Funny. I have a similar problem. When a waitress drops in to take a drink order, I can never look her in the eye. Guilt, I suppose. There’s nothing she’s doing for me I can’t do for myself. Legs work. Hands work. Let me walk to the water dispenser and press the glass into it. Let me pick up my food. Let me carry it to my table. You take it easy, sweetheart. So, instead of meeting her pupils, I find myself reading and re-reading her nametag. A silent mantra. Tara. Tara. Tara.

Thank you for saying I should be “held by my edges.” That’s a candy-coated take on the truth. A more accurate description would have been “*******.” Oh, the toxic mix of shame, alcohol, and letter writing. I’m a new man, though. Cologne and everything. I’m even done drinking. Well, after I finish this beer. Still had one in the fridge. Anyway, I’m sorry.

No, women like Heather don’t disappear cleanly. Or with grace. In the silent moments, she always looked at me like I might hit her. She’ll probably tell friends I did. Everyone enjoys a good story. She called Friday. Said she’d taken some X. Dancing on her couch. I could join her or just watch. I just hung up. Did I tell you she’s really into Anime? And she attaches faux foxtails to her belt. I’m not sure if one of those traits is responsible for the other. Wish she didn’t know where I lived.

Dandelions thrash to the opening chorus of rattle clank by the chain links
yellow heads bobbing
tussled mops of white ****** back defiantly into the wind
until they lean against one another
exhausted and bald

Foxtails sway
feathered limbs thrumming
raised in the air like they just don't care
drumming to the beat of highway traffic
never alone
but gathered together in tight clusters
wary of outside influence

Thistles nod to smoother tunes
the conservative hemming in the edges
seeming almost out of place
until they throw down with their true colors
sporting mohawks in ever shade of purple

The show ends with deep shades of night
falling like a curtain to quiet the floral concert

Until dawn when the show goes on

I sit here alone
Is it daytime, is it night?
It doesn't matter

My claws mark the walls
I must look like a demon
As I scratch my arms

My unruly mane
reaches down my back, touching
My nine wild foxtails

I howl at the wall
My songs, cries, stories, and poems
Are all I have left

I hear with six ears
If I were free, I could fly
With my four giant wings

I recall that night
When my friends fought so bravely
Are they still alive?

But I'm trapped and chained
Even if I use my flames
To try melting Iron

Sometimes father comes
With the acid cups and chains
And sometimes his hands

He called me his child
But even back then, he lied
I'm just his project

I count slaps and thrusts
Staring up at the ceiling
Refusing to speak

What month is it, now?
I have lost my sense of time
In this grey stone cell

I peel my ears up
Some bread comes through my door's slot
It's down in one bite

When I chose my friends
They showed me what feelings were
And showed me the truth

I wish I could sleep
This windowless torture cell
Worsens my nightmares

I wake up shrieking
Waking, sleeping, I don't care
The nightmare goes on

I'll never tell him
Whatever's on or inside me
I won't betray friends

The cell's not all grey
I hear music and voices
That no one else can

Sometimes I dance along
My chain and claws scratching tiles
Laughing on a shreik

There's also Inverse
My photograph negative
The ghost haunting me

Inverse keeps teasing
He points out my every flaw
I hate that he's right

I shreik at Inverse
I'm trapped, half dead, in this cell
Waiting for "father"

I bite at my chain
The door of my cell opens
"Father" comes inside

a. Nocturne
Behold a heart full of stars,
a skyful of cyan grains
where we’ll watch motorcars
tracing the begonia plains.
Reflection of the pines so serene
in a pool daubed with turquoise and green.
An existence held by hands of elysian mould
paints the sundown with sapphires and gold.

On stygian seas,
the solemn moonlight smiles
as lighthouse turns
and tides caress the scattered isles.
Our dreams fill with saccharine desire
to cast melancholia into an astral fire.
Waves of warmth brush upon the gilded shore
of a pure euphoria we’ve wished to explore.

b. Island
The fires of your rainbowed tresses
endure the teeming tidal waves.
You’re dancing with starfish upon the seabed
and mingling in labyrinths from light overhead.

