ol' factory swirling of disinfectant and decay
and the arising sliding vision that brings me to my knees,
presence like you...and you...and
                                                ...you....again.­

                  (      (     (    (   ( (scope) )   )    )     )      )
                (      (     (    (   (  ( (like) )  )   )    )     )      )

a paralysis of fear
        that grips an exhale

                     ...like, serious,

for real, for real.

DJs spinnin' tunes like yarns,
blanketed cocoons
and scoring golden booties.

Divert into another duality,

                - split -

                  (      (     (    (   ( (scope) )   )    )     )      )
                 (      (     (    (   (  ( (like) )  )   )    )     )      )

a past, present, and future
>>>>>>>>>>shakin' it, shakin' it<<<<<<<<<<
like an Oxford comma weekend.

A love like, <                                                              ­                      >
and a tsk like, <                                                              ­    >
for who sells integrity on a dime?
Slo-mo tracers.....
diss....appointment.

Unconscious tallies of an inhale or exhale
that arises with the all
                unfiltered
                   now hesitant
                        but, yet,
                              here
                             ­       we
                                        are

in absolute wanderings.

Mucky self portraits of
                   Bacon strips,
               Kraft-y singles
&           expired Perrier,
reciting tales of DogMa,

       tsk-ing at Eve
       tsk-ing at Helen
       tsk-ing at Mary

Sophia just wants to sit.

What's up, Gram-mere?
                         ....               I'mma pun chew!

A dozen good guy Hermes and some, like, no.
This one takes shots like Jäger, ja,
this one takes shots like Manny Pacquiao, yo.

Doodling constellations and
Grandfathered teachings of How To Draw A Map -
a tangled thread of a quilt patch,
                  Ultimate Boon-doggle.

Wandering home in the papaya morning to catch
the light of a magnesium sky and birdsong.

Palingenesia sits in canopy view,
a spectrum of emerald across convex corneas,
sinking in helicoid spirals...

Come light this match under this petal!
         and
Perch atop this mushroom!
         and
Shred this leaf down a hydrogen avalanche!

...a puma languidly strolls into lush valley's golden cup,
traversing caverns dusted in soft twilight.

reverberations of sound waves,
echo-y crystal thunder
quakes mountain and sky,
            
             blended like soft clay
                through harpsichord fingertips.

Hidden behind a myriad of
guises and castings of a
thousand projected distortions,
he brought himself
     suspended like a pendant
        
          detached
                 &
                    objective.

I bequeathed a
tumult of love,
tumbled down
the scope of
archaic collective conflict
that shook with a spiral quake like
the wakening of my
hallowed   g  a     s           p -
the corridor echoing of the first gallop.

Lifted the skirted veils of
celestial taffeta,
surrendered to the
feats and enchantments of
The Rider
who arrived on a
rogue wave,
crest and trough and
splendorous swells of
blue and white,
reverberating from
essence centre
like Doppler
outward my firmament fingertips,
cascading around the sphere
in astral star fall,
an overflowing cup of Milky Way
and melting atoms
into grains of sand
between the blended confines of
here and                                there,
escaped to the ever expansive space,
Empyrean emptiness.

Kali at the door,
Did Shiva enter yet, dear?
Nevermind.

I dream of a future that never arrives,
of exploration, wonderment, and words
draped in enchantment
in that space of
unconditional,
(since filtered effervescence arises, well, flat, doesn't it?)
to speak the language of
here and now
that breathes clarity in
open expansiveness.

Now has always been written on the
pages like,
what what what what
and yet,
here, running in forests.

Winds lift and energize
caution and wings,
to say one thing
that does not go awry,
it is
        here,
like, what what what what.

A list of yeses and noes,
and perlexed replies,
hello? integral?
Nevermind.

