Encorporated owning entities align,
to face this pesky point perceived as cause
to effects usually affectionately sought as joy…

little boy and girl joy, sleeping under shaggy
old man frowning face, sagging, not frowning…

second thinking ellipticals and tri-punctual ellipses…

Threes of reality, see,
you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form.
****, as dust,
proof as stars expand
and we assume some part of us, must
survive,
someday.

So finished,
so finally past all reasons why not,
now cause feeling, the expression, words
spoken from this wheeling center to the rim,
pointing away,
reminding me of a galaxy recently observed,
relayed to me by way of useful magic
from a mathematically fixed position
on the elliptical orbit edge a million miles away.

A thousand paces, left to left, left right left,
a thousand thousand thousand pace miles away,
looking into the outer darkness
between our childhood starry heaven
Sun and moon and stars. And us as dust.
Mere thought in formation, you and us.
Threes of reality, see,
you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form.
****, as dust, swirling sun-size motes, truth
evidential signal proof old stars expand
and we assume some part of us, must
survive the inevitable mortal fact
someday.

Nevermind, give the end this point
to stand on,
and watch it pop.
Proof, uno mas, the point
of any thing pierces every thing.
We live in our inherited wind, with a will
to wind the clocks that twist the threads and change
the angles of reflection,
to arrange blue skies here, today.

-------------- adjust the minute

When people go to the desert,
with no toys to play on, just,
just,
so fine a term, just is. Adjustable,

one size fits all, all together now, yup,

we done it gang, we got to the land
of refrigerators,
and global fresh produce,

the land of corn, and wine,
Beulah's land in that one song,
you knew Beulah, she was the sub-
mom, wise as a neo-oracle, on Channel 3.
She had her own TV show, and she was good.

Now, I'm thinkin', all the colored folk
I ever had a laugh with, was on TV.

For a while they had Amos & Andy, with black
actors and voices, although on the radio,
those guys was white, few knew, I did.

But I did not know how to act around a bunch
of grunts, arrived one night, like 5 Bloods,
by invitation of that mad lieutenant from Maine.

We were approaching listen, quite time,
the once in while,
seems like all the time,
the spirit of the Fishnet Factory
first six months, Forever Changes,
Velvet Underground and Nico, and Jimi

drift up -- feel a night once, with a clear
seven second flash attention paid

to a phrase, a term, in cultural pacification,
- soul brother - said by an obvious hick,
yet,  the curtain lifted when some one heard,
yeh,
really. Show us, what you mean,what you call
experienced?

Radioman dropped acid that night, Purple Double Dome,
un beknownst to any but me who gave it him,

as that question became the point, and it was
a showdown,
and shut up, because the whole place felt it
when the net settled and the framing patterns

fit both STYF with BTDT boots, stolen, and not
really repented for,
it was a stunt, I was not caught, in fact,
I shined those boots to a three day pass,

which I had no clue how to use, it was Georgia,
so,
the experience that night began, with Georgia
on my mind,
and we wandered, into realms few armed men
have ever entered,

more centered in the middle of three point
literature enclosure,

as one, zazen, me. Tom Green, with his Panasonic
Reel to Reel, and Weirder Harold, who ran the radar.

we got this signal see, we think we listen,
its like those people's courts, entertain us,
show us the law,
enacted,
with names changed to conceal the innocent,
rampant false accusations,

witness protection,
you do not need to know why wars are fought
for money,
Nietzsche said power, wills clash to prove
Lobster level stacking nature of us,
- NOISE HUGE ORIENTAL DRUMS
we, the people in any structured we, you and I,
we, are a wedom open
on allsides, as at the bottom of the ocean of air,

we live in a devilishly clever contraption,
mind you,
mind me, we become something more,
flash
ifery point imaginable as novelty patterns,
Submissive art,
-so insert Jello time - absorb
-slow thunk
- whump whump
seen through, as leaves leaving little strands
of cool shade
to mingle with light, soft, recessed lighting
reflecting from limed walls, lacing, subtile shadow

Synchronisity, simple, sure.
Madness come upon a man robbed of hope.

How come he to think of me, and wonder if
ever is itself a mythic psi-psy-science,

called into being,
by the mouth
of a major stadium mob.

In every stadium on earth, the spirit
of the crowd,

people make their living, by maintaining,
constant,
I am not them, they are the prey,
they are my targets,
look for munchies,
- faces tell every thing
look for cotton mouth, search signals sort
those ones,
in need,
Holler - I got it
as the real thing, baby, hear it sung, real,
deal done, in the spring
1970, alive and in attendance during
the cons-umption over some few weeks,
25 hits of the February 1970 Orange Sunshine.

Epic, everything, is epic, if you kept the records.

Yeah, if what we do is written and recorded,
each thought and deed, something tells me,

part of that is true.
We live whole lives, and none of any day we live,
was lived artificially, we did it, as it came to pass,

took baby steps and giant feel like falling ones,
in stride,

struttin', lookin', laughin'

we got past that,
let's celebrate we know, one trick traps,
make y'famous,
make y'ten minute rich, with five of fame,
at the end.

While we die, taking our own sweet time,
finding stacks of seven seconds on acid,
I had forgotten where I put.

there is a gleam, across the valley, a reflection,
I am sure,
a man made surface shiny,
I am sure,
no natural gleam of mica or diamond
blinks and flashes
as if
signaling to me, see, see me, reflect the sun,
seeming so
a sign
a significance I must grant synchronisity,
or ,
thought, what might
this shining thing be?

It is far from me and anchored, I see,
flash,
then flashy flashflash, light of sun,
fractaled -tole painted -fatal tell
light strokes on the future seen as this again,
once
more, the curiosity, was ist das?

