mid-air toward the icy Catskill eddies
frozen once  and once again--
bridge-jump skyward watchers--
plunge of marrow tears.

you are there.  simulacrum ping
-pong pop on carpet rise
another consciousness i've known
the winking soul recognitive
of grin, of inner whispered act
we finish lineless, applause of ancients drone
on trio sum in low man's song,
on kitchen counter edges,
finger tests and tested trusts,
nail clips clipping on dehiscing ****--
the party. the porch. the project truth of beauty's virtue shown--
the drunken blood a lover
swirled on wet on wet undone.

your attic pillow-talk sobriety
of Green Hole fun
to echo four years, six and seventeen
the age unknown, we shared umbrella sanctity of family home:
raindrops trump the timeless wallstreet horns,
a zero sky ungains the settled hue of mind,
each thought the same, copula to void
in mythic forms we metaphor the plenum won

building dwelling-thinking sung,
the cardiac in tones--
lucid union slowing in the swirling sun--
the eddies stop again, sewn in Catskill frost..
the love we felt alive, in mid-air jump,
in Berto's cheer
we match the water's silent thrum

Birthed from perfect unknown void,
Crescendos of unific silence
And a ****** ear reflecting,
A Gift between Two Brothers discontent
Interweaves them now and evermore
In fraternal ******* to a nondual realm.
A lightning seed of thought between two darks,
One light enough to fade the cosmic frown,
To be reborn in strife eternal,
And set the Cycle hastening to a Muse.
His flickering strands dehiscing essence,
The perfect fracture in a faultless whole,
It brings to bear the Change supernal:
The Triple Sequence timely folding,
Unfolds the Rhapsody of Seasons:
Wind, Sea and Earth alighting
Origins of Fire churning dim:
Clear rippling of finality forgotten,
New pressing through into existence,
Her gaze a creature to its own illumination
Renewed, with steaming boundaries... ragged breath:
Living sparks to contemplate the Stars,
And Satyr forward lustful genesis.
The hidden sun plays throughout the wood
A fragant melody of Light held fast,
Of Shadow pregnant and yearning
Bursting forth in spray of life subdued,
Laid low by Rhythmic pulse
And Timeless sea of tempoed mystery.
The hoard takes form, enraged--
A battle-morning's thralling mist of
Early spirits condensate to cling...
That vast blank anticenter dares to mock
With bated fragile brandishings, the
Violent frame of peace-horizons
Stepping out of step, Undeath whining
For a loss of Truth continual. Yet
Hope is wheeling her neoteric self
Upon that sovereign evanescence
Web-like spinning still, a prior sense,
A transfinite faultline of life yet unborn,
Of death still unwrought and wrought again
In hues of growth, and dreams of change,
Waiting silently for Books of Song.

awakened cows chewing
a mountain pass
dawn warms their massive eyelash rows
clinging drops of dew
spark in rhythm with the cud

darkness rumbles distant now
clouds dispersed to other nights
while metaphoric bull unhinged resounds
the cosmic rut

must i hide my love for this
unweave my judgment from my sight?
what in me defies all sacred holiness forever sung?
bees will ravish even newly opened buds
who am i to battle with the lightning's surge?

presumtuous coverings
can net me willing lustful
stars i see a field i open fertile
ecstaticly unblessed enough

lost heroic i had thought to know
pretends a second thrum
i see in random eyes the breaking sky
and lightning branches over snaking crevices
a sound of faultlines folding free
tectonic sexplay deep
in lava belly
far behind the summit mount--
there i see the sun a base as well
earthen seedbeds heating heights of life

space is cracked!
vast width enwombs the narrowness i preen
in nervure's shine,
a sponge mycelial with soak of raining
carbon underground
the drumming hoofbeats shake and settle
days dehiscing spinning sun
to somber eve in active rest
dreaming pasture real
within a trailing effort's ease

I banged my head onto the wall until it got splattered to a thousand pieces of colourful mosaic;
******* all the gloom, wet and sticky, on which they lay and grew prosaic.

Somethings like flowers, like coloured rain drops fell on my hands;
Through which they easily pervaded.

Flowing up, through the vessels, to the brain;
Overflowing and leaking from the wrinkles and filling up the skull,through the ears out they drain.                        

Creating infinite abstract blooms, which try escaping;
Out, again into the gloom, of the head that is dehiscing.

Those invisible blossoms spread across the room like mildew;
Soon creating a world of their own, ugly and new.