A museum.
Relics casting shadowed projections
reflected through prisms through prisms through prisms
through prisms.
Nonetheless, I let go,
I toss you like a sphere

against my heart-caged ribs,

right back to me,

                 always and forever

because,

I dream of a future
of exploration, wonderment, and words
draped in enchantment
in that space of
unconditional.

cavern alit with
cascading twilights
of imagined particles,
an array of twinkles
                    like mist,
                 only softly.
reflecting off an endless iris
like an eternal cartwheel
of                light and dark
and             in and out
and that boundless space in                 between
that passes like a
fault line in a blink
that dissolves
the one
before
and greets
the one
after.
abridged by the procession of
catena that
                         o                      
                l                      a
                       ­                   t
f                                                  ­        S                                    

away.

The spirit of adventure springs eternal

                    where shimmers reflect in
                         swirls like ammonite
                              and ripples like none.

and back again.

                              in a unified braid,
                   that weaves together
  blendings like this and that

to discern and disregard
and that boundless space in                 between.

And Jesus said, And you shall follow me through trials and through death; but now you cannot go where I will go, but you shall come.

And Jesus spoke again unto the eleven and said, Grieve not because I go away, for it is best that I should go away. If I go not the Comforter will not come to you.

These things I speak while with you in the flesh, but when the Holy Breath shall come in power, lo, she will teach you more and more, and bring to your remembrance all the words that I have said to you.

There are a multitude of things yet to be said; things that this age cannot receive, because it cannot comprehend.

But, lo, I say, Before the great day of the Lord shall come, the Holy Breath will make all mysteries known -

The mysteries of the soul, of life, of death, of immortality; the oneness of a man with every other man and with his God.

Then will the world be led to truth, and man will be the truth.

When she has come, the Comforter, she will convince the world of sin, and of the truth of what I speak, and of the rightness of the judgment of the just; and then the prince of carnal life will be cast out.

And when the Comforter shall come I need not intercede for you; for you will stand approved, and God will know you then as he knows me.
(162:3-11, The Aquarian Gospel of Jesus the Christ)

My love, we will go, we will go, I and you,
And away in the woods we will scatter the dew;
And the salmon behold, and the ousel too,
My love, we will hear, I and you, we will hear,
The calling afar of the doe and the deer.
And the bird in the branches will cry for us clear,
And the cuckoo unseen in his festival mood;
And death, oh my fair one, will never come near
In the ***** afar of the fragrant wood.

How the struggles served to strengthen my love for you
and faith that I am standing inside your enhancement walls

In sleep, a calmness washed over me,
White oceanic noise,
Ebbing and flowing like
Earth's lungs inhaling and exhaling

I awoke in the sunlight,
And heard the soft coos of pigeons outside my window,
Assembling their family nests

I watched as burdens of past and future
Passed through me like driftwood
In the clear river flow of now
As the last ruminants of the ripples faded

The rhythmic flow of my breath,
Legato, no longer staccato
And thoughts like harpsichord
Strumming on my axon strings

In this serene love I'll rest with you,
Tranquil and protected,
A journey forever written,  
To find myself back to you

Inside these dimensions of my prison,
paralyzed, immobilized,
shattered in fragments of fear,
I utter stifled screams
from my body heap,
piled on the hardwood floor

c
       r

     u
        
                   m
  b

        l
i
         n


g

trapped, desolate and
wretched in mind,
what is left of me after invasion and ravage?

Chase away this these vultures and thieves,
so to shut out this duality
blinding me,
a rabbit caught in headlights    
                                                  ­ up
                                        me
                   ­        pick

I see the photo, synthesis
Emerging from cold ashen ground
Ocular chlorophyl against
The vast blue sky
I hear the tiny buds assembling
Gathering their artillery of sun and water
Ready to paint a spectrum of infinite hue
Over monochromatic concrete
I petal to a sanctuary
Of a thousand birds in
Rhythmic flight,
In space of serenity
And feel the tight tug of my blood heart
That beats in synchronicity
Like the gentle wave of a butterfly wing,
I plant myself beside my eternal Love,
To rest in our amaranth garden

All I've ever seen is you
My thoughts, my heart,
My safety is no longer here,
My love is no longer there,
It is you whom I have loved,
It is you whom I have struggled,
In darkness,
and light,
It is you,
Always you

