghosts are stranded.

Elopers, exodus of children,
Westend, Gaza,
Crystals, glaciers, jaws
Panting, greedy for the
One fulfilling victory of love.

Shoals are occupying the shells of
Their ancient homeland; skins,
Among craps and lipstick,
Are burning.
Hollowed castles of silk and
Mirrorglass.

Seven verses distant.
38 souls close by.
Ten gangs
38 skins against burning skin.

I shook hands with Joe Gideon
And high fived the shark
After a forest performance
In which they had rocked hard

The beauty of his voice and words
The slickness o her grooves
Soaked into me sonically
And caused the earth to move

Their world is so inviting
As at the barrier i stand
They'll take you on a journey
To learn the ways of man.

all my stress
my shortness of breath
there's not one day i don't think about you
you are my flu

before I die,
i wish to take a breath again

THE USELESSNESS OF MAPS

You were always
the bit

where the map creased & tore
leaving us unsure

looking through a hole
at our own big toe.

You were always
the bit

where the map was folded in four
and had to be awkwardly unfolded

just to see
where you were.

You were always
the bit

that was just off this map

ending in mid air...

...see next map:

...the missing map!

You were always
the lost map.

You were often
the wrong map.

The map that there was...

...no map of:

No matter what I do
The loneliness comes in
She peeks through the window
And lifts up my chin.

No matter what I do
The loneliness is there
She looks at me sadly
And doesn’t seem to care

No matter what I do
The loneliness gets more
She wraps her arms around me
While I lay motionless on the floor

A beautiful day in September,
The air is breathing yellow,
Painting the leaves golden
with each exhale.
Hues of autumn are unfolding
Warmth and tenderness intertwine,
With sunlight spreading on tree branches.
There's merry laughter in the hamlets,
Their laughter merges
with the sunshine laughing.
It is a reflection of
September's joy.
Somewhere the song of summer is ending,
But what a gift it is to be able to live
In September's warmth,
it protects me
From all sadness.

Early in the morning,
Laying in bed,
light washing over me,
thoughts floating in my head.

Wondering what it’d be like,
Doubt seeps like morning glow.
What could I say to him?
What might he never know?

- Lost in Translation