The mast is towering in summer air.
The sun is showering your seaward stare.

c. Nocturne
Our fantasies collide
upon a love laden tapestry
hung upon the universe
and doused in cerebral majesty.
Chameleon stalks in moonlit white
as the din of thunder quakes the night.
Old troubadour sings for the crumbling skies
and paints a floral temple within your lapis eyes.

d. Lullaby
Night’s dark halo o’er the city
showered with diamonds / veiled with gleams.
Sleepless labyrinth of gold lamplight
floods with ardor from empyrean dreams.
Night’s dark halo o’er luminous streams.

Laced in stillness, ghosts of the river,
a fog of nostalgia pours ‘cross the plain.
Silence wanders with cold shadows
trodding the orchard away from the rain.
Laced in stillness, our misty domain.

Song for slumber, a nebulous reverie
painting the valleys of our kindred minds.

e. Aubade I
Birdsong cradled on whispers of air
darkness engulfed with aurora.
Light pours across the emerald vale
and cascades upon sleeping flora.
Foxtails waver overlooking the shore,
blush skies fade to blue.
A caress of sea upon circle stones
as the sky dons a novel hue.

f. Aubade II
Dawn unveils dew swathed green /
sunlight parts the white-clad screen /
branches clutch foggy plumes
as river splits the forest womb.
We’re doused in rays of opaline,
a shawl of lavender rose,
and as our eyes fill with the morn,
we’ll paint our reams with loving prose.

2020 -day 84

Tuesday, March 24, 2020
8:55 AM

Seeing wrong,
seeing all the light available,
swallowed
in the shadows.

The unknowable turns believable.
Seeing monsters made up of

fears, non knowns, and warnings of what if;

how does the seer ever see
the absense of

all that never was

appears as real
is now
visible in the light of day after tomorrow.

Expect, see, out there, ex-spectate, wait

what if this all passes

----

Meeting death in the barren market place,

this old man insisted on standing, to see past

pasts claiming causal friction grows slicker

sticky corruption shorting
utilities to
ground us.

{about five hundred million functional on-offs
fit on the silicon in a single grain,

a finite grain, in the finite sand, FYI}

pearl essence,
a layer of lacquer on a rough cut stone, a single
granular bit of silicon,
not sand, not silicone leaked from cracks and cleavages.

Real natural sand, minus the dioxide cubist shapers that
seem to hold silicon in three-d even
inside an oyster gut

flat silicon surface
formed via imagi-tec-hative prognostication of holo
grammatical

bubbles shaping spheres of pearl essence
in confluence forming skin
where once were
flat singlenessities,
little ships of life,
leaven,
from the forest floor, ripples of life,
only rational circles and every thing was as simple
as pi and Bohrian atoms.
from 1905 to now,

orbiting electrons is how most folk explain
chemical electricity,
and some try to say gravity is the force at work.

Wisdom first, as a force, knowing, sci itself comes first,

by any name you claim you know but can't say,

for fear of the power in such names, no,
for fear
of the power that makes such words, magic words,

words only magi-techs can utilize
safely in low light conditions,

layers of little lies, such as the evidence chain
back to the idea of taking, and using, perhaps,

God - big g, all emanations and flavors 's name in vain.

Jot that down. Yod heh heh heh

here, have a sound track for the battle being set in array...

Don't Fear the Reaper

40,000 every day, la la, la la la

-- blue oyster cult mythic edge of sixties band

rock rollin' music for happy sisyphus fans,

who find links to Camus in Covid 19 news, oh no

knowing growing must go on,
we eak out a spurt of

pearl essence, this could be slippery,

keep your balance, walk don't run, listen we

survived, there is no guilt in that.

