That's what its for Carly Rose,
if you don't use it, you lose it

a bowl of green with eggs and steak on the fourth of July

      Independents day and we're whacked out Americans living breathing and dying by the scores and handfuls, the plague walks among us now, I read in the paper it says more and more get it and case numbers soar, my uncle tells me that it reminds him of Vietnam and the number of enemies KIA at the end totaling three times the entire population of the region, but I digress,


the whistle rings true and the crack and pop of the firecrackers feels good to see it, feels like you're lost caught in something special

I stumble onto an old path, past the mansions of Bexley on the edge of the railroad track overlooking the river and behind us peeking in the bend behind the trees stands the city skyline, the glass and stone towers gleaming in the darkening sunset of orange burnt moonlight encased in a tunnel of evergreen pines and peak summer shrubs alight with the blinking of fireflies, sequencing the secret we are all trying to express, I want you, I want you all, you beautiful creatures of this world, we pulsate and ;lust with every fiber of our beings hoping for a moment of sensual touch we stretch out and burn alive this word is meant for *** and love and god bless us if we can get both, running and gunning, that's what the languid pulse of the fire flies calling out with their golden green lights under the dull moon sang about as the head lights from distant cars would slide across a rail road intersection in some sleepy part of town, the full moon bright as a harvest stone, framed in this, secret forgotten, a lot, broken glass on concrete and gravel graffiti nonsense, neon bike lights dancing, leading a way through another day

Suga Booga Marshmallow milkshake pink clouds two ***** fingers
and a saucy meatball, its chill she says, thats the title, giggles to herself and Juniper Rose smiles somewhere as she raps Me and Mr. Horner standing on the corner

An old roommate Carla, told me she liked the sound of the keys because it sounded productive.

     she eats a cookie and says she did it, is proud, says its good and makes some tea laughs along to the ring, chocolate chip cookies left at our door,

how lucky are we, these cherokee blankets, small pox, Covid 9, staring at the sun,    

we live in a world where its dangerous to hug someone you love

Rained all day and night. Wind blew the window in, had to hold the ol' girl real tight and coo, Coo Coo Kachoo. Everything topsy turvy, wooden benches blown over. Fields flooded and streams form in the valleys and glades. Water on the road. The day before the radio took a break reporting about the virus to speak about the latest genetic editing break through. Restoring sight to the blind they say. In the basement below the Courthouse steps a deputy takes my temperature, pressing a device against my temple, I imagine how many other heads its met in its tour of duty touching Tom, **** and Sally. 98.6 straight down the middle. Turn to the deputy, ask him if he's got an MD, call em Doc. Its all so sudden isn't it? how quickly your local Court visit to file some paperwork becomes more of an ordeal. It used to be you could walk into any door without being scanned, poked and ****, but here we are, the sum total of something invasive, the other deputies guarding the other court jokes about ****** exams. I'm not waiting for the snakes.

Brave the flood to drive into the slow muddy river lands. Tell the Judge's assistant I'll make it so long as its passable. She contacts the Sheriffs and suggests a C-curve, I drive it straight through, meet a man with tattoos on his face, stars around the eyes, jump man on the cheek. We say our goodbyes and I drive amongst the cows and flooded roads. Twisting and turning, high water, so fragile, the mud that holds my tire.

Social distancing, per cdc guidance, calls for six feet of space. A week ago that was a punch line.
I walk into a local grocery for the second time in as many days to pay an energy bill that I missed the first time around. The lady at the counter wears long leopard braids and labors over a copy machine in service to a big fat momma who had the modern Peabo set as her ringer, and as Peabo sang a few bars, the minutes dragged on in full elucidated purgatory, I remained transfixed by the ways in which we are so humble and meager, yet strangely beautiful.

Anyways as the minutes continue to roll in the exposed air, I sense a man approach from behind, I take a few steps forward beyond the roped line towards the counter, and in sheer pack solidarity he too closes the distance. Its at this time that an inner voice reminds me of the cdc guidance and I shuffle a few feet forward. The man behind closes the distance and then coughs. He begins to speak into his cell phone, the raspiest voice I've ever heard, like burnt tin foil, but recently intubated, quiet, weak. My fight or flight kicks in, an urge to confront quakes and passes, civilization holds. The copy machine continues to hum and baffle sweet Taylor and her braids. Big Fat Momma's nails click on the counter, the posted paper sign informs customers that no returns will be accepted but fresh produce that does not meet standards can be exchanged. A lady from the checkout line laughs and talks about icing for her sons birthday cake, her cart is full, she looks early forties and slightly tired, but still good. A store clerk has bright red hair contrasted by her creamed coffee skin. People are wiping everywhere, wearing gloves. Wiping surfaces, screens, baskets. People hold paper towels in their hands to pick up baskets, open doors. Somebody told me they Lysoled their debit card. And the man behind me continues to cough and wheeze. He's not covering either, not even turning away. I'm at the counter with Taylor now, and I get a good look at him. He's a big fat man bald as a shiny tan bowling ball wearing a yellow T-shirt and God bless him a full on bond villain eye patch. He's got a goatee and mustache, and now I have a pain in my neck.

Camus Camus, sweet plague dumpling, dim sum.

The first day declared a national emergency, I walked into the Hong Kong House. It was all so much, the President called it the 'Chinese Virus' and there I was confronted by the white board of specials, all written in chinese characters, it was too much, this time I ran. After collecting myself, we rallied the party and walked back in and the first person we see is an asian fellow with luggage. Coughing behind walls. We tried to order dim sum, but the guy who usually makes it already left the building.

i eat a cucumber in defiance of the forces that would overwhelm me

Vaguely I recall a dream
ripping out handfuls of nose hairs
the black bristles like bundled corn stalks
filling my palms

Madame can you tell me
what it means?
its all blavatsky to me
Yes, I'm looking deeper
into your magic crystal ball
its shape so revealingly smooth
scraping the barrel both ways
feels worn but still slightly good

how much will this coffee cost me?
Does the girl behind the counter know her *******
are poking through the green cotton shirt
tightly hugging, transfixing
with afro nose ring red ivory skin
handfuls of round large lifted ******* protruding and
mystically speaking to me in tongues, sha la la la,
with the pull of gravity,
the pull of generations triumph and **** animal fuckery
I look for the clue,
for the answer to the why of the hard ******

for to hold this shining example of proportion
to taste her and feel her with every bit of my own
it feels like I would give up everything
leave my lover,
break laws and oaths
yet here I am tempered by the moment,
eyes on a dollar going into the tip jar, i hear her thanks
my girl placidly rocking in a chair outside

"."

sweet home girl brings me succulents
in a dirt birds nest
now sitting in a sunny window sill beside
my mothers mothers christmas cactus,
one alive one wilted
I sigh at the thought of explaining the poetic meaning
regarding photos in frames
and look into the colored glass arranged
in blues and greens pinks and white
clear mother of pearl sheen glittering crystal
scarlet begonias and pink plumeria
among a coastal green auburn mountain river valley
leading to the sea

the fragrance of the cold hardy mimosa tree bloom at night
revived my spirit
after fainting from the heat
disassociating amongst the crowd
packed into stadium bleachers
receiving blasting electric guitar scoots and boots
third octave wails
John Mayer

get this
before the band takes the stage
as the lights go out
a grown man screams full throated war yip
into the back of my skull

