the guttural sound of grief cleared its throat
all forgotten will be recovered
in sentiment
sentient emotion
evocative cries
the river dies at the ocean and reincarnates
so it is with words and poetry
a recycling to circle back
a replenishing to continue filling
prose be the restitution of cosmic karma
dust reclaiming its birthright

                               everything
                                                                                everything
            everything

I've heard verses set against verses
for the sake of thrones
dust says
                 verses are the natural material of power
decanted led
                         purified gold
a heavy mineral
the foundation of understanding

art cut its ear
and the heart still bled
red   -   blue   -   violet
a primary mixing you can feel
without senses
     listen with bone and marrow
     see what shakes the sinew
     taste the transience of life       in living color
      orange and yellow and green
     smell the salt, it lives in you
     evaporates through goosebumps to be felt by others

you can write yourself to nirvana
if you go through the stages
  if you shed enough stanzas
   if you surrender       and accept

walls keep appearing
am I a prisoner
  or the warden
am I protected
  or locked in
what's on the other side of separation?

    all of life has been
    a building up
    to no end
    but self-improvement is *******

under the preface of safety
my reality is circumscribed in fear
I've created freedom in my restrictions
but I am still shackled   .   .   .   .   .   to something
growth doesn't even feel good anymore
maybe self-destruction is the answer
a means of leveling out

        walls keep appearing
        but now
        I am taking a sledgehammer to structure
        I am mortaring every brick
                          until I am a flatland of freedom

it didn't start as a counting
1 had no more purpose than 0
I felt whole before awareness
          consciousness is a rolling pen
          stumbling through ellipses...
now
       sentences serve as benchmarks

incidentally     I am building to something
incrementally     I am cramming margins with loose pennies
          indented     new paragraphs detract from my sum
          indentured     no change comes from this work

  t   h   e   s   e     w   o   r   d   s     s   p   r   e   a   d     h   o   l   l   o   w
consumed space                                                         an empty metric

as it stands     I am at 77 words
yet no further than when I started
       sometimes the goal is a ploy
I am hemming myself in with empty
periods are a euphemism.

we
obtuse with expectations & bias
acutely unaware of complementary relations
     look straight through reality
reflexive views narrowing into peephole perspectives


                                          y        s
                                   a                      a
                            w               r                 l
                         l             i              c            w
                       a         c            i            l         a
                         s            g                 i         y
                            y                 n      ­         s
                                  a                       a
   ­                                      w         l

this moment is beautiful. this moment is already gone.
\
a tree leaned in to touch my aura
we were both green
I wasn't still long enough
//
the train catches my drift
as I drift through the city
  left my intentions at the last station
didn't stop long enough to hear
the kids laughing
\
ding ding doors closing
//
my light exposure is drawn out to a blur
what is
occurred
\
this moment is beautiful. this moment is already gone.
//
feet match the pace of music
earphones glued in
shirley horne playing as I skip
to the next track
\
stand clear doors closing
//
this is just a work sample
nothing final
   you have to return to fully appreciate
     this moment
     this moment
     this moment
ink floods the page
but dries faster than I can write
\
this moment is gone
             before I can capture it

it will all come again
history is a writhing ouroboros
shedding its skin
trace the periphery in pencil
   the paradox of the portal is beyond erasure
                                                 is veiled mana manifest
                                                 is dissociation breeds transcendence

it will all come again
different plane         similar frequency         same energy
3 intentional breaths spell it out:
                           B-E       H-E-R-E       N-O-W
mantras echo in hallowed space
i am part of the oneness
                                    i am part of the oneness
                                                         ­              i am part of the oneness
my potential is endless
                                my potential is endless
                                                         ­       my potential is endless
it is well in my soul
                            it is well in my soul
                                                        it is well in my soul

it will all come again
  today was a drizzle of curbside convos
  today was a shower of hugs
  today was a torrent of gratitude
         it rolls over in the rain

it will all come again tomorrow

they covered the bombs
with drop beats
                      and hi-hats
the sky opened up something fierce
       she dropped it lower than my credit score

birds scatter a confused nature
their cries are sampled in the transition

                  a king               a tyrant
  a tyrant                a king
voted to the throne

this display of power won’t stand
I’ve never witnessed a drone strike
but fear destruction all the same
  it is all over this track
  played in heavy rotation
                                                        ­       why am I here?
I cannot dance to this tune
lyrics still escape my mouth
                          an exhale of shame
they promised music & poetry
but I want to protest

