Knowing
There is no other place
One
Would rather
be.

There is a cold wind
blowing outside,
into the graying,
an apocalyptic sky

The lamps are lit
The night descends
it comes as it always does
My table is cluttered
with wadded paper
scribblings saying nothing

The hanging question you asked
remains
"What is your heart's desire?"

The light it flickers
Throwing shadows on the wall
So eerie at first,
So familiar after all

Fantasies
Phantasims
Hypnogogic imagery
A trance like state of mind

Many lifetimes pass
None of them mine

What is your heart's desire
It strangles the mind with possibilities
Waiting for the tell,
the tell that might never come.

You asked me
as we left the foggy meadow
"You who speak so highly of the little synchronicites,
But what is your heart's desire? "

I rise with the sun each day
My path laid out before me
I do this and that in order

Each night as the dark descends
The day's vivid light has vanished
I stare into this lamp light
and wonder
what is my heart's desire.

Sometimes
I feel the innocence of all of us
Filling me

Our lives
Our deaths

The moments of love
The moments of terror
indescribable
far too real

Nature has enough in store
How do we treat each other so cruel?

Within this humanity
is everything I feel
All of us really
children without protection

Maybe it's sentimental
morose
maudlin

People work so hard
Try so hard

Put out
Put on
Endure
Put up with

It's all we know how to do

Sometimes I stop
when the colors are vivid
the birds cease their call
a pause in the breeze
and I can hear the innocence
of all human beings
whispering
to
me.

We started a conversation
Many years ago
It never really ended
There was always
More to go.

It's in our conversation
It's in the eyes we both behold
Whole world's inside
Our conversation
They just continue to unfold.

Some may call it love
Some may call it
Talk talk talk
We started a conversation
And until it's ended
I have no where else to go.

Landscapes
may change
Friends and names
may come and go
Children
Ourselves
We all grow old.

Conversation
Our connection
Started many years ago
It never really ended
There is always
more to go.

The  mountains
have called us
The ocean too
It's on these walks
I talk with you

One more conversation
And maybe we'll be through
But first I know
I will be listening to you

We started a conversation
Many years ago
It never really ended
There is still always more to go.

In
the peace
we seek
True love
shall be revealed.

One thing
on my mind
Our midnight
kiss
Perfect bliss.

She's texting me from
old L.A.
Heading north on the El Camino Real
driving fast on 101

I'm heading west
from Paradise, Nevada
No work here
It's all shut down

Driving through
Susanville
Hat Creek
Shingletown
Redding
Across the burning Trinity Alps
the river sure is beautiful
My heart is soaring,
just missed that landslide
late last night

Meeting my life in Humboldt County

She, from the South
Me, from the East
We cross that
Redwood Curtain
Right into the heart of the Emerald Triangle

Meeting my true love in Humboldt County

They say the streets
are lined with
green gold

The family "grows,"
up in the hills
where everyone is welcome
to trim scene solutions,
the emerald gardens
with trees six feet high
Glistening buds as big as your fist,
Everyone is smiling
Everyone is high
sure I may reek
of that Marijuana resin
but two hundred dollars a day
flirting all the way
all I can eat
all I can ****
sounds a lot like heaven to me.

I'll be getting that 215
growing plants
as far as the eye can see
Another millennium
with back problems, insomnia and anxiety.
My fortune is just waiting for me.

Meeting my sweet love in Humboldt County

Like an old Woody Guthrie tune
you ain't gonna find nothing
without that dough re me

There ain't no doubt
that ****, so pure
will get you so high
you'll be wishing your still alive
No matter how high you get
There will still be reality.

Gotta get out of this indoor grow
Black mold growing up the walls
The floors are buckling
The ceiling too
The electrical is sparking
Another landlord on the hook
What's a boy to do?

The methamphetamine
The ****** machine
Trying not to blow my face off
with a butane tank
making that concentrated cannabis

Cold and wet
sleeping bag soaked on the beach,
A tent in the Devil's Playground
the  homeless encampment
behind the Bayshore Mall
that's what I met
and don't leave your ****,
It'll be gone in a quick minute.

The gardens are beautiful
good chance I'll never see 'em
The man with the ball cap
The big *** truck
holding a shot gun
"Better move on, son,
No trespassing here. "

I'm just
another dread locked kid
on the Arcata Plaza
with a dog I can't take care of

Down in Eureka
on concrete Broadway
Fourth Street
Fifth Street
Old Town
Where the fights break out
The cops they have no patience
Another Drunk in Public
drunk tank
Back on those same streets
at one a.m.

