first step

when he looks at a woman he searches for qualities that attract him because he wants to desire her yet this tendency creates an imbalance or disadvantage he is rendered weak to a woman’s beauty or whatever traits he idealizes self-realizing this propensity he looks away from women years of disappointment neglect change him he becomes afraid of women gynophobic

2

when she looks at a man she searches for qualities she is critical of because she wants to be impervious to his power she is suspicious of all men their upper body strength penchant to be in control misperception of women as property misogyny emotional immaturity neediness to be mommyed selfishness insensitivity or over-sensitivity depending she wants to be treated with equal respect a loving nurturing relationship she is suspicious of all people their alternate realities passive aggressive behavior co-dependence craziness

3

he sees her then looks away she suspiciously notices nothing happens they go back to their separate homes alone always home alone grown calm in resignation yet disbelieving of this destiny saddened by this fate both worry about future she looks at her face naked body in mirror her stomach churns feels sad sickening remembers time when she was more carefree he puts one foot in front of other then walks tries to remember who taught him to walk how many times did he fall who taught him to laugh where did his sense of humor go

4

he sees her thinks she is lovely resists the urge to turn away he smiles says hello she notices nervously smiles her shaky voice articulates louder than a whisper hi

Tucson 2-step

they are standing in line at a café on 4th avenue he is directly behind her she is lanky wearing white background faded colors patterned summer dress thin straps over bare shoulders long brown hair few gray strands small unfinished tattoo on left calf leather slip-ons 1 inch heals he is at a complete loss for words thinks to make remark about the weather decides not to overhead fan stirs hot humid July air barista girl asks what she would like her eyes scan blackboard menu behind counter she hesitates remarks help him i need an extra moment to decide he steps up to counter money in hand orders small to go Arnold Palmer half black current lays $3 on counter mentions change goes in tip jar thank you barista girl moves fast he lifts cup from counter glances at woman still deciding then at barista girl says have a wonderful day turns walks out door dawns on him woman grows hair under her arms his 2nd most compelling female physique adornment fetish oh god he thinks to himself should i wait for her to make up her mind then approach try to craft conversation at least find out her name no i’m too weak in this moment she is so lovely let her go

2

she orders double Americana in small cup to go room for soy milk thinks to herself he did greet her perhaps their paths will cross on street why did he run off so fast she glances toward front of café notices window seat changes her mind instructs barista ******* 2nd thought make it for here digs through purse realizes she left wallet in truck explains to barista girl she needs to run out to her vehicle to retrieve wallet forgotten under front seat the air on the street is heavy dense she smells her own perspiration looks north then south does not see him walks to truck feels exhausted appetiteless almost nauseous wishes she did not order a drink thinks to get behind wheel drive home go to sleep

Tucson 3-step tango

she feels disappointment by her recent writings as if she is reaching a more sophisticated audience and setting a higher standard for her work yet she is not living up to her ambitions her recent writings smell of her past writings too emotional the damaged woman wounded child she wants to write more introspectively with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence she slams her laptop shut decides to go to Club Congress for a ****** mary or margarita but Club Congress is haunted with small town cretins losers wannabes she considers Maynard’s decides Maynard’s is too safe suburban yuppyish finally gives in to thought of glass of pinot noir at Plush next comes what to wear jeans in mid-July desert heat is unacceptable perhaps loose fitting thin cotton white summer dress thin leather belt ankle high indian moccasins hair in ponytail no pigtail braids no ponytail no makeup maybe little ylang ylang oil no she thinks about her recent writings

2

i am one breath away from crying in every moment one breath away from flying m.i.a. in every moment one breath away from destroying everything there is beauty in ugliness beauty in decrepitude disease beauty in harm hurt suffering beauty in greed injustice betrayal beauty in corruption contamination pollution beauty in hate cruelty ignorance beauty in death we spend our whole lives searching for a good death we spend our whole lives searching for eternal love this modern world is too much for me over my head the horrors of this place are beyond words unspeakable voice inside maybe mom yells quit your whining or dad hollers stop complaining i am trying to smile through tears one breath away from giving in one breath away from becoming stranger to myself winter spring winter spring there is beauty in nothingness we spend our whole lives searching for ourselves learning who we are not finding grasping secrets from dark paths light trails winter spring winter spring i am one breath away

3

she sits alone at bar at Plush glass of pinot noir glass of ice water in front of her 2 bearded older men eye her from other end of bar she ignores them glances at her wristwatch tries to look like she is waiting for someone music from speakers antiquated rock standard it is early friday hours from dusk moderate middle aged crowd mingle wait for local jazz trio to begin she thinks about her recent writings wonders is it too late for love considers lesbian affair from 5 different perspectives 5 woman’s voices each describing same lesbian affair in 5 opposing accounts hmmm she sips dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water she considers a story about a gang of female bikers who ride south to Mexico

4

the Americans came through here last night crossing border illegally climbing over our fences digging tunnels beneath our barrier walls littering along their trail they travel in packs of every skin color carry guns knives explosives wear leather boots some are shirtless tattoos dyed hair mischievously smiling conceitedly stealing when in question murdering they rob our homes slaughter our chickens ransack gardens loot our harvest you can still smell the stink of their fast food breaths

5

she swallows the last dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water local jazz trio begins to play as bar fills with more people she decides to walk home one foot in front of other wonders who taught her how to walk how many times did she fall she laughs to herself

Tucson square dance

TPD 10-18 unconfirmed data report

7 post-University of Arizona female graduates go to Cactus Moon for several drinks and dancing then drive to Bashful Bandit for more drinks and dancing 2 women get into scuffle victim Brittany Garner female 23 years of age race #5 (Native American, Eskimo, Middle -Eastern, Other) 5’ 2” long black hair cut-off blue jean shorts clingy light blue top falls hits head on side of bar dies of fatal blow to skull forensics report crushed occipital lobe assailant Stacy Won female 31 years of age race #4 (Asian) 5’6” black jeans black leather jacket red helmet Honda motorcycle still at large

witness accounts

Jess Delaney female 33 years of age race #2 (White) 6’ tight black pencil skirt white sleeveless undershirt no bra 3” heels blond ponytail “that squirting little **** deserves everything she got she lied told Stacy i’m a ***** i never cheated on Brittany i don’t understand we were all having a good time getting buzzed and dancing we should never have left Cactus Moon **** Kerrie thought some biker dude might be hanging around the Bandit hell maybe the Bandit was a biker bar once but now it’s just a college sink hole full of drunken frat boys when Monique flashed a little *** they went crazy cheering and buying us shots it just got out of hand never should have happened the way it happened Stacy didn’t mean to **** Brittany it’s ****** up i want to go home please let me go home”

Sabrina Starn female 29 years of age race #2 (White) 5’8” trendy corporate gray suit black pumps red shoulder length hair “i have to be at work at 8 AM Stacy was drunk out of control she gets crazy when she drinks Brittany was trash talking pushing all Stacy’s buttons then Stacy accused Brittany of sleeping with Monique and all hell broke loose i didn’t see what happened i was in the powder room it’s a terrible tragedy unfortunate accident can i please be released i need to sleep this is madness”

Kerrie Angeles female 27 years of age race #1 (Hispanic) 5’ 6” black pants white shirt black hair cut stylishly short silver crucifix around neck red fingernails “when we got to the Bashful Bandit i was ***** soaking between my legs thinking about a cowgirl at Cactus Moon ready to **** anyone i saw fantasized pulling a train with those frat boys Monique had been kind of quiet at Cactus Moon but when we got to the Bashful Bandit she lit up dancing wild unbuttoning her top jacket Sabrina went to the ladies room to snort coke with biker dude Kerrie wanted but he wasn’t into her then Brittany started saying crazy stuff accusing Stacy of stealing Monique from Jess Jessie goes through women heartlessly she doesn’t give a **** about Monique Jessie knows if she wants Monique back she can simply fiddle a finger my guess is Stacy is half way to Argentina she never meant to **** Brittany i’m going to miss her real bad she was a good kid”