I found a portal in a dream
Slipped into a slit
Then came so fast
i lost track of singularity

the journey is recursive
took this road many-a-times
more rerun than detour
forgotten lessons faded on aluminum
                             etch harder next time
hard hitting truths don’t even hit anymore
memory is false knowledge                             unreliable
instead follow the dreams
they have plotted the path
  in stardust
                        and
                            ­     astral projections
those are big constellations to fill
i walk bare sole now
so why are my steps still timid?

a swarm of physicists
sits in a room debunking
“the present”

                           logical deduction:
                             there is no now
                            (it doesn't exist)

                                           light years away
                                           on a podcast with nature
                                           a bug flys into my eye

I adjust course
                           a fork offers 3 options
the brain is an open mouth
                                          I sit instead
   an insatiable appetite consumes utensils too

I break spines with ease
Finger pages
Lick lifeless words to ******

   Promiscuous bibliophile
I sleep with a band of books
Every night
Caressing words between sheets
Discovering perspective
In the margins
Reading is so sensual

My dreams are an **** of imagery
Subconscious hodgepodge of
Fiction     History     Poetry   &   Prose
Last night I dreamt of…





                                            Well I forgot
                   But I do remember the feeling
   Of flying
                       Between this and that

in all this empty space
                       still couldn’t find the time

our last contact is
                          a rejected suggestion
notification
               of erasure still in progress

your fingerprints are deeply imprinted
   considerations of immortalizing you
in a book
or two

in all this empty space
                    you are more than temporary

though we both spoke periods you are run-on letters from a decade ago
today’s breath is hope
                                               from yesterday
I wish I could tell you

what I once so feverishly stumbled over
it’s still true
it will be
forever

I am plugging in my tech
   for the night

   In darkness
I feel for outlets to fill me
   up

Your outline is a weighted impression
   the far side of bed remembers well

I trace edges of faded color
   empty for a spark of you

On the other side of a dream
   it is 3:54 am
   I am at 71%

I’ve arrived again
in a place I used to know
I swear this laundromat is a portal
I’m in a wash cycle
wringing lessons free from my collar
how do I escape the rinse?

I wanna be clean
but this process feels so messy
not *****   -   but messy
share the heart, hide the hands
I am distorted and out of sorts
her eyes hold rebirth
if I could just die first
I wanna be clean

does purged love create space for more love?
why is release the first step to receipt?
is it?
gently deterred, no detergent
I am spinning on overload
strung out and stranded
how do I escape this rinse?

I used to know
how to worship being alive
without bubbles
is it any wonder why
sometimes cycles feel like
perpetual spiraling
I haven’t even put any currency in
and it’s already starting again

what’s the cost of water?
I wanna be clean
but I don’t wanna pay

...the thing
                    ...you did it
   ground a mountain out of
a seed
   birthed a dream out of
a death

you are not where you were
   10     5     1      year ago
but have you stopped to
                                         appreciate it

it is better to be
   late to the birthday than
early to the funeral

again
always we begin
the zenith
becomes a zero
a hill becomes
a mountain
ascent is a gradual unbecoming
I am nothing
again
always we begin

books reduce
                       TITANS to men
          turn mountains into hills skipped over
in seconds
look what man has made of God
a jealous judgmental father
        with a brooding brow

history has taken the legend out of myth
check Atlas
          all the heavens rounded down into
          a boulder
          small enough for shoulder blades
                   stars condensed into marble
                   light enough for man's chiseled hands

we are not here to hold up the world
that's just a lie circulating the globe
we are on this earth to hold up stardust