And this is what I have,
More than most can comprehend
When they stand flat on the surface,
Are you here, too?
Suspended through dark and light,
please show me a hand,
give me love unconditionally,
the one thing I need

The snowy owls have left the tundra,
Replaced by the guarding gulls and
The geese trickling in,
Waxing moon pushing forward, up,
And quiet bunny hops,
The constellations remain,
Same as it ever was,
And my love for you,
Same as it ever was

Swoosh!
Uh! Why, thank you!
You may know by now
I am weightless so
I'll help you
levitate, too, okay? and
Ommmm...meditate!
(and I'll kiss you like so, too)
Hooray!
Boy and girl paper dolls in
3-dimensions!

I can't point to which ears
heard which stampeding rumbles
from minimal eye gazes,
my vigilantly mind plotting on a chess board,
six moves ahead,
rooks to rookies,
overtly naive to trump
Freudian slips
(here's where Forer will see his effect),
a density practiced since
crushin' La Rosa,
an unfurling heroine,
compiling names to
ever-growing lists,
I pushed it to the test,
immersed in
metacourse
and passed in
supernova bursts of
spiralling colours!

Mr. Movie sends his waves asking,
Alice killed the Jabberwock with a purple sword, didn't she?
And making his request,
Make sure the hyenas get rid of Scar so that he Never! Comes!...Back!
As well as his warnings,
(Captain Gutt will threaten)
I will destroy him and everything he LO-OVES!
You destroyed everything I had!
I'm just returning the favour!
Reassuring,
No, he won't.
Uh uh.*

But I wouldn't know anything about that.
I live in the post-post-postmodern age.

Rolling in late, Mr. Movie sits on his roll-y chair and is
entranced by the glittering star and butterfly beads
inside the walls of his magical kingdom.
He's having a think.
He's taking a journey, tuning his frequency to the
Centre of the Earth
beep boop boop boop beep
and then stares at me waaaaaaaaaaay far out.
Okay, look, listen to me....
The ground, did it broked and the dinosaur fell into the
shadow like Balrog?
I look at him.
(We discussed the death of Maleficent a while ago)
But Trevor didn't fall into the shadow just like Gandalf.
Uh uh. No, he didn't.
He shakes his head.
That is a good thing, I say.
Yes, okay, now look, listen to me...
He lowers his voice to a whisper.
(They want him to stop talking incessantly about these movies)
But the lava's going to blow and let Trevor out, yes.
He nods at me, waiting for my approval.
I agree.
Okay, and now...
He returns to inside the magical kingdom.
Chattering away, he travels to the Serengeti.
beep boop boop boop beep
He turns to me, worried.
An elephant graveyard is no place for a young prince. Oops!
Oh no! An elephant graveyard is no place for a young prince! Oops!
Oops is right.
Grabby is less impressed.
He's all giggles today but not impressed with me.
Slaps me in the face and pours tea all over my stuff.
Oops is right.

Millennial stones trickling through continuums of space and time,
burying regressed evolutions and recycled tin can trauma
In lapse, I forgot about the sun and the moon
and chills on a pillow-y cloud,
the nested bunnies, cozy and dormant,
and discarded rotten tomatoes,
a bushel in a heap, as feed for desperate flies,
eating fruits of some other labour
On a chariot of rusted steel,
(that click clack chain)
I found a place and fell asleep under a shady willow
Awoke from ultra-violet sun sparkles
dancing through whispering leaves,
placing this right-hand in that right-hand that
smooths over tired brows and cups dozy dreamy eyes
Resting heavy heads on soft hearts,
gently rising and falling,
inhaling and exhaling breath that

                                             O
      F                                                     a
                            L
                                 ­                                                 t               ­            S

like seeds of a cattail, dispersing and grounding
in perfect circle...
perpetual motion...
symbiosis...
the only truth that is
Present
Out from under the shaded canopy,
we race down to the beach and under the pier,
with splashy waves and guarding gulls
where we can laugh and dream in the
millennial stones trickling through continuums of space and time

