A moon disc moves around in space,
beaming white with shades of time
as the pupil of a cosmic eye,
an aperture of the mind.
Its clouded iris billows,
evolving mountains in the sky
as textured fields of cirrostratus
caressing what's divine.
There's a copper sclera of diffraction,
as concentric rings of luminescence
enjoy, for tonight, partaking of this essence.

Do the pinewood teeth serrating mountains
not speak for want of a tongue?
I know they sigh sometimes with longing
when they're moved before a gale.
I hear your storm has started calling,
as the wind whispers me your tale.
The rain's a heavy harmony,
strumming straight on panes of glass,
and those rivulets of running water
walk patience to the brink
as the eddies of a circling mind
whirl cogs which make me think:

*I see your face in scattered strangers,
your form behind the rippling of skirts.
I hope your restlessness will soothe itself
and you feel at home, here on this earth.

A satin and reedy melody is sweeping across the soundscape and painting my world in
Traditional and elegant blacks and whites,
Sables, indigo moods, and orange skies.

they say write, say write, write
all i hear is 70's french music and static.
all i think of is you,
      last night i took shots until i couldn't hold a steady glass,
      remember thinking this is it, this has got to be it.
      this is how you forget.
contemplating calling you- dreaming that i did
      on, on and on
my english teacher said to write for poignancy,
i wrote on a coked out father,
sometimes i dream i see him at a grocery store, a church
he's all screams, i'm all "you have the wrong person, sir."
i've forgotten how to write,
maybe i'll call you in a year or so, maybe i'll forget

/or my *** dealer.
man alight with gemstone glands &
sticky at the tips.
each finger
pressing wet pampas cure.

the touch and study of
high-fi royal matter. (rose galactic)

savannah, hand
& fleshing meat in the heat of mother cradle.
africa man, tell me how was it?

details: the nature of today
& of tomorrow,
of pleasure kid.

t-shirt, he
prepares an atomic roll of autumn magic and smile, friends
or simply just
a spliffy belief in holy hallelujah man.
wild this.
tree of knowledge of good and evil and all in between.
tree of

the modern mystic noon
& in it is energy/vision/like midnight
but throated in such
humming beautiful light.

the sky breathes endless love,
said sun and fun,
marooning us onto an all-day sigh.