Ann Skyler female 28 years of age race  #2 (White) 4’ 11’’ green white red Mexican peasant skirt black t-shirt black high-tops hair in messy bun “i’m confused i saw them dancing laughing grinding up against each other Rage Against the Machine came on then Nine Inch Nails the room felt quaking dizzy claustrophobic then they were pushing each other shoving yelling frat boys cheering the next thing i knew Brittany was supine on the floor blood pouring out maybe she just slipped hit her head i don’t know what to think i feel real sad confused sick to my stomach scared”

Monique Smithson female 24 years of age race # 3 (Black) 5’ 9” blue jeans jean jacket cowboy boots nose ring braided pigtails “Stacy had it in for Brittany from the start i saw it in her eyes at Cactus Moon she made several clever toxic remarks they snapped at each other i never thought it would escalate to ****** poor sweet Brittany was always so susceptible i was looking down adjusting my jeans over my boots when it happened i heard felt a big thump glanced up Brittany was lying there lifeless blood spilling everywhere Stacy ran out fast i heard her bike engine take off in a hurry”

Rodeo Drive Tucson

matt’s hats tom’s tools & tobacco lou’s liquors fred’s beds frank’s planks bill’s drills jane’s drains & panes chuck’s check cashing cheryl’s barrels hank’s tanks tina’s trucks & tractors walt’s asphalt sean’s pawn rick’s rifles mom’s guns terry’s tires charlie’s harleys rhonda’s hondas jim’s rims art’s parts gus’s gasoline mike’s bikes frank’s feed gwen’s pens ann’s cans nancy’s nursery joes‘s clothes jess’s dresses bert’s skirts steve’s sleeves paul’s shawls michelle’s shells & bells al’s pails & snails sam’s hams & jams patty’s pancakes phil’s chili don’s donuts betty’s spaghetti bob’s burgers alycia’s quiches jean’s beans jerry’s berries anna’s bananas andy’s candies cathy’s taffies tony’s ponies roy’s toys kim’s whims marty’s parties jill’s pills rick’s tricks alice’s palace debbie’s disposal dave’s graves

Quinta Waltz de Tucson

she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts she dreams aches to create deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration instead she writes paperback television trash stupid inadequate answers to solemn questions she wonders if she is too scratched dented to find love her ******* are definitely changing she is deeply disturbed not ready for menopause too young for menopause she wants to remain a fertile woman with smooth skin wet ******

2

her neighbor Leslie awoke to horrible morning Leslie’s 6 chickens were assaulted overnight precious Mabel dragged off feathers everywhere trail down the street other hens cowering slumped together with wilted necks 3 of them with puncture wounds Leslie carried them one by one inside washed their wounds hugged them cried who did this terrible act a neglected abusive neighborhood cat or some desert predator why didn’t Leslie wake to sounds of savage marauding now this creature knows hen’s whereabouts when will it return for more massacre what modifications need to be enforced to ensure their coup before nightfall

3

she wants to remain a hen keep producing eggs does not want is not ready to enter the next **** stage of this **** existence it was fun being pretty for men inspiring them to say do whacky things she wants to remain a hen she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary attempts “Tucson square dance” (self-referential) ****** bit about Americans came through here last night in “Tucson 3-step” ****** "Rodeo Drive" tepid perhaps the pinot noir lowered her standards everything is becoming nothing she cannot sleep tosses turns thrashes sheets in humid heat of her lonesome bed is she is too scratched dented to find love she worries for Leslie

4

tomorrow is another day they say the rain will come last year’s monsoon never came the baking sun smothered her garden died one by one sleepless she will miss tomorrow’s pilates class the infrequent delightful chatty breakfast afterwards she dreams aches of deeper discourse higher insight with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration she crossed the line tonight her ******* are definitely changing

Tucson 666

he decides to shave eighth to quarter inch length salt and pepper beard a.k.a. unshaven look he has worn for years and grow full mustache the whiskers on his upper lip are darker with sparse gray at first no one notices after weeks the mustache gradually fills evoking many contrasting remarks several women loath it several men admire it girl at grocery store suggests he grow Fu Manchu so she can tug on it shopgirl says he looks like Charlie Chaplin downstairs neighbor from Turkey explains most Turkish men traditionally wear mustaches he read mustaches masculinize and empower men especially men in authoritative positions he thinks back to the 1960’s when many hippie males grew mustaches then in the 70’s gay men fashioned mustaches then in the 80’s cops adopted mustaches he wonders why a swatch of hair beneath nose is so provoking examines his visage in mirror discerns the mustache confers a Pepé le Pew quality or European accent to his appearance he remembers when he was young hippie with many amorous episodes how his mustache preserved the scent of a woman but there are no women in his life for many years do post-menopausal women possess scent? he feels indecisive whether to retain it or be rid of it

2

she observes her figure in mirror thinks to herself maybe her ******* are not changing perhaps it’s all in her head she inspects the little lines forming near her eyelids studies her features for signs of aging hardly any silver strands in long brown hair she examines neck ******* arms elbows fingers tummy hips pelvic region thighs knees shins calves ankles feet detects subtle changes thinks to herself my ******* are possibly slightly changing turned 40 in March married briefly in late teens no children a 15 year old dog beginning to suffer veterinarian promises to warn her when the time comes she wonders why it is so difficult finding fitting mate men sleep with her several times then move on maybe she is not such a great lover perhaps she would be better if one of them stuck around perhaps she is a lesbian the whole ide

1970 Odysseus visits cousin Patsy in New York City she introduces him to her best friend Lauren’s older less attractive more reclusive sister Tanya Mulhaney extremely wealthy family father founded corporation manufactures pinball machines which years later develop to video games then casino empire he favors and spoils Tanya but dies suddenly her envious sisters and mother gang up on Tanya is pale skinny flat-chested copious brown bush Odysseus sits in bathtub with Tanya and he probes in a way they hits it off maybe no boy has ever touched her in that way her complexion is so fragile slightest fluster prompts pink blotches on her cheeks neck chest back he admires her book smarts he’s attracted to her refined strangeness he thinks her bush and flat-chest are **** she laughs shyly offers to take him around the world he accepts Odysseus tells his parents Mom goes crazy yells into telephone what are you a ******? you father and i work like fools to send you to the best schools so you can make something of yourself you’re going to throw everything away to be a ***? i tell you we’ll disown you you won’t have a home to come back to do you hear me? we’ll disown you! she sobs how can you just walk out after all we have done for you? you ******* kid! Odysseus takes leave of absence from art school he and Tanya take Iberia jet 12 hour flight with stopover in Iceland to Belgium Tanya sinks into one of her moods swallows several pills to help her rest sitting on other side of Odysseus is curly haired skinny talkative musician claims he has jammed with Miles Davis and other jazz greats Odysseus says yeah right and i’ve shown with Johns and Twombly where exactly are you heading in Europe? musician answers he is a scientologist on his way to visit L. Ron Hubbard in England Odysseus does not know what Dianetics are and wants explanation he asks many questions and musician talks for hours they enjoy each other’s rapport as jet descends in Brussels they exchange home addresses in the States 9 months later when Odysseus returns to America a friend notices scribbled address while skimming through his travel journals Odys! how did you get Chick Corea’s address? do you know him? do you realize how brilliant he is? he’s a keyboard virtuoso! Odysseus questions Chick Corea? who’s Chick Corea? he looks at journal page then says oh that guy i sat next to him on the jet to Europe so he really is a famous musician huh? wow!

