With a hop, skip, and a bop
Over the puddles, under the monkey bars
Tam swung for a swing set
And landed to kick ****

With a slip, slide, and a bump
Down landed Timmy, landed quite far
When he turned his head, you'd bet
Timmy was in a slump

How high the sky flies when it is filled with winter rain clouds,
I feel like I'm inside an egg.

For some reason this runs my imagination,
to be inside a white shell, elation.

Stranger still is when this shell cracks open,
I can see the black sky behind.

In conclusion it's not only egg I love,
But also the egg's occlusion.

Funny thing it is to say,
I love cracking eggshells open.

Look out your window
Onto the valley below,
How the sun capped peaks
Around you glow,
With no reservation
Does the sun's favor show,

What can I do when it rains?
Gather it into a box of rain?
The sun's shadow transpires to arch from the clouds, faintly, the raindrops themselves
Yikes! Let it flow, let it flow
As if a river were churning,
Note: the earth that turns streams

You can do anything,
My love,
Who ought to yearn for the heavens,
Throw away illusory shackles
Throw away your box of rain,
I love you so and it hurts to burn
In the fellowly outlines of your pain,

Your box of rain, it splinters outward
Like a rock in a pond, negative space had
Throw away the pain! It's not yours
And turn to face new rain
Hour by hour, yours
And with each drop you will grow.

Runs my brush against caves' walls
the rocks form a rhythmic pattern

click, thump
thump, then click
click thump

Tells stories of a future's past
and so on, through backwards
Do alternate veins weave through these walls?
I think, only in other caves

A fox lying languidly on a Persian rug
and a rabbit sits nearby
"Tell me a story," the rabbit asks
and out of his love, he does.

Two men lie across
a planet, and they
are curious.
What lies down?
Convinced of curiosity,
they dig through the
planet's core, only to
find themselves!

Rabbit squees,
jumps onto the fox as they
play through the night.
Thinly veiled truths excite
life hungry creatures.
They feed upon one another's company to celebrate.

Stop trying to throw a wrench in the machinery
You're just as much a cog, dawg
Love ya, sand

I assure you, lover
The fabric of this universe ripples with pain
And like a flailing fetal flea, you drew up the rain
Retention of water, a pool you retain

Words have no daggers, and all of mine missed your head
Offer no nepenthe, lest you miss the bread
I'd offer you unity, but you heard that discourse
Love with mad force, or love not (at) all

Even though you are reading this in English
We really speak in different tongues,
Evidenced by difficulty in reading my words
Sitting next to the ease with which you write
Your own.

While a few close say that all is one
That's a good point, but kind of for fun,
There's a reason why we're separated by infinity
That-which-does-not-exist, fallen from the sun.

Any words you read: like strands of a double helix
Mirror is a good word, still too perfect
So pull my heart out, spit in your hands and rub it
It takes plasma to ignite a star.

At this point the poem has ended,
We all come and go alone.

Witness them as tides
Still some last forever, find
Time with no empire

She settles down now
And thinks,
"Let's face it, our mugs are pretty big,"
As she takes a sip of her coffee

The bird songs that circulate the street below
Are as impermanent as the flowers
On her window sill

Just by a numbers game, fast
These cries easily outlast empires
And she smiles to herself
As she puts on her coat to leave for work

A while back I thought of us as flies trapped in sap
Some of us struggling towards the top for a breath
A stray wind freeing some of us finally

I'll probably always be impressed in sap
Honest to god, romantic love brings me back
Down to the bottom where it's dark

I don't mind all that much
Especially hearing the fluxuations in her voice
Why does it **** me? Also: why do I hear?

Everything fades fast as if covered in red velvet
I know the color will bleed soon
But drat, I always forget how pleasant that feels

:-(

Read, sailors, read
Try your best to make blinking your only sleep
Time is so tightly wound that
All the blinking, crying birds could not fathom

You have been given a mighty, starstung ship
With sails so wide they could cover your reality
Use these sheets not to sleep, but
Fly them like monster kites

Rest, doves, rest
The fear that you feel at the bottom of your breast
Will be spat out like a pacifier
In time
On time, you'll glide into familiar arms

No farms could reach you there
You're no chicken, no better but
Your claws no longer scratch earth's flesh
Your hands have no need for dust

Peace, hawks, peace
All your empty handed armies have no hands
Softly stroking your mud won't do
It has taken its own shape
Of some concern to your mould

Speaking of which, moss grows soft
It has its own place but
Beds are for sleepers
You, friend, are a weeper

Time, patience, time
There is so much time you should not rush
Rather, be pushed by the hush
Come home to your family
A weary, winded traveler

Pull up a windmill
Grind up piecemeal
Some flesh cracks
and crystals don't relax

Stand with your legs shoulders apart, traveller
Accept what I tell you nakedly,
Christianity is a giant horse
Its muscles bursting with blood,

But like many other to pasture,
Beasts behave brokenly,
Is it then a healthy force
To wish upon them a flood?