I might have slipped into a concussion then

fitting the dose

a man brings me a beer I tell him I don't want
and won't drink, but for a sip
and for a moment I think I'm poisoned
sick from the gas or the slipped mickey
my skin leaks into a cool film
and on the precipice of the shake out
crumpled into the fold out chair
somehow I'm breathing
standing and escaping
into the flouresent halls
and into a white tile bathroom
in a mirror my skin a whiter shade of pale
than the clogged porcelain
on my way out into the streets,
touched by the warm summer air
a louse attempts to fill me in on marriage,
flagellating himself for some unseen ex-wife

I tell him to leave me alone
and the simplicity and elegance of candor
disarms him long enough
for the burracho to grunt
"Never get married.....you look like you should be left alone"

Earlier in the day
I walked into a head shop
to buy papers
the guy at the counter asked if I had ID
I don't
He said he can't sell without ID
smirking with a thumbs up
I dropped three doll hairs on the glass counter
and put the papers in my pocket

Love always, until its sometimes, then its never

but then again,

Cue Kipling

In my Country
there's an epidemic of poor posture
with no one teaching us
how to hold our guts
I traveled to faraway lands
to learn the secret
of ******* in my *****
its like walking in between
two closely parked cars
as a young lad
I stood alongside another boy
cream of the crop
slick hair blonde and mine black
one girl left for her choosing
between us side by side
Sadie Hawkins went with the other fella
and I heard the adults behind me wince
it taught me something about my pecking order
in the meat market
yet it turned out the prettiest girl at the dance
still had the last choice
and it was me
we held each other close for a time
and the music played on
white gloves and shuffling black leather, thick soles

Is our name a destiny?
Why did Caleb advise immediately take the Land?
for his faith a bounty
these knights and conquering heroes
conquistador cops
vice squads ICE raids
trade war kinderlagers
borders and the shame
of the human smell
unwashed, ***** tired
I'm not that good, I haven't washed many feet
even my own are ***** sometimes
because my floors collect dust and dirt from the porch
that wasn't swept before I came
but I'm glad to be here
a chess board on the floor
and a fern that might make it
tomorrow
we hope to be better
tomorrow
like a new morning
looking out a bright window

they say the word goodbye
is a shortened form of
god be with you

I'm candle burning low
preparing for this moment
to shout into the abyss
a canary for those
oxygenated souls of the summer
its my turn, my line is called to the front
but before I go, here are my secrets
that I'll share with you

be kind babies
to your self most of all
this thing keeps stretching on
more twisted and simple than you
can ever imagine
so have fun
chop the wood
carry the water
adulthood is the longest period of life
it can also be the best part
learn a skill
let go of outcomes
it all happens in the now
be brave, go forth to meet your destiny with a full heart
and clear eyes
you have my blessing
goodbye

how can we be friends
               they don't love us

three minutes and not even a ****

well it wasn't much to expect anyways
          I sing prettier
barefoot
       walking on rocks

do the moans of the devils
and their lovesick blues
outweigh the choirs angels

three minutes to receive me
to make me one of your own
a merry band of travelers
set out on the road
a last hoorah of bachelors
the women
the moan

did anyone seem to have the time
its too far away now to know for sure
my baby's alright
she shows me the stars and the moon at night
points up at em with her little finger and says
'ooo'

she's a white speck on the black asphalt across the highway
like finding a grey hair in your beard
we can't stop
this infinite carousel
the abandoned mall parking lot
up and down round and round
there was something that someone was going to say
the tangent stretched on for an unbearable time
keep nodding and smiling
the words jump into this space
the slow draw never fires
the reactionary miss
its funny to see the change
in the face as they catch on
who is looking down
the barrel of this gun
a low rumble, chewed asphalt
do you see a meaning
i have one or two that you could borrow
the keys fall off the chain
the money drops out of the pocket
sometimes I can hold you
near and nearer, our bodies compressing and folding
for once our gravity combines
draw the curtains
smoke the mirrors
its cold

Stay strong and take things day to day -
you've done the hardest part
and now is the most desperate time
but you've your whole life
to live free now.

I could be falling apart
breathing this american air
the taste of kerosene
is on the tip of my tongue
pressed against my teeth
I can hold it and wait
once a traveler said to me
Jesus could put his tongue
into the back of his throat
and block all air flow
achieving nirvana
on a single breath
I exhale out ennui
another overdose victim standing beside me
and the mutilated legs from Tiananmen square
blown off by the country boys the party called in to ****** the city kids, or so its said
my words are noted in the public record
and I'm called up to the bench
and told to file a motion for release
in 30 days
I sit in a hallway and explain to the guy who found him
on indiana street because he just got the feeling he needed to go back
that nothings guaranteed on this timeline
but he only half listens
and looks at me with suspicion that softens
with steady detachment

all the masks
and mines a suit and title
the robe and the stare
are you on the level?

I've stopped caring if people call me Mr.
I'm resigned sometimes to fade away
like a moldy apple rotting quietly in the bin
it was only a taste of me that ever counted

but I'm not done yet
(sigh)
babies...this is the rowdy bus ride
on the long windy island road
shouting *******
as the driver power swerves around the sunday driving couple
in a flash, white knuckled eye to eye with the semi driver
not even surprised
that we are colliding
no-one else seems to notice
this ride ends too,
a red house on a hillside over looking the pacific
monkey toucan sloth
a private pool
infinity style, ends at the edge and tumbles into what
nothing to signify
no goals met
I'm just alive,
perhaps underachieving,
this number on my check is a third of last years take
maybe I'm not charging enough
maybe I'm working too hard or not eating
I've gained no weight since college
and I barely seem to care
I learn night moves, sometimes I can sing
fearless full throated belts

a sign in some ohio river town
in front of some church
that some people still go to
and maybe get charged at the door
says
pray ceaselessly
they say
yoga is a way of being
a person goes to the gym for an hour
but what about the other 23
I keep my back straight and my breath full
and count a days labor
for ******* in my *****
and keeping my triangles engaged
just like Bomchew and Paul taught me
an old lady smiles at me in a white stair case, calls me cowboy
she said she saw me standing in court
a judge threatening to throw me in jail
and said to herself
now theres a man

Let me kiss the taste of spring upon your mouth
I swear there is a side to me worth finding out
dizzy at the signs and ways we show who we are
empty cups and cigarettes on the last train car
I'm just staring at the clouds again
this blue sky is my only friend it seems
a shape shifter like me
between caviar and microwaves
hemispheres and full ashtrays
you see, your eyes reflected in me

Drinking whiskey with the devil
I've eaten mushroom heads
gone out where the real winds blow
been blown back again
I'm just singing to the air again
this guitar is my only friend it seems
it sings pretty like me
been quoting jesus and the Dalai Lam
Samson's hair was cut for love and greed
bittersweet symphonies, yea

So pick me up some cherry pie
some chloroform and cyanide
because, because
life is hard and then we die
without a rhyme or reason why
because, because
I've been sleeping in the bathtub
one toe before the dream door
I've been sleeping in the bathtub
there are no walls, there is no floor

I'll call you my dandelion
my sweet perfume
my great desire
because, because
life is short and love is wild
a passing truth, the raging fire
because, because
I've been sleeping in the bathtub
one toe before the dream door
I've been sleeping in the bathtub
there are no walls, there is no floor