in October 1970 Brussels is damp chilly Tanya wears hip-hugger jeans black turtle-neck top North Face shell she huddles her arms around her chest smokes cigarettes looks through hotel room window out into gray overcast sky speaks in defeatist voice i didn’t bring clothes for this weather she picks at her plate in hotel restaurant glumly vacillates later in bed after refusing *** decides they leave tomorrow fly to Canary Islands for several weeks to get tan before traveling through Morocco during winter months Canary Islands are laden with Swedish tourists including bikini clad young girls many not wearing tops Odysseus is thinking about how to swing some of that Swedish free love once Tanya gets drunk succumbs to Odysseus’s ****** overtures it is good  one day while returning to hotel from beach 2 Spanish police stop and question Tanya and Odysseus police order to see their passports then command them into squad car police bark in Spanish rifle through their daypacks point a finger Odysseus can smell alcohol on their breaths Tanya and Odysseus are terrified police drive off main road to remote location abandoned ruins no one is around police order them to step out police drive off laughing Tanya’s complexion is crimson she sobs they could have murdered us no one would know who we are or where to find us we’re lost where are we? Odysseus looks around replies don’t worry we’ll be all right i watched where the driver was going we’ll retrace their trail

they fly to Tangier travel south by train Tanya is irritable insisting Odysseus carry her backpack Casablanca is ***** 3 men peer from sunglasses act suspicious wear tattered trench coats Tanya and Odysseus snack at cafe which provides hookahs for smoking hashish Odysseus scores several grams Tanya laughs suggests they rent car drive south travel to sandy beaches of Diabet for 6 weeks in the morning she paces around French hotel room with cigarette in one hand ashtray in other like she is sultry 1940’s Hollywood actress she stays in room and devours Penguin Classics Tolstoy Stendhal Proust Huysmans Zola turns out Tanya is sexually frigid she buys Odysseus anything he wants but does not put out they take train Marrakech it is sun drenched with blue skies mountains in distance Odysseus wants to go out explore get ***** with the natives he visits Medina daily witnessing many bizarre scenes he does not understand a woman squatting over an egg a man with no legs dragging himself through marketplace holding up cigarette butts in his hand he meets a professor who is out of work because king of Morocco has closed the universities due to teachers’ strike professor explains woman squatting over egg is fortuneteller and man dragging himself has been offered crutches many times yet makes more money playing off pity of tourists cigarette butts are for sale the professor invites Odysseus to visit Berbers in mountains Odysseus persuades Tanya she reluctantly agrees the 3 travel by bus in first-class front row seats vehicle filled with lively families chickens pig bus driver has assistant who lugs people onto bus or shoves them out door at a midpoint bus stops in little town everyone exits bus then men women children urinate in street local venders sell trinkets snacks Odysseus buys nibbles shish-kabob that later professor informs is roasted cat and dog they reenter bus wait suddenly butchered lamb flank is flung onto Odysseus’s lap a man climbs aboard bus stairs then grabs large carcass and heedlessly walks to back seat Odysseus wipes blood and slime off his jeans Tanya demurely giggles bus climbs mountains arrives at small Berber village professor leads them along narrow winding street of shanty huts sheltering merchants open kitchens professor tastes from various steaming iron kettles finally decides on one they are directed to rickety roof where they sit wait a boy comes up with plastic bowl filled with water and small box of Tide following professor they wash their hands then minutes later proprietor brings up simmering *** of couscous serves it with scratched raw plastic bowls no eating utensils they eat with their fingers Tanya seems bothered declines to partake she withdraws into silence after meal she becomes irritable complains of headache says she needs to return to Marrakech she remains standoffish on bus all the way to French hotel

after Marrakech they take boat trip to Italy while onboard Odysseus meets Italian Count who has an eye for him Odysseus wears Jim Morrison beat-up leather jeans Bruce Lee t-shirt scraggly whiskers Count wears thin manicured beard tiny red Speedo swim trunks Tanya grins amused Count offers Odysseus and Tanya to be guests at his villa in Milan city flourishes with stylish clothes loud lively restaurants classical sculptures covered in car pollution following several weeks of aristocratic wining and dining amazing 11 course elegant soiree Odysseus botches compliance with Count’s desires they are asked to leave Tanya laughs hysterically they board train to Germany based on Tanya’s tour book they find historic hotel with wind rattling windows coin operated hot water bath in Munich Tanya stays in room Odysseus goes to dance club meets brown-hared pale skinned German girl neither speak the other’s language he pays for hourly rated room they play German girl in animated gesturing warns him as he is going down on her but he does not understand until several days later scratching beard finds ***** seeks A-200 lice treatment German version leather pants disposed Tanya knows but says nothing she buys Volkswagen they drive through Black Forest Tanya wants to visit King Ludwig’s castles Odysseus does the driving mostly they listen to the Who’s “Who’s Next” and Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” he follows Tanya’s instructions not knowing who King Ludwig was eventually he learns Ludwig was colorful character built extravagant Disney like castles and friends Richard Wagner Bavaria is cold gray brown deep forest green scenic Swiss Alps visible in southern view they drive from Neuschwanstein to Linderhof to Herrenchiemsee then Freiburg lodge in bed and breakfasts Tanya grows restless by all the driving decides to ditch car along road in northern France as Odysseus unscrews car license by road side several cars stop French people concerned they need help Tanya is anxious hoping for clean get away from abandoning vehicle they board train to Paris Tanya speaks a little French in spring of 1971 they are backpacking in search of hotel on Left Bank it rains all morning sky is overcast Tanya reads “Pride and Prejudice” Odysseus draws in sketchbook at sidewalk café sitting next to them are older Parisian couple man detects they are Americans he turns to them expresses in English his contempt why can’t you Americans learn from France’s lessons in Vietnam? Tanya and Odysseus don’t look up they feel like dumb ugly Americans within days they leave Paris

cross English Channel by boat they find temporary apartment in Earl’s Court in London it is overcast almost every day within a month they move to larger place in Chelsea with backyard with run down English garden Odysseus weeds garden plants tomatoes lettuce carrots radishes flowers Tanya stays in her room smokes reads at night they go out to ethnic restaurants one night they visit Indian restaurant a very proper English woman sitting at next table orders exotic fruit for dessert Odysseus asks waiter what kind of fruit waiter answers mango Odysseus has never seen or tasted mango English woman delicately eats the fruit with fork and knife Odysseus orders mango for dessert he attempts to imitate how English lady proceeded fruit slips around on plate finally out of frustration he picks it up in his hands bites into it he is aroused by how luscious mango is sniffing with nose scraping fruit’s skin with front teeth then ******* the seed Tanya makes a face suddenly the seed slides from his grasp shoots across table Tanya’s cheeks neck turn scarlet voice raises stop it Odys! you’re disgusting! are you intentionally trying to embarrass me? why are you doing this? he replies i’m not doing anything to you i’m enjoying the most delicious fruit i’ve ever tasted who cares what it looks like? later she laughs about incident offers to buy more mangos promises to take him shopping at Harrods tomorrow he goes along with their arrangement until it all seems like pretty background scenery to an empty intimacy missing all his friends back at art school he writes about his loneliness he feels trapped in Tanya’s web several times he sneaks English girls into his room when Tanya jealously confronts him he admits he has had enough and wants to go back to Hartford she suggests at the least they fly to Bermuda for several weeks to get tan before returning he declines on June 30 1971 Odysseus returns to Hartford and Tanya moves to San Francisco on July 3 Jim Morrison overdoses in Paris

he decides to shave eighth to quarter inch length salt and pepper beard a.k.a. unshaven look he has worn for years and grow full mustache the whiskers on his upper lip are darker with sparse gray at first no one notices after weeks the mustache gradually fills evoking many contrasting remarks several women loath it several men admire it girl at grocery store suggests he grow Fu Manchu so she can tug on it shopgirl said he looked like Charlie Chaplin his downstairs neighbor from Turkey explains most Turkish men traditionally wear mustaches he read mustaches masculinize and empower men especially men in authoritative positions he thinks back to the 1960’s when many hippie males grew mustaches then in the 70’s gay men fashioned mustaches then in the 80’s cops adopted mustaches he wonders why a swatch of hair beneath nose is so provoking examines his visage in mirror discerns the mustache confers a Pepé le Pew quality or European accent to his appearance  he remembers when he was young hippie with many amorous episodes how his mustache preserved the scent of a woman but there are no women in his life for many years do post-menopausal women possess scent? he feels indecisive whether to retain it or be rid of it

