the rocks were cool and rough
under the dark sky last night.
into the vacuum we looked up;
the stars were somehow both dim and bright.
they laid twinkling on their black bed,
as a people, the moon was their king.
he had shown down like a spotlight to the sparkling water,
his reflection danced on the dark stage.
the audience chirped,
and we sat talking by the shoreline,
and all the city lights and noises disappeared
in the beauty of the night.

Eternal consciousness
in the Void
(makes trial & jail seem almost
friendly)

a Kiss in the Storm

(Madman at the wheel
gun at the neck
space populous & arching
coolly)

A barn
a cabin attic

Your own face
stationary
in the mirrored window

fear of restroom’s
Tragic cold
neon

I’m freezing

animals
dead

white wings of
rabbits

grey velvet deer

The Canyon

The car a craft
in wretched
SPACE

Sudden movements

& your past
to warm you
in Spiritless
Night

The Lonely HWY
Cold hiker

Afraid of Wolves
& his own
Shadow
~~~

The Wolf,
who lives under the rock
has invited me
to drink of his cool
Water.
Not to splash or bathe
But leave the sun
& know the dead desert
night
& the cold men
who play there.
~~~

a ha
Come on, now
luring the Traveller
Mighty Voyager
Curious, into its dark womb
The graves grinning
Indians of night
The eyes of night
Westward luring
into the brothel, into the blood bath
into the Dream
The dark Dream of conquest
& Voyage
into night, Westward into Night

Why doesn't she love mine?

the hills were beginning to grow
the grass greening on the approach
to Blue Earth, and how
in summer
Minnesota shed her old coat
to shy guilty into brief silty lakes
like the
joy of a little kid, sneaking a forbidden dip.

remarking, casually, about
white warm flowers hung low from
planned oaks, and the impossible way the town
pulled local hills close, to coat
in dandelions. and cultivate
all under an ambitious midwestern sun.


          rolling through the stop sign, hand on mine
          you told me if you’re moving at all

          you should keep it in second gear.


and we had so far to go, but in the light that
broke through westbound clouds,
we became less so.
contented to spread toes out in earth we
dug into Minnesota, the middle coast:
a land we could like to get to know.



and you:
looking down at the salt, the sand, the scars of
the grand american plantation:
the last coast.
knowing that by the next coast, we
you and me.
we'd be through.

          saying, ‘how could anybody die?’

          saying,
          ‘how could anybody tell you anything true?’



undercut by the honest waves of the little lake,
the hum that drummed in my gas tank.
trying, for once, at a little piece of truth:

          when I leave this place I leave
          a part of me behind.

          and that part of me
          will be you.



saying there’s only so much sweetness in the soil,
only so long after the thaw,
and grief is rich and dark and made for sowing:
must be, for maintaining verdant local hills, must be
for to keep corn sweet. must be for to put
grief
on the table. must be for to
keep with us.

          for to keep a little bit to eat.

saying, we bleed but together we make a hole
to bury both our bodies in.
saying there’s a west out west but too late it’s
already hemmed us in.

          saying now I am only a fragile assimilation of this weak
          and fractured purpose that drives me, and you are

          beautiful enough I would lie to let you love me.


even I would scorch this soil if only things wouldn’t grow I would
saying Blue Earth is still in the trucker's atlas is
only an excuse for sunshine. a point,
where freeways go.
saying,
“with earth, so green, that here they call it 'Blue'.”


          saying
          “I could learn to love a leopard.”

          saying
          “how dare you.”

death can be the happiest thing,
though not thought gay nor won
to drum the drums made for the king
and to listen to the doves

as I thought of death before I died
not once was it glad or glee
and most of us fear and dread that moment
our souls are finally free

we stare at boxes full of light
it takes what we think it gives
experiences now across wire lines
instead of real events

even typing poetry
I feel that earth has gone amiss
when in fact the 'whole world' is right
behind my fingertips

if we could only lift our eyes
we'd see our world exists
but could you only tell me what's
the purpose of all this?

la luna llora cada noche cuando el sol desaparece,
sus lágrimas son las estrellas.

to take off
to dip low
to feel the chill breeze
behind my old feathered wings
to close eyes
to glide high
to smell pine and wood
and other things of this world
to soar
to explore
to rely and to trust
on wings to do what they must
to taste the flavor of fall
to sing and to call
to be the creature
who's existence is most envied of all

My head is hazy with darkened daisies;
There's demons in my room

To myself I lied about all that's inside;
Everything happened too soon

I swear to god I saw faces that nod-
I heard voices in my head

They warned me of lies and trampled butterflies,
But their word to me is dead

The walls are all liquid and my bed is infested-
I do this to myself you know

Seeming to be quite close to becoming full on ghost;
You might as well let me go