A little mirror insisting, see, there see,
there is the sun,
topping the hill behind you, where you are
blind,
where I lack the power to signal a flash back,
for I sit watching,
in the morning shade,
yellow birds and blue, doing what birds do,
orioles and scrub jays,

magpie eyes in me, see that gleam again,
and laugh, I know,
what that is
signaling to me, see, see me, reflect the sun,
seeming so
a sign
of the times, for my report,

- Watch man, what of the morning?

I see a happy birthday balloon,
hung on a wire,

by a wind with a knot function,
naturally anchoring
webs, and threads, and strings and mylar shreds,
dancing from power lines
feeding juice to the drip system
in George's vineyard.

Ramón Delgado- The most feared name in all Mexico.

One summer’s night in 1866 while fleeing from the Mexican Army, Ramón Delgado, infamous hired gun, and murderer, clung to his black steed whose convulsing frame showed evidence of violent exertion. Ramón whipped and spurred his mount until white froth oozed from the animal’s mouth and nostrils. Appearing as shadow across the low ridge, Ramón and steed outran the echoes created by the beating hoofs upon the rocks.

There was a time, ten years earlier, when Ramón, a tall handsome dark brown eyed, square-jawed man with black raven hair, and full Manchu mustache, held the rank of captain in the Mexican army. One day, upon returning home, he found his wife and two sons murdered by the hands of well-known local bandits. Fredrico, neighbor and friend, witnessed the murders and informed the mournful Ramon. Ramón unleashed a ruthless revenge, sought out the bandits, killing them one by one. In doing so, Ramón became hunted by the very army he had served. Some would say he had right for revenge; others thought the killings made Ramón lose his mind.

In a short distance, below the ridge, a small town lay asleep, except for the cantina. The cantina lured Ramón to an abrupt stop. He dismounted, quickly scanned the area, and then went inside. Six caballeros sat playing poker as Juan Hernandez played flamenco while his beautiful wife Maria, clapping hands and stomping feet graced the small dance floor.

Carlos Alvarado, the short black bearded bar tender, gazed at Ramón in mortal terror. Carlos, as did everyone else in the cantina, knew right away, who entered.
Ramón stepped to the bar grinning wryly. “Whisky and leave the bottle,” he growled.

Carlos, shaking, reached for the whisky bottle behind him on the shelf, nearly dropping the shot glass as he turned and sat it on the bar. Slowly backing away from the bar, Carlos offered, his voice weak, “For you Senor Delgado. No charge.”

Ramon laughed, grabbed the bottle of whisky and shot glass, and then, approached the card game. When he got to the table, one of the caballeros stood and offered Ramón a chair.

“Take my chair Senor Delgado.” The man backed away, turned, and left the cantina hurriedly.
Ramon sat in the chair, took a shot of whisky each time he looked at each of the five remaining men, and then slammed his glass to the table. “Let’s play,” he yelled.

One hour later, an empty whisky bottle is all that remained on the table. The very lucky Ramón scooped all the winnings in his pockets and then waved his revolvers above his head. Laughing deliriously, he stumbled toward the table where the senorita still danced. He began shooting close to her feet until she stumbled and fell to the floor.

Ramon placed his revolvers in the holster, turned and walked back to the bar. “Another bottle for the road,” he demanded.

Carlos looked past Ramón and moved quickly to the end of the bar. The complete silence in the cantina compared to a tomb.

Ramón sensed piercing eyes fixed to the back of his neck.
“Who is this who wants death?” Ramón uttered as he turned to face Juan.

Ramón saw Juan staring at him with deep-set dark eyes, remaining steady and full of revenge. Ramón did not see the steady hands that drew the pistols and fired the bullets of death.

A life, short, poignant, and haunted, ended by a single bullet. Ramón’s life pulse lay mangled on the floor. His disorder of demons lay nameless in shrouded form. At least now, they could no longer haunt the shadows of his mind.
His soul lay helpless in obscurity without an escape route.
As Ramón’s lungs choked in silence, his new loneliness befriended darkness and his soul

It's been another good day,
good thinkers thinkin' my way, asking if I knew
what was the next word
from the beginning,

and I confess,
to knowing,
it depends,
hangs dangling from a done right axiom,
intentional aim at nothing,
then divide by zero…

this is that, life line upon line, here,
a little there,
there
there is a better, a least, the minimum flex,
and next is after never was,
and once morer never seems

impossible to grasp, almost as futile as
holding the wind
I walked in on,
in a metaphor of reasoning, where war is dumb.
Dumb dumb dumb, did you ever
do you
ever,
for an instance feel this way, and wonder what if
others felt
this way,
in stead, eh, steady, slow, instead of I know, go

--- later they say waddayagnosis came upon 'em
--- swallowed all their holy stories in one

boom. like thunder, loud, like mountain,
Krakatoa, yes, but death to the dinos LOUD

listen,
this is silence, the noise, hearing nothing while
knowing, knowing, knowing
in the bubble I breathe are all the noise-sounds-humms
squeeks,
whistles, caws that sound like laughing,
hawks screaming I can see you, to something,
you flash glance think
you, that hawk has seen me here, in years past,
this season of multiple thaws,
multiple springs,
rivulets cross our path as we read our way into evermore,

the valley just beyond, like
right next door,
special place… can you hear me, feel me… I have
no right might to say I know, but you know,

that is the trick. Theory of mind, I know you wonder if
I ever knew… the first rung
step up,

once more the alien lure, come and see…

Doing cushiony cushy jobs. Sharing best practices. Dreaming of finding a decent travel agency. Having dreams of mushroom clouds rising above dumpsters. Showing the V sign with both legs upwards. Leaving office feet first. Staying in office feet first. Letting things slide to hell, while remaining unseen through the thin veneer of incompetence.