Wading in a muddy riverbed,
panning for broken pieces of
pretty blue bottles that
glint in the
sun's rays like
azurite

Upstream,
without warning,
a deafening cry
  
                          of impending cathexes

The river surges

gasp...

rushes,
tosses,
thrashes me

                          in mysterium tremendum flow
                          and a flurry of foaming crests

I bathe in effervescence and
glide through
torrential sentiment,
submerged in
cosmic love

...sigh

Crawling from this eddy transcendence,
trembling
precariously up the shoreline
to rest in his arms of
fiery brilliance
gasp....
              ....
                   ....sigh

to set him ablaze with
Divine oxygen that
beads from my
velvet lips like
dew drops, and
coo giggling whispers in his
ear of
soft, tender
reflections,
as he feeds to me
crackling embers that
surge to my
heart centre with
volcanic intensity

Reciting a story
sui generis
nested like Matryoshka,
the ever-unfolding opus,
tangled in sheets of
layers
         upon
                 layers
of papyrus,
scribed
         and
              scribing

Oh, to wake in such a dreamscape.

                *sigh

Foggy thoughts splash around in a
     hazy pool of grey matter,
Words like falling leaves are expelled
     staccato and tacky
Then raked away in my constructed  
     throat tunnel,
Trapping my glow-y heart flow in
     sticky lung mud

Fancy shutting my achy lead eyelids
     under a mountain of blankets

           cough cough
           *moan

The daydream-y miss gazes out the
watchtower of enchantment,
heart atrophied,
neck bound in a Gordian Knot,
riding nautical swells of
fear and love that
ebb and flow in
cursed duality

Calling to the cavalry trouper in
subdued hysterics
who, in an oceanic barrel surge,
will sever her lasso collar and
rebind their anchor hearts in
blood knots,
ascending the ranks, he will earn the
highest standing stripes of
Strength, Honour, and Equanimity

I wrote a letter to you about the
ever expanding universal consciousness on
transparent midnight parchment,
dusted in twinkling stars that
danced across my
boundless vision field,
tickled my eyelashes, and
cascaded in ripples of laughter to my soul;
With a fine quill of a single grass blade,
I penned the words spoken to me in deafening silence of
all understanding and truth,
whispered by grandfather trees and
giggling bananna leaves;
I peered into the glass pond and
touched the reflection of
heaven on earth,
sending tiny waves across the
cosmic paradise;
I scribed of summer moon's
amusement,
suspended in the astral garden
while celestial bunnies hopped
in and out of constellations
just past my
finger t  i   p    s         r     e      a       c        h
All the while surrounded by a moat of flickering tea lights as
evanescent bodies
swapped stories of love, triumph and wisdom,
sequestered in wooded refuge...

I wrote this in a letter to you and it read,
*Everything is perfect.

Gazing south at the myriad of cars,
            revving, coasting, braking
The perpetual loop of the 501,
the two-door garage on a 4-year lease,
built by the hands of blue collars....

     People about their day,
                 sullen, callous, laggard
     The parking enforcer who thinks he is the lion of the left lane,
     the little man from Hollywood,
     (the newspaper really said he had died!)....

          With this dismal landscape as its first worldview,
          spring life burst from kinder pods
          A stretch of petals unfurled a
          spectrum of sanguine embers in
          scarves of forest green that
          smiled and waved hello to the
          languid concrete world below....

Tiny teenage tokes,
taking swigs of Old Style Pilsner,
in brown bottles,
wrapped in my vision landscape.

I close my eyes and
wish for
summer nights &
a deck &
warm lakes &
warm skin &
no shoes &
no tomorrows &...

tonite?
Inside'll do,
I hear riffs in
a tavern  
from blue collared ghosts of
high school
sweethearts,
who grew up
real guy
stronghearts.

And together,
we are 
still
singing the
same
hometown
song.