Get too crazy
5150 for an overnight stay,
second floor in County Mental Health,
walls closing in,
Psychiatrist says
"We ain't got nothing for ya,
good luck out there. "

Meeting my sweet love in Humboldt County

Once here
there is no way out
Panhandlers
Hitchhikers
on every corner
No one's giving out
No one's picking up

I'm gonna need my family
to send that Moneygram
Get me on a Greyhound Bus
haven't heard a word from them yet.

Even the police say
No one's gonna accept me,
So they ain't gonna pay.

I've been
Trying to leave a message
for my sweet love,
haven't seen her for a month,
She headed up to Trinidad
with a would be spiritual monk

The Redwoods spiral to the skies
The ranchers own the green
pastured hills
The beaches are vast and empty
The ocean is wilderness wild
waiting for the tsunami
turn your back on the ocean
you may fall in
many have fallen
few survive
on the most exquisite
blue sky day
you've ever seen.

Meeting my true love in Humboldt County.

You'll have to talk to the poet,
He's not around
Right now.

I don't write'em

I just edit'em
(I'm no good at spelling
Don't know much about grammar
Sonnets
or
Iambic pentameter,
his moods,
his states of mind
what it is he's trying to define
or
find.
Not sayin' that ignorance is a good thing )

I just post'em
and
let'em go.

The poet?
You'll have to talk to him
and he's not around
right now.

I don't know what I'm doing
I don't know what I'm feeling
I don't know where I'm going
I don't know who I'm being
I'm overwhelmed,
frustrated,
I can't cope

These are the slogans
I repeat to myself
Over and over again

Oh yeah

I'm a failure too
I've lived this life
What did I do?
What do I have to
show for it?

These facts about myself
are the one thing
I'm very positive about.

I repeat these slogans
day in and day out
always wondering
what I'm so
depressed about

I bury my head in these sands

Suffocating
Smothering
choking on anxiety
in my own
advertising slogans
on my private airwaves

To complicate
matters
worse
just because we think something
doesn't make it true
that goes for
self worth too.

But

Mindfulness
stands
watching the passing cars
from a freeway overpass
like our racing thoughts
not holding on
not making them go away,
in peace
simply
letting them
be.

Births and deaths
Debts and success
Floods and droughts
Cyclones and hurricanes
Earthquakes and tsunamis
Misery
Chaos and serenity

All in flux
Milling about
Constant movement
Constant din
Silence within
Raging against
the dry dry winds.

Another restless moment
in the universe
Stars are born
go cold and die
Galaxies collide
Black holes
hold
no return
Super Novas
bring silence
to light years
eons wide

Another restless day
on the planet
in this our
moment of time
in this our place
in the universe.

This world is a
walking place
surrounded by
a million faces
eyes that don't
recognize
your sighs,
hands that never
touch the shoulders
or the mind
That's the Glory of Love

Challenges everywhere
every failure and
success
spoken into darkened
hallways,
the music's playing
in another room
another house
another bed
That's the Glory of Love

When the body's in pain
the couch so hard
No position works
no encouraging words,
a purse or a nurse
they won't work
That's the Glory of Love

A tender touch
in a tender place
warmth and light
in this cold place
a moment of peace
when held so close,
a heartfelt giving
a heartfelt receiving
two hearts beating
singing
in perfect harmony
That's the Glory of Love.

It's
one more cast
one more line
one more level
one more time

I promise

One more time

No more parking lot walks
No more broke night talks
No more looking into mirrors
saying
"What the ****?"

No more
after burners
the price to pay
sixteen  eighteen
hours
years
later
every day


Still saying

One more time

I promise

One more  time

When Mr. Toad
returned, his
world was quite
absurd

Undone

Princely praises
words no longer heard

Musing karma,
Guidelines for the
downwardly
mobile

No lover
No meaning
No money

With the others
calling out into the night
calling for salvation
calling out for a princess,
a princess who never seems to come.

Walking miles
on a
desolate beach
never losing
my path back
to the highway
home,
inside
I know

My eyes
will once again find
the healing white light
the beacon
of
The 4 Trees
guiding me
to the long
highway
home.