Nor must we do more than mortally possible, to believe
this life is temporary, at best.

consist, insist, resistance is futile, tiny grain

irritant emanating signals



so smooth, so full of potential beauty
in this light

The Government keeps secrets. True,
some secrets are needed,
for the order to pre
vent chaos of random chance which
we all know is reasonable.

We have wars to protect those rights to privacy.

We've a right to hide our lies,

I vote no.

and as one in eight billion, on one plain
I pack a canon

with alchemical clues to choke a horse

Suppose, this is the way truth works, it finds
knowledge boxes leaking facts you are
Not allowed to know
you know,

you may
but
if you wish to know more

{WA watching unbelieve
abilite able say go or amen, or so beit is okeh, any
action provoker -- ask ask ax that's the word we was lookin' for}

we don't care
we

are the keys to all the secrets locked in words

we are free for the learning,
we mean any thing only if meaning was intended,

some idea thingy do form ative umph

sorts us from the stream, in a pan, swirl. slow sift
spread see the gleam

ef
fect af
ter affect of effectual fervent prayers, if

you can believe that.

My sci phi fantasy slips on some unknown

substance of things unseeemly bang

my bubble pops and here I am again

earthbound and sounds of
jet planes leave lines

of reasoning to wonder if nothing is separate
from anything at all.

All being posed as the ever, in

eutopian success stories passed via trans
dimensional possessors

of certain skill in tongues and interpretation,

not to brag,
but muses play a major role in arranging for

tri-lingual translations, listen

some very strange people must be kept alive.

Look around you. Why the fervor to preserve

old boomers who ignore cancer warnings?

I can't say.
I don't know. Ye, Gads, I'm one of those...

raging,
at the breaking edge, the raging edge of

ever after this. A world alive in beauty...

squirrels are cute, I have some in my yard, right now,

there is a reddish one, with beige eye-liner round
white-less eyes,

nibbling green shoots on foxtails I am dreading, while
wondering if they ripen to hold fermentible grain,

just in case the worst you can imagine happens,
and I need to get real drunk.

Look around me.
Nothing missing, nothing broken, no need
appears when I speak of the devil
and focus on the worst that
could happen,

no need revives

save remembering to breathe and step outside
when the rain stops.

Spaceship earth is listening,
these are the legendary interesting times.

Seals have been broken, and the breaking seen on tv.

We matured after allathat. There was no boom,

life haps in bubbles, at the bottom
of the final metaphor.

Knowing used, expands bubbles, and as we
encorporate

all we know, in video and so on, we signal

all we have ever known, we got the message,

this is our answer.

If eternity left a door open for you, would you let curiosity take hold of you, step out, and rush into the storm of time, of humanity?

And would you be back?


I knew neither the moon nor the sun
And night never showed his face.

1.

The day was the keeper of this place;
Keeping the dome clean and round,
So not a speck of star can be found.
Of course, this is me speaking in the future
Of the past;
Unlike in Time, this is a fertile pasture
Only of earth and not dust:

---

I wouldn't have known the moon,
I wouldn't have known the stars,
If not for the gate at the end of the path.

2.

So how should I describe the color of the sky,
That sunless, endless shimmering domed light
If the brilliance of opal, and mother of pearl
Magnified a thousand, a million, a billion times
It's soft pink, mystic green, royal blue and purple
Melt into the beauty of life, erase all sorrow
And leaving only a dreamy field of coral

---

As you float
As you float
Ever away
Ever away
From the shores of troubles

3.

“If there's no night, is there morrow?”
“Is there sleep, are there dreams?”
You seem to wonder about these things
What's a dream to someone who's within?
The peace never cease, therefore never change
So weariness would seem rather strange
It'd be hard to fathom these feelings

---

If not for me experiencing
If not for me experiencing
Before my wandering

4.

Wandering from my garden
My garden of love
My home: my oak tree with canopy high above
My fruit of life, my sweetest peach grove-
Except for my ever following dove-
My four fields of sunflowers, lilies, aster, barley
My four rivers of this little valley of plenty

---

These things I have left behind
To wander beyond the desert
Into the labyrinth of time

5.