An unethical practice to fully comprehend my existence in
space and time,
I took the world hostage and prodded its inhabitants with
probes and electrodes
only to find myself
conducting self-lobotomies in front of the bathroom mirror;

Gazing through the eyes of McCrae,
I ****** my hands into
pristine soil,
tore up roots and
soldier bones, creating a
garden of chaos
only to find myself
amongst red petals and marrow
strewn across green vision fields,
but the larks still bravely singing fly!

I splattered ******* across
impressions of Monet and Renoir
only to find myself
dripping like
Dali,
screaming like
Munch,
is this what beauty looks like?!

I passed up a
hitch on a
Heart of Gold
only to find myself
in the mire of a
Brave New World,
kicking at the dirt that sent
electroconvulsive shocks
up my spine,
is that a headlight reflection in my Bell Jar?!

I looked down the barrel of my fingertip guns, still smoking and
listened to the hollow wind of my self-inflicted universal entropy...

run.

Through a wormhole,
into the forest of wisdom where I reviewed observational data of my
chaotic string theories,
there I found myself,
rejecting the null and
assembling a fire of new Hope using the
burrs and thistles burrowed under my skin,

scratching and clawing at unethical practice.

My love, it seems you have misheard
the vow I make to you -
That all the things you'll go through,
I will go through, too!

           Through tears of joys, through tears of grief,
           I'll give to you your soul's relief.

          When bods are strong, when bods are weak,
           I'm there for you to kiss your cheek.

          When you fall down, when you stand tall,
          I'm there with you throughout it all.

          In times of good, in times of strife,
          With you I'll stand,
                                            
                                              Your Loving Wife.

I know we can't have everything,
an "ideal" life and such,
But I embrace you as you are,
I love you way too much!

The dark, the light,
the day, the night,
and all the clouds of grey,
There I'll be at your side,
forever will I stay!

My love, behold everything in
the vow I make to you -
Whatever should get thrown our way,
My promise will hold true!

rusty knees folded under a
quilt weaved by the calloused hands of
particles of grandmothers' grandmothers,
head heavy on a
down-breasted pillow,
rising and falling softly
in a bedroom den,
whispering relative semantics of
a testament revised
while outside, tornadoes uproot trees
and displace plywood houses
with charred pies frozen on the windowsill,
entombed from the harsh winter's frost
and incubation in false ovens;

i recall seasonal naps of
drifting and wakening
and colourful mosaics
painted across the dreamland sky,
drinking cups of melatonin-laced chamomile
steeped in an angel teapot that induced
psychosomatic apparitions in constant relay
from earhole to earhole and
assisted with pulling an endless rope out of my
mouth which had been tied to the pit of my ulcerated stomach,
my head twisting in a corkscrew spiral,
meeting a longing gaze
and twisting back again,
oh! my bottled neck!

you retell poems softly spoken loudly
with my kisses on your heavy eyelids,
before we drift through the sheer veil
into unified consciousness,
taking a glimpse at our crowning home in
an infinite land,
enveloped in time-honoured Love
bestowed upon us in
pure, Divine fate,
watching endless words of
'i love you', 'i love you'
trickle like sand though a
heavenly hour glass figure;
to wake, a chance to celebrate,
to die, a chance to find each other again.

a gentle flame on
frayed wick
casts
animal projections on
denude walls like
celluloid wildfire
  
            of               raccoons who gaze upon
                              owls assembling in parliament to convict
                              magpies who ******, while  
                              herring skip school to watch
                              coyotes in cover bands,
                              monkeys in droves of carloads meet
                              wolves en route, and make a pact with
                              lions standing proud over
                              mice who cause mischief

a menagerie dancing in flickered beckons,
converging towards epic denouement

the author reaches the end of his tale,
he pens a resolution to
provide a place to rest her weary heart and
replenish her empty wells;
she makes a vow to love him until the very end of time,
with greater cohesion than all the worldly elements,
in everlasting unity
and they lived
                                             synergistically. ever. after.