Don't know who or where or when
but I'm gonna fall in sweet love again
because, because
bottom dollar, rich or poor
if you sneeze I'll bless your soul
because, because
I've been sleeping in the bathtub
one toe before the dream door
I've been sleeping in the bathtub
there are no walls, there is no floor

I'm leaving Carly's place after an all day ****** that had me convinced that paradise lay in the legs of Nate's sister wearing a unicorn onesie, and as they put on Sgt. Peppers and lay there the ****** freudian passion play overcame my capacity for archetype observation and I proceeded to walk around the room thanking everybody in that space and time for the gift of starting the **** with Nate's sister, the beat changed and they turned on me and said I needed to give her space, they all became timeless aliens traveling through time to **** and I was one of them coming online in a loop, and as long as I stayed awake I would remember and not be *****. I sat cross legged holding my friend sams hands, looking into his eyes, saying aloud we're creating the universe constructing all as the three smartest people of all time, forever throughout we died but never died, as long as we could stay awake, they all wore red and I couldn't trust any of them, I fired off mad questions and demanded to know the secrets of the universe and why woman wasn't the answer, I called up to nate to bring her down to me, and generally became a raving lunatic
      after some time of sam being soulmate and accepting him forever as my lover self same image, and also calling him ugly as im ugly, then channeling Brittany through him and countless other regressive exercises, we started inhaling nitrous gas, and the world became one stretched out moment
       and I kept calling out before, all the way up, as it were the secret spell with a handshake to fool the devil
         I thought Nate a mad spirit habituating this plane as a long gone failed hero plagued by the madness of wanting to **** his sister and forced to watch all his friends be aware of their own lust, so that pushed him into clowning, which he is an expert, that primal lust took me up and id taken a holy mandate to **** this beautiful creature and ascend to paradise,
when they slipped her upstairs they left her rainbow onesie, i felt heaven become another step remote and my faith tested, I resolved to be the last awake and never die, I walked up to the attic, and saw the light beaming from the window


            Sam dropped me off at the press grill so I could eat some grub,
then I met up with Tyler for a drink somewhere while he told me his story of meeting a guy in a skyline chilis bathroom drunk at 3 am, he said the guy was standing at the ****** but wasn't *******. Ty asked him if he was done and the guy put Ty in a chokehold with his pants down, according to Ty the cops came in and he was putting clean shots into the guys mug, he is contemplating leaving town before they can indict him for felonious assault, I told him Canadas nice but Venezuela doesn't have an extradition treaty, come to think of it neither does Cuba, but Ty is too proud for that probably
   anyways we meet Carly being a dancing beauty in a high falootin joint with string lights called Julep, the only reason to mention it is because as we were leaving a guy was bent over the rail vomiting and looking wretched he noticed us watching him as we smoked our cigarettes off to the side and immediately decided that he wasn't some kind of side show freak to be gawked at, he became threatening in the most base and pathetic way a human can, and his bride came to tell us to ******* with her father, father of the bride shaking my hand, we eventually left that scene and walked to Oddfellows where I saw Sam Cohan and he bought me a beer, good chap, we talked until I stepped toward Carly, Tyler and a fine looking strange *****
I touched Carly and received an awkward unmemorable introduction to the strange *****. She walked away but lurked and locked eyes with me as the evening rolled on
later Carly told me that the girl demanded to meet the guy who looks like Heath Ledger, a sure fire ****, so Carly is grinding on my **** and my backs to the bar and Tyler already got me a beer, and there I was, a pirate king
I took Carly out after the lights came on, and was going to give Tyler the run of my place, he disappeared into the night and I showed Carly my favorite smelling tree, a pink mimosa still in bloom late July, we almost ****** on my car, until I went back to her place and we ****** until $430, rising at noon, I left telling her we had an hour to get ready to journey to Findlay for Jim's wedding
I showered and brushed my teeth and collected my suit and put it on without a tie
I picked up Carly and set out upon the road, but made a quick stop for a bite
two deaf guys ordered in front of me and the kid working the register said my glasses were cool, along the way I was telling Carly the story of how I wore make up for the first time to a middle school dance, and she said she had to *****, I didn't believe her at first until she tried to stick her head out the window half way rolled down, I managed to get it down all the way and wet streaks of human gut waste caught the wind and splattered my window
we pulled over and I went to get her some napkins to clean herself off as I squeeged the car, she tried to wipe the window with the napkins, sweet girl. The wedding started at 3:30 and we didn't have more than five minutes to spare, she found her vape pen 20 minute out as Heather started to send me worried messages, as I was set to read a passage, little did I know that I was leading off the whole affair, I arrived and was quickly rushed to meet the mothers and have a boutonnière pinned to my lapel , the women all looked stunning and I congratulated each in turn as they shoved a program in my hand, Tiffany took me through the drill, we walked up to the stage and took our places on the bench, looking out at the beautiful shining faces,


I was the only one not wearing a tie, but thats not important, I saw Jim and embraced him with all the love I could muster, he looked at me and said that he knew I would make it, that he knew that he just had to trust the flow, and I would appear in the nick of time, the pastor threw his hands in the air and welcomed the families, the mothers lit candles, and then Tiffany looked at me and said that it was my turn, I stepped up to the Beema and gazed out over the crowd, trying to summon something clever, nothing good came to mind and so I opened my mouth and said, "a reading from Genesis" and then put every fiber of my being into reminding the room that it is Gods will that we be fruitful and multiply. I'm told I slammed my hands down for emphasis and let out a hearty amen, a man's man's amen, and turned and took one giant step off the podium with two baby stairs, I gracefully flowed into the bench having averted a complete embarrassment, and then tactfully left the stage with Tiffany after her read.   Jim looked at me after mine with a nod, and I said the word strong, that read cemented my status as a star of the party, and the mojo flowed, I was called the cash guy by the hotel, for checking in as Atlantis Grosshammer, $200 depost, we drank and danced and an old lady came to me to say that I have a beautiful soul
I thanked Jim's father for helping to create my friend, and danced around bottles
the cake was good
I told Carly I always catch the brides garter, at every wedding I've ever been. I saw Jim's men assemble for his toss, I let the men come and put myself in the mix, Jim turned his back and had a misfire,
the temptation to collect it passed all of us by thankfully, and he was set to fire again, it came to me and I snatched it out of the air, cold as ice I walked off the floor only with eyes for Carly not even saying a word to Jim, I put that thing on my head and went back to Jim threw him on my shoulders and swung him around like we were in a broadway musical
two kids playing in the street,
he said its the best moment, and so it goes

Come to the edge of the water
I wish I could tell you
you'll be safe I swear
Come to the edge of the water
the reflection of the moon
is as real as it gets out here

Flashlight, call my name with your last life
Go insane crawl out weakened
Know my name and it sweetens
whenever you say it

Dry Flowers at dawn
Why life got to be so hard?

