Cloud, moving waters,
Ripples, soft white leaf on lake—
Shape of neck spells name.

She— light years away,
We speak without inflections,
  .  .  .  Split infinities.

Sitting on your back porch
My jaw began to hurt
Because I'd been smiling so much-
And I wondered how,
As a cold front blew through
Our dismal state and world,
We managed
To find such happiness
In one another

I’m ready for revolution
there won't be no midnight Revere
but let me tell you, it’s coming
cause I’ve had just about too many nights
dreaming dreams that ain’t mine
I go to bed in hollow bird-bone shackles
dreaming the world is telling me to fly
but only South, cause that’s where I’ll be successful
...I know success is really flying North and coming out alive
so when I wake
I get a book for a pillow and a pencil paper night stand
cause I’ve just been thinking its my time to take a stand
so here I stand
fluttering limbs and a nervous system that’s **** nervous
but I’m here
for it’s time that I tell my story
it’s time that I know who I am
I am done sleepwalking in the dreams of others -
unconscious of my own conscience  
this is my manifesto

to reclaim my crumpled dreams from a forgotten pocket,
to spread them out before me and point where I’m going to go

this is my manifesto
to forget about the past, and the future
to dance to good music
to tell a girl when she’s beautiful
and to have the courage to cry

this is my manifesto
to speak loud
run fast
to love hard
and to let go

for that is all I must do
let go of the placating promises that keep my dreams anchored in tomorrow
push off from the shore
and let the very current that courses through my veins
carry me out to sea
for there is an ocean.. waiting for me

an entire world in which I get to sail in whatever direction I please
so please, come with me
push off from the shore with your own manifesto at the helm
and we won’t sail together,
but when we pass, I’ll wave.
and you’ll wave too.
for we both know that the ocean is ours,
and we’re just dreaming after all

And if you didn't exist?
What would I do?
Would I stop and lie down,
curl up in a ball and let it sink it?
Or flee to the edge of the world, keep running and running?
Perhaps I would scream, shriek and explode
into shards of white glass stuck to the floor.
Or maybe I'd freeze, just halt like a statue,
plead and just wait for you to come back.
Neither would do, I know, I'll be patient
I'll wait for the day you cease to exist
and dance
and twirl like a snowflake
and melt, quietly, away.

I see under myself,
In the acrylic mirror.
Expressionless portrait
Of sorrow and wonderment
Artistic beauty of self expression.
Picasso-ish,
Contemplations of self
Breathing out obsessions
Unspoken words being heard, and
Thoughts being felt.
Between the lines I see
A façade of Truth
Contrast and color,
Painting the knowledge within.
Withering traditions,
Confessions tell
Of being strangers to ourselves.

navigator’s balcony cocktail hour
rocket orbit ocean liner rising
clenched no teeth no guernica no bam bam bam
correspondent notary republic
address book dial figure 8
charred with a thousand jigsaw pieces
false as a beach chiaroscuro black
on black graveyard womb naked milk glass lit
footprint tourism by candlelight and flare
vaccination fatigue puke fingernail fish
moving a bandaged echo **** him **** her
familiar bell music **** them both **** them all
stretched shirtsleeves spanish toffee slashed tires
(failure as a painter he shaved his wife’s fur coat)
bust your ***** Barcelona red alert
knock-kneed broken squeezebox no hands
standing room only ladies first (please)
unbuttoned interrogation coffee rolls (stop)
marine’s vegetation (stop) early morning tea (stop)
armless menus (stop) pink cathedral fingers (stop)

and (begin again) move

we move

moving inside an eye this eye
that advances step
by step

A pace four evergreens
Falling off events precipice
Lumberjacks don't wear hair
under hat stacks
greying hay barn charmed
now unarmed
paper made miles
into tree farms

Happiness has been degraded to effort,
and depression to undecision.
In a world coming together,
We're left with ourselves as everyone else
And God, I hope the Chinese are learning.

She does ballet,
but doesn't pronounce it the french way.
Wears no make-up,
and when the teacher talks she sits right up.

She's a girl to take home,
but in my heart and my home,
she'd be in a burning Rome.