This is far from a
car S-p-a--C-y
Oh! My? Crossover traveler
The Phyton
Top of the rank
collision-course
New job space
planning tech magic cursor

Magical Podcast*

Do we have space
Sci-Fi-Hi Meeting
Googling creating playing
Cheating Overexaggerating
And faking our
(dead)lines

Not meeting our deadlines
What is the right time?
Spacewalking on the yellow brick
the road you are my sunshine*
"Million light years away from being rich"?

     Lucy in the Sky
       LSD-Little space devil
No/space for Jack the shinning
of diamonds, this isn't Oz
Emerald City or spin-off

Climb the ladder space objects clutter
Posh-Rich Witch is which
The last epidemic standup comic

Crawling having a ball Spalding

That Spiderwomen kvetch
Wolftie face switched
Fox lies moms moon pies
The collision of the moon
Space monkey baboon
The equation or burning
Sun people in devastation

Magic God

What time holds the
Mass control Einstein the professor
The brain exploding stars
Study hall those equations

In Princeton New Jersey
Those tiny particles lost in space
This corporation division
* Space Between_

*Hard paper scissors and
Mr. Rock
It's time to money pound
The Big Ben clock
"Do we act like the only
one on this planet"                  
The Singularity
The multiplicity
The burning sun*
War of the Military
Hot fun "Twin City"
Medieval twin planets

She's brace-space and he's
Well known physic
energy flowing one
step beyond collision of '
     Two Gods"

Magic space-lotus love of "Venus_ Pond

The Mall of America Star Spangle Banner
Next International flight became a winner

Plants and animals
The primal magic
Catching the
planets there both
emerging
The submerging eye
Space-out engaging

The civilization nightmare
On the cusp right here
Martian stripe and stars
Wipeout species of mars
Gravitatious collide of lovers
Confused about earthlings
More siblings another planet colliding

Like a space odyssey ground control to
      "Major Tom"
Fe fi fun on space run
Our Earth Mondadori
Spicy pleasure taste for
Chicken Tandoori
Magical dish
Make a wish

Magic hands believing

Metagalactic space and time
Holy God realistic
Osprey someone is the prey
In the movie magical classic
Breakfast at Tiffanys
Holiday mind dressed up window
"Out of our comfort zone
eating to the end twilight zone widow"

The extra enchanted evening
For the Moms only
Our heads over space
heels hit the ceiling

Eggs Benedict, the salt wasn't kosher
Artsy Audrey Hepburn don't push her

Celestial Ocean Space Steven Universe
The Christmas madness sale
Poison Ivy Pointsetta what
a vendetta
Interstellar meeting her
new race feeling out of place
Adulation like a prosecution
Space collide anytime
can explode

Two worlds become tragic
Space station not a game
A haunting catastrophic
Collision Titanic ship

Magically got more modified
Needing a space program the
spy to identify  

Dragonfly to Madame Butterfly
Space of magic crime-space
All spots, not Dalmatian
Space wings set up for Superman
Magic fan rising adrenaline
Monster cookies for Madeline

Fire and Ice Global warming
wildfires now the collision
On another planet warning
Miracle blessing of magic
Someone before or after
just to touch them

We cannot stop this craziness
The outburst goes pop the weasel

Magic place portal
Something in the way
to crumble like a baby
firstborn rocking her cradle

The curiosity space philosophy
Like breed of cats,
Licking tongue envelope
The cats eye Egyptian
Terrified space milk the tabby
Meeting my space hubby

Microscopic became two dots .-.
Space became a new buried plot
Is this all I got Twitter
Home run ball and
New York Dodgers
Brooklyn bat *******

So compelled to the computer
Designed the Rover robot lover
Magical Elton John
wedding
space planner
Across the Universe
John Lennon
Bennie and the Jets
Like a science
Teacher's pets

Eyes spaced out the magic place within**
So sacred magic hat Rabbit
Mountain bear Airspace Hobbit
Roll over Beethoven
The dog bone playing space I tunes

The spaceship magic
fingers piano
Plays one enchanted evening
Let me see the beautiful
new awakening
When Robin sings
Her magical wand
Lights up the world
of hands magical awaits

Remember "A Poem" can be magic

Waiting for that paper, a light
A cursor that keeps blinking for the next word
Even when the screen arranges to sleep in daylight
Fingers begin to itch and start being febrile.