eyes seek out beauty
and find it everywhere
   lust is appreciation of form
I was never taught attraction
                                  it pulls nonetheless
    tugs at my urges
       ecstasy touch
   my body is a drug
                           to be indulged

my body calls to me
from all its centers of pleasure
my hand is an activator
of everything right
when I erupt
    the sacral rejoices
the world becomes a cloud
                                  a soft landing
somewhere to hold my highs in reverence

pleasure
I am so pleased to meet you
                                                  again
     ­                                                        & again
                                                           ­                & again

when abolish the police gets a platform at the open mic…

a suggestion turns into dialogue
                  into a debate
                                                 into shouts
                and chaos reforms into huddles

anarchy claims the analog   —   BLARING
              (all of this in mere seconds)

the notes are discord to the ear
                   but joy to the heart

the revolution will not be televised
but it will be projected
                    in the underbelly of some open mic

i smoked that ego down like a pack
it's still fuming
fumigating the room
clearing out space
coughing out lungs

can you see through the fog of your own *******

your hair is on fire
can you even smell yourself
     small talk and *******
will tomorrow remember tonight
        it's all for a story right?
  but can you connect the next line

her voicemail asks my favorite *** position
caller #9 ~ maybe we'll get lucky next time
life of the party
dying to be the story
  that no one can forget

ego is a roach
trampled by music

I.
Condensedwords
Stackedandpresseddown
Stackedandpresseddown
Wei­ght sinks to the bottom
Structure becomes dependent
On prepositions and conjunctions
On loose articles of understanding
A book is built      pages of sentences
What happens when you remove   single word

What happens when   solitary page is ripped
         standing is compromised     brevity’s sake
It all falls


II.
[from] [a] [What happens when you omit a whole sentence] [a] [out] [under] [for] [down]

"Always we begin again." ~ St. Benedict

zero is the loneliest number
because it's empty
   -a hole for filling
but if you change your perspective
       the bottom can be the top

the first sign of growth
                      was a hair
     nothing impressive
    just a single strand
   breaking the surface
  in search of freedom
but that didn't stand for long

isolation gave way to conformity
as the grades came
    hair after hair
clumps         communities         culture
strands bowing under brush
parting        under        comb
hair can be tamed like anything else
duress, product and consistency
             wash   rinse   repeat
duress, product and consistency

never was one for riding waves
waved goodbye to that trend long ago
                                                             ­         grew past it
and figured nature knew best
knew how to sprout and flourish on its own
if left unattended

a bush was a phase                                             until it wasn't
shaved down to a surface
                                                     -fla­t-
something to sit atop and add flair
still couldn't much care
   guess I was a factor
but there was still no product

then society issued a dare
I double, triple dog dare you...
                                                          ­to be
and that was the impetus
because I have always been
  regardless of form
hair shed singularity
         knotted to bond
    condensed into a twist
          that bound memory and experience
                               into a journey of self-exploration

and I suppose the true journey started
long before I remember
  but palm rolls have traced lines to their origin
  roots below the surface recognized
  and left to their own design
twisters locked in dust   lent   dandruff
                         and core
all misjudged together
      how long can you go without censoring yourself?

I grew and grew and was and am and will be
         for 6 years 5 months and 18 days
         I was locked and loaded for self
zero was lifetimes ago
         ages prior to confidence
the mane does not make the lion
      but it certainly helps
I took a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage
made a metta meditation of movement
   before I knew love's true touch
                                                          a­nd then
            when head needed it the most
                                                            ­                                dread vanished
and made way for a universe

of all the memories created to forget
                 touch is the most lasting
the scalp is still anointed
from oil years past
                                                            ­   when scissors did meet
life shook with a force renewed
  and shed bare all that was needed