2

she observes her figure in the mirror thinks to herself maybe her ******* are not changing perhaps it’s all in her head she inspects the little lines forming near her eyelids studies her features for signs of aging hardly any silver strands in brown hair cut to shoulders she examines neck ******* arms elbows fingers tummy hips pelvic region thighs knees shins calves ankles feet detects subtle changes thinks to herself my ******* are possibly slightly changing turned 40 in March married briefly in late teens no children a 15 year old dog beginning to suffer veterinarian promises to warn her when the time comes she wonders why it is so difficult finding fitting mate men sleep with her several times then move on maybe she is not such a great lover perhaps she would be better if one of them stuck around perhaps she is a lesbian the whole idea of finding someone is absolutely draining

3

they do not see each other walk right passed she in a hurry late to yoga matt slung across back handbag slung on shoulder wallet forgotten under front seat in truck he is distracted in thought wondering is he afraid of women gynophobic the air on the street is heavy dense he smells his own perspiration feels exhausted appetiteless almost nauseous they each simultaneously consider what if i lived in New York City or Chicago what is it about Tucson its small town politics gooniness poverty criminality amateurish dramas hour to Mexican border both wonder is Tucson the problem would i find a fitting lover more freely with less difficulty in some other place

Providing evidence to myself
I sense boredom
As adventure
But solution to a rusty bolt
Without smeared oil
While unearthing self
Before boredom detects you
In the vicinity
The environs speaks
Actions are no curiosity
To be nosy
While others exist with their dealings
A character brings passe'
To detect
But not evaluate
The boredom
Which leads to nowhere
How can a heart stop pulsating?
Only to have no charge

I like making
plans I know I won't make,
I just like they're there.  
It's sort of like how we prepare
in our cars with airbags.  
Sometimes we thank God
they're there.

I like waiting at
bottoms of skyscrapers to catch
cripples' stares on stairs.
It's living up to a dare
trying to walk with one leg, one
crutch going up, look at their
Stares on stairs.

It wasn't a hippy
in tie dye that gave me
that squabbled piece of peace.
It was a horrid beast
who claimed I was the first
to not shoot, he gave me his last
Piece of peace.

I didn't like the tone
of his voice when he said
you can't bare the bear
Even outside the lair
you'll shave his fur and run your
hands in your hair, you
can't bare the bear.

I have years of your
wind pattern because my
vane detects vain in your veins.

Waking up the morning after,
I can only recall the excessive laughter.
The great vibes shared in one moment in time,
It was all so beautiful, the highest of highs.
(****)
My glance embarrassingly detects
the frightful fact the mirror reflects.
A bathroom tagged with the night's mistakes,
Rorschach like markings of drinks and rare steaks.
Always said "Yes", lacking all inhibition.
I wish last night I lived its definition.
So I readjust my head and all of the fixtures,
and pray to god no one took any pictures.

Hero got a phone call,
From the being with three eyes.
So often his existence,
Could be validated by advice.

It is then organised by rhythms,
So that the words solidify,
If the chaos cant be structured,
Then all vision is blinding light.

Hero said to the being,
“I fall in to infatuation with such ease.”
The being said, “You’re seeing,
Your own love reflectively.

“Your brains mirror neurone system,
Causes you to smile at a smile,
This mirroring of others,
Allows for formation of a tribe.

Now you know this wisdom,
Think of your romantic life.
The subject of your infatuation,
Did not cause your love inside.
The love all humans seek,
Is already in your possession,
Which is why the search feels bleak,
You’re hunting the impossible obsession.

You’re all looking for your lost keys,
Tearing everything apart,
All the while they’re in your hand,
Or your breast pocket by your heart.”

Hero nodded rhythmically,
But found it hard to understand,
“If the love’s inside of me,
Then how has any love began?”

“A lot of love is a product,
Of false infatuation;
Two people seeking it from each other,
And thus there is divorce and separation.

But true love is the love inside of you,
Which is the love of the universe,
If you can learn to embrace this,
Then it will free you of your curse.

The mirror neurone system also detects,
The love inside as if it was a grin.
Within another, you’re existing love will reflect,
And embrace and share this world that the two of you are in.

It’s not a swapping of hearts,
But a pressing of them together.
The look in her eyes was not the start,
The start of love was forever.”

Messages in the stillness of the moonlight

To set in the rays of wonder the night mystery this distillation of days loaded voluminous contacts near
Over load now in silence to ponder to orderly fix time and place the dim moonlight touches all that is
Askew this calm throbbing influence the moon with the softest hum from its distant place in the night
Sky the trembling branches foretells the entrance of wisdom on this planetary shore one mind set to
Receive the silver moonlight does not deny the waiting one sets his back against a tree is this possibly
Nature’s antenna it collects and draws it down a beam shoots out in front of you a snow colored lamb
Begins to nibble grass innocents to stand against evil if it would try to mix negative thoughts with your
Pure message there is a dark figure a few feet behind but it a guardian in case a more sinister creature
Of these woods detects your presence you came here as a last resort you foolishly brought pain to your
Self when you tried to hasten love from an unpredictable place you knew what you sought was an
Intangible and it was to be pure and powerful the only answer to your hearts cry first you decided to
Consort with Venus known though out the world as the goddess of love but then the thought the old
Romantic moon how many times as he conjured the impossible because this is what you are seeking
It’s not lighting in a bottle but its affections that are true but they hold no deceit it is a portion of life and
Love that only lives in the spirit no flesh to corrupt or offend anything or anyone when in their presence
The natural feel and flux of the moment crackles and love invades two hearts the soothing pleasure erases
All distasteful acrimony does not a dance occur does not tenderness drop as softest rain bodies meld
And are in robbed in wonder into darkened shadows you sway while the music plays aerial is now your
Ascended high weightless truly you are mixing air with the elements and the greatest is that intoxicating
Globe set in the sky this is a quest for love that is uncommon it would take a great person to give this
Much of oneself thus the reason for consulting the moon only he has beckoned so many romances he
Has them inventoried what a preponderance of records that have the scent of sweetest honey when
You near ever wonder what the man in the moon is doing this is some of it will I get an answer you ask
It depends on what happens when she takes a stroll in the moonlight if her heart starts to glow with the
Purist white light anything is possible if not the very trying is worth the world to me



----------------------------------------------------------------­----------------


haldenton › Portfolio ›

My dear, it rained last night
And I remember
The alleviated rise into
Lush sobs and lavish emotions
The way your dilatation relieves
Every worry and anxiety
But sometimes when we speak
A violent lie radiates
And last night you were naught
But an alienated virile sot
A view unholy I omit
I remember the tin roses on the tiles
Devastated, shattered.