An email, such a pity,
is more accessible than
a post box.
All the handwriting fonts that I did try, couldn’t,
Just possibly couldn’t mirror the impeccable tries
To struggle to be parallel to the top
Or bottom of a page.

The improbability of what the next thought would be
The prediction  of where the addressee would smile
Or frown, or pick up eyes to stare at the wall for a while,
To embrace what had just been conveyed.

Letters are like light, they reach us later
From when they were born, but the spaces
they illuminate or burn on their arrival!
I wonder if our pupils shrink.

They more than just tag along, they tap in,
They’re the result of cleaning the ink from
the nib, a thousand times, over thousands
of sentences, or maybe just a few, but they do.

And don’t dare ask the pen for proof!
It’ll track down wrinkled pages
Who had their thirst quenched by
The swipes of fountain pens’ fountainheads,
And pictures of the fingers
Bathed in red, and black, and blue,
And occasionally of table clothes
Spilled over by the consequence of imperfect handles.

Imagine if light came as soon as it was made,
It would be difficult for our eyes to handle such bait
Sometimes, a pause is necessary,
Imagine a world without commas!

I’d like to peek into the writer’s letters,
Not to read, but to sense the shapes of emotions
And stretches of As and Ns, or the reach of commas
On the next line, and then, close my eyes
And shove my nose in it, to sniff hard
The paper and the blue smells,
And die doing so if it was eventual.

You are my unsent message.
The cursor blinking rhythmically,
With my heartbeat,
Waiting,
For me to hit send.
But I am not ready,
And I’m not sure if I ever will be
So I left it like that.
Unsent. Unseen. Unread.
“I miss you.”

The cursor curses the wait

thru the blinks it sniffs
something is amiss

it can't though surmise the cause
of the pause
but guesses the abyss

elusive shapes and shadows
a void that grows
the lost surge

the jumble in the head
the missing thread
the moribund urge.

There's so much to right
and nothing to write.

I commit to poems the second that I begin writing them,
And here I am committing to this one,
My cursor on the screen
Tap tap tapping like tap-roots across it’s blue-glowing surface.
With every push of every button,
I begin seeing the blue light
As more than it is. I begin seeing it as a poem.
The blue light that illuminated the Never Sink sinkhole
Was not from a screen.
Nor was it from glowworms.
As I write on this screen though, there is that same blue light
With me still. It is
Streaming from the walls of the cavern,
Still massaging the bags of tiredness
That hang beneath my eyelids to remind me
Of where I just was, having *** with my ex-girlfriend,
And of all the places that I was before that: to remind me
Of the blue lights in Never Sink,
The sinkhole that is 120 feet wide and 170 feet deep that I
Climbed out of on a rope and in the dark,
Which was anything but dark—an unlocked lock
Sat in my driveway after I got home

From having *** with my ex-girlfriend tonight,
And there, in that lock, was a comparison to or an analogy for or a metaphor of
My climb out of Never Sink: gradual ascension
And then a moment
Of absolute awe and profundity so unlike any other profundity
That the clarity I felt absolutely throughout my body tonight
Can only really be brought into my mind with full force
Through a comparison and analogy and metaphor
To, for, and of the blue lights
That that temple provided us. Looking into that lock’s
Reflective gleam, I discovered that I felt
The way I’d felt ever since climbing out of Never Sink, which was exactly
How I’d spent the past year or so wanting to feel.

“Bring me,” I said to Duane, who went with me to Never Sink,
“To the hole in the ground
Where the blue light glows; where the glow-worms lightly blaze” and Duane
Said “okay” and he brought me there without
My ever having to say those words. And then,
In the moments after the sun went down we discovered
That the glowworms were not glowworms but
Armillaria mellea, a bioluminescent fungus.
Not glowworms but Armillaria mellea,
Which rose through and across the cave walls, coating the rock
With its skin. The whole pit was covered in that skin—the skin
Of that single individual.
As I methodically climbed out of the sinkhole on my rope, I felt that
Fungus (that individual) extending
Its black shoelace looking taproots into my lungs too,
And into my skin,
Where I was but where
I wasn’t quite yet. Where I was but
Where I couldn’t yet describe to myself without the use of glowworms—
Without the use of made-up and childish sounding words
Like Depropheria, which I wrote a book about but which
I never really understood, and I, the whole concept of which is flawed,
Feel like I could be the plant on Joe’s counter,
Which he said I already am.
Because if my “I” was in all of its molecules and its “I” was in all of my molecules
Then we would both just be exactly what we already were, Joe said, and so
By the very logic I extended in posing the question
I was and am the plant.