I was born with nothing
now ???  years ?? months and ? days later
I am yet again at zero
  but now, I know
it's not on me
                           it's in me

what’s a legacy to an ever-spinning web
    an apathetic world
               already on to the next meme
a laugh can last longer than
  an     entire     life’s     catalogue
impact buried under coded language
and refreshing trends

if a spider cared
it would wrap its prayers in silk
   before spewing its insides
the net is wider than floating words
        or hollow deeds
                                     **** your ego

we are only passing through
              dust     to     dust
in death we are nothing

in a final flash the grand eye closed

more than a sunset
this was a culmination
    of an era
        the expiration of an epoch
           the ultimate reckoning
                                                     of slow karma
           it could've all ended so violently
           justifiably
but this end was a
  streak of lightening
   ---thin and illuminating
      here     then   not

man grimaced at reconciliation
beyond his means and outside of
his favor
  in the brain the end is much simpler
       a hurricane with no center
         an eye with no pupil
       a tragedy the size of a heart

the grand eye will open again
    even if we aren't sighted
small magicians raise their eyebrows
at science above their understanding

I been wandering aimless
and peeping the synchronicities
I been reading other's words
and deciphering my truth
I been tutoring the youth
and learning from their mentorship
I been slinking out               [of relation-ships]
and treading in myself
I been sitting in silence
and feeling through the noise
I been abstaining from my vices
but creating new distractions
                                                    ­  I been making new playlists
                                                      a­nd blending the genres
                                                      I been triple checking accounts
                                                      an­d noting the trends
                                                      I been avoiding top priorities
                                                      ­and focusing on side quests
                                                      I been writing off the future
but deepening in the now
I been sharing the best of me
while keeping solitude with my shadows
I been becoming my higher self
day by
              day
                      by day
curating a person I can be proud of
                                                              ­ /proud for
I been
and will be

an odd pairing can age well
                  with the right conditions

Challah and Feta
Roti and Mozzarella
every dry bread has its own sour cheese

compliments to the flour
    that rose to the occasion
                        to the curd
    that ripened into a match
the loving all started with respect
respect
because pallets don’t have to be the same
to be appreciated
sometimes opposites attract
  and it’s the perfect blend
               of talker and listener
               of traveler and homebody
               of brain and heart

sweet and savory
is a combo for the ages
so why not Sourdough and Swiss
               or a NYC Bagel and Gouda
when there are equal parts trust
there is no limit to the love
   says 2 successful careers
      says 3 grown kids
         says 50 years of marriage
the secret
is never going to bed angry
with each other
  is knowing when you’re wrong
  and admitting it                      (just a lil my bad)
    is keeping god in the family
    and the family in god
      so even when life curdles
        it is just a reshaping
          and not a crumbling

an odd pairing can age well
with the right conditions
     50 years later
and here we are toasting
  to an endless love
                  to the perfect bun and cheese
                        Happy Anniversary!!

go ahead
                                          quantify freedom
               derive a pattern of joy
                                                           from the things you consume

r they correlated
1 could be whole
                  without the void of comparison

there is more b   l   a   n   k     s   p   a   c   e
                                       than clutter
  can you find it
           does its empty detract

do not fill it
                         I beg of you
let the world rest
                               and find itself

thoughts move on without me
old train, new platform
my backpack quivers in abandonment
     left with no back to support it
i keep forgetting the weight i carry

dark rooms and lit paths
sound bathing in the ether/
took a few C notes
for me to recognize the leader/
transpose a new crown
without need for a feature/
the man in the mirror ain't lost
he just a seeker/
secret- what always was
will always be/
kami knows the infinite flow
of inner ki/
energy never dies
just recycles like the rain in the sky/
reduced views get reused
in a cycle of tries/
try try try
try try fail/
took a couple iterations
for the lost to prevail/
exhales and deep sighs
I was numbing my feels/
in clouds of **** smoke
I was blind to the fields/
of opportunity
blessings and deep roots of unity/
singular in motion but narrow-minded
my view could see/
destination
but not the alternate routes/
on a mission for success
I was chasing the clout/
side quest- ion
is a life well spent if you never save/
if you hustle
and grind bones until your dying days/
the grave swallows all time
with an infinite hunger/
crunch seconds into moments
that exist without numbers/

it's crunch time
yea it's time to chew out fear/
it's crunch time
how much change can come in a year/
it's crunch time
how do swallows fly so free/
digest notes
reproduce a whole symphony

today is yesterday's hope
    but tomorrow
           tomorrow holds everything the past
hasn't seen

an oracle says omens
                                      are constantly presenting
if you just look
                             or listen

