Looking out this double-paned plate glass window into the gray frigidity and red-leaved bitterness of October in one of the last wild and still-untamed bastions of freedom in the west at the mountains thinking about how even they are moving, my darling, and how the spaces in between them are growing just like the space in between the sun and the earth and the space between all the galaxies all at once and the space between the spaces between the world and I and soon I’ll just be floating all by my lonesome in some swirling pool of- not air, no, not even air, just nothingness and watching everything float away like disappearing city limits from the tailgate of a truck on cruise control zipping across the badlands and maybe you’ll be there but going the opposite way and there’ll be nothing to do but watch it all go, go, go, til it’s
gone, gone, gone

And the alphabet is longing
Language the key to the sky’s desire
A grace of words, to move the spirit
That moves by Him and lends
Mercy to power, gratitude to intelligence
And that law is a music, a Kingdom
Of poetry, those incantations
Where the vowels spread like mantras
And the songs reveal Her face
The mystery of our evolution
In mere syllables, moments of expression
And the letter is longing
And the sky-people write hieroglyphics
Not unlike mandarin, with concepts like Sanskrit
And our Law is their Law
We communicate in mathematics
And the translation of vibration
We attain diplomacy via Quantum physics
And the alphabets merge, like rivers
Into a sea of our unity, mystery blood of sentience.

i have a rendezvous with rhyme
with only the lyrics of this orchestra
my cadence is only for rhythm
free-verse in its purest ingenuity

I ache for quarterly submissions
of my essential need to write
the autopilot poetica of my

last kaleidoscopic vision strange
a musical hopscotch of surrender
a mystical milking it of thirst

muse & fate here relaxes
for a final teasing and tasting
of the plump record of odes
and the promise of exhaustive cadence

that reaches humming pentameter
stares organic pink into utopia
requesting documentation from the stars

in how to be a poet, as legends burn
martyrs in their alien worlds
a last dynasty of awkward prayer-rituals.

i

My ugly love, when you are so beautiful
to me it’s not enough for my mouth
whose kisses routinely bathe you

in an inventory of whispers, love-cries
with tenderness for however long
nature allows, you allow, fate allows
flower by flower, I would choose you
again and again, my loving angel

ii

Your body’s fragrance is my
shadow’s energy, your humid flesh
the channel of my dreams

if also for our child, who forgot to incarnate?
my truthful love, so sincere and honest
with armpits like the smell of wheat
and ******* as impetuous as a stormy sea
and eyes like wildfire, cutting me

iii

Into sweet obedience, I could not imagine
that I could have built a house of
sweetness without your splendor

and how you love cherries, your cheeks
an Asian wispy elven secret of youth
my soul-engaging love, I have to remind myself
we are getting older together in
beloved months, we sometimes forget the details

iv

Of why nothing mattered or had a name
except each other, we were made for this
an alchemy of spirits, while our shared beauty

allowed us to endure poverty
with gifts as plentiful as sparking
moments of gratitude that went on forever
like lessons learned from wise calming friends
and lovers that felt like they were

v

Gifts from the gods, plump-wide-eyed
spiritual dreams of some strange mineral belonging
we walk naked through the golden church

of our earthy love, as if we learned to be
one body, one shared soul wearing
clothes of separate bodies, laughing minds.

So much depends upon
The open sky cut open by the trees
By the rain by the lives that we led

Upside down we stood as if for years
Waiting to become the person
We were meant to be
On the back trails of our open heart
So much depends upon

Listening to Bach in the dark
How poets undressed our sympathy
In clothes of the absolute

So much depends upon
The sound of Mandarin like
Circumstance, and stillness that never dies
These were the cries that we reached
Out for, as if we could grasp the light

So much depends upon
The dreaming of what is possible
And prowling around the people
Whom we let hurt us in order to
Learn more completely how to feel.