I could be Armillaria mellea too
But what am I if I think that I am glowworms? but really
The glowworms are fungus, and while I ****** my ex-girlfriend tonight, falling
Further into the space away from her, I was also
Scraping away at the walls of Never Sink
To see the tiny little hairs that revealed to Duane and I what really was there,
The Armillaria mellea, of course, but how could something so different
(“**** me, Daniel,” she said, “I feel you inside of me, I want you.”
“**** me,” I said
“”
“I feel myself inside of you, I”)
Be the thing that I am? I would never

Stop the car because I saw something shining on my driveway.
And I would never
Open the car door
And step out into the night with the engine running.
Step out into the night to find an
Unlocked lock
Lying there on the pavement while the song that I tried to live all year
Called In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel blasts loudly
From my Buick’s speakers. Step out into the night
With that song blaring through my open car door, surely waking
My soon to be empty-nested mother from her sleep behind
That second story window
Right up ahead.

I did those things though—I
Stopped the car because I saw something shining on my driveway, and I
Did those things.
I am glow-worms.
I am, and so
I am the plant on Joe’s counter, and so
I can be a glow-worm.
I can be what I already am without knowing or comprehending that I am it.
I can be the whole universe.
I am the whole universe.
I saw over one hundred salamanders at the bottom of Never Sink.
And I saw four different species of salamanders at the bottom of Never Sink.
And I saw six different species of frogs, and I saw
Three brown rat snakes, which thankfully were not copperheads, but which
Could have been glowworms that were copperheads,
I guess. If you ask Joe, anyway. I’m not sure
I believe it fully
Even though when you strip away sentimental definitions of “I”
It’s pretty **** convincing. He was convincing.

I danced around Joe’s counter (where the plant sat, even then)
In September. At the time,
The counter was quickly becoming Alex’s counter,
Because I was becoming close friends with Alex,
And because Alex was Joe’s little sister, and because
Joe had left for the college he’d drop out of,
And during his hiatus from what he’d wanted to run from
It was just
Alex’s counter. It is Joe’s counter again now,
Because Alex has a dumb boyfriend who she likes to kiss
And doesn’t really like to ****
But who she does **** anyway and as a result
Doesn’t really like spending much time not ******* me anymore.
Anyway, I danced

Around Joe’s counter in September, when it was becoming Alex’s counter,
And I sank songs like In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel
With all my new friends. I thought that I
Was living those songs
Because, if my “I” was in the molecules that vibrated when the song played,
And the “I” of those molecules was in me
Then I would be those songs and those songs would be me.
Being the songs wasn’t the same as living the songs, though.
Rising out of Never Sink I saw myself
Reflected in the blue dots of light that Armillaria mellea created.
I saw that I hadn’t been living everything
That I was; I saw that I was the blue dots then, but I also saw
That I didn’t know that the blue dots weren’t glowworms.

When I was dancing
Around Joe’s counter, I didn’t yet know the words
To In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel.
But all my new friends were singing those words, and so I
Screamed out barely-syllabic nonsense
With a smile on my face,
Speaking like a baby who recognizes the existence of language
But can’t yet put it into use.

Rising out of Never Sink
The whole cave opened up, as more and more levels of the sinkhole
Were revealed to be stars and galaxies
Of blue fungus to climb through.
Rising out of Never Sink, I held in my hand
The unlocked lock which I would use later
To weight my pocket as I would sit with these bags of tiredness hanging
Writing this poem late at night on the screen illuminated
By the blue lights of Never Sink. To weight my pocket
As I would sit writing this poem, with
***** excreted thirty minutes prior still resting on my ****
Like the name I haven’t yet learned to call her—
Caterina, Caterina, why did she change it? Maria
Was so pretty, why did she change her name, it was
To get away from me, it was to get away from me like
I wanted to get away from her, it was to get away from me it was
Because she always hated the name Maria. And
To grow more confident in herself
She needed to become
Caterina. She needed to rebrand herself like she worked on rebranding
That company’s logo for her senior thesis project in high school
When I first fell in love with her because
Glowworms lit up Never Sink at night.

They were glowworms in Never Sink
Because the glowworms are fungus
And I am the glowworms.

If you ask Joe.

