It's summertime. The saxophone  jazz
sounds are pirouettetting the waves
to find their own balance. It's a mauve

inner dance in almost everything around.
More exactly, the melodious movable
sounds become soundable movement

needing a reverberation time to dissipate  
the energy. The movement releases its  own
purity to become simple fecundity. The pulsed

sound waves are also old memories  lost in the
natural green. The saxophone  looks  much
more like a Tahitian prince dancing his love

on the sand. The singing mauve sea waves
have a sadness taste at sunset. The last one
is a watery mermaid and he embraces her

while searching the high. The sounds need
touch and life. They need to dematerialize
and to disappear into the universe. The

saxophone  remains a solitaire keeping
safe his evanescent  hermetic equilibrium.

I believed I was an immortal
Until you began opening portals
To the future and the past
To the needle and the flask
Portals that warp my mind
Like space and time
Until I dematerialize
From the appearance of lies

This portal I must climb back through
When all the lies have become true
Like when they said portals couldn't be climbed
For there are no ledges
Only pledges
Of a hatred death wish
That leaves me breathless

The portals had to be sealed
You became my quantum mechanic
The tires of the DeLorean squealed
As we abandoned my stationary driveway
And started rectifying my past
By driving forward
The portals' gravitational pull was lifted
And I could walk again
A pedestrian in paradise
Until you teleport into the rain
And I teleport into my brain
Becoming a prisoner
To thoughts that travel at the speed of light
And create a beautiful spectrum in the mirror you presented to me
I fear the day you shatter our light barrier
You'll see you're more mature
And fly away like a jet that's harrier
Because once you can see my thoughts
You'll sell all the stock you bought
You'll see I'm merely mortal
And you'll open new portals

One of these days, the glimmer in your eye that knocks me out will actually break me,
And then my words and reservoir of tears will shatter into shards of truth
That stick into and stain your hands when you apologetically try to sweep them up.

It’s not a ******* secret that I live for the hours that I can pretend that maybe,
One of these nights, I’ll be with you in more than just my mind and yours
As you grip the banister to ascend to silken sheets and wine-fed dreams.

I bite my tongue so words don’t leak, and lick my lips so as to keep them here,
Rather than the curving place behind your ear… the stalwart jaw… the capable lips that draw me near…
The things I’d do were waters clear…

The answer’s written in an inky, contractual ultimatum that squashes the fruit of imagination.
And yet, a fierce, poisonous force rises from the depths of a desirous ***** within,
And whispers to me that with contracts, there are ways to blot, smear, and tear. It scares me.

I lock it in a closet of infectious notions that I’ll slowly dematerialize with clean blood,
But rivers of the stuff won’t run clear when they’re magnetized so close to the sin
That doesn’t feel like sin, and that beckons as a beacon of bright and beautiful things.

It’s a difficult conclusion to arrive at: I must be the bad guy.
I am the mind’s mistress, the secret-almost-lover, the temptation, the promise, the snake…
Yet also the forgotten, the disappointed, the frustrated, the one who MUST keep control, the Saint.

We both know that I’ll keep floating back; my curiosity, passion, fascination, and need to learn and share
Will always countervail the weight of my exasperation and guilt-laden vexation,
Until one of these days when the glimmer in your eye that knocks me out actually breaks me.

Some 'others'
and so-and-sos
don't want to be found.
They don't want to be
solid.
They don't want to:
dematerialize or to rematerialize or to manifest.
They don't want to come into being or exist.
Some so-and-sos are vagrant and delinquent.
Truant vagaries of brush strokes
mushrooming in the tresses of dresses.
Indeed, some 'others' wish to remain anonymous.
They reckon it’s reasonable
to protect a human standard.
Their privacy a prison of unwatchfulness-
the walls closing in like they did for Hans Solo,
Chewbacca, and the princess...
like Indiana Jones or some platform pitfall romance.
The 'others' wish to remain alone.
How else would they be 'others'?
Anonymity is the preferred state of 'others'
and so-and-sos.
It is their church confessional.
Safe harbor to their ******.

"Atlantis is sinking" she says
As she takes another drag of her cigarette
It's July 27th, 2017
Cancun, Mexico
and her name is Esmeralda
"But everyone calls me Esme"
When she was younger
She would sit on the docks with her older sister and count up all
the cruise ships and fishing boats that lit up the edges of the bay and far beyond into the black abyss which would dematerialize into itself  like
a dream half forgotten when
you're half awake
Now a days she sleeps with
the windows shut
and the drapes down
And never alone
Not as long as I'm here

I wrote this in the dark.
Because the last poem stripped
from the book binding and ripped
from my chest was not valued at
the utility company's worth; a two-hundred dollar bill is not easily disbursed when each
poem nets zero cents per word.

