The Buddha slept under the night sky on His back
eyes open; fearless love looked up. humbling the majesty
of the Void's gift.

eyes fixed... both peerless.
first among equals.
but transcendent.

The Buddha,
wearing grass-stained robes
chose a blank spot
for a blank stare

" Nowhere Girls are EveryWHERE "

He thought, astonished.

a moment after
where once He stood
there Was No
spoon.

[ PART ii ] NOT THE KOAN BUT THE KOAN THAT YOU GOT

on the X-ray zen splints were clearly spidered webs in ghost bone... how should I feel that my sensei saw the X-ray first?
life is where the answer to this question is a real thing draped in ominous clarity like a town fool, the beggar foreclosing
on your house of cards, the winged swine and some guy named Patrick having a smoke in your face; the mailman, who
always looks so serious about your trivia in a blue hat... who always trips over your precious dying very potted plants!
yes, all that, or maybe not. saute some fresh green kale in olive oil with fresh garlic
[ give it to me ] and i'll tell you that was very thoughtful, and right then;
it would also be
true.

for a minute there... you and i were typing you reading this part.
these are the diamonds.

my exposure to the radiation is everlasting in the middle of it's brief long duration
my ghost bones wear new flesh like iPod headphones, don't hate the player
[ better yet ]
make a macaroni necklace. go wild. be reckless.
it'll cost you an ounce of real kimchi
from the motherland
with the ugly
sister.

i wouldn't put it pass you. cause that would be clairvoyance, and you already know!
a loose tooth entrenched in candy apple can't taste your stupidity but has bad dreams!

some people will always look at you the wrong way and appreciate
how you sat perfectly still for hours; you only took a break to suggest
a better room with southern exposure to eastern thought.

when you threw in a Tripod, they knew you were somekinda somethin'.
and they knew it all along
but juuust wasn't
sure.

and kumquats are quantumly eaten.

your soul is
what tumbles
from your old youth;
toothless, mute -
and beautiful.
it disputes the diluted musical
that unfolds you...
proof-less, your lute
is full.

your soul is
where you twist rocks and fell from -
a great height, below your skin suit, dull.
it drew you
with resolute ink, with a needle
and spoon...
etched on the cuticle,
a portrait
of your
skull.

and
you're every
nebulous
moon.

spoon fed my keepsakes as nothing blots the sun so much
you teach me how to cringe in spun sugar. the nape of your
neck.
gleefully, we usurp the thicket of our mild dementia. sullen
joy equipped. a sumptuous dirge curdles the myth, your fins
***.
as troubadours, we malinger in the pith of our blunt fruit. crust
removed from our daily bread. our basket of basilisks, bathe
in stone.
duel wielding our gazebos... we bivouac in our ambivalence, by
turns we move. you tip toadstools as i milk maidens for their
candelabras.
our palominos run. we do
violence to timpani and click mice.
pc
drifting in the cyberwocky. we transit the binary auto-bond
and paste
whats
clip.

blue thumbs thread cranberry noose. our ***** nods off. fronds
of juniper and cannabis slap the window pane. throughwhich
a *** mouse pounced on frond’s sway.
startled, we move the furniture of our eastern proclivities.
for thine is the kingdom
of our discontent !
swing-shift lap-dogs, trundle west of the east village. smell
of ****** and nag champa. idiots sting.
idiots braid zodiacs with greasy fingers. [ indeed ]
and
you
preach from your gut...
( your left breast     marvelous with taint) and saltwater taffy.
we
laugh again-
at things     we have
and now
only
harbor ghosts
where the rain
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.


this is the new
intimacy.

your gloom rubies roam the miracle, miraculous; lasting orange in the parlor of our most red wednesday... your mood blooms in the parlor of our most red Wednesday
in convolution, bathing everywhere in discrete voluptuous, nocturnal by day and dawn purged. a complete confusion of unique bliss and utter distraction,
masking the perfect lonesome of lost buttons.
to magnify the utter not so !
and not so
at all !

Mab is the Queen.

you float on black goats. fallen. small feet in fleece of midnight. star lit.
your imminence faire beyond pondering. Literally.
you are dreamt intensely.
you leave me as empty as a horn of plenty [ enigma ]
where you. And you alone; have spread
your feast.

you float on white lichen and baby's breath,
churning the waters of auguries
too lovelorn to be well met, but yet, they sustain life
at just that pitch
that forks
the road
there ! you glow in the mirk of my desire. gilded in shadows
far too fierce for the sun's darkside
there !
you abide in
nameless
wisp

your heart, Fey
and indolent.
and your
throne

cats !

that hemlock i cracked in two days
was one of your best
deceptions.
the tumblers finessed the probe. your mode of disconnect
was exquisite pathos. and lesions.
we drank from dead wells to alleviate the tedium of sober springs.
we rigged the landscape
to provide clockwork wolves to whet their fangs to the marrow
of our Diaspora devoid of Momentum.
that devious fracture in your mind has surrendered to my advances.
i glean your glamour-tross.
cellos are coursing through my veins
as your ***** grinds my prime mate into scrap
and  daguerreotype
Pompeii.

