poetry comes and goes
opens and flows
spills into streams of prose
amidst the musical rows of my thoughts.

forms and rhythms
which melt and morph and sing into being
the abstractions of synaptic connections,
write into existence
the chemical signals of neurotransmitter gossip,
and transfer to the Symbolic
the electrical impulses of the Real

scratch and peel the caulk
from the edges of The Faucet,
turn and wind the wheeled handles open,
open, open.
Past lefty loosey and into
the outpouring of pent up pressure;
raw, and juicy.

Poetry is ***, death and magic.
The art of training the mind's faucets
elastic.

early morning
and the same sun rises over distant lands
and close-by skyscrapers
searing rusting infrastructure
with its harsh orange glow
spreading westward,
stretching over asphalt pathways
that connect, divide, structure, and destroy
alighting wearied faces of automobile drivers
careening through their morning commutes,
consuming caffeine like *******
while they deftly maneuver their 2,000 pounds of steel behind,
along, aside, and ahead of their neighbors
this,
is New Jersey,
where all roads lead to Newark
and there is nothing left but roads

approaching the colossus,
the cars cram and crawl into curb-side cases
narrowly avoiding calamitous collisions and condescending traffic cops
doors, fly open
and a mad flurry of arms and legs,
boxes and backpacks
come whirl-winding out onto the entryway
rushed goodbyes and abrupt adieus
color the palette of the doorway
dripping inside,
bleeding into the harshness of late businessmen
and screaming families.
Shoes Off.
Laptops Out.
and pray dearly that the TSA
doesn't shove their fingers inside of you
today.
arms up, legs spread
exposed to the imperceptible energy of American exceptionalism
the magnetic arm swings,
impregnating its subjects with the Joy of Fear
and the awe of empire
swings again,
and releases the hapless passenger from its total control
Through.
Checked.
Complete.
Pass Go, collect $200.
and into the international installation itself.
Enjoy your flight.

when you hear politics
you usually think
poli-tricks
as in
the man in the suit
who stands up on stage
speaking false words and
reaping false prais
or the election promises
to End the War, Save the Children, Create More Jobs
Pony's for Everyone.

or the media pundits
who bicker and argue and flaunt
their superiority, their cynicism
over the public nightly
in Prime Time and technicolor lighting
you think of the pyramids
of the gods and the masters
imploring and coercing and driving
us,
faster, faster

of all the wars and drilling just beyond your control
of a separation and distance
from the actions this very instance
which are taken in your name
and worst of all, for most of us
politics, is Out There.
beyond your domain
or beyond your care

but politics is more than
an anonymous ballot drop
in an anonymous ballet box
politics is in the way
you step out your door
and follow that yearning
for something More

politics is in the way
you treat the Other
be it your next door neighbor, the stranger on the street,
or your lifelong brother

politics isn't being politically correct
but it's about having a level of respect
deep enough to accept
that your Words,
shape your World

politics is in connecting the
Me to the We
so that together we might
Be
something more than the sum of our parts

politics is in the conversation you had with
the person behind the cardboard sign
and whether you let them remind
you that God Loves You
and I don't mean God Above
sending you love letters on the wings of a dove
but the God in you and in me
the God we can all feel and see
the God of perfect unity

politics is in the linking of our arms
because although
we may have retreated
the People, United
Will Never Be Defeated

politics isn't in ivory towers behind closed doors
or strictly for super-powers
politics isn't in the oval office
any more than a sarcophagus
because politics isn't a photo op,
kissing babies, or a meet and greet
politics is You and I, together
in the streets
and in the parks
before, during, and after dark

politics is reclamation and restoration
regrowth and renewal
it's in the invisible fibers
which bind and align us
in how we redesign Us
to encompass that which must
become part of our moral compass

because it seems to me
that hierarchy
is a bunch of malarkey
a system of oppression and exploitation
compounded over millenia
of violent suppression and spiritual stagnation
until, Today
where we stand divided
by color class creed
****** preference
and gender id
enframed and maimed by bureaucracy
each of us, alone
doubting our own efficacy
so I tell you,
stand up, and smash your TV

because you won't find revolution
inside of a box
or get it from attending
inflammatory talks
because revolution is more
than overthrowing capital or the state
revolution is in the relationships that we create
within the rotting shell of this system of hate
revolution is in discourse and public debate
in neighborhood assemblies
and Occupations of late
because power, true power
isn't where they told us
power is, and always will be
with us in the polis, the people, el pueblo, rejoice!
and as we begin to awaken,
to this most true realization
remember,
We,
Are Unstoppable
Another World is Possible

I know where i am
But I am not where i am

Instead, I am just outside
just above, just beyond
tugging at the edges of my vision,
my hearing,
I am There.

My eyes are hewn of rough stone,
lumbering back and forth, swiveling unevenly
in the sockets of my face.

I perceive, but I do not feel
other than momentary flashes and
fleeting shudders

where is it?
where is the surge
the approaching wall
the careening onslaught
the overriding and all encompassing ****

the absence frightens me;
and so I push and shove
and tense the muscles of my soul
Feel!
Something!
Now!

a hardened callous surrounds me
a numbing sensation permeates my being
accompanied by the dread,
the calm before the storm;
It is Coming.
Get ready.