Traveller,
Traveller,
If you say it must be done,
I'll lay it all out on the table

Practice your long division

All people in old age seem to go mad
The brightest eyes also lost into darkness
The coldest rent to pay: our revelations
So take all chances to shake your soul
Because you'll be sent packing soon

I believe in freedom of speech, action, and copyright
But... wait a second...

A couple eastern settlers sat conversing.
"We have settled the Chams, the Aboriginies, and the Cherokee!"
And everyone nodded in agreement!
"We messed up. Pretty good," in reply.
And each man turned to their left to see who had spoken, only to see the backs of their own heads.

Alarmed by neck hairs, they began to chase one another, a race in a circle increasing in speed.
You see, they were beating themselves continuously, first with bayonets then with world trade!
Unfortunately, none of them made it home. All that running had starved them of water, and they got so thirsty they drank up all the alcohol.

You can't find the door if you're drunk, Socrates didn't write. Instead, he sat in helpless mild pleasure at the center; his head parroting around like an owl's.

I would laugh, Socrates didn't write, if only things ever ended.

Seeks silently the slithering sheik
Blubbering boldly at Benedict babies
Oiling only bones of old
Drying slowly dilated sloans

What senses arise from beyond the fold?
On the otherside of incidence
What cold wind blows?
Only, I know if only I knew
Otherwise, widely I would pour out through you

A glassblown apple
Built with my own breath,
Absolutely clear
With refraction betraying structure,

But a hell of a hassle
To carry to death,
It shatters more readily
Than amnions rupture,

So,

I am forced to conclude
That mine is missing the years
That dotted the mighty fruit
That I liken to constellations,

But unless I am *****
My teeth and fibers make tears
So to preserve the jute
I stare at red contemplation.

My thoughts return to burning frozen logs in the darkness by myself. It brings me a lot of pleasure to burn frozen wood, to see the cold water bubble out of the tightly dead fibers. Purity in destruction. Rebirth in combustion.

It reminds me of something I'd like everyone to know: I've seen the most haunted looking tree give golden leaves in fall. I like to think that even though it lead a dead, scared life, time has spun its rare sugars into ichor all the same.

That is why we must bleed. It defines us, makes us gnarled and twisted and ugly. But when the wheel rolls all the way, it pulls out the golden flax that we were spinning all along.

The murderers who loved the most, the thieves who stole in furious tears unbeknownst to themselves, they too bear golden leaves. I hope you see that too.

World's a big place. Not enough words to build a paper mâché of it. Live it for yourself. Most of all, love.

Goodnight.

Is gold
All you poets slay me
Please take my hand in chaotic marriage
I am happier to love than I was before

Thanks, fellow Doritos babies
And anyone who came before
Also thanks to those that are youngest
Who I wish had more courage to write more

Some prayers can be heard but not spoken
Same goes for answers, too
All that's left then, is when will is broken
Where I can finally wait for morning dew

Towards the sky there are no fences facing
Thanks Bob, great job
I'll keep that in my head for a while

Wait for me, though as I attempt to bash in this ceiling with my thick skull.

What a mixture of life
from the eastern wall
all the way down
to the western shore
where the sailing boats
lie to depart shortly
into the vast seas beyond.

Hear the children scream
as their lives are burnt
in short by the master
wickerman who stands along
the wall.

The fire comes down into
their dreams at night where
they rest oblivious to their
ominous watchman.

And what is the wall
ask the tower guards
who can look down upon
the land and see it all

It is only a mountain
that has stood there since
before you remember;
only some see these structures
melt into the sea.

How far is the eastern
wall from the western shore?
Ask carefully, few men
have traveled the land
on foot

How many lives does this
world cradle?
Seek slowly, as only the
mothers who have held the
hands of many babies
know how fragile
all is.

If given the chance,
throw your self into
the ocean to rejoin
the endless blend of seasons

Otherwise, climb down
the eastern side of the
eastern wall into the
mute land where the
wind does not blow
and where the stars'
screaming is your only
company.

But if you gaze upon
all places and see that
you have nothing to say,
sit down upon the bay of life and
become the thunder
you once sought.

Felt like the steel tipped edges of a fake sword,
A young lover's sting, inclined to make one sob
And feel sorry

But no, not a word
Spoken 'gainst the face of the snob
Never a parry
Nor a word against sherry