Next year in Jerusalem,
Closed and enclosed within myself,
The bridegroom of blood.
Books dream, while bones sing
Of barbed wire blossoms,
And hearts crushed in the olive press.
Song of the Word, agony of the Vine,
Baskets of visions, Blood in the wine.
The Gates are locked
And Sarah is dead,
But my Lamb is pure.

Every thing, every where is here now
Here is no where
There is only here, now.
Every thing or person you interact with
Is merely a version of you.
No body but you exist.
You are god
There is no space, no matter
No where, not even nothing.
Even is
Is not.
Dreams.

Life is incandescent milliseconds
Burning to flee from the trial of shadows

We have to forget everything

And descend here to know nothing,

So that we can remember,

all over again,

And again.

Light crashing through drawn shades,

Rachel is dying.

Ben-oni,

Son of my sorrow,

Giant of death is coming for me,

Feasting on regret,

Gorging on disaster,

slinking in the hall,

Breathing homicide.

Stars above the freeway

Twist slowly around Polaris,

While small-hour silence

Floods our thoughts with stillness.

And in little box houses drifting in darkness,

We wander sleep's labyrinth with third eyes wide-open,

Traveling through blooms of knowing,

Through looms of love,

Until at last our twin eyes flutter open

On this side of the veil,

That separates us from home.

Fog wreathed street lights reach deep into pavement.

Ticks of the hall clock create silence.

Wood and wallpaper sigh.

Rain soaked fallen leaves conspire

with tobacco hanging in the barn

To blend with scent of soil and smoke

And drift up the hollow in curtains of misting rain.

flames in the grate snap,

So I settle into my feather bed

And wander the streets of dreams,

Warm and protected under generations of quilts

And the prayers sewn into them.

I’m dropping

Into that deeper darkness

That knows no end.

Pain is the name we all wear,

Seeking that pulse

And familiar touch of warmth,

The only comfort

In this wreath of shadows, our hearts.

Light cascades through arteries and veins

Illuminating our lonesome fumbling

Through this wilderness of sunsets

We wear like a cloak of heart attacks.