Flashlight, call my name with your last life
Go insane crawl out weakened
know my name and it sweetens
whenever you say it

Theres no looking back

sometimes the past just stays gone

If I could, I'd never say your name

        Unwind me of time

I still see your face clear

Overgrown, and tangled up with weeds

       Like a prisoner alone

I just mark the days long

    Drowning in bioluminosity

Oh, darling you, take my breath away

     A heart tied with knots

I lost sight of the coast long ago

Thats okay, I belong on the sea

       Take all you can, I ain't got no rope though

only handmade cannonballs and curiosity

Darling, you take my breath away

If I could tell you my secrets,
I would let them fall from my mouth
like an opened bag of marbles
they would come spilling out
shiny little pebbles of color
mine would all be black
I can't see the back of my head
and probably never will
it takes two mirrors for the reflection
and I don't even like looking into one
I'd rather see your eyes

It's afternoon and I’m standing outside in a towel. I’m smoking a menthol cigarette, or rather the ****, one of four collected from the ash tray on the brick ledge sitting in the window by my screen door. I’m surrounded by dead plants, it was too cold in the storage room for them to make it, no heat goes there. The thing about dead plants, you can never tell if they’re truly dead. There might be a spark of life hidden somewhere. Sure the leaves yellow, become brittle, while others maintain a shade of green. I’m smoking this menthol down to the filter, my skin has the watery remains of a two hour bath beading in the late winter air. It's St. Patrick’s day, and the town will be filled with drunks, I aspire to be one of them. Yet my face is dead, I don’t know how to wink. The bar tender gave me a cigarette last night, in appreciation, I blew her a kiss, our eyes met, and in both of our faces, dead plants. I watched a gaggle of muscle bound monkeys in tight shirts pounding the hardwood of the bar, hollering in tones only achieved by men watching sports together. Not the birth of a boy, not the heat of ******, can match the sound of men reveling in someone else’s athletic accomplishment. I used to sit on the bench of my middle school basketball team, we only ever lost one game, it was a catholic school hit job, the referees in the hometown pocket, it was probably the first mugging I ever witnessed in real time. If you’re enthusiastic enough, people will keep you around, the key is to never let on that you’re faking it. That’s the art of social life, that veneer that only the true actor can achieve, being so deep in character, that you believe it as your self. This smile, take it or leave it, but if you walk around smiling long enough, people will wonder what’s wrong with you. I’m smiling, I enjoy absurdity, feigned or otherwise, just yell in my face a little less, or start throwing glass and make a real horror show of it.

There’s a halo
Over the horizon
Where the wind blows
Up into the mountains
Yea she’s sweet though
Baby’s got them honey bones
I get a taste of
the sunrise on her breath oh
Mmm mmm mmm mmm
It tastes like starting over
Mmm mmm mmm mmm
Awake from golden slumber

As she whispers
feel me from the inside
go deeper
tell me that I feel alright
yea she's sweet though
Baby's got them honey bones
yea she's sweet though
Baby's got them honey bones

In the end,
nothing really matters

Small town beauty with no makeup on
she wears a frilly summer dress when the days are long
in her heart she's looking for a better way

Just looking to find some peace of mind
searching in the corners where the cobwebs hide
Oh, there's nothing but dust

Out beyond the city lights
her dreams burn brighter when the sun don't shine
she lights one up, and looks away

And she says
Oh, all the simple things
no matter where I go
the sunsets in the rearview

Mescaline, LSD, psilocybin, and smokin' the cheeb
pushin' it down, but it all comes out
like rivers to the sea

She opens her mouth to let out a sound
a ******* bird with no-one around
to watch her go, as she flies away

And she says
Oh, all the simple things
no matter where I go
the sunsets in the rearview

I knew there must be an end, but no beginning
like an unremembered birth
doors would close and some would open,
the tingle rushing in my skin was the clue to the key
I found the key, but had no lock
I heard the call of the wild,
I knew I was the call.
And sitting here, sweating,  
I got no where to go
strumming my guitar and letting her sing,
her voice is getting to be so pretty now,
these dreams with long tails,
they keep coming true one day at a time,
sitting back and marveling at the unfolding of time,
and these late summer flowers come into bloom,
so different then their springtime brothers,
they wait, slow grow in the sun,
and pop
when all else seems like its on the way out,
that moment at the height, the zenith before the fall,
right before the harvest,
we take stock of another season,
our golden days, in that golden hour,
a campfire illuminating the forest like a blazing pagan temple hall,
I’ll smoke and pass it around man,
I'll smoke and pass it around,
pretty blonde lady, little sea sailor girl,
sings me some jazz,
she joins her friend with armpit hair in a harmony,
she offers me whiskey from a flask
so I can sing some jazz too
And we all just show up on this mountain side,
we all just show up, without a beginning,
forgetting about a far off end
We the lucky ones, who set ourselves free

I fall asleep with feathers in my hair
They catch the wind
and the wind can go anywhere
I like to think that we are entangled
In ways that a child can understand
When I dream of you,
you must be
dreaming of me

Everyday I kept dying
You heard my last gasp
Cross the battle lines
Between our pillows

Those poorly drawn pictures
Of love
Scrawled cursive beneath the overpass
In black spray paint
Lurking in the damp corner
Covered in grime
Foretelling an infinite ability to heal
Only yesterday they told me you were gone
Unlike my love for you
No confession here, all is known

****** if I’ll be dead again
To sing a one note song of rage
the taste of it blew my mind
Go and try to take its pulse
She rocks away
Vested in me by the state,
She rocks away
I hereby sentence you to be
Dead and dying

Now I’m spilling blood across the land
No horse ever ran as fast
As My cupped hands
holding warm guts
leaking between scarlet fingers
I hum a tune to pacify
Remembering all that you said
Think I’ll lose my mind
And take one last look at visions of flesh
I make out my sweaty face
Only left alone
A Monkey on my back,
aching my bones
Examining my head

And when all is won and lost
She will be your bride
In a blinking field
Of fireflies

Counting the holes in the wall  
until we start spinning
    
  Nothing can save you at all
Not with that face

This will only hurt
  if you want it too
some people here
                seem to like the pain

I have no answer for that
  because I’m one of you
A man on a cross
Not named Jesus Christ

I tasted temptation
I’ve eaten my fill

I’ve tasted temptation
I’m hungry still

Take me to church
Pin me up to the wall
Promise me salvation
With your loving tongue

We’re all gonna die
No one gets out alive
Throw me onto the floor
Make me beg for a sign

Slow smooth beats
easy as a wave coming to shore
on a trip around the world
a genesis of a whisper
a tea kettle song
I hum along
engaging at mach speed
the sky swallows me whole
and whisks away my joker's heart

I stand in a limitless ocean
dreaming of drinking the sky
if I could only live
as large as my soul
and fly

This soap box
becomes a boat without a paddle
and I row where the tides flow easiest
waving to the smiling faces and
the emptiness all the same

We have a good laugh,
the dice comes up snake eyes
and I tell the dealer
I'm the richest man in Babylon
although my pockets are empty
my smile remains,
that crooked deal
always at the last will make you shudder and groan
wondering why another hand
Aces come up straight sometimes
and your game
riding high for another mile long fall

The air rushes by
but I don't blush
Tell me again you don't love me,
you, you
misunderstand me
my friend
I'm the beggar on the street singin' broken tune
with a full cup and no change
slack eyed and the blues
my cradle to grave lullaby
mixed with the ecstatic wails of a lunatic
swimming in a puddle of God
the fever touched my bones
I am blameless
my throat and heart see the truth
and speak in convulsions
of misshapen glory
the bed was soaked in sweat,
can't you remember?

