Listen.  Today i lost my voice -- it left upward looking for my mind.
sometimes the strangeness of Life becomes reality and nothing more.
today i found myself within a garden of snakes and meat-devouring
plants.  If not for the purple skies it would have been a wasted
experience.  Meeting God was an experience before i found myself
inside a fetus that became my physical body.
  the doves sang a brilliant but sometimes somber song;
peace of a piece so small it became nothing before i could
touch it's sharp and exquisite edge.
Listen.
Today i lost my mind.
and my voice flew downward looking for sanity.

:: 09.11.2020 ::

NOW that i flew by fierce few
sabots language trickling
and in the morning's red eyes
my heart picks rosenbloom
   picks blue berries upon the side
   of the road of Life while i sweat
picking love by the fingers wishing water
like i dreamed of a woman (but if i
should say, 'hold my depleted lips
wishing water'  i wish and pray
as a common soul:  but begging
cups of water to spoons dance
every-
   hands (you know lust)  a spring
of Life:  this most exquisite
of all loudness:  strumming a guitar
singing any language above the notes.
   and this imitation resembles
the humanity of flesh.  thinner
than a hair of silently who are we
inclinded and cling towards the greatest
poem of my heart -- me.

:: 09.08.2020 ::

TEMPORAL SPLENDOR

A connotation of love
-- and to life
sharpens this temporal splendor
of the night

i want to live down eager
streets of lifelessness

wind, wind, wind, the notes
of harmonica asking, 'did
you once love someone?

as the final feather floating
down a whirl-wind in the final
brain_

as when down eager boulevards
of purple rolled in velvet
beyond doomed thoughts feels

crumbling silence
and seriously smiles
as when i have sometimes thought

of you too.

:: 09.07.2020 ::

EDITORS are pathologist
that dissect the words,
flay the meanings
and remove the guts
-- burn me within
a furnace before
an editorial autopsy

:: 07-28-2014 ::

Rev: 05-20-2018

And death is a kiss like love
the burning passion mourning
when the golden cord cuts
the beating heart of souls
and we tread upon fresh dew
buttercups gravely bruised --
you knew did you not?  The world
is a battlefield and we are
the dying soldiers giving blood
and life for the few who know value
-- a golden key for the spirit.

:: 08-09-2014 ::

ALICE  all your friends are slow
if you follow then you shall know
but if you choose the rabbit hole:
    
   All our friends are there
-- they all ask of you; even
   The One you know
he has Sudden Moves

   IF you wait for reality to ask
then the universe will feel abused
but if you choose your hand
   o v e r   a    g  r  e  n a d e
the blood of the psychopath next
to you will release all pretension --
  ask him;  look at the eyes
oh daddy i love you
but outside is the boss
   i think he is one of us

:: 03.30.2020 ::

a creeping chill throws me cold: the
skies have turn  SEPIA AND i  completely
utterly melt into each word
birth'd -- this elegie betrays the poet;
a confession unburdens the Spirit -- you
are reading about the me of 'i' have always loved you |mia /i shall meet you again to-now within the theater of my Soul  sure, sometimes
i have concern for the world as it continues to devour my Feelings and sensibilities.
   when can i love you again?

:: 03.24.2020 ::