A candlestick will
dematerialize faster than
a wax seal on parchment -
one that establishes the epoch of
Civil Rights -
this is a correlated falsehood
of fixed rents in a gentrified neighborhood.

The plus-side of *******
the poor to cater to the wealthy
is that when the new occupants
move in, and the stainless steel
refrigerator is moved in, the empty
box is placed at the curb, and with
the right imagination it can easily
become a home for two.

she's in the whoosh feel her span through time it's all relative across dimensions and into space bigger on the inside smaller to the seeing eye walk around her you'll see but step inside and the venture begins she's an old girl stuck in the form of boxy blue past her prime yet still as sturdy she'll dematerialize at will speeding through rifts explore her corridors and discover her anew enter other realms, pasts and futures she's been at the beginning and to the end of time her companions many yet the one who's steady is a mysterious man one called Dr but no one knows Who except her for they've been together through ages only to get to say hello toward the end she's a reliable old girl who's traveled many worlds she's seen thing and heard tings you'll know her by the sound of her whoosh as she comes and goes.

Beauty does dematerialize
like the effect of a childhood kiss;
your images anesthetize
thoughts that lead to this.

once a day I spend ten seconds sorry for me
then ten hours on those worse off
I think about my problems too long
and not enough on what I can do to help others
after all what good is pity for me I don't like it
nor do I pity others I empathize
try to put my foot in their shoe
and it makes my problems dematerialize
and one day I will wittle it down to ten seconds a year
and hope I made a difference
before I go
on to whereever
it is old hippies go to
then

Vegas heats up in these idle lungs
Summer weekends begin their urges / a dirge
like a roar of blood in the ears, no anticipation dwells so
not even those addictions we've reasoned to be just
or justified as youthful relief...

I sit as still as the neon blinking through drab curtains
can allow / without obsessing into a tick / a nervous twitch
The lumps on this bed, like ghosts
from forgotten trysts, seem to jab / to escape /
even when sleep attempts to drain itself from the body
due to the lack of it.

It smells vaguely familiar of 2000 flushes
and ashtrays with liquor stains
hurled from mouths overfed with parties and past
indiscretions / guilt / scattered
on the carpet, and in the corner
reminds me of our foolish frivolity / heavy with loss

hope, laughter / shapes and shadows
in that corner where you vomited
while tears and self realizations of mistakes
chuckle at the face of its absurd truths,
followed by a blank stare...

Your face in its tracks of saline depths
like a painting of twilight rites of passage
which we had to burden in bewitching hours
before the sun / sobering with early light
those times we diluted and ache for still

As I recollect in the hush of a motel 8
drunken neighbors with their sounds of *** / taboo /
echoes our lost twenties
learning to live by fine emotions - secret messages
from inner devils and Mormon Jesus

washing over us / growing up, by latter saints
losing days to nights / so doubtful and wretchedly alive
in the uncertainty of our pages yet to turn
searching for sage & celebration./
losing our true selves with every high...

I sit in this motel room
wretchedly alive / in and out of neon lights
trying to find a good emotion / some worth
staring at the corner shadows of you / vomiting
messages that I only now dematerialize
from sobs lost to the echoes

laughter still to tweet or fly / to the cloud
to oblivion and memory's burrow
I sit in the heat / still unfeeling / now
before dawn, the hours hollow
many a people inside / out there in this city

Still wretchedly in denial
not one will bother me to pity
a life like a motel room
by the hour / we abide by its tune

the hollow breathing of time
the real currency / their ivory tower.
my heaven seems malnourished without
looming over / where's the wonder?

In the distance, far from home,
I sense the arrival of falling skies
Father's angry thunder
even in the false safety of dark rooms,
while we hide
we all will shudder...


(It is not a home if lived in alone
and death occupies both my shoulders)

The black hole is the other side of God's eye.


We cannot travel through and survive because of the limitations set.
Light can escape, as light has cone access that we do not have.
Until we are able to dematerialize and rematerialize while also keeping our consciousness, we will never be able to see what is on the other side.

There are creatures inconceivable to our reality on that side, almost like enlarged versions of bacteria and etc.

We are like cells, complex and working to keep this reality at work.
Our planet is like this.

The core, nucleus. You can go along those lines.


Anyways, we are able to leave this giant version of us, but only when it is accessible.

its just so painful,
so hard for me to comprehend,
that my very soul
would ever fit into the ciphering world,
to speak its lingua franca .

even the abc's seem like
like the burning sensations of a finger
roasting on burning coals.

the Ice never seems to melt under blazing heat
on which it lies

oh how my soul longs to dematerialize
yet i do wish i do not.

