To beat Death
without crashing on purpose
You need simply drive
at the speed of Life.

Takes a hit of that Which
Goes a round
Comes a round
squared inside the ring:

:giggling fist: :connect the dots
Lands one on the nimble joke
to Which a Universe
is the punch-line.

"So...how is it?" (looking up at him)
"The wallpaper? or the *******?"
"...both."
"Well, one's kind of sloppy. The other's kind of perfect."
"My thoughts exactly."

Field of sun-flowers overhead:
The sparkling yellow grains
bursting out
of the stamens

The wind rises
a call to pollinate

I tuck myself
into a sheet-cocoon
fly upwards
out of the chrysalis.

Sitting on the bus:
A sudden chill down her leg
She panics
for a moment
before realizing
it's summer
And more importantly
the liquid pouch
is in her backpack.

Gun in hand
to spill the colored truth
of poet’s own grey matter
Neurons dying to and fro to
figure out
if a stanza suicide is worth committing

Pen, on the other hand
dangles a juicy metaphor
from the *******.

what was the question?

Robert Frost
is quoted to have said:
"Writing free verse
is like playing tennis
with the net down."

I suspect
he never knew the joy
or challenge
of playing tennis with himself
against a wall.

Semantic stars collude, collide
until the brightest constellation of words
emerges to articulate for life
what cosmology would consequently liberate:
Emancipating sentence served in the unspeakable tongue
Oxymoron’s ill delight

In the pitch-black universe of language
Oxymora hide
the darkest matter

Open your ears
Listen to the sky
on a still night you might hear
The whole note
droning silver
that sits
on a hidden ledger line.

A is for Alpha
B is for Barbie
C is for Couple
D is for Destiny
E is for Engagement
F is for Fancy
G is for Gullible
H is for Happy
I is for Illusion
J is for Jealous
K is for Kingdom
L is for Lonely
M is for Mistress
N is for Nagging
O is for Often
P is for Pregnant
Q is for Question
R is for Rejecting
S is for Suicide
T is for Traumatize
U is for Understand
V is for Vaguely
W is for Whisky
X is for Xanax
Y is for Yesterday
Z is for Zombie.

Open conspiracies are born in black light
as a big bang passes a tiny toot

Beyond color-prison shackles
freedom glows a fitter hue
as unreal and exact as foreseen

Baby Buddha in smoothed-out wrinkles
redisappears
backwards
into a moment gravity holds dear
pieces of universe stuck in its throat
giggling to negotiate
the terms of its final rebirth:

The magnetic pole to every needle,
in exchange for time to squeeze out of life
the conditions for running counter-clockwise…

Reality is a plot to overthrow itself.

Dance with me
in a language free
of ‘Love’, of ‘Truth’

True Love begins to die
the moment
it’s called by a name.

Main witness
to human’s madness
of fish in schools
and fowl murderers

I lift my gaze into the sky
Golden God
to shed some light…

…Stabs me repeatedly in the eyeball.

Gaping voids attached
at velvet hems reveal
An oscillating, silky shrine
of serpentine appeal

A sacellum of spit
where crimson vipers preach
A sermon dispossessed of words
on biting without teeth

Two lithe reptilian wrestlers
in acrobatic trance
To recompose the primal theme
from the procreating dance

They sway in mirrored unison
as heaven’s gates converge
They twist in tongues of tactile prose
and gustatory tones emerge

In this bacchanal of senses
where feelings taste of spoken sights
The serpents molt beyond their essence
onto a plane of new delights

There they share a sounding vision
muscles blink in harmony
Hissing iridescent rhythms
At last, the panting cyclopes

Reach the Art

of seeing eye to whispering eye
through the instrument of speech.

You **** Sapiens; us neanderthals
exist together
in separate contexts:

You
Move mountains of meaning with the swipe of an opposable thumb,
Fill your coffers with shiny, expendable treasure.

we
gather bundles of metaphor to keep warm
hunt ferocious words to survive

I saw
me, you
in a dream colored blue
making the acquaintance of a metaphor:
meta you, meta me
out of the blue, met a dream.

