My shadow is as authentic as my flesh. Under the deep cover of the day, it comes out to play, mimicking me in such a ragged manner. At times, it is ahead of me, as if its automation is one premeditated dance. Other times, I feel as if it has given me the reigns, through no request of my own. It is so faithful to my identity that it may as well be independent. Why shouldn't it be? Detractors would call me foolhardy with my whims. They would say, "Oh, but where does it go at night? Little child, where has your friend gone?"
What villains these people are. Of course, the shadow must rest from the pains of this earth; from the sight of mongrels like them. Every shadow has the right to fear the aged and the gnarled; their eyes domineering over every present pebble beneath their feet. It is as if they spit on their homes. I would burn the world twice over to protect my shadow. His own realm must be something of a sanctuary, or a holy womb. It ought to be my duty to protect the last vestiges of nascent, naïve innocence.

The Pleiades are so close
Or they seem that why
As we drive on a mountain
Pass
I wonder if I can see the big dipper.

You can live an entire life with someone in your dreams, and they would never know.
The first kiss you shared, and the last words you spoke to them before the waking dream loses them, neuron to neuron, cell by cell.
Then I thought,
you could do so awake as well.

In lue of a sun
The rises in a triangle
A piece of fruit
Over the simu Himalayas
Harolding
The day
And
The best time
For pictures.

I take a cup of coffee
With sugar and cream
When I look
At my cup I realize there is night scenery
In it instead of coffee
Should I drink this art.

In the twilight zone
And
Twilight time
Just as the sun sets
It a perfect purple and pink
Like cotton candy ice cream
As i let my cat out.

A man is lying sideways on a bed, his shoulder softly suffocating a pillow. He is confronted by the image of a lone G.I. at the mouth of the Mekong Delta, flanked by a Dutch colonel woman, pensively staring on. The man is now pointing his gun at the pillow, his aim obstructed by his own head. He is currently in matrimony with the dreams of yesterday, yet not as much so with his extremities.
"I wouldn't let it die if I were you," croons a voice from the impossible background, seeming to leap over the hurdles of inner commotion.
"Who's that? Whatever could you be?"
As forward as he was in his tone, he couldn't resist the dominated position he was in. Even less resistible was the pulling motion of the tunnel behind him. He is now falling back into the sun.

Along the grass,beneath the sky
The draconic sun vitrified
The lover figurines.
Flattening them
Adjacent to the surface,
Skin blent in crackly tessellation,
Deforming to fit the sphere,adhering to it's
Wondrous silence.
Frail limbs minute,heart's heavy as whole islands.

Is it not love embodied to lay defined as an image?
To be held as shatterless glass,reflecting it's deity's melting
In progress, 'neath the star that impelled a shelter,
The star that paved their meeting,that overlooked
Their life and death in a predetermined stasis,
The divinity that shimmered underfoot at all times,
The star that held all places of the earth in one.

The figurine lovers, faceless mannikinis
Sentenced to worship forever without a choice,
For prior love, for prior sins,
It matters not--they rot and twist as the Sun's play-dice.

****** into my sofa,
The infinite space of it.
The faces of my friends are melting off,
Like heated wax running down a candle stick.

I loaded the universe into a gun,
And I shot myself in the head.
I can not tell if I am breathing.
Am I alive or am I dead?

I’m strapped to the outside of a rocket ship with nothing in the way.
I’m taking off, and I just keep going. Reaching a height higher than heaven.
There’s nothing to orient myself. No time. No space. No self. Nothing but darkness stretching out all around me.
A roar of a million voices are screaming over each other, they’re resonating in my head.
I’ve come into orbit. Everything is beginning to crystalize.

Surrounding me are complex geometrical patterns of love and understanding.
Gibberish wall textures are whispering messages through their feelings.
This is all too much to take in,
It is like the universe orgasmed into my eye.
I just want to go home,
I think I am going to die.

A sense of calm echoes through me,
Probably brought upon by the faces of my long lost family.
They have so much dimension to them,
So beautiful, light and shimmering.
Looking like something out of religious doctrine,
They came out from the open.
Released me into my primal light laser body,
Everybody has been laughing at the joke never spoke.
And now that I get it,
It is infinitely funny.

It is like the sand man blew his sand,
Taking me on a train to dream land.
They are showing me everything,
I can not even begin to understand.
How am I supposed to understand infinity,
When I can barely understand a single moment.

I see God in a head of lettuce.
I feel the earth's rotation,
As I spin around the sun.
God handed me the universe loaded into a revolver,
And fired me into a flashing rainbow shower.
Friday's smoke opera has rendered me dumb.

Bathing in a melting rainbow,
The cosmos is dripping down my skin.
Infinity is stretching out,
And withdrawing within.

I become the colour,
And the colour becomes me.
I am in everything,
And everything is in me.

Coming out of the woodsmen's cloud,
I hear a child screaming out.
I didn't know what it was then,
But now I know what it is about.

The trees are no longer silhouettes,
My destination is not my goal.
I am in the middle,
Wherever I go.