Failure is the only bell
that tolls my eardrums

oh why did my green soul  
pluck up the guts

the guts to enter the Kingdom of Geniuses?
i desire an army seal
to set me free
to be free as a citizen
inside this kingdom
The Kingdom of Geniuses

I used to,
live in a grand place
Barely fit through the door
Anything but a maze,
And now I’m trapped in a mansion
Tiny and complicated
Beyond my comprehension

Want to go back to those good old days
Where every corridor opened up some crazy new ways,
To see, view the world from a completely different perspective
Oh boy now all the walls are reflective
Seeing my own faces in each one,
Wait, was that me and why is my face gone?

Now I’m in front of a locked door,
Snapping my leg as I try to break through,
Everytime I break through, there’s more,
The floor shrinks, the roof collapses
The walls they’re about to give in
I’m tryna push through but it’s solid brick
I don’t know,
Maybe I’m just claustrofobic

How strange is it,
This lock seems counterfeit,
But it’s still keeping me trapped in here,
For minutes, hours on end
Maybe it’s a lot longer,
I just can’t comprehend

How is this real,
Can you see, touch, or feel?
No I can’t, so don’t worry here my friend,
Just smile, and it’ll all be great in the end
Even though this end may,
Come sooner than you thought?
Don’t try to comprehend what you can’t understand,
my friend

This isn’t working
By brain is just hurting
Confined to a small space
I just can’t function, like this
The representation of who you think me to be is what keeps me on my own four feet
But is it really just me or is there something else,
Torturing me,
Screaming at me,
Forcing me into the corner
My heart keeps shrinking
Barely know what I’m missing
Anymore, I think I’ll get used to my
Little apartment behind my face
And above my throat

I used to,
live in a grand place
Barely fit through the door
Anything but a maze,
And now I’m trapped in a mansion
Tiny and complicated
Beyond my comprehension

I thought maybe I could just move out
Of this place, out of my brain, take a break from this race with my other face
He is too fast for me,
But he’s just a mirage,
I’m the real me, not just a disguise,
So maybe I’ll let him win,
So he’ll reach the end before me,
and dematerialize
Leaving me with half a brain,
Just one face
And we, I mean I, will survive as I look through one eye and see him,
Already nearing the finish line
My disguise

How is this real,
Can you see, touch, or feel?
No I can’t, so don’t worry at all my friend,
Just smile, and it’ll be great in the end
Even though this end may,
Come sooner than you thought?
Don’t try to comprehend what you can’t understand,
my friend

Don’t try to comprehend, good friend

I did it
I helped her
get it

How did
you do it

I listened to Ministry
and licked goat ***
and made incantations
to Martha Plimpton
Queen of my ******
and thereby gained
unnatural powers
through
a demonic deviant
Fallen
among the fallen
Asmodeus
I think
The ability to
dematerialize and
materialize and
spirit
my ***** sinners
to murderous intent

What was it
What kind

The goat
Anatolian Black
I think

No
Male or Female

Does it matter
when youre licking
goat ***

This all true

Yes
it is
absolutely true
All goat ***
tastes the same
Jourgensen
will back me up
on that

It is
also possible
I just drove them

my Sisters
my Mothers
my Daughters
my Friends

It is
after all
the very least
I could have done

The firefly clouds, glowering teasingly,
Scintillating with sweet melancholia
At the site of their eternal lure
In it’s inward sinking creases
As it corrugates
Into it’s bellowing pleats
(Like my blanket in which I’m receding)

The cherry blossom beast, dusty rose
And swaying with my sorrows
Ebbing when the wind blows
It knows my abnormalities
The clockwork of it’s mastery over me
Gleaming at me like a haunting unshaken,
Taunting my nightmare’s return below
As it’s colossal significance
Outweighs my inward woes

The lacklustre paralysis of flat rock
The slabs strategic and few
Receive the drum of the deluging skies
And support my view,
As I’m rooted upon one as my royal prize
My throne amidst illusion
I watch each suicidal drop fragmentize
And flower into bulbous aqua crowns
And quickly dematerialize
A mirrored release of my inner cries

The cascade; an adventurous torrent,
A majestic meander,
Humbly and monstrously resplendent
Equanimous and independent
In feud with the far-flung thunder’s hum
But alas, it knows it’s echelon
As I’m the queen of my own ascent
This idyll,
This heaven I mindlessly invent
To repent
And release what is unpleasant inside me

Not the faintest idea
Why I’m here
What is clear
Is I am
Theoretically real
So I hear
But I fear
I would rather
Sometimes disappear
Or just fade
Into ethers pervade
Dematerialize
And again be remade  
Like that time
I transmogrified
Couldn’t decide
Between living
As me
Or he already died