Repent,
with my lips
I don't know how,
and could never,
I'll eat every sin
and spit out bones of gold
I'll drink every misery
and cry tears of wild joy
I'll stand at the shores end
and dance to the crowning sunset
leaping from the last battered watchtower
drown, drown
in blue neon
psychedelic bioluminescence

Sinking further into the mix of clay
every gamble lost and won in the same throw
I can't fulfill any other destiny
a blind man walking without a stick
I just call to the birds and the bees
bring me sweet honey ambrosia
and they usually come

There's no escape
the long cold night comes too
and my body lays into another bed
with without a warm body to hold
a stream of lovers touching my hands
but we slip any grip
that tries to hold
a human master
but the end
******* ayahuasca
master blaster

Spitting blood into the sink
   from infected gums
who gives a **** anyway
  about hopeless romantic  love

Life is Happy, Life is Sad
  a poem for any occasion
She abandoned desire way downtown
  although the clock said she was aging

They had plans to leave Bangkok by train,
   two seats they didn't fill
A wayfaring stranger without a name
  prayed they never will

The music rang out like a shotgun blast
  and stung like a scorpion's tail
There was nothing left to comprehend
  just two diverging trails,
  
from me to you

I know the food is poison
For the jungle taught me so
Hungry, I swallow the bitter pill
Alongside my pride
As my elders stand rapt
Mesmerized by glowing picture screens
The shadows of men we cannot see
Holding the strings
Engulfing us all
In penury

I walked into the garden and gave Themis my flower.
She said, “now you know they’ll lock up men of any age in my name, thirsty as they are”
I said, “what am I to do, to hold back the flood tide?
Scratching out a living with steel wool cyanide, the champion of beggars and thieves, scoundrels and knaves”
She smiled and said, “you’ve got to find your way home”
I took her by my side, held her in my arms, looking deep into her dark eyes, “I’m lost", I said, “and you know what I’m dreaming"
"I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know where to go.”
She looked on me in silence, ragged tears forming in the corners of our eyes. Emotion swelling in our heart spring, somehow, I knew, I must take upon the open road.
We parted at the gate separating my father’s mansion from the path to the wood.
She was imprinted upon my soul.
The flower wilted, petals one by one, falling to the floor.

This depravity has got me frothing at the mouth,
like a rabid animal, I'm losing control
likely to commit a spree of societal carnage,
you'll see me on the ten o'clock news,
local man arrested engaged in frenzied ****,
a pornographic festival for the bacchanalian priesthood

There's nothing for it anymore, no books, no baths, no music,
I am filled with a pure and terrible lust
with no lover to bear this world shattering Eros,
I fear for the next woman who beds me,
I am now made beast, and will tear her limits for pleasure to shreds
like a hungry jackal leaving a panting shivering mass in my wake,
animal I become,
I will howl and growl and take all that I want,
a fountain of insane carnality,
pumping hot blood coursing through flesh on fire,
like the seasoned farmer,
I long to bury my seed deep into the ground.

I refuse my own release, edging myself closer to violent madness,
a constant stick banging on the bars of the lions cage,
stoking quiet battle rage, pacing to and fro,
biding my time to pounce and taste blood,
now I am beyond romance, my aims are sinister,
and all who look into my flashing eyes will know carnal desire,
it will be my van guard,
a thunderous March of pounding feet
kicking up rolling plains of dust seen far off in the distance
like a flaming pyre, heralding my coming on the horizon,
it will emanate from me like shimmering waves of heat
rising from the summer asphalt,
and all who feel it should tremble
like the trails of shaken walls and broken beds soon left behind,

I am something beyond lust,

I am depraved.

Silence now, but oh that the sound would surely shake the earth
And bring maiden knees to tremble
My death song could crumble the mighty walls of Troy
And throw brave Achilles down to dust
Running mad at night through the empty city streets,
Though none would see my nakedness in the black wet reflection of the lights
the twinkle of buried moonlit diamonds scattered on perfect snow
Can only match my brilliant solitude
The bathroom mirror reflects my fevered emptied eyes
Not one cares to see into these red-rimmed holes
destined to stare and burn as forgotten candles
I cannot blink,
a sweaty man with slick black hair sits alone
hunched over a piano
the keys dance pianissimo, evoking slow seductive suicide
a morphine dose in a rainy manhattan subway,
looking out from a window onto the frozen darkening ice,
slumped in a wooden bench seat, overnight
I want to scribble on every abandoned wall, in ******* letters,
Tomorrow I shall die

Alas, it does not matter
For what am I?

I’ll trace the lines of a love poem
With the tip of my generous tongue
I’ll bend you over a sonnet
pounding your heart with verse
Until you come
Closer to the slippery edge
Of the highest haiku peak

Pulsing cranes shoot from
Sky following deep swallows
Cascading heat wing

The beat of the sextet
Engorges the plump plum with tantalizing taste
As the surging wind tickles swirling grass meadows
A pirates plunder
unbridled womanly chaste
Riding my large prose with feminine pleasure
Until both writhing bodies are drenched in chicken broth rain
I will slather you in brilliant color
As you vacantly stare ecstatic
Groaning through the augustan age

Modern day heretic
With death filled eyes
Hand stroking long black beard
Sipping ambrosia tea of aniline
Smoking rolling snorting his pleasure
Speaking on Lenin, Watts, and the price of heaven
He offers nothing, slips of LSD
His mind a traveler, the smell of burnt almonds is everything
Ask him if he has ever advocated for the overthrow of God
He will coyly smile, and politely nod
Yogic Tantric, naked downward dog
In the morning, he salutes the sun
Christian, Buddhist, he accepts not one
Yet he will quote Jesus and the Dalai Lam
Born again, always dead, rock n’ roller
Passing through the karmic gates of fire
Going out where politicians fear to tread
Drinking whiskey with the devil, eating mushroom heads
He wears his hair long, despite what the moneyed men say
Not for glory, not for fame, not for one care who remembers his name

He only bows to the wind, that truth eternal
The bronze gong shatters
He knows he is mortal

If you are looking
To escape the rain
Jump into the ocean

Revolver

A sound so good I wanna say it again
Revolver

A taste so sweet for you to understand
Revolver

No flowers less fragrant for the passerby
Revolver

No work of art is tainted by the gazing eye
Revolver

We are dogs circling tails for tricks
A new house
made of found bricks

The original wind blown storm
Circles earth forever
once born

Let these words embodied in tone slither inside you
like the illuminous snake in the garden,
He who would choose wisdom over blissful ignorance, come forth
Primordially flicking tongues like a fleshy breeze touching the ******* of your heart,
Making your soulgasm explode,
shaking and shattering,
The walls of this mass illusion
That you and I are separate conscious,
two brilliant waves cresting in the same dazzling ocean
Or that words mean anything at all
Follow my sign posts,
they lead to a wooden paddle boat on the muddy shore of a river
Climb inside as we slide with our backs against the dew wet morning grass
Floating in space, staring at the vaulted ceiling of stars
Beyond, behind, infinite light of time, we go as pilgrims
Once across the murky water, shimmering waves, we leave the boat
We put down the girl, whoever and whatever we still carry
We put it down, under the bohdi tree, all the arrows are slung a thousand times;
blotting out the sun,
and darkness covers us in mortal fear
But we speak in music now, we speak in flowers, and symphonies
And dilated eyes see lotus petals unfolding at the center of the arrowhead,
blossoming into divine corruption and ecstacy
so terrible that you must turn away from eternity
for now we have no answer to that magnificent shining face
that turns our hair white
We have no answer for that glowing burning face
that casts us scattered into the deafening void,
that beautiful face so terrible
we turn from truth,
we dance with death, her hair radiant,
we only are permitted to see
the stupendous *** of God on holiday
when we enter the church,
bells ringing, tolling the death of Absolute Primal Man and Woman,
unconditioned individuality, original freedom
Yet we still turn,
some taking the lead in mortal tango,
swinging to keep the beat as best we can,
and when we step on a toe, we throw our heads back and laugh wildly
And passionately  tongue kiss the mouth of our defeat
with lust and longing, pressed close against our heaving chests
because nothing really matters,
that is what I say,
because if nothing really matters,
then everything’s okay