I want to take some time now to describe
Rising out of Never Sink
Without giving any time
To the lock I found in my drive-way this evening, or
To Joe’s counter-top and how I danced around it knowing
That it wasn’t his but that it was him,
Or to the remnants of Maria, Caterina, and I which are all I, and which
Stick to my ***** still. Never Sink is a sinkhole
That is 170 feet deep
And 120 feet wide at its top.

I went spelunking in Alamaba, Georgia, and/or Tennesse last week
Where I never knew which state or time zone I was in,
And where an annoying but charming guy named Glenn
Led me and my best friend through epic places of infinite beauty.
One of those places was Never Sink,
Which is a sinkhole that is
170 feet deep and
120 feet wide at its top. We repelled into Never Sink
Because Glenn wanted to show us the glowworms
(Which were fungus that were glowworms that were
**** it) and because my friend Duane, who is my best friend, who is
A 39 year-old factory worker who worries that he is much older than he is,
Wanted to see the glowworms too.
We found over a hundred salamanders in Never Sink
And Duane and I discovered that it wasn’t glowworms
That illuminated the pit, but Armillaria mellea, which is a fungus, and
It was very cool.
But ascending through Never Sink was more than very cool,
And it was much more than fungus,
Just as the fungus which I took into my body in August (which it
Almost is again now) after the summer music festival was more
Than just fungus. That fungus was more than just fungus because
I took it into my body right after breaking up with Maria-Caterina (who
I can’t not talk about) For Good (which was
The name of a song they sang
At Maria-Caterina’s high school graduation a year ago, after which
We made love (which was what we called it
Because we were cliché and in love
(Which is what we made.)))

It was a spiritual journey through the cosmos,
In Never Sink,
Or at least that’s how it felt,
And when I climbed out of Never Sink’s mouth, I hugged Duane
And he hugged me and we
Thought that it was beautiful.

I am the plant in Joe’s kitchen.
I am glowworms.

Blinking at me.
Demanding something of me,
Something I cannot give it.

The cursor demands meaning and direction,
It demands thoughts and ideas to put to words.
Those I don't have.

All I have is this cursor.