I saw this War Veteran on his porch yelling at this Hipster Kid who was tethered to his fence across the generational gapped front lawn, yelling back at him. And I mean, they got into it.
The kid wasn't doing anything really, just taking alternate swigs of foamy PBR and flat Red Bull and chucking the cans into the vet's unkempt garden, retorting Dylan lyrics and sentiments of Kerouac like the post-modern beatnik he was.
I couldn't make out what the Old Vet was saying. His voice was missing from probably smoking too many Benson & Hedges Black down in the trenches. I know he must have been saying something uncalled for, though, to get this Kid so riled up like that.
I'm not sure what they were arguing about since I awoke right in the middle of this altercation, hanging upside down on a bench in the park across the street. I suppose I'll just wait until the Vet goes back inside so I can go over and release the Kid and ask him what that was all about.

Tell me, at the very least, that you said,

that our kiss was of I and Thou

that you would love me as the mountain wind shakes the rose calyx of alabaster sky

that you would make a home, out of sea foam and sea conch

that in the blue mist shade and coral sun, your arms would hold me

that these boobie traps would go off

that we are a simple as mineral mingling with dew drops

that Love wins through the struggles

that I was a girl in Autumn

that we were like two entangled particles

...and you never meant it.

Tell me as I stand here at your door with mine wide open, on this summit in the clouds

and tell me you want to go.

But
     please
               don't.

and instead spend life with me.

with my
tick
to your
tock
in a seesaw of turbulent
tug-
of-
war
tussling sheets in beds we just
made
inflicting identical
***
for
tats
bell curves
in
bell jars
cupboards
open
&
shut
on rusted hinges
light a candle?
blow it out
sun
chases
moon
moon
chases
sun
on an endless meridian of a
hamster wheel
Sophia
&
Hermes
straddling white picket fences
of here and now
cause an
effect for an
affect
cycling on
stationary bicycles
through cyclones
popping cycloserine

just stop
the clock
the saw
the rope
the bed
the tide
the wheel
the bike
and
stand
*still.

Unfurl origami entries dated
March 8, June 2, countless undated of an
amygdala hijacked
that pitted Moira against Peirce,
rejecting my name of Kismet,
to watch Forer take his effect
(who now has spread his contagion),
babysitting Little Albert while
Watson scribbled notes in the lecture hall;
witness sagacity smeared all over skull walls,
spackled on cranial ceilings
as I stuck my head out onto subway platforms and
displayed out onto train tracks in my
mind's eye in favour of recalling
Christmas festivities with sisters dolled up in
grandeur hospital ball gowns as
subjects were consoled in camps and
I slept in fields
screaming anything audible to
no one,
listening to track 2 on a
continuous loop,
sitting on flagpoles and lamp posts
as vandals smashed and grabbed,
cackles echoing in alleyways...

now before I vanish right before
your very eyes
tell me,
why
am
I
here
*?

..
Mouth full of semi-raw fried potatoes and
dehydrated orange wheels, doesn't Mr. Appleseed come out of
nowhere
and plant a speck of a seed right smack dab in the centre of my
reptilian cortex, but I
pay no mind because Buddy has adored me for a whole five minutes until he rebounds
              harder
                        than an
                                    addict discharged
                                                    fr­om
                                                        forest-y­ methadone clinics
                                                        i­n downtown cores
                                                        pop­pin' Hilfiger blue collars
                                                        y­ackin' it on the phones to guys named D, or
                                                        D yackin' it to guys named Friendo, Jai, or
                                                        Little­ Tim,
                                                        buri­ed from ******* back too much hillbilly
                                                       ­ ******, while
                                                        col­lege girls sleep in their Sahara beds,
                                                        sav­ing up to buy bouncy trampolines with
                                                        boun­cy cheques,
                                                        ­listening to lullaby coos of pimps and ******
                                                        on­ the downstairs couch,
                                                        ga­zing fawn-eyed at cavediums next to
                                                        nobody cares muffins and syrup-y coffee
                                                        canyoudropmeoff?
                                             ­           outside of the seventh-story window of
                                                        million dollar saloons,
                                                        ­wearing blings and rings,
                                                        purchase­d by wealthy husbands and
                                                        travelin­g yuppies for their wives' veneer,
                                                        eating breakfast cereals that go
                                                        Snap! Crackle! Pop!
                                                        for three square meals,
                                                        re­furbishing plastic containers
                                                        on foot-stained broadloom,
                                                        with cage and cagey roommates,
                                                        throwing life rafts to bloated bodies in
                                                        Great Lakes
                                                        for the price of a debt,
                                                        recalling waffling road trips,
                                                        visiting one-man tents behind billowing
                                                        smokestacks;
                                                        I blew my brains out in an air duct,
                                                        lost my life lifting up heavy floor mattresses,
                                                        climbing out of basement windows,
                                                        while hitch hiking mothers sing karaoke
                                                        nursery rhymes by Janis Joplin,
                                                        20 notes off-key,
                                                        harboring skeletons in stairwells and rusted
                                                        out Grand Ams,
                                                        making friends in Tim Hortons after last call,
                                                        dressed in leprechaun fatigue,
                                                        driving like England at midnight,
                                                        I spoke to a faceless man,
                                                        whom I'll never get a chance to send a
                                                                ­               thank you
                                                       card...
                                                       as for me? I never touched the stuff