Sometimes you hum
Your hands delicately miming secret memos
And I can see it in your eyes
Irises shining like teal devils
And the music carries you
White with adrenaline, pupils likes violists
Headwaiters lie, strumming tin violins
Their  alienated visions wilted with passion

I see the way she cleverly conceals
Lies as vows to you
A veil called "us" she puts on "me"
And I call for mutiny
But youth is vim, vim is now, and now is lies
Every hug from you is just a violet whim
In noisy rooms
My vision is misty
My aura dies little,

Oh if only you could realize your reign
You’re the master, the ringleader
But you’re lazy; you work without zeal, you’re idle and lazy
Eyes glazed, agile hands getting greedier

Have you ever seen
A dearer lion?
He roared, the lonesome rider
Alone, an alien.
Well sometimes you lie
And I dare to become
An oral denier
My radar detects one lie,
Then two...
You become red
Redder than a ****** lion's ear

Adieu, you say, with a gently undefined lilt
My tears speak more reality than your words

Well Uncle Hector space detector
Interstellar super-sleuth
Found an egg among the needles
Then he knew he’d found the truth
The Tree of Life was his for eating
Alchemists could all go bleating
Scientists got glimpses, fleeting
Of futures and the past

Said Uncle Hector with a grin
“hey Mr Church, come talk of sin…..
come tell me how it was again
before the fall from Grace?”

Come let us PLAY in inner space
Lets ride the reindeer in the sky
Lets hold the Holy Grail up high
And forever wonder why?
It came to this
Betrayed by a Kiss

Try not to miss
A rendezvous with ISIS
Early morning meditation
Searching for the King of Kings
And all of her Disciples
Through time and space our children float
Wearing Technicolor  Dream-coats
Sailing in psychedelic lakes
Of celestial Double Takes

In rowing boats of Entheogens
We head for the shore
And the open door
Inside the DOME
The cranial dome
The pleasure dome
Our only home
Our only hope
The Cosmic Joke
The double Helix

Can you feel it?
Can you hear it?
Can you see it?
Can you taste it?
Does it abide in you?
Can you abide in it?
Can you decipher ****?
Can you swallow it?
And try not to forget
That it is not HE or SHE or IT
Or THIS or THAT
Or THEN or NOW
Or WHY? Or HOW?
Just a sacred cow
Passing grass through the Trinity
Farting gas into infinity
Making connections with eternity
With the knowledge of certainty
That we are all divine entities
Who’ve lost our identity
Robbed of our divinity
Left without dignity
A tragedy
A parody
Of what we used to be!

Can you read the parable?
Can you hear the clarion
Alarm bells ringing?
Angels singing
In hyperspace
Spores ascending to a higher phase
A blue-green planet
With an equatorial archipelago
Shows you how it goes
Right under your nose
Don’t watch the skies
Looking for spies
Electronic lies
World wide web
Out to catch flies
Books on thighs
Held up high
Wonder why?…..
Dogs in mangers
Create dangers
Universal Lone Rangers
On snow-white horses
Giving us our Daily Bread

Uncle Hector space detector
Rides his magic carpet
Through Milky Ways
And Galaxies
Of pleasure and ecstasy
Out past Andromeda
Past infinite possibilities
Of possible infinities

To wondrous worlds
Where dreams unfurl
On one foot he whirls
The universe he twirls
On his index finger
The spheres he holds
To make them SING
To make the very planets RING
Reminds him of the King
Who gave him this freedom
To travel this Queendom
Of  inner space
And vanish without trace
Without the confines of memory
Without learnt behaviour
Without  a saviour
Without a redeemer
Within a dreamer
A dreamer dreams
And seems
To those without
To be or not to be
The essence of us all.

So Unkle Hektor space detector
Interstellar world selector
Drinks ambrosia laced with NECTAR
And sails on seas to  NINEVEH
To foretell them of their future
Avoids capture within the belly
Of the mighty whale
And sets sail
In a force-ten gale
Does Uncle Hector
SPACE DETECTOR

Lands in a meadow unseen
Blossoms on the unclean
Surfaces in the GREEN
Passes through the WHITE
Passes through the RED
Searching VIOLET LIGHT

And Uncle Hector space detector
Steers himself back home
Back through the chilling dome
back through the future zone
back through the past alone
till at last
he’s back
among the STARS
From where it all began

And Uncle Hector space detector
Lays softly down to sleep
And dreams of blue-green planets
Spinning in the deep
Blue-black INFINITY
Has GNOSIS of his DIVINITY
Beams a smile that warms infinity
And giggles in his sleep
Yes Uncle Hector space detector
Pan-dimensional interjector
Stoops down low to choose a connector
In a meadow in his dreams

And Uncle Hector
Space detector
Detects an “X” factor
That can heal his “WHY”
And wherefore……
And therefore Uncle Hector gets a healing
Most revealing
Truth concealing
Holy *****
Falls from heaven
In our Daily Bread!
Then Uncle Hector wakes and rises
Expands his lungs and exercises

Give thanks to all who know his song
And everyone who came along to hear these words
And carry on the raising of the consciousness
Of  everything and everyone
And carry on the raising of the consciousness
Of  everything and everyone

IF you hold this poem up to the light.
it will interpret your dreams.
Just beneath the surface,
the dead use this poem to claim lives.
That is an orphan.
It says this psychic reading may cause it to bleed ink.
It detects irregular heartbeats
by the accidental, the psychological.
This usually means three things:
***, *****, gambling.
When certain people get special powers
dial 1-800-F-O-R-T-U-N-E for only 99 cents per minute.
The mystery is, this poem can crack all family secrets
if you put it under your pillow,
processes that seem to be outside
the physical and natural laws.

More more mere words linger rather obviously...
obviously what could one possibly be so obliviously...
Observational objectivity detects: Lurkers lurking to linger probably cling to love's fragile edge?

An arousal of viciousness or visage of immense beauty art performance presence...more relationships steam a shore.
Balancing hearts on the in deep starburst sapphire blue floating more.
More to be revealed for shore.
More...

It's a feminine eye that first detects
absurdity as a condition of existence.
In the deepest resources of my unconscious,
in that place where ego slept in the ****,
I knew she saw through me like
Roentgen X-rays of my soul.
Ultimately, it was my pride that
caused us to fly in different ways;
burning love had poured
from the lamps of our bodies,
shrouded in mystery,
like the day of a king or
more adroitly the nights of a queen.
We had found identity, yet
all signs of subtlety,
any shred of relationship,
were forfeit to the pale mackerel sky.

A fine feathered partridge she is,
he listened to her moving tale.
A game bird, pathetic, but
her story has holes, he  easily detects,
yet he  sat through, willing to believe.
In the middle of contradictory attitudes
now he wonders, how strange is this
willing suspension of disbelief!
This is how tragedy creeps in,
right in front of one's  opened eyes,
yet he is with her, ready to buy  trouble.
A fine feathered partridge she is.