I've been looking all my life
and the message is clear
        tomorrow
        tomorrow will be my day
as soon as the clock strikes 13
                    it's my time

mom says safety and security are key
teacher says Maslow's hierarchy agrees
boss says money supplies all my needs
and I listen

I've been listening all my life
and the message is clear
job, girlfriend and car secured
renting but my space is home
owe 31,000 in student loans
but that degree, I own

fact check anyone with a fatter check
knowledge is an expensive throne

under foot
fertilizer whispers of fallen leaves
     not blackened or auburned
       by sweat or toil

light rests
  buried under compact soil
     silent and dense
     cold and unstirred
                                       forecasting winter

waking dreams are ground into dust
and tossed to stoic winds

pillars stand unmoved by clocks
          tradition and duty
          tradition and duty
          tradition and duty
                           swing hands in unceasing circles
do not let your light be fodder

  under foot
fertilizer whispers of fallen leaves
     as stars stare holes into your black

sadistic numbers
                               the map bleeds
                               a projected suicide

                                                        ­         too close to call

the heads yelp anyway
      decimals spilling out
                                           to fill the gaps

THIS JUST IN
the world is ending
the world is ending
the world is ending

                                   don't stop watching!

before i had
i wanted
before i wanted
i lacked

                                   there is still poverty in achievement
                                   shiny things have pockets of their own
                                   cavities deep with desire
                                   ravenous with dissatisfaction

Love is both muse and music
both poetry and purpose
a symphony of serendipity


The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to imagine
    but a lifetime to create
though words may flood your page
seek the source
love is the strongest force
        it exists beyond language
    is felt before touch
let your sentences be drenched
in intimacy
and punctuated by appreciation

Even when communication is nonverbal
let its essence be affection
     devotion
not only are run ons acceptable here
they are encouraged
marriage is not a life sentence
but an epic of possibilities

Adventure forward knowing that
the future is unknowable
but you are forging it   -   together
ellipses are waiting for you
you create time
   mold it to your will   -   together
trust the process
                              but also
trust each other
     to be auxiliary verbs in
       the act of loving

Seek understanding in your verses
             there is no winner
when existence is the goal
     co-existence
     co-creation
ego aside
be co-stars for the Virgo moon
live in the ease of each other
  even as cycles spiral around you
  even as you spiral around cycles
be the period that stands firm
                                                      for your partner
even under questioning

When line breaks feel like endings
   indent   and   reinvent
you are both forever changing
   so change together
   make edits together
it is a lie that brainstorms are
only the beginning
they will find you
in idle moments
  when the mind wanders
   raining down doubts
though ideas may blot your page
again seek source
  and what started your course

Write to each other
Write for each other

The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to draft
    but if you do it right
it is always under revision
even after you decide to publish

The future is today

Millennials think in centuries
when decades pass in a blink

A year gives 31,536,000 seconds to wait
but not a single minute to waste

Time is money they say
and what millennial
                       doesn’t want to
                                               be a millionaire

submerged under peppermint bubbles
  cortex muddled by damp ears
I reach out and touch a flower
     as it whirlpools around intention

     in this manmade lake
I have made of myself an island
  limbs sinking and reappearing
  my face disappears
  and returns renewed

      this whole time I wasn't breathing
the drain excavates water
   for buoyed relics of responsibility
the weight of life
latches onto my exhale

         release         release         release

I will be whole in this lifetime

I rise with vestiges of beauty
     clinging to my essence
         freedom is assured

they come a penny a dozen
cheap
           copper
                        thoughts
there's a well full                                             ...somewhere...
but no one is thirsty for water anymore
so much Ciroc and Moscato
poppin' bottles and *****
poppin caps and pills
we've subbed out dreams for quick thrills
   eyes open or closed - I'm swimming
but no copper in my goals
I want gold  platinum        DIAMONDS
pay me well and I will sell you my well
full of watered down birthday cake
and wrinkled candles
those flames were blown out with childhood