but I was too spent to care and was already floating on cheap Chardonnay and authentic vitamin D with my bindle stuffed to the brim so I thought I'd just American Beauty plastic bag my way through this one, cropped in floral, patio sunglasses, swirling and twirling on Ballet Boulevard until
An e.ch-o-y sound in my
left  ear
I turned my head,
slo-mo tracers flashed in warp speed,
        the testa bursts open.
..

.
Even after visits to apartments in self-named cities to see soccer stars swathed in orange tuxes,
Swerving off country roads in berating fits of tenderness,
Sputtering 'i love yous' in ditches and river canals;
Even after chais with Ye Ye Elders,
Messenger powwows with ancestors, and
holding the hands of comforting Harmonies, I

Never got it right.
.
It was a pathetic attempt to join a traveling circus; a passive means for an escape. Who were the Elephant Man, the sword swallower, or the contorting twins?
****** if I know.
Buddy had his hands wrapped around my neck in a nihilist noose so tight that it bubbled up amaurotic visions within my retina.
I couldn't see or feel a ******* thing.
Lost consciousness on his cold bathroom tiles, sprinkled with ***** confetti, **** all up on my cheek.idonthavetimeforthis!sleeponthecouch!
Watching 'Teach Yourself Circus!' videos at circus camp, I learned to juggle,
albeit groggy and disoriented. Only brightly coloured ***** at this point but I was up to seven tosses! While the freaks and geeks headed to carousels in the big top tent, I headed back to my dilapidated den leased on a broken Concord.
getoutbitchgetoutbitch
Back at camp ( hazy lazy crazy ) rivets affixed so I could only stare forward at the wall.
An e.ch-o-y sound in my
left  ear
voice reverberating down thru
t
h
e

w
e
l
l  
past
   t
   h
   e

   b  u  c
   k  e  t

I turned my head,
slo-mo tracers flashed in warp speed,
glacial stares softened into slushy moss.
A buttery soft cashmere reply,
                                      i'm sorry? what did you say?
                                                           ­  you seem nice...
.
Infrastructure collapsed.
    ****
Gone.
Crumbled in a heap of rubble.
Impaled by rebar and rebar erections.
Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab.
Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab.
in a black plastic sack
And....then....
Who's to say about the linear sequence of events, anyway?
.

O broken and battered beatnik!
My tormented kindred spirit!
  I offer you a hundred lifetimes of my self-condemnation
  How can I deny finding portals to your spirit and soul with such ease any
longer?
  Only now how to reach you out on the physical plane...

Kick down my door painted black so I may crumble in your ****** arms like a poorly constructed sand fortress, sobbing salty tears of regret, wiping snot-nosed drivel onto your cotton-wool blended Ceredigion suit

I'm sorry!
I'm sorry!