have you ever felt like you're trapped
in a prison you self-erected & cast
yourself into? like life's something you're terrible at
existentially wack so dreadfully that
there's a reasonable question to ask
where are your testicles, chap?
'cause, like a man that commits a va[ɛ]nishing act
once he detects that his lass is expecting a brat
the way you live is cowardly; a hell of a lack
["way you leave"]
of ***** akin to sO̲mebody bereft of his nads
comfort zone ain't
much different from a coffin you are a hostage to
A̲lthough no way a freaking throat spray
will treat you okay
["coughing"]
if you want to live akin to those a[eɪ]—
—zure-hued pills treating fever or pain
["want Aleve"; "want to leave [the coffin]"]
you've gotta Beatrix Kiddo your way
outta it; in fact, I'm 'bout to evince one more way
[the "outta the grave" scene from "**** Bill: Vol. 2"]
by which you portray the thing aforenamed
that ***** reminds of a tempting she-devil; you have
["attempting"]
if you wanna feel good
to ream it, like a guy, keeping it broad, stretched like a ****
or else it's gonna be you
the one winding up f#cked, much like a chief authoritarian das—/a##—
—****/—hole when his dishono[—]rable rule
winds up effing collapsed; like a pestilent brat
you get it, but your co[ɑ]nstant pla[ɛ]n of attack
is digital escapism helping to kick aside depression, a tad
though; 'cause no matter how much you la[ɛ]m, you get back
into the real—nE̲ss that you have
which is quite a mess like a lass'
coif when she's outside, & the weather is trash
raining, just like Hussein in his presiding days (trash, reigning)
I might lO̲O̲k to be an evil-minded skate
now, but, seizing the opportunity
like some viced ***** gained
a role O̲f a rU̲ler with
an unchecked political might & aimed
at establishing a tight-grip reign inside the state
[opportunism]
I hhhooock... thooo... spit on tyrants' graves
and graves of their compliant aides (ha-ha)
without the slightest shame, I, like a crane for construction, raze
["raise"]
their heads—tones by a mace from the knightly age
bet taphophiles ain't gonna like the way
in which I behave; ones who're enviro-cray
better get fire squa[ɑ]ds awake like a rite that takes
place after someone's life has waned (a wake)
'cause I get mY̲ hands laid
on a pulverizer with spirits of wine & spray
it on those scheissers' grave—yards, then make
[German "scheißer"]
them go, like the face of someone laughing so wildly they
are about to split their sides, ablaze
the rhyme-insane, yet quite cheap, brain
is, like the most upright stiffs reign—ing for a long time, depraved
thanks to the West-produced mass
culture (tha[ɛ]nk you a stack) & has a relish/penchant for gals
with looks of models composing the "dekok plus" class
["dekok" (Esperanto) - "eighteen"]
the problem's most of those lean to[—]ward sE̲lf-confy lads
and are mostly/mainly 'bout lettuce, in fact
[money]
which makes me remember the Jack
the Ripper case (letters)
[more than 200 letters signed as "Jack the Ripper" were written]
so, as for a GF̲ for a chap
like that, having one seems like an excellent pad
[house]
for a beggar to have; impossible like a saint autocrat
(like a saint autocrat; absolute absurdity)
forget it, let's yap
I mean, let me get to something else I would yap
about; not an oriental-grown chap
but into rhyming 'cause I'm a perfectionist that
["ramen"]
takes this thing as something he's no[ɑ]t ineffectual at
if not for the aesthetical cast
["cast" in the sense of "outward form", etc.]
which is rhymes, I'd not even bother tryna express all this crap
[especially, the personal one]
'cause what's the point when nigh-on no fellow reacts
to whatev' you say or demonstrate?
remember I had the more pleasura[—]ble past
virtual realities, not having to go to a jO̲[ɑ]b that stinks
nO̲ stupid po[ɑ]litics (these were the times)
which is ****̲te you can't take null notice of 'cA̲U̲[ɑ]se you twig
it's the post-enlightenment time gO̲ing on, A̲[ɑ]lthough it's
a giant & atrocious auto[ɑ]cracy
you abide in, as if you were related to the dude presiding
as the head of the big state kept, like a group of do[ɑ]gs in—
—volved in a mush, united; in terms of music, I̲ went
["you are Biden"]
from somewhat generic electro[ɑ]nic
sh#t, both, ba[ɛ]ngers & melo[ɑ]dic
ones to heavier & dA̲rk sh#t; however, I, regardless
still dig some graves like a fellow with boneY̲A̲rd shifts
[Christian Mochizuki, better known as "graves"]
though wouldn't tE̲ll that I am go[ɑ]thic
given that, it's okay I̲f I
["if I" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "ifa"]
would get benamed with the
word "grave-digger"'; might as well take mE̲ a
****** ***** 'kI̲n/sI̲m. ta
a playing card; though I, as I've said, am no[ɑ]t
[a card with "spades" suit]
gothic, outdoor appa[ɛ]rel's all black (all black)
like a visitor on a cemetery plat
in the course of a burial act
void inside, an atramental-hued gap (mental)
which makes me something like
a walking black hole, as well as the fact
that I'm surrounded by
space like it; kind of Arthur Fleck that's yet to turn mad
which sounds a mite
hair-curling like waving, so, before you find
yourself a bit horrified, let me get that clarified
to be more precise, a marbles-wise
lighter case, 'kin to a lighter casing
with the web to distract myself from the lack—
—luster realness, yet, with all thA̲t
flammable crap, ptui, I mean negative crap
I'm like a walking ba[ɛ]rrel with gas
it's better not to set a lit match
my way, it's appa[ɛ]rent, just A̲s
a ****** stem a pear has, a psychotherapy cab's
["a pear end"'; "cabin"/"cabinet" in the sense of "private room"]
where I should be spending the time of mine
instead of sitting in the bedroom inditing rhymes
as if you hit upon rhymes so tight
that their existence is considered a kind of crime (indicting rhymes)
but I'm the type with a b#tch of a mind: if I
have not a really distressing existence, then I am fine
like that dog sitting inside, despite
the room inside which it sits
is, like someone after an imbibing spree, lit (this is fine)
in other words, as it's been divulged not long ago
I stay pU̲t in comfort zone
like an autocratic **** roosting on the throne (scuuurred)
["****" in the sense of "****", "*****", etc.; "skirt"]
————————————————————————————————
implausible as it may sound, a bullish thought's approached
[implausible" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "implausibowl"]
my mind: I may be someone looking lost, although
I, unlike someone unable to move or gone, still go (that's the spirit!)
dull right to (like an average new-school rapper) **** nowhere
["dull writer"]

Personal memories that linger on the edge of forgiveness
Sit heavy on minds that are relentless
A silly blue dove that flies in the sky away
With a secret that saddens every one of us
A provision and a problem mixed all with transfusion
Beauty that detects its own solemnity
Tells itself it is ok.
Crashes against itself like some ancient book
Upon some ****** shelf
Yeah that date that made the mate feel an elation
Where the tiburons buried their 39 sons together in a mournful wake
Waking for all the wrong reasons in a house made of sticks and spots
That a dog had dropped all along the neighborhood parking lot
Bill mad hate always was so ******' late
Inspired to corrupt himself within the carnival fields
Of masked men marrying themselves to an image
Distorted with membership to clubs gated and wounded and founded
Again
In confusion
A literary agent with security cameras attached to the torsos
Told me
"There is always more so, especially in California"
Where the Ker-o Ker-o played
And the marmit sisters were made
Where the Galli fast paced listeners
And the Hager with her blisters
Where the streets curved all the way to the hot east west
A mixture of healing tonics along with the river bend erotics
Power penetrating the hot ***** grinder Simone belters
As ye who make me who I am
Am nothing without the sound of the universal plan
That universal mam a jam
That hippity hop madness clap
All along the corner stone littered in gritty gold
Mad love between the bad luck crew
Living a life they seemed they never believed to choose
A took that right hang along the way
As she took my left
And we walked around these naked river bends
Saying this a' thing and that
Ain't nothing but the blue mockery misfortune
When she comes around me house
Ain't nothing but the blue corn row corners
When she is a knockin' on my door
Ain't it true, ain't it true, ain't it true
I can't live with you
Nor
Can I live without you

Monday morn'
Gonna bebop like floral sunrises
And spring time bohemian skirts
Define my personified with moon beams name.

Gettin' easier every minute
But I do get hit with waves and tiny moments
Where I see you in my minds eye, the memories
The chaos
But I dance on stage past it all.

Marking it all down with the same blueberry pen
Not pin
I correct my southern natural state
No one ever detects where I'm from
Till they get to know
Lil ole me.

Lets let today be a good day
Boys wanna play, but I took care of me
Last night, slumbering so hard
My ladies and I, we lift each other up
Reflecting and projecting such goodness
Drumsticks falling behind the stage
That DJ was so ******' rude
But I brought home a blue eyed 34 year old
I think his name was Matt?

Freedom.
My life already vastly improves
If you wanted to reach me
I'd never know
And for those who might judge my choices
I hula hoop through clouds and light.