We met when our lives were breadfruit chimes
and squandered our lust for True Life before Swine
and our Bejeweled Youth...
prodigies of fire and stall. We nurtured the Other by being Ourselves.
Mercurial and murky with our tender bright fierce
and our soft on crime...
we held hands.
We will always Love Us.
So I Love You. Best -

So I am.

learn your questions.
discern the myriad as One, and console your misery with service.
pour your fumes into the heart of mars; press pause when your gods
make you nervous.  and when they don't exist, you whistle while you hurt...
as if
the Master Plan
had jokes.

but know this.
your cathedrals have killed people, and your faith was crushed -
whenever sincere. so i
bid you peace. a peace with
tranquil thoughts and night lemmings;
squealing
right over the Cliffnotes to Oblivion, in vapid terror and happy herds.
their little parachutes; cumbersome, with snapped threads to a forum, that unpack, once filled
with air and
parents .
you inherit
the edge of your vague notions.... that expand
upon dissent .
heretic tick
BOOM !

then make love, all day Wednesday

learn your questions. gain the gist
of your out-risible ignorance and invent the humor of  "precise submission"
as humility will boast , enthroned above the kingdom of desire
aching hermetic in a mob. but knobs -
that turn,  despite severed hands
turn Truth's *****.

learn your throat.
hold only the notes to your music
to a golden standard !
Brandish your exile, like a rogue -
from it's sheath of Turin
[ and flash! ]   it's blade of grasp
in Walt Whitman's
Verile Phase...

face your loved ones, but only
with the face
that got away.
return...
return unbridled and
unkempt. more windswept
than lost and found  
haunted...

and remember

eat whatever
you **** well please
because
" **** Dr. Phil, Really ? "
Have you ever  seen an anorexic
Buddha ?

and bought that one ?

if you have...
you might be
ascetic.

we are not apart. and we are not we.
there is only love suffering from the lack.
i am more than your friend
but you are less than my woman.
but I'm your man.

i hate this.

love is how this is.
the kind of visceral missive from a heat-seeking missile
to a wet spot temple. a rogue thumb
on the throttlesome pink of an eager peak
in the drowning boat. where the Man, whistles...

there are No Thistles

but Yes ****.

are you ?

that's when the wind changed, when i asked. it dropped the last last of a  thousand afters -
and wrapped the tinsel laughing in the foyer of our discotheque.
that's when the elder proof took root in the cognizant. bore fruit and  [ clasped  rafter. ]
and perhaps a winsome blasting... though annoying, it's our affect.
but are you ? yet ?

and who's left to true ?
disaster ?

people ****, but.... nevermindpeoplesuck
theycluckruckus in the wonderment. they can't trust trust.
they bleak speak. they last week a year from now, but somehow -
know how they don't remember. but they suspect.
and that's a cloud.
bold suns fumble the opaque  hail of our hardy Undone.
it shines the less.
we are mammals in the heaven of our ignorance.
but not god's fun.

my blue bones are wit
and it means less to keep things
and nothing is quiet.
we rely on knit springs and
disingenuous
copilots.
we're prone to the oath
of our fears
suckling the dent in our collective breast.
nursing the suffering
of our sharp pillows
and the terrors of our happiness, windswept.
we cherish the swamp-sweat
of outlines...
chalking the missing
body.

instead of dem crocodiles, we have golden calf-fish
slaughtered on the lawn
of our untarnished rush...
prospecting -
and jumping the claim
to our gummi
worm.

we tumble in tandem,
and massively mismanage our enchantments.
my bones are blue
wit
and it means less
to have at
it.

we jab Stats and lack Data, but clap atoms
to a mad hatter.
we raid the pantry of our miffed ladder
against the side of
a barn
gone.
leaning in the twilight of
our genuine
sun.

surly pixies in the black sugar, kinking the last nerve of our entropy.

dem crocodiles, grinning rigid menace
in the murk... instead of dem -
let us first disperse
where the hurt, hurts; and be first
to do less worse than
a farcry
or an up-close
word

a tad mean. lets collapse things
that expand, burning all this,
instead of dem
secrets...
un-ghouling the riddle of our dead wait
in the infinite room next to the room
with the last view
of a naked
girl.

where the world is this world. and we're on it.

i had to discard, but that brought the butterflies and the angler-fish.
it kept the genies and the shrink-wrap in stainless-steel steel traps... in the permanent traps.
we drag our baskets haphazard. beneath the undulation of the Under.
below the Was.

i slept on thin gems and dust mites.

i built a clock from the errant gears of your heart and charmed nowhere out of harm's way on time.
i bought you a Man O' War jellyfish and stone kisses from a derelict wish.
we gag the drastic Mamet, till we Stoppard.

