I finally see the river
after dancing for a lifetime,
I can embrace the end of
something,
An ending, or at least
a transition.

It gets closer.
The weeping willow cries for eternity.
Dipping its fingers into the water.
Fungi poisons the sad tree.
He waits in the water.
The bank moves back in.
Never before have I had such control!
I will not stop.
The journey was too great to afford a stop
especially at the supposed ******!
The water relentlessly surging,
tells me I made the right choice.
Confused, it starts to swirl in circles.
I have no such problem.
I keep dancing closer, now
crying with joy.
I will not wait for the
water to kidnap me,
I’m honored that he only waits.

I’m nearly upon it
I haven’t yet stopped,
nor can I now.
The water whirling an endless
fight with the rocks that try to escape.
The Styx shows no mercy.
The fish stumbles through a rock and vanishes,
crying a helpless cry.

At last the whole river is visible
I’m thrilled with what I see:
an ending.

All this time,
I thought death might have been
a cruel joke where we “die,”
only to still be awake after we enter
the kingdom of Hades.
The brilliance of life lies in the river,
in the river life lies dead.
I jump deliriously into the river.

The carpet all around me
my little island lonely to no one.
Little flourishes in the carpet  twisting back on each other
and back again,
rolling endlessly this way then having a change of heart
and bending back the other way.
Flowing freely on its canvas.
The stunning flowers, looking surprised as
I focus on it.


I sit, a lethargic tiger, my picture of myself.
The television perched ready
for the next greatest thing.
My head, static on my shoulder,
a boulder resting on itself.
The gentle hum of air conditioner.
With great effort
I gaze slowly out the window,
up past the air conditioner,  
past the base of the metal frame
where the tree idly stands.  
My eyes lift past them, to the heavens
The clouds content where they are, slowly pulled along.
A greater force heaving, making gentle progress.

The edges of my chair start to form.
My arm resting on the soft fuzzy border,
my stomach hazy in deep territory,
my toes out beyond the border.
In a disjointed synchrony I make my way to
the fridge. The blank door swung open
rotting milk, and a once great fish.

The milk fading, a gentle
fade, not hurrying, but the milk, not taking its time.
A  tad yellowish but still white.

The milk a long fierce journey,
perhaps having bounced around the world,
for it to be as is now.
Perhaps
through turbulent oceans, did it see the endlessly taunting
of the ocean? What did I miss?! Did it see the gentle waves
thrash mercilessly? Did it see the infinities of life?
Did it see the octopi dying for the young ones?
Did it see storm clouds change course for their safe passage?
Did it see nature play its hand?
Even if it saw nothing at all,
I envy the milk with the hint of yellow!
Doorways without doors the milks unknown voyage.
It of course could have easily just came from
a farm down the road in a truck with a billion
other containers of milk, on a well traveled path,
the only question, why?

I sigh knowing, the best I’ll get is “an answer” trying
to sell me some more milk. Though the best questions
should never be properly answered.

No answers in the fridge, and I’m still hungry.

The smell of the fish overpowers me.
The smell of the ocean, of the seas of
what we did to them!
Of how the same fish, epitomizing
turned noses, once part of something grander than us.
We have seen the tops of the world,
flew down rivers and
cut through the skies,
held enough power to send a man
to the moon and back in the palm of our hands,
yet never been to the places that the fish has been.
We have clear lines and boundaries, yet
No walls separate what we haven’t seen.
No limits.

A  school flows by,
barrel rolls and flips, each individual
showing off amiable bubbles.
A collective direction, no agreements
just space, the sandy floor free of motion.
The floor free quiet, a gentle bed.
Taking their time, a place
to be but never of the essence.
A lump in the distance,
a dip behind them. Slowly becoming
something more, something grander.
A mast starts to form a gift from above
no gentle giveaway.
A hellish panic.
The alarms bell ringing panicked
sailors, a vault flows by. Nobody looks twice. The
earth slowly swallowing the meal, as
if to enjoy each taste and make it last.
The fish intrigued.
Ignorant of the history. Wooden ruins, choral
the dead ship alive!

A shadow crosses the sun.
A sleek shark shows its hand.
The school flees the table.
The shark chases demanding to be payed.
Flying towards the old gift they dive into
the maze.
Only coral in the doorway to the left.
He keeps pursuing.
The group scatters.
Pretenses over
some failing.
Sharp teeth cut indifferently.
New respect for the fragility of water.
Not just joy when they swim now, but a heartbroken celebration
flying along the streams with a learnt respect.
Celebrating each other.

My shadow, catches me off guard, flees up
the wall and up past the celling.
I watch it go and
stumble and look down to see what caused me
to see only my feet and the floor. Oak wood strips
make the floor solid. Endless minuscule canyons
carved below me. Wavy sand dunes and craters sit atop the canyons.  
Rivers flowing separating sides.
Rocks calaborating, blocking paths,
creating treasures.  
everywhere.

Surely somewhere down there a couple holding hands,
a dingo eyeing its next meal watching intently,
solely focused on the ****.  
Perhaps a number of tourists, impressed with the landscape,
snapping pictures of the stone valley.
All wondering at the rocks, meticulously placed.
Tourists cooling off in the rivers.
  Maybe just maybe though
a pair of strangers bump into each other on a
narrow trail, and instead of passing by,
both of them will leave all the better for it.
To defy nature and prove to the landscape, that
people can exist in your world and respect
your customs but play by different rules.
That we have made progress! Not just in phones
but in the barren glory of canyons.
Maybe then the stranger will bump into
the tourists and offer out a hand.