To write poetry is
To create philosophical memory
To adjust the commentaries

Of all souls, to just one voice
To strip the inequalities
Of existence, of their mass
To write poetry is
To erase the written

Transforming what we have read
Making alphabets contemporary
Fluid, mystical

To write poetry is not just art
It’s neurological reprogramming
A quantum gesture to
The nature of beauty
And Meaning itself

To write poetry is
To return to an absence of meaning
The meddlesome mind forgets

The natural order of nature
To reduce layers of narrative
And return to a total peace
And a grand vision of the universe
As a talking thing, exchanging energy

In a physics of existence
To write poetry is to love the unwritten
Endings that all concur

To identify with the sudden
Rupture of beginnings
From which all thought originates
To write poetry is thus
The silence in between the words

And a solace beyond thought
To free oneself form the memory
That is an impression or a scar

On the mind, blankness is an ideal state
To observe time and space without attachment
To love existence independently
Of the personal conditions of one’s life
On the letters of your poems

I observe a black walking cat
A woman that must question her heart
To find the answers, without
Speaking we are a language
All we feel and do is a kind of vocabulary.

Words are Power
Power is Money
Money Is Pizza
Pizza Is God
So give me your words and no one gets hurt

Pizza is all that I believe in
Pizza is me
I am Pizza
And if I take you words
Then I take you power
And I get your money
And with that money I buy pizza

Pizza solves everything
Its fills the hole in my heart
And it fills the holes in my Arteries

Clearly Pizza is God
For Without it
How can we Live?

The mighty cheese Overlords
Watching us from their Oven thrones
Bathing us with the sweet smell
Of pepperoni happiness
All Hail Pizza
All Bow Down to pizza
Curtsy to Pizza
Perform Choreographed dance numbers for Pizza
Kiss the trays that they sit upon


In fact I fail to understand
Why you’re listening to this poem
And not eating Pizza
What is wrong with you?

Have you ever met a person
That hates pizza?
No!
No one hates pizza!


But if they do….
Don’t trust them
Don’t look at them
Don’t think about them
Don’t friend them on Facebook
Run away from this person
Do not trust this Pizza hater
For they do not deserve your love
Or your Pizza
For These cheesy pies of greatness
That comes in rectangular cubes of cardboard
Graciously land upon our doorsteps
And impart to us
The gift of happiness
It brings the whole family together
And makes everyday better

Pizza does not discriminate
No matter what you look like
Or what you like
Pizza will always be the same
Delicious
Pizza lives on in every country
And in every ones hearts
We should thank our pizza overlords
For the awesomeness that they have brought us

Instead of dropping bombs
We should drop pizza
End all Wars
And solve world hunger!
Instead of having Congress sit there and do nothing
Have them sit there and eat pizza
We should make Papa John our President
And have a large deep crust as a flag
Land of the brave and home of the Pepperoni
Everything would be perfect

Because
I like my pizza
Like I like my people
I don’t care what you look like
What you do
Or what you say
As long as you have
That gooey cheesy heart that makes everyone smile
I will love you forever
And I’m sure you taste delicious

………not that I'm advocating cannibalism
that would be crazy!

But….Imagine all the people tasting like pizza?

Befriending them
Getting to know them
Killing them
With a rolling pin or a frying pan
Sprinkling some cheese on them
Add some cilantro
Bake them in an oven on high at 450 degrees
Leave them in the oven for another ten minutes so they cool down
Sprinkle a little salt on top and some Tapatio
Slice them up and have them for movie night
I mean come on….
Imagine it!

Imagine how **** delicious some people would be!

Back bent, arms out,

I cannot contain my spirit's desire.

I will dance if there is no music,

and roll with the punches,

even if nobody is throwing them.

I am heaven-sent, hell-born,

purgatory-living in its finest form.

If you dare to laugh, I'll laugh along, too,

Because it feels good to hurt so bad.

You don't seem to realize how much I know

without saying a word, with just a look in your eye.

I am glimmering, reading, illusion illustration,

staring into the greatest galaxies I have imagined for myself.

And you, with petty marks and pretty scars,

have ventured out into the cold without shoes on.

As I look both ways to cross the street,

your pinky swear pulls me back in.

You are the sea turtle's deep, slow, sleepy veins,

and I am a hummingbird heartbeat.