It's too bad you left me stranded.
Kept your heart to Yourself
when you landed.
Swept away, -
I came right back
for you....
I did all the things
that did nothing
for you....
Apparently -
Love is a needful chorus.
A song in a drum
with a melody -
foreign...
like every Tree you can't See
For the Forest...
or
the spotless Love
you blame for
It....

on my quest, i come upon the shores of long night.
i can smell the butter and the iron blood
of my Shogan. fat and lean in the smoke of my misadventure.
i draw my sword with a crayon
and a pearl from a cut.

i cannot move when the rice is sleeping.
i cannot drink when the Sake is broken.
i cannot hold a vulnerable flute
and be nothing.

some of the dust in the air had settled
upon the silver kettle, that did not sing.
my face was on the surface
but the grain was obliteration
and clarity was lost.
i smoked a dim cigarette and wondered
after the creaks in the attic -
and this atmosphere.
i called out, with my shut lips.
staring at a spot on the wall...
in my usual apparel.

and absent.

the street out there in the Streets, got those eyes
that mark you as you pass by. as you stroll through
the misbegotten voodoo of your mind worms
you just might have a David Lynch blooper reel
and a Cosmic ray of uncertainty in a bottle
barking the stolid Oak of your Delirium
so the rain cannot penetrate the pith of your Delusions.
i am the king of a sofa and a much squalid.
parked in the dank blip of a valley in a heartbeat
cancelled out by the hum of a Be.
and I cannot
Be,

but the parasols of my inner lightning, speak.
they march from fingertips from the ether of my solid Noise.
i am granted, underneath... full access to the torrent
of the everlasting sting... and all the chambers of the heart
where joy outlasts every living thing.
and i snag my hammer on a good nail, and clip barnacles.
vexed in the extreme, and my humility
invisible. and the cackling ingots of snow
caught in the spine of my mouth, singing to a gaslight
in February.
how i summon the snakes, the Saints won't say.
but they are happy to see your thorns
sinking into my Happy
Place.

I came to Summer's Orphanage after a spat.
Fair weather was upon Us. but -
We conjured ill Will,
even as we kissed.
so ponder that.

my tonic had backfired. and that was that.
we crushed all the lilies there, where -
we we're entangled in
suspect Glee.

if it came too that.

but the arguments were embraced
and all the butterflies were slain
for frisking the pockets
of our brief
Faith.

and the Sun came up, regardless.

I saw your heart
when we
parted.

i walked through you and found myself at the counter
and I bought some lottery tickets and wedges of foam.
i came up with my own dialect and stammered.
i saw an osprey in a rook... having a nightmare
in the middle of the day.

and i watched.