Senses endlessly riddled:
the nanosecond-data-bullets
**** through too fast to be absorbed
by roots of thought
for eye of truth
to photosynthesize,
Like the flowerpot forgotten
wilting on a windowsill
outer leaves beneath the sky
fiercely lashed by heavy rain
soil dry as a desert:
Aghast, it feels itself
slowly dying of thirst in the downpour.

mounds of flesh
bouncing vigorously
off the eyeball
Crush
emoting cells
on impact

Dame Nature

If only you had a spirit form
we could ******* to

Through the lens of your naked mind
a universe is photographed;
The photo retains its lucid life
when mine is the eye looking

Within the reflecting walls
of our multiverse gallery
a picture is worth a thousand worlds.

The way to unknow
to the nth degree
in retrograde infinity
is currently: unknown.

If life is a giant casino
and this reality one of its many games
Suicide is the gambler's trump card

But what a waste
to use your only trump card
when other cards can still be played.

I don't truly understand
half the poems that I write
and the remaining other half
I don't think I truly like.

"Had it only been me
I wouldn't dare voice the issue.
Now that you started crying
Would you please pass a tissue?"

Losing one glove
is certainly painful,
but nothing
compared to the pain,
of losing one,
throwing away the other,
and finding
the first one again.

Spirit awakens
rises slowly
from the depths
riding the steam
Colombian roast
dancing
to Malian rhythms
caught in the air
I breathe in
the tenth-floor Westpark view
on the northern coast
of a southern isle

Time, she is a ticking oyster
and This
dazzling, lazy morning:
her mother-of-pearl.

1/ Swallow a ripened evening whole.
2/ Regurgitate the metaphor bit.
3/ Masticate on the ensuing puzzle.
4/ Spit out the sparkling bottomless-pit.
5/ Savor the nutrient-loaded symbols.
6/ Plant the jewel in fertile wit.

Despite what the priests
of philosophy say
it is possible
to hold communion with the answers
without having
to excommunicate the Questions.

"Nice to meet you."
"You too."
"So, what do you do for the living?"
"You mean...what I do for a living?"
"No."
"Oh."

"Fuuuuuck!" groaned the Tortoise.
"****!" spat the Hare.

"Son of a *****!" barked the Fox.
"**** on a rooster!" cawed the Crow.

"***** of a bison!" growled the Wolf.
"***** of a llama!" brayed the ***.

"**** on a termite!" squealed the Ant.
"**** of a cricket!" grated the Grasshopper.

"THE HUMANS KNOW OUR STORIES!!"
cried the animals in unison despair.

"Yeeeees," hoot'd the Owl
with an evil-wicked grin,
"but only the ones with a moral."

Just one thing
or
Everything?

If the universe paused in affection
at every blissful death
for every restless life
It would drown inside a teardrop
implode around a frown

no

when She dies
blissfully, from a restless life
and ripples of time are held suspended
along the contours of her smile
It will simply be the universe pausing

for effect.

Sometimes
When you carry the figurative
weight of the world
on metaphorical shoulders
By some semantic glitch
Your all-too-real lower back
takes a hit.

All it takes is a sharp word
pressed softly
against the semantic membrane,

And suddenly

Paradox-consuming entity
incapable of digesting paradoxes.

In order to become
the next Big Thing
one must first
Give up being a person,
devolve into a thing.

kissed by Spring at the gentle break of dawn
suffocated by Summer in the languid afternoon
seduced by Autumn under the starry evening sky
stung by Winter in the frozen-dark night

Three hundred and sixty-five times I've thought of you today.

Ideas Big; ideas small
Thirsty leeches that infest
the juicy questions in us all

Extracting them from grey matter
is mostly just a matter
of colorful wording.

Dingy motel-room-planet
Smartphone cameramen, women,
Children
united in a circle ****:
Lead actress in the center, drowning
in fossil-fuel *******.

Mother (Nature) I'd Like to ****.