2 days times
I let adventure and happiness
Become the swelling patterns within my heart
I told myself this morning
"Well at least I've done this before"
How good it is to see and feel
I don't need you at all.

Never my best friend
Just a hinderance
Its too bad, its too bad
And every time someone proclaims
"Maybe someday"
I know I will give love always
But I fled the scene
With joy and my own heart.

Lets run, light fires along all the road sides
My hair braided in twists and sunlight
Nails the color of a metallic sea
Gotta pack my bags and flee.

I throw my hands into the air
So full  of liberating life
Everything is really truly
Going to be so many levels
Of more than okay.

In Arctic stillness, where the whiteness becomes as the sore
a deep call of redemption, her pack alerted to the wind
caution reflect not fear, somewhere a wolf is near
a ravine down below, detects movement a little slow ...

Crunching way down deep, somewhere a wolf comes face to face
with humanity on hunting and little knowledge
survival is the norm, by a bullet and a deadly whim
wilderness is his blood, mankind to such atrocity ...

But bent, it seems, is humanity, on hunting in scared boundary
leaving destruction in their paths, the wolf forgotten again
with mortal animosity, brings sadness that emits a warning
a she wolf brings her flight, the while wolf brings much fright...

Frozen tumble waiting to sink, watches the wolf as her voice will be heard nature adorns her various fur, leaves try to break the incurable fall off in the distance, sings an owl, a turtle lay basking on a pebble bask slowly the wolf sprints over the mask, before swopping to catch the ill fate of the hawk....

So beautiful is the wolf, as she sleeks to and fro
catching the rays of the sun and the darkness of the night'
dusk settles, the horizon becomes orange
as the beauty of the wolf, fades fast to the midnight hues....

Debbie Brooks 2014

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~for betterdays, and all Aussies~


the fires massifs all around, the smokes surrounds,
the house invaded with closed-out-of-college students,
mother and father who are similarly workless, a fire bounty,
all this a treat to an nine year old (no school) boy and his dog

newly self-appointed ringleader, the little boy,
in his fire heaven, with a gang to command, to entertain,
some adults, silly college students, who don’t know “no,”
when he says this is the game we are playing next

this vignette, is not a Manhattan variety^
but an insight story heard, unwitnessed, but of
those who tell the tale, unwittingly, of finding small joys
amidst sky-full clouds, all grayed bunting of burning stink

few wiser than my old, tired and smokey clouded eyes,
though, one yet detects those who are truly not lost,
those who are found, and those who will find them all,
and lead them to the safest places inside themselves

and my heart and brain, at last in unison,
forgives the restless adults who with grownup worries,
yet can! just barely detect those mini joy-rivulets among the whiffs
of destruction and bravery, losses and new hands extended

So I ask, Mum, what game shall we play next?

Perhaps, Noah’s Ark?

A strange yellow smile draws a wired look on her face
she tells him in a crude whisper, that a beast stalks her
in her discombobulation, he detects the withering.
a desperate flower sometimes  mysteriously invites
a flower forced to bloom before her time, was her
only in the closed vault inside her chamber is it's secret,
her hands strongly grips him, not letting him leave her
and he could feel the presence of the beast then and there.
Then, little by little her grip becomes cold, lets his hands free
she  slips in to a trance, body gets stiff like a log.

Each morning we awake with our heads buried into each others chests, as if they were bags of sand.
As if, everyone outside of this tiny room, would disappear.

Each morning he would tell me I am beautiful, so I stop wearing makeup and feeling the pressure to shave.
I don’t change out of my pajamas or shower for a week and he still tells me; ‘you are beautiful’.

He is all too familiar with my history to lie and I am all too familiar with the grey area of comfortability that I paint for myself.
And yet still I reply; “I love you too”
and he believes me without hesitation.  

This feeling is so familiar that I no longer can tell if it is a lie or the truth.
But I know that he believes me.
He looks down at me with big rounded eyes as he smiles, and I tell him;
“crows-feet do not look good on anyone so can you please soften up your face”.

No night is complete without my relentless nagging to watch a film
and afterwards, I still complain.
I complain when he ignores me while playing video games and I complain when he talks during Eastenders.

I have this compulsive urge inside of me to text him about every aspect of my life, while he is at work, from going for a walk to taking a bath.
He never replies.
But he congratulates me when I do the dishes even though he works 6 days a week while I sleep.

He makes loving me seem so easy. He makes me feel as though I am worthy of being loved.

We are both aware that I have molded him into being exactly what I need him to be-
Both protector and provider.
Both willing to take on the hefty weight of my sins without burdening me with his own.

When the guilt becomes too much he calls me both ‘baby bear’ and ‘princess’ while he rubs my back to help me sleep.

When he catches me searching for my old lovers name on facebook, he says nothing.
When he tells me he bumped into my old lover on the street, he detects my mood change and holds me closer.

I know that he is hurting inside too, but I allow him to comfort me everyday that it rains,
and in this little town, that’s more often than not.

I don’t know why I feel closer to abandonment and burnt out flames,
than I do to the shelter he built for me so I never had to go cold again.

Every restaurant we visit, every pub we drink at, I see every man who has ever sat in his place.
I can’t resist the temptation to tell him the story of when another man sat me at this very table.

I don’t know what to tell him when he asks me why everything I have ever needed is not enough.
I think the answer lies somewhere in my art.

You build our future, while I build my career.
A career of box wrapped trauma converted into a museum spectacle.
You piece me together until I am complete, left feeling so content and so- uninspired.

The distinction between falling in love with creating art and falling in love with the pain that brought me here is not clear.

I can not deny the underlying humour when I cry to a ghost of a man, asking what parts of me he is not able to love.

I dug a hole so deep into your chest, so I could bury my head and forget all the heartbreak that came before you.
And you forced yourself so deeply into my heart that you are willing to ignore all the warning signs and for that I thank you.

One may observe one's quite absurd,
And question why one's not deterred,
When one hears what one's observed.
One's world abounds with wondrous places,
Peopled with mosaic races.
When one blurts out a black man's black,
One says one's not a Democrat.
If one detects one's hue of skin,
One says one's not Republican.
But one is blamed for mouthing words
Like Indian, Paddy, Jew or Kurd.
One's innocuous indiscretions
Has one's eyes rolling on occasions.
Should one be blind to the homeless,
Then one can't see one's not blameless.
When one supports a Pride Parade,
One proudly says one's not afraid.
If one's an anti-abortionist,
Then one must help the Innocents.
“The sick and dying are a great expense,”
One yells demanding the same treatment.
One preaches hard-line on foreign shores,
Would **** the ******* in one war.
One's a diplomatic boor
(And one's glad it's there and not here).
If one knows one conceals a gun,
One's compensating for the wee one.
If one encounters a common thief,
One should keep one's company brief.
Should one hear a politician,
One needs to separate fact from fiction.
One sees terrorists everywhere
From the confines of one's chair.
One speak of one's impending doom,
Looking out from one's room.
There's so much angst one lays on one,
Yet we are one,
We're not one.
Our time here has ebbed,
Will flow,
One must leave.
One must go.

Vu. { as long as any story's told wrong}

- suffer not a novice to teach

No bet. Nothing wagered, no pledge to be paid,
no bet was made between the unspeakable name,

core processing access id-entity… we'll call Truth.
And time, if there were a wager, Truth be against Time.

- thus we develop a worth for attention.

The way life works super resiliently, bouncing back
after starry chaos leaves a constant possibility
for truths beyond our scale of instant relativity
to manifest as seems with none the wiser,

the sun could flick us from existance, and be
acting as naturally as all such suns act
after a while, maybe

seven minutes ago.
---
listening to me bellyache and moan,
woe is me I am good for nothing.

Hmmm. I could just die, but then, there
would be just cause to believe me selfish,
and selfish is something I try not to be, in fact.