Just Because.

oh i don't know so much as i don't know.
you can never tell... even if you say so.
but
you can always repeal.
silently though.
i have no idea.
we both get
no vote.

we're just moving the furniture
i call you Mildred -  
the walls plastered with snow and garters
we shuffle through
remains...

through
The Aperture
of Unseemly
Disquiet.

yes. glow and be more so... be this sweet and this sour.
be alive more than your casual death.
rise from the chamber of your stars
and never leave me where
your ghost
has kissed me
the least.

Polaris in the eastern sky, intertwined with the gallop of gargantuan and the heathenous whimsy of untired daily life...
the gross note of our chorus, rushed through the tube of time in long haste of a brief reply.
ten feet from each of the deadly sins, we ride. the callous pompadour of our fashionable hate
and the rake in the face gag, with all the right people
to betray you.

an asterisk in the tween of your teeth, with the casserole lights and the marvelous crushtones of your raving denial.
the most goon of your impunity, lewdly. the fresh ruin of your mind in the wrong place for the least why.
ten feet from each of the deadly sins, we ignite ! but yet the breadth of our complete meaning bewilders late
into the hour
of our
hour

by the minute.

my splinters are not happy with this Lion.
don't you think that's sad ? don't you want  to kiss me where it hurts for real ?
you are extremely Not you.
you are the burden of choice
and the swing-shift maven of our plausible joy !
are you really there and
does it make you Present ?
i will conjure the Universe to quell the anchor of our ship
on Death's Ocean.
Don't be Nowhere.... Be with me.

against the grain no other love but mine, it seems
all anguish will march into Nothing and suffer the fools that love it.
GIVE ME THE BRIDGE.
give me the unbearable conclusion to an Endless.
give me Mars.
give me. me
and the stale bread of our broken Promise.

in the pure drizzle of an afternoon, we loved each other.
how beautiful.

how miraculous the lush and the whimsy wrinkles of our smile.
the blunt yes of submission
to a Master and
the Long Yes.

with no hell.

we took the long way
to Hadley and MacFadden, goin' about twenty-five in twenty-six ways...
twelve sheets to the wind at a cosmic chili banquet. we wove through the tambourines and headlights -
cruising through the pinch in the grid, on the Eastside. where Margret hustles feathers from very still pigeons, and Mosley, that little runt Mosley conquered Connie Haskel's Willow Tree in the backyard.
we were coming up on something special in our Hometown
but we were low on gas, and had just bought Beer.

this scenario was on repeat. night after night in the sultry debauch of a languid stroll in a couch rocket.
glaring at the skirts on Perkins and 5th, that eat seaweed and cough drops.
they're so hot you just wanna drive a better car.
we used to park -
at Todd's Mom's and walk to the Slaughtered Hog and order a rack O' ribs and drink moonshine, smokin' that **** and sitting next to ****** jockeys in jogging suits and headbands that say " i sweat profusely, when I want too. "
And Carmen What'sHerName? used to get our table 'cause i figured out the location of her section.
she would smile and bring pecan pie
and flash those eyes that said " i'm off in an hour " . we sang to Muzak - and
left our To-Go Boxes at the table; stumbling through the lot
fumbling for the keys to the TARDIS.

and thinking about Carmen.

sinking
won't get you the sky
as much as not sinking
will never happen
to a boat

tipping the scales at three hundred pounds and a guilt complex
an invisible lump in your throat.
on a happening wave. in a storm season
of unreasonable
Questions...
an amusement for sick angels

Did You Know ?

On Jupiter !
the accordions sound like crap
so noooooobody plays accordions
and everybody's so very very Happy
all the Time.

they look crazy.

Did You
Know
That ?

don't understand me. this is not for you. It's for you.
my Gemini shin splints are pirates. hopeless Romans, romantically dismantling
the things you Undo. the things you You.
I Doctor in your Seuss canal.
with a frontal lobe, more Job
than a postage stamp -
in this Day and Age.
It's grey and rage -
with the tooth torn
out !

Out
through the probable snout
of the next mummified god-king
of our interlocking rot...
our chamber pots
spotting the oft begot good
of our evil
Mummenschanz

we are crepes' rue; yet we roulette best
in Typhoons
from murk
placid.

with 2.8 kids

and damp
matches.

we are
struck in a gale
of flaccid

dumb as a Belle of the Ball
that Squares
a Rube

with an Ism.... from Ix.

sometimes.

trading coins on the mezzanine,
with it's torrid meticulous beads and florets of glass and fired stones,
a mosaic of our true currency in the spirit-realm of our blintz on sugar pillories,
our divine spark sharpens
the dark wheel....
a sphere with the skin of a prehistoric  shark.
where the open heart is a misery of roses
making love with more abandon
than hell.

making true love.