We stand on the bluffs above the breakers, watching the sea foam swirl like the madness of our broken world. We linger. The dense feeling of fate pervading us. The unbreakable diamond line tethering us to the crystalline moment, frozen in a picture, put in a box, never to be seen again. The wind blew and a pinprick shift in movement, insignificant as an eyelash, brought down an empire made of ash.  We walked those charred triumphant streets, riddled with rotting bouquets of flowers from yesterday’s parade. It was time to take comfort in strangers. She turned to me, “I want love like the ocean, it always comes back”. I think of her floating on the Adriatic contemplating our blossoming love, croatian street art, and holding her body close as a baby in the floridian waves. Now a million shards of glass laid lost on the savage sea floor, mirrors reflecting a thousand truths, hidden from her eyes by the churning tide.

Words don't matter anymore. I scream in frustrated contempt, “Why are you acting crazy! Why are you disturbed? Where is redemption here?” It is gone for now, a dog running wild in the woods. I wake up and try to explain the unconsciousness, but it’s like singing to a self possessed crowd in a run down karaoke bar. Grasping at cigarette smoke.

My last act of friendship could be to obliterate you and expose you for the liar you are. Instead I will let silence settle over any righteousness I feel, any angle of truth I claim to possess, letting the birds sing their songs for us, and the thrum of the world will hold me in its arms.  I will release the great burden there alone. “There are things I can tell you, and there are things I cannot say, I hold nothing against you, I forgive you.”

“You are a child, I do everything for everyone, I give everything, and everyone just takes from me!”  She viciously hisses in another’s voice, a harpy sent for blood, *****, and sacrifice, lashing about with claws meant to tear out the heart of man.

“I may have a child’s heart, filled with infinite forgiveness. I may be a flawed man, but I won’t turn from that truth, in it is wabi sabi beauty. I’m not seeking to rationalize or justify my actions, the past doesn’t interest me that much anymore. The feeling you give me now is a toxic one, like a ****** hitting rock bottom, I want the poison out of my veins.”

More screaming. Rampage, wrath, hell fury and doom. An **** of anger directed at my peaceful countenance, an all out assault fueled by brimstone, baiting the Buddah under the bohdi. My murderer is my muse. The citadel is overrun again by the Amazonian hordes set for the massacre, spear point to throat, mutilating the glinting marbled halls, painted red. So **** me now, my quiet pride and solemn truth are unassailable. You lob bombs at an iron sky. One built after years of hellish wildfire to bring down Zion. Yet the walls drip with life, you can taste it in the air. The overcoming of emotion, like fresh white clouds drifting above bloated bodies floating dead on the burning acrid water. And maybe only a dry heart pulp remains in the humid sun, but I don’t think so, there is juice here in this soul, the nectar is still sweet, tempered by age. I bite my tongue and laugh at the helplessness of love gone wrong, a faux pas matched only by a priest farting at a funeral. I wink at death, clapping and singing songs with a final gasp, we die like Hector dragged in the dust.

Days later, she writes a mixed apology. Staking a claim on humanity. Can she see into her own eyes? Does she know the past as I do, can she own her duplicity, her renunciation of all that she claims to hold dear? We were one once. Symbiotic, duads, all I did, she did, all I was, she was. Blame still taints my heart.

I want to strip off my clothes and howl in the rain, as the forest sends thunderous chamber hall applause to my release. I want to howl for the toil. I want to howl for the ecstasy. I want to howl for all the unrecognized love, all the unfulfilled expectations, the selfishness, I want to howl for the sacrifice, and the collapse of return, I want to howl.

Somewhere, does my scream still echo? A voice on the radio answers.

“Those things you keep, you better throw them away. You want to turn your back, bury your old ways. Once you were tethered, and now you are free. Once you were tethered, well now you are free. That was the river, this is the sea!”

I walk around a drafty room, hugging myself like a crying orphan seeing all the doors closed on the last day of autumn. If I can make it through the biting winter; holed up somewhere in an abandoned hollow, hands in ratty brown clothe gloves, patched pants and ***** scarves, spring will be beautiful, and I will lay in fields of burgeoning new blossoms. A thousand times Odysseus.

I am going to try speaking some reckless words, and I want you to listen to them recklessly.

Burning Man is an invitation to a collective art experience, similar to that of the Jew’s mass revelation at Sinai, to be converted into little children and enter the gates of heaven together.

In Black Rock City, There is no money, no commercialization, only a gift economy of free cooperation, supported by the radical ethos of self-reliance, self-actualization, and radical inclusion.  

One friend, who happened to live the life of a hobo artist, commented that she felt that burners were paying to experience life as a hobo. I understand the experience as a way to live openly without attachment and give freely without attachment, and as the saying goes, the playa provides.

In Black Rock City, There is no us and them, because as one citizen so aptly put it to me as I thanked him for the gift of some unknown chemical, “We’re all ravers here man.” And We we’re and are all raving mad, dancing to the song of the desert, everything everything everything, yet no one died there, no children were harmed.

Socio-Economic status indicators are less apparent at Black Rock City, dress is both shabby and marvelous, as many are in the hippy Mad Max apocalyptic desert tribal grindhouse gear of their choosing, or naked as the day they were born, covered in dust.  

The happiest man I witnessed, sat naked in full lotus, serenely smiling to himself, dreadlocks draped over his shoulders rocking back and forth at a woman’s wedding where she married her self.  He knew the open secret.

This strikes at the heart of the matter, there in the desert, there is an awareness, that every citizen is in an act of participatory art happening in the now, you may wear your body without shame, without scorn or derision, or even a second glance, you may simply be in all your human glory, in whatever mode of conscious, whatever identity or avatar you choose.

Comfort of touch arises in this open, relaxed atmosphere of non-repression, Hugs are standard greeting, and last a deliciously long time compared to our society. Cathartic emotional release arises, encouraged by freedom from social conditioning, laws, and traditional mores. There is a fervent, accepted development of comradeship, the beautiful, sane affection of man for man, latent in all the young fellows, north south east and west.

Rumi’s quote on Zoroastrian’s wheel reads, “Come, come, whoever you are, Wanderer, idolator, worshipper of fire, even though you have broken your vows, a thousand times, Come, and come yet again. Ours is not a caravan of despair.”

In this living environment of artful community empowerment new social standards arise, more equivalent to private desire, as there is increased ****** illumination, new social codes made manifest that rid us of fear of our own nakedness, rejection of our own body.