Information flow, twists awry through held truths,
never taken apart to reset the spring.

Nietsche was wrong about a lot of things.
Knowing he had a voice he could
convince himself was otherwise,
he had a real raw idea of God.
That's good.
Not useless, mostly used up. Flame.

That's what the real old *** in me said.
Fretting naught,
letting go all wishery wasery,
growing old effortlessly,
be causing, as wishes are supposed,
sup-post,
same as prayers properly aimed, to
be collected to be
be answered, as information related
to pain in the brain or heart, or core
mental effort processing part, which
detects and destroys the infecting barb.
Just in time.
Release relief, unbelievable lies,
pile into icy dams, late spring
in truth
past all thorny issues,
life is not intentionally difficult,
ants - the super colony kind
run vast ecology balancing systems,
on auto pilot, pure intuitive duty drives.
On a global scale, spreading without war.

We can see we can be better rich than poor.
We can see we live on a wet ball spun
along a spiral in a spiral in a spiral, and so, on
and on and on, looping the grand loop, a little
farther along than last time,

our eyes have seen the glory, our children
can imagine thought speed, information passing

as time carries matters to gravitationally bound
points past which nothing is ever the same,

because you, cause me, to cause you to imagine
we share a plane conscious level,
as we stare across the heavens from JWST,

just adjusting reasonable focus, is it asking
too much? Asking to effect the healing
with truth that cannot be denied, and be truth
indeed…

Whatsoever, whensover, so today is fine,

infinitely fine, as a whole time bit, with us in it.

Who arranged the world's laws of nations,
?
not men in my general class, retired disabled
boys used in immoral warfare, and paid glory

and allowed to march in war winner parades,
even though, Wounded Knee and My Lai,

fester under America's Exceptional Blessing.

Agricultural superfluity, aided by machines,
and the modern incarnation of king control,
usurious
war debt, cost of plunder,
always need latest enemy detection tech.
- Confidential is above us all down here.

Who you gonna call to collect on reneged
deals, see the big picture, be visionary,
wars are lost for want of a nail, a nail
that woulda been seen missing, if the smith's
bills had been paid in time for precharge inspection.

Who allows evil to prosper,
who prospers from peace never made?

imagine you're the powerful and magnificent
leader of North Korea, or a Metro-mega Church.

You quote Lincoln, and agree with the great
promoters of idle time boredom prevention,
knowing you can fool some of the people,
all of the time. And some of the people
a predictable percentage of the time,

and all the people, after a while.  

Oakridge radiant Gospel,
"you listen too long
  you do eventually die."

- and thus it came to pass
- none found fusion, pfft.
Deep mindtimespace silence

Nonsense to any, therapy to me,
the effectual fervent prayer,

which is really
closer to need announcing, auto
awareness, missing pieces, up
ethos more or
pathos, up path of logos,
as winds winding times
recurrency circuits
up right
is not.
Down is not. Here is midway,
midterm… middle distance
**** sapien augmentedus
in the net spread
in the sight of radio beacons.
submicrowave accuracy,
acutron concept of counting
seconds worth of your attention

Practically stretched
past tensile strand strength

stretching to a C-note,
harmonica

calling all my musing friends,
come hang with me,
in my tree.

In the forest of humanity,
the ant intuitive interconnecting -umph
-- last stack, let patience prove possession --
---- Pa-airing Suckacessfull…
Yeah, blue tooth vestibular augments.
-- I can hear birds now.
Who is on war's side, if this were after
I made my case and closed it,
this is the future when we have
global access to once secret libraries.
5g- ****… radio directly individuated,
as once first accounts were coded, so
now, we are our comm device's user,
we filter using truths we used
and proved just so, we lived

asking truth to show itself in ways
a mortal who labored fifty years,
could be led to expect, jubilee,
boom,
I am free, and I am not uncomfortable,
U may read my mind and find news,
formed from used theories untwisted,

and stretched to the extent of one man's
heart fire, expanded with knowledge,
edified with activated agape, lief be,

take a second, what's such a bit of being
left alone, at second glance, become,

some kinda curious thing, clap trap.

****, all wishery is yours, it's time again,

to review the prayer/wish fullfillment section.

Did you, dear, oh, dear, what, what makes
dear the lessons life teaches for your attention,

no price, a quote, a song
"Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you without money,
come, buy, and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost!"

Isaiah 55, thriving on hope deferred,

refer again to the references,

decide yourself if you believe James I of England
was at any point a person you could work for?

My task is not to teach, unless my life proves
worth my continuing continuance, thinking

plinking, *** shots, clang… in the olden days,

when a family could live by a prentice knack,  
for taking things  apart, to play new roles,

as whole days that may be shared with wary
few, readers readied by experience, to become

as ware, soft, observant, paying eyeservice,
alert for entertaining clap traps when we all laugh.

Okeh, in a dark bijou-kiva, place where aspirations
are presented to the gathered together
to be entertained, de-brained, turned off, and

let be so, the picture show, as it were,
in the so esoterical initial induction, holiness exposed.

It is all in what you did not know, that makes
what you know now, worth living
through.

Yep. Fishing for a whole reality blessing
as living water
does occur to us as time,
we live in the flow, but we row,

because war rules the world we were born in,
and all the churches of messages etched in spirit,
written in light, of course, as on the silvered screen,
live to preach divine rights as old as lobsters's
stacking urges…
tapping scratching

And fire and memories paradiddling
cloudy smoky misty
shapes and shades noise uselessness knowing inspiring
zingers written on the door post, for good luck.

I read a coloring book, once, at a mall, in La Jolla.
"Grandma keeps a Kosher Kitchen" had a scene
to color yourself into, as a curious child noticing,
the little thing Grandma touched as she came in
from the garden of herbs and flowers for bees,

"what is that for?"
In the uncolored coloring book, it was so nonchalant,
"Good luck."
Grandma's grasp the lucid concept.
- food you know not of, love… luck
Thanks given. Praised be.

Long stories, should only be told as true,
if you, personally… lived to tell it, with no sugar on it.

Bitte, Schön. And so it goes. Kosher us, unclean other.

And what am I? Wild child left between the pillar
and the post of an aspiring great man, whose hopes

were dashed, when he crossed a line, in other peoples
ways of sealing soul stealing redemption agreements,

with a shotgun one potential solution…

by the grace of good luck from any source such
luck appears to have kept me breathing, aimlessly

as I imagine a spirit might decide, in truth, one breath
let go , allows a sense to follow, as glowing cardboard ash,
as the teller zones across old causes fought for and won,

which winning needs another singing, which cheek
this time? Which last laugh is led upto, now,

as I acknowledge the precious readers who form
the recognostic think thank thing,
deja deja

The belongingness in your eyes
the cherished blossoms and sunflowers
touch of caress
and blooming orchids
spread the meadows of love,

In tinted sun
intensity ablaze's sparks in my heart
like waves
crests and troughs form along
un-steadying my heart beat,

Scent of jasmines and tulips
disperse with the wind
your soul here somewhere
detects its whereabouts
and connects with my sixth sense,

Like tides
it rises
and carries away left over residue
cleanses the hate away
replacing only love.

Bonny your history is beautiful
Flow through impasses of any barriers to my breast.
Urgency sirens.  
Failing to keep the gates barred, promises underwent submission in the palms of our fate.
Supply my heart substance
Open my channels wide and distort perspective.
Paradise plus bonny personifies perfect bliss
Placing black sand bountifully and preciously beneath our pods.
My prowess only detects your soul in a crowd of millions-----In the midst of a troubling storm
I stand firm in front of you committed to the history.
The discrete freckles appear after humility spoke a carefree moment when I knew you loved more.
We hope
I will not depart.
Keys to completeness, if I default on a real attempt
Accept my apology