Along the way
losing sight
of
them all

There is confusion
fear and trepidation
feeling like a child
waiting in front of a
movie theater
for their mother to come
watching cars
counting trees

And of where I am
And of where I am going
Somewhere along these dunes

Familiarity will
set back in
focus will find
the  4 Trees
quaking in the salty breeze

The ocean is rough
storms blowing on through
calling
beckoning
with each frozen wave
the end of all issues

Sometimes looking out
Sometimes looking in
writing in the sand
knowing the tide
is coming in
erasing all.

The  landscape always changing
Easy to become so lost
And tho
the landmarks will decompose
and fade

The 4 Trees
for today mark the way

Easy to miss
along the forest
Panic
a breath away

The phantom captain
the voice within
reassures
not lost
just misplaced
our spot on the map

The spirit guides
the dance
in a spot of the healing
light
the rustling sounds
of the 4 Trees
guiding me
back to the highway.

Perpetual generations
Perpetual retaliation

The walking wounded
Wounded walk

Inflicting wounds
Through words
And
Sparks

Break the cycle
When
You
Can

Healing glimpses
Nature's land
Sorrow filled
&
Sorrowful

Forgiveness
Not forgetting
A comforting
Daily blanket
For the
Wounded soul
Whose
Commitment
Is
To
No more
Wounds to go.

Our love has
become
wet wood
all sizzle without fire
smoke without heat
A cold day's house
without
warmth

Another round of paper
Quick flames and
sparks
Heading no where
except to
silent
dead
ashes

The one last sizzle
of
wet wood.

(Adult Content )

















"There was a smell of **** in the air "
So said Henry Miller.

Women in Love
in the old wood shed
He loved her ****
or
so he said.
Lawrence lingered in rooms
filled
with old echoes.

***
Eroticism  (hormones)
takes the body
Myth takes
the mind.

***** brain
where everything is
******  parts
T & A
**** and ***
Sell that soap
Cars love Shell Gasoline
Lenny Bruce
went down for that.

People have life force
some call it souls
Personalities
Lives on their way
Better get an AI robot
have it your way.

Objectify
Deny

What is this
****** stuff
anyway?

Get close
because I love you?

******* dreams
all night long?

Madonna/*****
Male or female
doesn't matter
either can be
either one.

The bed has been made
Looks like someone
must have had a
seizure
in
it.

Eroticism/Hormones
take the body
Myth takes the mind
But
When you come (***)
you're done.

Wait a half hour
start all over again
you know
when you're young.

Tragedy's shadow
So
Easy to miss
If you're
Not looking
For
It.

Our love it
comes and goes

Rich and poor
I pour my
love into these lines
But our silence
Knows no bounds

Poor and rich
I seek the lines
to describe
the love
I feel inside

Rich and poor
I walk this beach
alone
The days they run together
The shore line is empty
Squall lines long
heading my way
Rich and poor
in these words
I have to say

These rhymes
they sound
so
empty
now

Poor and rich
as we are
you come
into my arms
for these moments
all wealth is
found

Rich and poor
you head
on out
and are
gone.

I wish upon wishes
I wish all the
time

If wishes were horses
than beggars would ride
This is something we've known
for a
long long
time

But still I put
wishes on stars
and
go along
for the ride
whispering out to the great unknown
listening and wishing
for
another story untold

But
of all the wishes
I could bestow
I wish for that peace
we all
wish
to know.

It's enough to
make a grown man
cry

PVC's
Modern Man
running through
my
blood stream

I look up
I look down
when ever I look out
it's all around

PVC's
Modern Man
running through my
blood stream

In looking for our
salvation
in the consumer ****
a darkness always
descends

Consternation
Frustration
Anticipation
Adrenal Exhaustion

Enough to make
a
grown man
cry

PVC's
Modern Man
running
through
my blood stream

Fukashyma
radioactive poisons
going to make
PVC's
look like old friends.

Modern Man
running around our blood stream
once
again.

The Garden Buddha
sits
between
the
Rosemary, Dahlia and Boronia
fragrances in the breeze

Welcoming Accepting
the sun, the rain,
the star lite night sky
fierce frozen mornings
the snow when it comes,
the spiders, the slugs, the mosquitoes, the flies

Garden Buddha
quarter smile
whether or not
I sit beside him,
Unattached to all he sees
a study in the 7 Dharmas.

The Garden Buddha
being is all he knows.