This stands in stark contrast to the present condition of life for American Person, which is one of deathly public solitude and mass commercialization.
We’ve built a technological Tower of Babel around ourselves, and are literally reaching into heaven to escape the planet. The stupendous machinery surrounding us conditions our thoughts, feelings, and reinforces our mental slavery to the material universe we’ve invested in, the separation and tension this creates can be felt walking down the street avoiding stranger’s eyes.

I say all this tremendous and dominant play of solely materialist bearings upon current life in the US, with the results already seen, accumulating, and reaching far into the future, that they must either be confronted and met by at least an equally subtle force infusion for purposes of spiritualization, for the pure conscience, for genuine esthetics, and for absolute and primal manliness and womanliness – or else our modern civilization, with all its improvements is in vain, and we are on the road to a destiny, to that of the fabled ******.


How can we Americans make our minds change theme? For unless the theme changes-encrustation of the planet with machinery, inorganic metal smog, violent outrage and mass ****** will take place. We witness these horrors already.

Abruptly then, I will make a first proposal: on one level symbolic, but to be taken as literally as possible, it may shock some and delight others – that everybody who hears my voice, directly or indirectly, try the chemical LSD at least once; every man woman and child American in good health over the age of 14, find a kindly teacher or guru guide and assay their consciousness with LSD – that if necessary, we have a mass emotional nervous breakdown in these States once and for all.  

Then I prophecy, we will all have seen some ray of glory or vastness beyond our conditioned social selves, beyond our government, beyond America even, that will unite us into a peaceable community.  I hope this will be understood not as the solution, but a typical and spiritually revolutionary catalyst, where many varieties of spiritual revolution are necessary to transcend specifically the political Hobbesian cold war we are all involved in.

I would invite you to step away from your rational mind
Seek inner space awareness
May the long time sun shine upon you
And all love surround you, and the pure light within you, shine your way on

Dark sea wine,
send me to Brazil
Caracas, Venezuela,
the Coasts of Gold,
strung out on oblivion,
drowning in the sun,
each exhale an eon,
collapsing upon itself

Hail Mary, sweet ****** mother,
salty ginger, stellar space,  
answer a beggar's prayer,
somewhere let horses run wild,
and may a lion lie with a lamb's tail

Soaked in jazzy flow,
the white Apogaean tides
crash like a silver blade against bronze,
romance, the death of heroes,
Achille's spear,
penetrating this moment, ripping it bare,
slicing young flesh,
open wounds bleeding blessed red life to the world,
an amber glaze

Thrones pin peace to the wall,
a trophy pelt for all to see
with cool blazing eyes,
yet all look away
while I two step waltz like a jigging liquid light wave,
lithe feet raining down moves like a dog in the woods,
chasing deer through smokey paths hidden from human stained eyes
by thick brush

Stiff whiskey midnight,
gibbous moon hangs mellow yellow like half a wheel of cheese,
canonized in secret watching,
the pretty girl problems
thrown around like trash blown in the park
lovely day, where does this path lead?
the open road forever howls
life, death, birth, infinity

Staring off into the distance of a ***** carpet ridden with living trails of ants, a crawling black river of desolate hunger, counting days of visions, wandering naked in the lake treading water, kissing, spitting out lips and liquid
shifted in dreams
memories poke like a cactus needle open to a room of steam heat and *****
flooding with words that digest imagination and burn eyelids, a cigarette held too close to a crowning flame
incinerating eyelashes and clattering TNT onto the serene image of our drunken antics while the rest of the world is howling for us to see ourselves for the raving lunatics we are, their tired look of exasperation an exhausted mother left alone to raise a hopeless child, wicked only for his ignorance
The last speakers of the paleolithic age journey forth from the depths of the amazonian jungle to heal our souls nailed to the cross as drug dealers because ingested plants grow in the ground

I saw the most beautiful soul weep in fear against a diner booth at midnight
amid plates of burgers, fries and green beans laid on the lineoleum table with no signs of starvation or danger
yet the signs of the apocalypse resonate in all psyches because reptilian brains would rather die than change, conform than bring forth the messianic transformation of our own radical self acceptance as God
and we shun those who are insane on the streets
***** outcasts, poor filth and ugliness
human animals unfit for this society of plastic and image, a mirage over substance
I cross the street rather than look the beggar in the eye because he stinks of desperation, and tell him no no no, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, I can't share with you all
MOLOCH!
The holy yell
flooding the empty headed street
we abandoned our mother and forsaken our selves to flickering images of lust and prestige, **** and *****, ****** and ***, thick wads
idolizing our own form,
the sirens of the modern age, the golden calves danced around in supermarket check out lines,
capturing us on the jagged cliffs of inattention, glories husked and barren, cultivate likes and followers sweet nicotine in the bloodstream, social media mogul reigning over a grand bazaar of ghosts in a room, talking to other ghosts in rooms of faraway lands, ignoring the living flesh in front of their twitchy eyes, cast down for a screen, forgetting themselves for a profile, a small picture in a corner, an Ignominious massacre of life cast through a digital lens, concerts meant for full expression of a cathartic moment of ****** movement, lost to a sea of hand held recording devices to remember how you didn't feel at that moment  with other people milling about as cattle who would rather document and never watch again then dance and live and be a part of the happening, look, Rip Van Winkles throwing pins with revolutionary prussian ghosts in a sleepy Catskill hollow, zombies behind wheels typing to ****, these words will not save you, they will not fill the siphon hole,
I am with you in this burning sodium night on my back in the grass of a night with no darkness
I am with you where the army of madness will overthrow the living dead and shake their working class dreams to the core with the sudden eternal war of nothingness and contemplation and silence screaming out for someone to save us
Everything is HOLY!

Throw open the church doors
think nothing of paying for poison, (as advertised)
but refuse to confront your self possessed greed because the man holding the cup is tired and desperate and I am tired and desperate

A truck hauls a horse
broken wilderness, cleaved concrete, cracked spines wretched scars,
killing anything that isn't hard, impermanent and futile, the land reclaims
but no land to ride, only the black road with its machines spewing the smokey remains of dead ancient animals
nature perverted, mobility imprisoned inside a metal box to be driven when it can run
so apt
for the potential inside coffins of daily lives
talking of dreams gutless to pursue
settling instead for the easy cruise of routine
******* our own hands

We all matter
but this world doesn't work without slaves
so take pride in your nine to five
get some ***** with that job title
and two sentence description
of how you can make the dreams come true, in the suburbs with three kids a couch and security from whatever danger lurks outside of us on TV
our own kind
murderous and malicious
homicidal tribalists
merrymaking nihilists
The fear The Fear
the light the light

I grab her hand and stare into dark eyes deadlocked on the momentary plane, a revealed saint testifying to God's truth Mary Maria, she tells me there is something beautiful outside this current mode of existence, but she's only had a fleeting glimpse

My liquid heart romance rides shotgun in a poem
written through the ages
by the same men to stare at stars
and paint caves with angel fire
Like a river named through time
the tongues change
the flow remains

Oh my love, my vast and sacred love
Speak to me ceaselessly as a prophet of doom
drive me mad with your words
I'll listen, I'll just listen
to you who could fill the ruddy canyons of the Moab
delicately as an arch,
spanning the nothingness between us
Filling the Universe with Light & Dark
Shadow & Form
     We are made Flesh
     We are made blood
     The crazy look is in my eye
Staring out over a darkened room
Looking for my fellow fools
who know we have a right to pleasure
      Life is our wife
      We **** it at our leisure

