.
In the open,
Sun alight and in flame
Makes us bare
And we suffer alone.

In the daylight,
Sun addresses our calm
Colours us black
And we shuffle our skin.

In the outdoors,
Your eyes are blinding mine
And sight is cold
As we suffer alone.

I once loved you
And you probably loved me
Out in the open,
In sun that desecrates.

one more year
all but done
2 4 mins to spare

cold beers in hand
we sit on grass
and listen to folk band

our fingers touch
our hearts combine as
the years dwindles

the god boy dreams
with arms thrown wide
the lateness having beaten
his desire to see in the new

i think of those who
drifted of to places better
so far beyond our human touch
and to those we welcomed

the time counts down
as i stare at the sky
and wish for blessings and grace
but knowing that there
will be measures of sadness too

farewell to you 017
you were mostly good
and yes  i will
remember you kindly

the night becimes a carnival
the god boy lurches awake
and we stand hand in hand
as the new rushes to meet us

at the point of entry (explicit)

it does not strike me strange
at the point of entry
when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge

when the lust and the sweat intersect
with ego desire and self is everlasting everything
that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue

when I pant poems born in rawness and tears
on this the last day of the year
and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire
and the Maker whispers in both ears see!

it is the see of what is me,
it is the point of entry and departure,
one and the same,
conception an immaculate mess,
the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises
are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into
actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems
are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright
and the death of publication,
my moment of privileged perfection passes
and frowns and smiles are
one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut

the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing

the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic,
rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give

I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders
say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle:

come, come inside me,
I am the pleasure
you are the treasure
in one cup measured
conjoined container
when the point of entry is the point of departure
and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer
I see everything all at the same time, uttering:

I am undone utterly and the difference between
the end and the beginning can be seen only
at the millisecond long seven decade coming
point of entry

12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning

Have you ever thought about your life without the demanding concept of time? Chances are you probably can’t, one of the very first things we learn is how to tell time. You know the year, the month, the day of week, right down to the time of day. You have tiny clocks on your wrists, some hung on your walls, there’s one on your screen and even your car. It’s funny how man is so dependent on time. Surrounding ourselves with a paralyzing concept that only man endures. When all around us in nature time is simply ignored, the birds are  not late, and wolves don’t fret over the passing of birthdays. See the world around us lives free while man suffers from the fear of time running out.