While I worry
about this and that
fearful thoughts in the days and nights
all attached
to
love and loss,
fears and triumphs
births and debts,
what people think
will poems trend
whether there is food on the table
whether work will extend
whether or not I am part of the latest fashion trend.

The Garden Buddha
doesn't care or not care
about any of those things
his eyes
never waver
they always look inside out
outside in.

The Garden Buddha
stone of course
his smile
never goes away.

In the end, though,
nature will always have the last say
I can accept it
or not
Be filled with longing
suffering or accepting

life on life's terms

The Garden Buddha
will be here
long after
my last
dying day.

To
the poets
among us
I
do
bequeath for
us
the lines
that
bring
us
elegant
truth.

Her hair is blowing
in the high desert
winds
She's gotta
1942 Big Chief engine
between her knees
bequeathed
by her great granddaddy
She's heading up
395
Sierra bound.

She'll tell ya
she's had enough
straight time
driving her far from crazy

Pacing
playing losing aces
pulling her hair
she knew she
just
had to get out of there.

Now the great Mojave
has its expanse
Joshua Trees
they just had to laugh
as she rode by

China Lake
flashing
21st Century
weaponry

Passing through Independence
she's feeling free now

Now I can't say
running away
is
the way

But when your hair
is blowing in the winds
You gotta Big Chief motorcycle
between your legs
and
the ******* aren't stopping
what else can you
say?

Heading to the Sierra
gotta get the mountain view
high above it all
slump those shoulders down
breathe on through

Heading up Big Pine
smelling the Jeffrey Pines
Bishop too
ancient Mono Lake
when it ain't snowing
freedom reigns

Her hair blowing
in the mountain winds
didn't mean anybody
any harm
just had to get
out of there
alive

Bye bye
baby
take care.

Every morning at 9
She puts on the
banker's disguise
puts her poetry
in a sacred jar
next to the ashes
of
her husband
her dad
her mom.

She's a river of currents
behind the smile
darkly ******
phantasims
fly and flower

She not only carries
the keys to the vaults,
but also
the keys to wisdom
sublime
She can see right through you
when
she wants to
She can read your mind

Smilies
Metaphors
Haikus
Rap
Manifestations
of
all that makes us human,
These are the currents she rides
while
she
files
e-mails
signs
floats loans
defaults
default swaps

The whole time
she's got on
John Prine's illegal smile

She's watching secret movies
inside
she's alive.

It took many years
to learn to hide
the images
the colors
thought dreams
which flow inside -
while in meetings
behind her eyes
flows
the poetry
from herself, she cannot hide.

The commute ends
The day ends
She unscrews the sacred jar
pen to paper
the currency of poetry
resurrected
she comes alive,
All disguises
hide.

Low down
Downtown

The plaza's alive tonight


The music's raunchy
the music's heaven
fiddles
guitars
mandolins
spinning

fingers on strings
a
flashing

My eyes are lit

You can't miss it

The bars are hopping
Neon popping
Sweat dripping
The smell of **** is drifting
The night's a jumpin'

Dancing
dancing like there's no tomorrow
Maybe tomorrow's never going to come
that's
okay with me

Finally,
I'm comin' around

I've been gone a
long long
time

I'm coming around

I'm kicking back in

My eyes beginning
to
see again.

The
faded
hated
self
I've been -
the haze
of fog
without
within

The rolling
of
sleep,
sleep
never
really
very deep

But
I'm comin' around
I'm coming around

The girls
they
look
so good
again

It's been a month
of Sunday's
since I felt the power surge

Ready to
put
my party boots
on,
head to town
see
what
maybe can
be found

I'm comin' around

All those issues
are
dead and gone
I know, I know
there's
always
another
box of tissues

But
that's okay
I'm back to seeing the world
seeing it
some way
sometimes
even
my way

I'm comin' around
I'm coming around.

Joys
of
imagined
**** scenarios
Never
having to say
"Sorry".

Still learning to reach for the gifts
star like in the skies
Taking them into my heart

One at a time

One for your love
The children too

One for the mind
One for the feelings
Through and through

One for the light evolving
One for the light of healing

One at a time

One for the heat of living

Still learning to reach for the gifts
Star like in the skies.

"Soldiers Heart"
Two brothers on their way
one wore blue
and
one wore gray
one came home
one stayed behind
one mother mourns
on a November's day.
212,938
bled and died
on
American soil.

"Irritable Heart"
14 years in the Philippines
far too many days
4200 died
so many miles away.