But Beware the thinkers,
these are cerebral palsy,
from soft and sad and helpless

Beware the dreamers,
they are blind on the pretext
they do not see the world,
they deny,

As I sit staring in front of the wall
knowing that if I have the patience of Eternity
that in the twinkling of an eye
I shall see it fall

Where O' Where
Does the Lion Roam
On the mossy hillsides He sings
to flowing water, arpeggio chatter,
in a shaded chamber hall of green
He sings to the sounds of acorns crashing
onto the leafy forest floor
Fallen Autumn Colors dance all around us
Pirouetting through air to rocky shore
The wooden logs bow to take their hallowed headed rest
As angled current sings slapping songs of merry ***,
sliding over verdant brown beds

Creatures Love to find a secret message
Sent from a stranger God
a ring tucked on wooden bough
a peacock feather lodged in bark


KERPLOOP

into the water
another acorn splops

It’s time to bury the guns in the ground
Black men cuffed
shot in the back of the head
little black girls with their braids
slayed
in sleeping beds
into the dark winds
I’m crying
looking at all this senseless dying
but whose to blame?
Some say the war machine
is just part of the game

People livin' too long under fever haze
throw my ticket out the window,
throw my suitcase too,
             I can’t stay here no more

Aquarius has come with the red clay pitcher
I met him by the etruscan stone well
bloodied in all our glory
we threw the system down to hell

We speak without speaking
As two lovers should
Your eyes are like fire
And they burn me like wood

I pull up your dress
Like you know that I could
As I see my heart's desire
Between your soft thighs
Sweet gypsy woman, love me tonight!

Now you travel the world
searching for home
Wondering all the while
How you'd grown cold
Longing for days
when you still felt free
But now that you're here Gypsy
Come be with me!

Stay with me Gypsy,
there's nothing to say
I'll love you all night
Yea, I'll love you all day!
Lay with me Gypsy
Feel my love strong
And in my arms I'll hold ya
And do ya no wrong

Rock with me Gypsy
Feel my hips sway
As the tidal of emotion
sweeps us both away!
Laugh with me Gypsy
For in our hearts' we know
That as one we are together
And time matters no more

Eyeing the dawn rising from the East
          in the back seat of a car
The mist from the fields fills the country roads
        with precious calm
Time has slowed to a sweet molasses flow,
like the hovering mist
        over the road
She plays a lullaby of Bow and Arrows,
          a broken guitar
Behind her,
         I wrap my arms
around her shoulders, holding her gently firm
       in my heart
Softly singing to her ear
through a tangle of auburn hair,
over the mountains and
        under the stars
as the illuminated plum purple starts to glow blue orange, we drive
           for the dark

Longing lingers
like the smell of bonfire smoke
sealed in clothing and hair
Its the feeling for not forgotten moons
silently orbiting cloaked in midnight shadow
Wayward romances
with no tongue able to explain
why the open road suddenly narrowed and turned overgrown,
an impassable bramble of thorns
causing an undergrowth of unanswered questions
and muted yearnings

Hopeless Romantics,
how many heartbroken fill the ranks of the fallen legion
growing like spring corn to be cut down in Autumn,
giving their body to feed another,

Still,
a foolish day dreamer might escape
to the short rows awhile,
evading the sickle

Fire dancers born chasing flames,
honor bound to be burnt,
the skin bubbling and boiling sitting so close to the hearth,
yet these scars are precious demarcations of the heart,
where once possibility stretched endless before rosy eyes
like summer fields of wildflowers,

Wisdom knows that the wilderness must end somewhere,
although it waits to sprout beneath all,
yet there is sad magic in never looking around the bend,
not walking through the last stand of trees
to preserve the illusion of the forever forest

Shatter the paradigm
Thirsty soul, enrich, affirm, flame the winter fire
The playa calls out to everything you are or will ever be
Resonate as the eye of the storm
Unfurl your colors and let them fly among the other banners

Walk onto the playa, a man strapped
with a guitar, nine harmonicas, one morraca, a melodica, a journal,
and a soul full of childlike wonderment radiating love.

Share the highest self
receive others in the same saintly light
"Buddha", "Buddha"
Man the poet's post, gift a poem to whatever brave adventurer
finds their way to your dusty shore
Be a beacon of spontaneous joy among the other bright lights
Engage in the mystic pleasures of Black Rock City with a lustful curiosity reserved only for the most devout Bacchanalian Priest,
standing amid the pagan ****, waving spilled goblets
like an overflowing gaggle of drunken pirates singing a wild tune,
arms sweeping and fists swinging in clever rocking harmony,
conductors composing romantic chaos

Love being alive.
Love putting your feet in the dirt and smelling the dry air.
Hear the birds singing unknowable songs that you were born to follow, Feel the sun on your skin, let your Self burn.
Walk amongst trees and wrap your arms around rooted giants
as you hurtle through space

Connect and feel balanced within this paradoxical existence
of constant change,
lightly hold the hand of letting go
See into people's eyes,
Create new channels for awakening.
Be a romantic and cherish womanly love and lust.
Enjoy the embrace of hands, union of lips,
and the primal enlightenment afforded by duality.
Attend jazz nights at pirate mead bars and write dizzy poetry in comfy corners. Share art. Speak spanish and play guitar.

This waking life is a dream, is it not?
Dream of exploration, in the material and spiritual realm.
People are endlessly fascinating, dream of meeting them all.
Continual realization of the oneness of all life is a sustained dream,
trust your path and part within this grand symphony,
the light of the festivals may provide clues,
fearlessly be a seeker of these chances.

Be ready for genuine human interaction,
be brave enough to ask the forbidden questions,
and wild enough to attempt at the answers.
We all carry a piece of the puzzle, find community,
a place where many pieces can come together
to bask in the glory of life.
Add your own piece of light to shine in the desert.
Sit amongst philosophers and rebels in the shade,
revel in the mystery together.

Dream of a poem
Dream of skin softer than a baby lamb's innocence,
half asleep beneath Christ's robes
Dream of a mid summer night's brick alleyway kiss
awakening sleeping giants,
Strong arms holding you like a polar bear blanket
keeping out the lonely cold
Dream of lips ethereal luxury so delicate, if spoken,
it may evaporate like a morning mist in the late rising sun
Dream of a warm hand's caress
filled with the knowledge of universal brotherhood,
rhythmically dripping midnight murmurs over our bodies
until the world is slathered in brilliant color

Dream of slow ripening fruit,
patiently peeled as a long coming miracle,
revealed, the rich fragrance swirls into the air
pungent as cranberry glades covered in untamed honeysuckle,
the nape of your neck sweet as newfound freedom
sung in a silver bell
rung at cupid's birth
A heart gentle as moss flower,
eyes steady as my will
Inhale juniper, desire, go deeper,
into the primeval essence of our being until we reach its flaming core,
a black stallion running wild kicking up dirt in the desert,
easy as dominoes falling we come together like night and starlight,
to shine love and lust into this symphonic world
Drink me down and you shall taste the music of my soul

Now, The morning light may never come to pass
Dawn's chorus may never pierce the horizonless sky
But for this night,
I'll wait with the infinite
dreaming of a poem