Let me explain the truths of my hesitant trust, battered and bruised -- like affectionate kisses on the cheek with open and closed fists
and childhood neglect turned adult isolation -- like visitations in dank bars with hitchhiking mothers

Let me tell you how I closed my eyes as they saddled up to the roulette table,
Licking their wintery chapped lizard lips, and
  rubbing together their sticky hands
Placing their lucky chip
(free with the price of admission!)
On bets
Red.
    Black.
        Odd.
             Even.
I tried to rig the loaded ivory ball to fall on odds Green, Double Zero
house's edge
                                                              ..­.but...
Momentum lost,
Screams muffled as I saw them
  parade in celebration
Blowing trumpets and twirling batons,
  taming dancing bears in crinoline tutus

What have I done!?
What have I done!?

Punish me no more as I cower in my remorse!
Remove this needle from my tongue!
So I may provide the unheard voice in your narrative gap
When I found you alone, in an empty theatre, heaved there by a
  force so Divine
Never could I have conjured up a Love so true!
  Ohhhh! The tears!

Let us construct resolutions of brick and mortar placed
  hand-over-hand
Become co-conspirators and together
  build parallel neural pathways in our
       Meta-Mind
Our synaptic impulses firing in unison as
One
  neurotransmitter
We'll scribe the words spoken in real time
  pulling inspirations from our restful dreamlands
    coiled together in fetal spoons

I am here!
I am here!

Please grant unto me my only request,
allow me to hermit here awhile in this new warm home where I feel safe       and happy and fearlessly blissful
A quiet refuge
   most needed to rest my Self
Away from siren squawks that
   deafen feather-tufted ears
I may venture out for the news or for weekend browsing in local record         shops, but
      here
is where I reside and come home to you each night
Keep my literal words as a gift only to you
(But please paint dazzling murals with abracadabra brushstrokes, with every colour!)
Do not pass around my sacred scripts of our lore (we've been warned)
My trust is the most honourable endowment you could recieve, please cherish it as you so deserve
Give this unto me and I will give you
           an
        infinite
        well of
       musings
         and a
         legend
            for
            the
           ages!

I love you!
I love you!

O broken and battered beatnik!
Tortured kindred spirit!
  I offer you a hundred lifetimes of my devotion
  Your spirit and soul my course of navigation!
  Using compass and stars, meet me
  Wandering cautiously out on physical plains

I love you!

Patterns form across convex corneas
Geometric portraits of tangram animals
Hexagonal-faced lions
Triangular-trunked elephants
etc.
Tessellations of
anagrams
Draped over rods like Batik fabric smoothed over king-sized beds
Calculating Bayesian probability on fingertips
rote
styles
Whispering, "Carry the 1!" to columns of 100s
with a remainder? Try again.
Plot Cartesian coordinates with mechanical pencils
click! click! click!
Crying, "Awwwww.....
                                  you
                                        sunk
                                                my
                                                     battleship!"

Quiet now you
Hush! whispers! stifle your shrieks!
Four spirals down
(or up depending on where you are standing)
Rest here for a while
Bolt the door from pillaging neighbors
Draw the curtains on smeared windowpanes
and collapse from eternal exhaustion on the hardwood floor
Plug in the battery of your android heart
and find composure in my embrace
Slumber in my lulls
Meditations of conscience emptiness past, present, and future
Awake
Gaze into my eagle eye
and read sacred scriptures scrawled on irises
Behold a testament of time past, present, and future

Quiet now you
Hush! whispers! stifle your shrieks!

The night hath fallen and
I
frantically search the forest floor for tracks of my accomplice
under a pale moonface
smiling through opaque canopies
I
hysterically amass twigs and brush and assemble a beacon fire
SOS
SOS
SOS
alone and detached
I
take comfort in the trees spinning yarn
telling acorn to oak parables
counting their rings of ancient times
I
build bunkers from birch bark
WAIT
WAIT
WAIT
if not for my accomplice's return
I
shall find peace and solitude away from savage beasts who dwell in city centres