"Shell Shock"
Johnny got his gun
alive in the tomb
of his mind
no eyes
no ears
no arms
no legs
a beating heart
an active mind
alive
with memories and sensations
Paths of Glory
leads
the way
and 53,402 stay
while one came home.

"Battle Fatigue"
291,557
perished.
Nagasaki got its bomb
six million died
before our fathers and grandfathers
liberated them.

To the 38th Parallel
we did go
where old soldiers
never die
they just fade away
with
time.
33,746 died.

"Stress Response Syndrome"
Apocalypse Now
Jacob had his ladder
in
the jungles of Vietnam
Full Metal Jacket
Born in the USA
homeless veterans
now aged still pay today
while 47,424
lay in their graves.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder"
My daughter
my son-in-law
bring it all
back home to me
Navy Medics
seven years
they traveled with the Marines
picking up the pieces
as they went their way
many too many trips
for all those young
troops
now we are
seeing
their heroism
proceeding
despite being afraid
a price
dearly
we all pay.
5,282 and still counting.

For all those who have walked in the horrors of war
and the grief too countless to tell.
Let us all pray in our way,
work in our days
for the end of war.

I live my life
in the shadows,
the disconnected hours,
observing all I see.

I've learned to hide,
bide my time,
while time keeps passing all around me,
this set in
not today or yesterday,
but somewhere else along the way.

Eventually
that which protects us
defeats us in the end,
I become the naked dreamer
quaking
in the quad,
it all begins to strangle me.

Nature,
Open skies
open air,
this room
this mind
a suffocating refrain,
one wonders how it became this way.

I live my life in the shadows,
the invisible man for all to see,
take off my clothes,
shed my ego,
there is nothing left of me,
but this sacred breath,
these words that make no sense,
I'm the one that you don't see,
but I see you all around me.

I'm singing the Poet's lament,
the whispering voice,
you hear it in the shadows,
the figure passing by
out of the corner of your eye,
the one you can't quite grasp.

I live my life from the shadows,
the light is on the other side,
One of these days,
the dawn will call my name.

Ocean wave
curls and calls
gives its all
then
withdraws.

For I am exploding,
With bliss
In a reproductive ****
Sending my offspring
On the winds
Life taking hold
everywhere I go.

Burning.

Taking a moment of silence,
For dear Gaia
For giving me this time,
For all that made life possible,

For this burning to be alive.

For not being the cousins
in the woodstoves
fireplaces,
Slaves
which just got a taste,
burned and died.

For the match lights
Short life
Shorter than a candle light.

For who and where I am,
connected to the stars
who devour and mother all of our lives
Breathing
Inhaling
Exhaling
Consuming
Evacuating
Reproducin­g

Exploding
Imploding
Struggling to survive.

For all fire,
All life
through out the universe,
For all who will become
a dead silent
Unmoving
Cold
Cold
Cold
  ember.

I pray,

Amen.

I offer you this innocence,
come on in,
condemnation
judgement
vitriol
are left on the other side
of the walls of skin.

Hearts may open here
tears may tumble
walls may fall
in this moment between you and me.

We will offer
truths and tenderness
for every imagined sin.

Life's a puzzle
the pieces are in
earthquake shambles scattered
across the floor.
There are places for each puzzle piece
to put together,
we may even find bliss.

Sometimes this life is too complex
too hard to fathom
too easy to plummet,
we all need a place to
explore
unload
forgive.

This is the innocence
feel free to come on in,
your secrets are safe here,
never told by me.

It has been said
we are as sick as our secrets,
burrowing through our eyes
in dark packets of disguise.
But in this sanctuary
lies dissolve
innocence returns,
We find a chance to begin again.

Put down the masks
Put down the resentments
Put down the propped up sorrows
Our truths will set us free.

The door is open
the glowing warmth of connection
is at your disposal,
come speak to me
the accumulated hurts of where you have been,
through these true confessions
hurts pass
not forgotten
but
forgiven.

We can begin again.

The puzzle pieces lost
will be found,
compassion and forgiveness
become our friends.

Abandon all pasts
seen through a child's eyes,
in this time of now
we can become cozy
snuggle up in this warm bath embrace.
Sometimes we all need a place to hide
in all the necessary pillows and comforters.

Either in words or in silence,
we'll find that spot of transformation,
begin again,
once you enter this innocence,
from the tangle
as birds well know,
we can fly free again.