Blink
Blink
*Blink

well, mind you the curvature of the spine,
furry all round,
now glacier smooth with forehead
as naked as a baboon *** -
i'll keep you minding that image -
now, enlighten me,
why are we sending super-expensive
equipment to the celestial sahara
that's mars?
                       why are we gravitating
our inquiry there?
once philosophy was born from awe per se,
now it's born from mindlessness -
and i know it's harsh -
but given the scales, and timing,
i succumb to the physics' time-scale
rather than biology's -
before earth was to be inhabited,
before it was habitable -
the earth was smaller and hotter,
hence the volcanic volatility -
indeed there was life on Mars,
but that life migrated -
it had a different ecosystem -
less obstructive and more inclusive -
when the sun was a higher tier cauldron -
when earth was inhabitable -
when the sun was warmer -
              an earth inhabitable,
life thrived on Mars, once -
but then life on Mars begot migration;
i esteem earth as Australia with all
the convicts dumped on the forgotten
bridges of tectonic continents -
i've been here before, but not in a gorilla suit
readied for a party -
standing outside all of space & time
includes a necessary evil of abstracting either -
and by abstracting creating a different
non-collective narrative -
and so it was:
when the lifespan of the sun at the genesis
point was at its richest,
it soon passed to be excluding,
hence the nadir, the exodus of the sun's lifespan,
when earth became habitable - and was -
prior to the asteroid belt of the celestial
umbilical chord of safety -
still earth resembles the colony that australia
became administering the empire's convicts
among the Aboriginals -
but why probe a dead planet when you
have a dying star to mind?
of course the third planet in question is
Mercury, since Venus is as gaseous
as Jupiter and Saturn -
the world where the red dwarf will become
a spectacular insomnia of the girth,
the equator - but why probe a dead planet?
it's inhabitants never had the same
ecosystem akin to ours - why probe it?
all this work for a ******* ice cube?!
you have to be ******* me!
time-scales, remember, i'm as absurd mentioning
this as society is measuring the Olympic
100 metre sprint akin to formula 1 decimals of
care... i don't care... one finished 1st, the
other 2nd... all it takes is the dipping of
the *** in the sand to begin measuring
the long jump rather than the extended feet mark...
of course there was life on Mars, there was life
on Mars... but the dynamic of the sun changed,
it cooled down... so the next profitable planet
could express itself in evolution
from volcanic eczema... there was once life on Mars,
but there's no longer a case to argue for proof....
globalisation gave us unity among once
warring ethnicities... but that will hardly
accumulate in a trans-global orientation...
i've spotted a u.f.o. once, by god i did...
it was fluorescent like a bug phosphorescent
in the dark with a disco ball *** to shine...
listen... this time-scale is long enough to craft
a future history according to what the Martians
did - and this is my idea of god...
happy? no. sad? no. anything at all? mm...
now we're talking - earth was once
non-habitable, too hot, hence the cold  blooded
lizards akin to birch trees, the scouts of forestry -
then the mammals all confused turning
against each other when the predatory aesthetics
were forgotten at kin and Gemini to lions -
life was once apparent on Mars, but Mars is
a dead planet, i wish it was an antique shop
that the n.a.s.a. hopeful geniuses wish it was...
but it's not... just imagine that train of thought
surrounding the sun like you do with the march
of progress... but with the sun imagine
a rotation of progress...
              hey! i wouldn't be looking for
liquid nitrogen bacteria mummified on Mars...
i'd be wondering how the circle
evolved from O, to 0, to ∞ (8)
given the squish - the opposite of two black holes
colliding; honestly, you can find more meaning
in things while you take the big to be small;
i know i'm not famous among nouns -
i can hardly equal the fame of casual noun usage,
no one can, and i know that the fame i sought
is actually an anonymity in verbs (actions),
i forever the shadow - mind yourself to be content
with such a fate as i have found myself content in
progressing to expressing such a chequered flag -
chequered flag, the irony, the invitation of the many
participants for a game that takes two -
the irony of the chequered flag as the death of chess -
anyway - Mars was once a home to those who
came prior, prior to when earth was not habitable -
bypass Venus and you enter the history of Mercury,
the last rock to be minded -
and no one will prove me wrong, to have lived that
long... it is, i must add, rather dangerous
to posit yourself outside all space and all time -
it's dangerous, there's no saturday night awaiting you,
there's no casual talk over a coffee for mortal
problems taking fold and shape...
once you breach the barriers of sane conclusions
that the river explains you will become a cursor
in the only dimension waiting for you -
a vibrating stasis, imagining geographies for
clearer conclusions of movement -
and since man's technological advances have provided
the entire mapping of the earth,
you will be cleanly placed to usurp any other
imaginings other than those prescribed to
the reduction of yourself as x
moving between             point A                and
                                       point B -
                    now try that without geography
and with knowledge, as the greeks famously answered,
             a coordinating cursor x between
point α                    and                                     ω.

This flashing prompt
Is mocking me
The villain
In my dreams
Waking me from
A restless sleep
Making me wonder
What beauty lies ahead
Or if this day
Is just a nightmare to be had

Teasing me
Tempting me
Out of my writers block
So much so
That I have to
Write about it

The little black line
Is toying with me
Making me
Type
Edit
Delete
Like a cycle
Spinning my mind
Washing my pages
Until the words
Are nothing but memory

Or committed to memory
Depending on how many times
I’ve typed them
Trying to get past this idea
And turn it into
Something of substance
This flashing prompt
Has chained me to the screen

I scratch the idea
And start again

This vertical line
Is taunting me
Asking me what
I have Left to say
Reminding me that
I’ve said it all before
Just in a different way
Assuring me
That the world will tire
Of hearing my story
And I can only
Type so much
In a day
Week
Month
Year

This Caret
Has crushed me
Like a soldier waging war
Before I can even get a word in
Winning the battle
Unable to reach my weapon
Attempting to defend my thought process
Staring deeply I remember
That I am hopeless

This flashing prompt owns me
Keeping me up until
All hours of the night
Beating me to the punch
Whenever something feels right
Placing seeds of doubt in my mind
Making me aware
that the well
Has run dry

The sideline view
Of a poet's life.
Topics free falling
In ranks of predictable verse.
Lacking vitality,
Inspirations disperse.

My thoughts wander.
Vibrating to the hum of
Flourescent lights above,
As the cursor blinks
In hypnotic rhythm.
Drawing me into
The pale blank screen
And beyond.

Falling once again
Into daydreams
Of her golden hair glowing
In Autumns waning light.
Hands merged in a gentle grip
Warming the evening chill
With a soft peck of our lips.

Longing in stillness,
Attending in silence,
The cursor, again, must wait
The many pensive stages
In a poet's futile task of
Placing verses on pages.