I watch
as they crumble
some only for a moment,
a flash of the inner turmoil
a glimpse, a blink, and it's gone
others, like staring into an open wound
a gaping hole,
still throbbing, still pulsing
bleeding, slowly

I sit
head in hands
trapped in the cycle of disbelief
and fooling myself into relief
I feel the passive observer
unable to act, or speak, or move
just sit

I stare
the panels above my head
offer a temporary distraction
this time, it wasn't just a dream
yet it feels more like that
than ever before

the Reality
rolls under my door
and drifts through my window panes
like a noxious fog
curling in wisps along the blue tiled floor
defying thermodynamics,
cold rises, heat sinks
seeping into my pores
filling my lungs, running through my veins.
I Know.

yet I still imagine,
fantasize, dramatize
a cruel joke, a terrible mistake
a diagnosis totally amiss

the phone Rings
a tremor of relief begins to quake inside of me
soon to be dashed
by the words transmitted across that line

I run
outside into the morning sun
the greenery astounds and amazes
the thirst of the Earth,
quenched at last

as a child I always looked up to the sky
to the clouds
as the End, the finality
high above, unreachable, untouchable
and yet, here I am,
Earthbound, temporal,
running through the gentle misting drops
of a cloud

I remember a Time
when 4 am meant the night was just beginning
and a half pack of cigarettes meant I was almost out

when a green box with four wheels spelled
F-R-E-E-D-O-M
and those hours inside
were like eons

when the Right Song
at the Right Moment
would leave me quaking

that first Drop
out of my mind and into that pool
and how amazing those camel turkish jades looked
and felt
as the smoke curled in my lungs

when all I wanted,
was to EXPLODE
to burst from all the tension and frustration
the confusion
to lose myself in the midst

I remember the disgust
with It and with Me
burnt out on the great hypocrisies
of the life I'd been given
and all I could do was
Run
Flee
dream of faraway places

the weakness
the overly analytical sensibilities
that brought me to my knees
that led me to tear myself to shreds

and, of course,
always chasing Her
that timeless, ephemeral Her
who would wipe it all away

I remember the betrayal
the way I needed to scream and yell
to make them understand
so I screamed and I yelled
alone, cruising through empty lanes of highway
at night.

the birds
those damnable birds!
always so bright and cheery
as I would come tumbling down
from my fleeting bliss
always wanting to just
keep chasing that peak
that moment, that Feeling
the all encompassing Knowing that
You Are Here Now,
however elusive it may be.

the surging force of unbridled passion and immature love
which consistently left me a burnt out husk
wondering why I'd ever let myself
get so far into that Hole
keep digging, keep digging,
it's got to be down here somewhere.

the elation of extending your ******* to the world
for just a little bit longer,
just a few more songs,
just one more cigarette.
that's all we ever needed to Figure It Out,
whatever It was or may Be.

the realization that 11:00 is the best time of all
never too late, nor too early
more time to play, or to sleep
but we never really slept much at all.

most of all, the Thinking
and thinking
the running round and round in endless circles
here and there, glimpsing a Truth
a fact or flaw,
a philosophy or prophecy
too much, too much.
I shattered.

broke myself into pieces
for Her and for Them
and mostly, for Me

I remember how the drinks
might not have put it back together
but they'd **** well make me forget
that it was broken in the first place

and especially that Bed Rock I hit
where even moving seemed incomprehensible
where nothing made sense
and all the glittering pieces were laid bare

but
The Climb
The Climb!
not without it's trips and stumbles
not without it's regressions;
for every two steps forward,
take one step back.

an ascension, nonetheless
even now, from my vantage point
I can see that hard place
but I still can't see the peak

and I am glad to have crashed
to have broken myself on the crags and the ridges
to carry the gravel in my skin and in my bones

extra weight for my climb;
strength training for the mind.
and now I know I
in a way that can't be learned from simply skating by
eventually,
the ice will break.

Freedom
or Free Doom?
we're under the same sun
but live by a different moon;
"America, my America
why have you gone away?"
a common thing to say
in this strange and dark new day
"America, my America
where do you lie today?"
in the memories of those
who've come and passed away
"America, my America
why have you gone astray?"
because I only exist in stories
of those who Rule the day,
textbook tales recount great men
and quill pens
but ignore the larger story
of illiterate Farmer Ben
"America, my America
what have you got to say?"
only that I'm sorry
that my symbol striped and starry
has held far too much sway
what if our "democracy"
has always been a plutocracy
and the "genius" Founding Fathers
were just a new aristocracy
wouldn't that be
the most awful hypocrisy?
if the story of my birth
is just as much a lie
as the tale of creation
by an old man in the sky
then why, oh why
do they continue to cry
"America, my America
my country tis of thee"
when in fact I never was
the place they want to be
Americans, my Americans
why do you ask of me?
the things you've always done yourselves
in spite of powers that be
Americans, my Americans
arise, awake, remember
that they never gave you anything
that they willfully surrendered
Americans, my Americans
never forget your past
though the years may pass you by
like sand in an hourglass
Americans, my Americans
I am just a dream
that in your hearts and minds
you do choose to believe
Americans, my Americans
arise, awake, remember!
and Tomorrow we will forge
a World of peace and splendor