Then the couple will make love,
the tourists will take more photos,
the dingo will eye more food,
the drumbeat will likely stay the same
but maybe just maybe though
the stranger will start something
and help out another stranger,
New music to all who will listen.
Lost completely but with no need to be found.

I first would like to apologize for getting rather mad,
calling you a stupid *****
and saying it was a “hit and run” to the police,
also in hindsight spitting at you was not cool.
I feel bad about it now,
and it will haunt me for a while,
or at least until something else comes up.


You shattered my wings,
granted they were glass wings and
when you’re throwing yourself through the narrowest possible canyons
getting hit is almost certain still, it *****
the wind out of you, even if just for a second.


I love jumping through
canyons daring gravity to do its worst, but I was playing by the rules,
respecting nature
or at least I planned on not breezing by the sides as much.
I guess its habit now, to risk getting shattered for
the freedom of movement in a restricted space.

I swear when I hit the ground I was ready to walk away
I was intact.
Ready
to continue on my way and saying “yeah I’m fine”,
learn nothing and find smaller canyons.
but when I saw the bird you hit, my brain
sprinted for the worst.
That knocked the wind out of me.
Instantly I thought it was completely ******,
and while I still do have my wings,
you shattered part of my glass illusion.
Thank god for repair shops.

You see you own the skies your kind controls
the canyons walls, make them zig then zag that way.
Sure their are bigger gods,
but they only show up from time to time. I’m part of the skies
but my only possible responsibility is to not
hit the birds.
The rules say I need to act like you,
but the rulers let us fly our own ways.
The bigger gods understand or just don’t care.

So next time just know that the rules
are not the ones in physics textbooks, those are
often confusing and require years worth of reading,
of understanding billions of acceptions of knowing what
the hell centripetal force is, and being able to solve painful
multi variable calculus problems
the way physics actually works is what happens when
the winds take glass
and you, being a god got careless and broke the laws of physics.

How can you put the idea of luck into words?
It’s like the sun rising and falling at just the right times,
like having a parent who gets you a sweet
jacket that you really didn’t want
but now wear it constantly because it’s a pretty nice jacket.

Luck and air equal in appearance.
It was there for me when I was born, when my parents understood me,
when Sandy hits all of New York but my neighborhood, when
my parents got me my first bike, when
the car managed to not hit me, when I outrun
the fitness coach who was rather angry after I spat at him
when I stumbled across this guy on youtube, who encourages
vegan eating. It feels like immortality, like death really
does not want me, maybe life is stronger and luckier
then death.
It feels like I have a silent guard or guardian always
tipping a domino that leads to me still breathing.
No! Really it encourages the most aggressive dare devil
moves like not touching the ground once in Manhattan
red lights just becoming meaningless colors.    
Perhaps luck is the devil building me up to be
more skilled and better just to shatter the thin air.

In every way luck has been there.
Sure I’ve had ****** moments but they always manage to
feel like a set up for something else.

There is a level of pain between death and making you stronger
that simply hurts, a deep soul wound that never kills.
I’ve always been a “victim” of a pain that makes stronger muscles.

Sure things have came very close.
When I was three or so I was bored and cleaned the house
with chemicals and was blinded for three months,
a neuron or whatever sciency very small unit away from
being blind in my left eye.
but then luck came and I can see fine.

How many times can you get lucky, and no not
in the daft punk way, without feeling
something grander is saving you for something insane
something pure and brilliant like creating a chain reaction
that reaches space?

Or perhaps this is how prophecies get fulfilled?
A mortal gets a gods luck and when the mortal
mistakes them self for a god is when they learn
too late of their mortality?

I had my first encounter with beaucrarcy,
the social security offices. Beaucracy is hard to find
but not as hard as I thought it would be, the building number
lied.
The gruff line manager, the room
what I thought a prison line would look like.
Bored brown walls and a long line of people
sitting staticly staring.
****, thank god for the great Walt Whitman.

The number before mine is called, the one after
is mine, it turned out to be mine.
I sit and wait, reading my book.
I keep getting called
thinking that the thick head idiot should get up, until the gruff  guard,
yells my number some snickering, some sweet laughfter
as I yell “yo!” I swear to sweet god I had no clue.

I voyage up to the window, exectping
a slow slog through beaucratic mazes.
So sorry
all smiles, a joke about smash burger
I laugh pretending I have a clue.
My school id got the job done and I brought
everything I joke, no problems,
we laugh she says I’m cute and
that my mother did a bang up job,
if only I could get girls saying the same thing
and a parting piece of advice told laughing:
Just know whenever you are late or there is a delay
god saved you from a car crash,
I love that yet I’m rather concerned that I
have been saved from that many car crashes.

There's a monster under my bed
That crawls out every night
To listen to all my thoughts

He listens attentively
And stands there with nothing
But an understanding face

Not only is he a stranger
Nor a monster but my
Bestfriend and only friend

He understands me
He comforts me and
Never judges me

The monster under my bed.

Don't leave
My world revolves
Around you
Your smile
Is my sunshine
Your voice
Is my music

Don't leave
Your presence
Is my reason
For living
Your eyes
Are my admiration

My inspiration
My reason for life
The reason I smile
Please don't leave

Death being the closest
I am to living
And living being the
Closest I am to death
You can electrify me
Or get inside my mind
But only the monsters
There can comprehend it

I f I wake before I die

Defy the pain of life's lie

Carve goodbyes into my skin

And scream to release the truth within

Lay me down six feet deep

Because I have no soul to keep

Let me wander lost forever

Until I vanish into the never

Darkness, cold clawed hand,
reaches to grab hold of me.
It wants me to fall.