its a gas station on a long desert road apparitions of wavy heat (steam from boiling water) emanating from the pavement converging with the skyline breaking the horizon – the ramblers in the distance
they lap at the *** of disparity (the savior for now) this road this pump – invisible if not the saving grace of the traveler
clinging to the dethreading strings of hope, unravelling ball of yarn of blind faith and compassion that if the doors closed there would be an awakening within memories dreams visions – but its invisible, an aura a transparent silhouette – no marks no chips in the fabric of this world, no cause, no direction, just there.
lets be direct I’m the gas station – a seed of a dandelion swimming in a sea of concrete waiting for the hardening world to enclose me into a capsule a capsule run by cogs, I’m one of the cogs, but when the sprocket snaps, the machine goes on – an ironic metaphor a poorly written one (waiting for the sprocket to snap) to think I’m the only ironic metaphor is arrogant  – lest i find the other- or the other finds me.

The dogs are barking,
I wonder what they’re saying,
“It’s cold out here, let me in!”
That’s what I would be screamin’.

Maybe they’re having a philosophical debate
About how to get a checkmate?

Dogs playing pool, poker and chess,
I like it when dogs do human things,
Because humans do dog things,
And call themselves civilized.

But what do I know anyway?
Because today is the day,
The dogs barked a conversation,
And I lacked the comprehension
To know what they’re saying.

“I want to change the world” you say,
So does everyone else,
What you should say is



I


want to change
the
way
the world
looks at me.”

-The Never Cared for Man Alone-

Time ever moves, I was born in an ever moving time –
From then, I have been here, in existence, alone –
Tormented by loving alone –
No roses to smell in my place –
The dust clouds bloom as the stampede races towards me -

Converged in a cloud of dust and a thousand ravaged souls,
Crushing the useless existence of a loveless, unloved man alone –
When the dust settles, the unloved man is gone –
There is nothing but hundreds of shavings of torn paper, lingering to be picked up in the graceful arms of the breeze, never to be seen or cared for again, the never cared for man alone –

Like the tumble **** stumbling drunkenly across the depressing
landscape of a deserted desert town, gray and dreary –
The air smells of sadness and death, the air is heavy and moist
Filled with the tears of a single tormented soul, loveless and unloved –
The man blows away, pages gone, memories gone, just another man –
Another man who suffered thru agonizing pain of being –
“and like that he is gone and forgotten,” I am gone, and forgotten.

I have seen, I have seen, I have seen all I need to –

The illuminating ideas rolling gently from your lips, caressing my mind,

vivifying my thoughts, reviving lost electrons, electrifying burnt out neurons –

charging my mind, challenging my intellect, changing my perspective – there is no Starry Night, no Mona Lisa, no Shakespeare sonnet, no Ginsburg “Howl,” no Ezra Pound on a black bough, that likens to the magnificence of your words, the radiance of your smile, the wonderment of your eyes, or the fun of your laugh. There was nothing special about the moments before, not the jester, nor a stunning sunset, but something charmed happened after the jester exited stage right, a simple phrase, uttered from your lips, the what matters not, just the swift insight that I was in awe. Never have I been in awe before, a new experience, that never faded, that stuck with me for the days to come as I wander aimlessly dreaming of the greener experiences you will open me to. I leave myself unguarded, there are no masks, no sad howling mask of despair, no happy grinning mask of cheer, just me, open to you, your ideas, your enlightenment. Paint, draw, sketch, mold me into who I should be for you, I am your canvas, you are my artist, this will be a masterpiece that will hang on the walls of museums, in the halls of temples to come, to put people in bewilderment as they rub their eyes for they have seen all there is to see now.

– nothing can compare to what I have now seen, life has meaning, and it’s before me, in your eyes, your smile, your mind, your you.

I woke up today,
I went outside with my camera,
I broke the threshold,
And I entered a yard of memories,
I saw a house,
A house full of rooms,
A house with shingles of thoughts,
A house with rooms of memories,
A house with windows of portraits,
A house of past conversations,
A house that is not just a house,
But an awareness,
A memory,
A time,
A place,
A notion,
There it stood, in the garden,
Why I went outside,
In the white snow,
A solitary leaf,
On a solitary stem,
Green as green can be,
Sticking thru the cordon of snow,
I went to take a picture,
And it didn’t work,
Because I was still in a dream,
Then I heard my mothers voice,
Singing to me, “Steven, come inside.”
I miss my mother,
Her voice,
Her laugh,
Her smile,
Then I realized, as I enter a solace,
That my forever is her forever,
She is the lone bright green leaf,
Amongst the cordon of white snow,
In front of the house,
She is the vivid picture,
A picture that lives in my mind,
A snapshot with no negative,
The only one,
Her consciousness and soul no longer live in my reality,
She lives in my mind, my dreams, and my thoughts,
She will live as long as I do.

I was falling,
I was failing,
To understand,
The why of anything,
Then epiphany came and told me:

“Behold life!
Magnificence…
In all directions,
In all objects,
In all people.
Open the drapes and,
See the…
Magnificent,
Majestic,
Malleability,
Of the…
Kaleidoscope.”