The gate has always been open
So when did I get curious, and why
Was it always ajar, curiosity wide
There has always been spiritful wind
But in the garden never with rain
Softly singing and never howling
And I didn't understand the darkness I was seeing

---

Like a stranger on strange tides
Here's what I remember
Here's what I could define

6.

The paved crystals end at the divide
There's only dull stones on the other side
Barefoot I naively and confidently stride
That's when I learned what sand feels like
Are stars innumerable as sand
Or sand innumerable as the universe is grand?
It's as if I stepped on the planets then galaxy’s bend

---

So much dust
So much dust
Would I be buried alive?

7.

My home I have left far behind
Leaving a small window of light
Would I remember what it was like
Would I ever return with or without a guide
When the sand have blanketed over
All traces, all paths and even the light
Everything of mine is getting heavier it seems like

---

As it rains
As dust and sand seep into my veins
I am learning of discomfort and pain

8.

Even though this was a storm of sand,
Still the least strange of this wonderland,
Now that I have seen the brightest and darkness
Of emptiness and shadows
The barest barren and greenest meadows
Summit of stones, pines, snow capped might
Still the golden dunes I most like

---

Like heaps of stars below the sky
Like heaps of stars above the sky
You have see it to know what it's like

9.

The desert never seems to have an end
I wondered if this was going to be my land
My untillable land of moonlight, stars, dust and sand
And I hungered, I hungered
For my home as I knew not this oasis of man
So I walked and walked,
I knew not what else I can-

---

As I wandered on
As I rambled on
I saw something on the horizon

10.

Preserved by a crown of rosemary and thyme
A little wooden sign wrote Pasture of Time
What beautiful and leisurely grass to remind
Remind me of my home, my Garden of Love and Life
There are no true residents here, only travelers
Well maybe except for the sky’s butlers
Three archers playing below the curve

---

Red cape for the soaring clouds of day
Yellow toga to curb the fierce noon rays
Blue dress accentuate the moon’s grace

11.

These three, guarded the wanderers of a thousand faces
They are always changing and I wondered if I am the same
As the dust piled on me, some stayed
Some fell, some shifted in place
And I'm being directed to head in one way
The tour would end at the faraway gate

---

Even through all these plights
My dove never took flight beyond my sight
Ever faithful, darkness or light

12.

Since I'd probably be here for a while
I wouldn't mind these miles of trials
If the tame have never known the wild
Would he know if he's at peace or in denial
I'm just afraid of falling in love with what I can't keep
When I leave this plain
I want leave the pain

---

And not fall for some illusions beyond belief
That'll dissipate when I leave
That'll dissipate together with me when I keep
Emulating the transient things
And I become one with the wrong dream

13.

And all you strangers, you who roam
So very different from my friends at home
Why do your faces keep changing
Why are you always on route to leaving
Could one of you walk with me a little longer
So whatever changes I can at least remember
That's when I suddenly noticed her

---

But I'm not ready to cross the threshold of hurt
Give it all to human nature
What would it be like, to be any other:

i.

The Eagle:

When the sky was low
I never envied the eagle
And still, though it floats
High above the bees, the ants
The earth, the dust, and sand
The dandelions, the foxtails, fig trees
In the meadows

It'll just take the emperor’s new clothes
Of praises and wear it proud with illusive boasts
But what's the use when we all know
It'll never traverse more free
Through immaterial dreams
Nor soar above the stars
Nor bring news from the future or the past

The eagle is still just like us
The eagle is still just as lost

ii.

The Bees

And what about the bee that never asks
What's at the end of work, end of the path
The queen bee was born to be
Not something to be dreamed
So it restlessly toils away
We are already here, might as well stay
So they reason, and so they agree

But what do some say
About the honey they make
They don't believe in that changeless place
I've retained in my mind however vague
They say, they say
They are for whoever will replace
All of us at the end of our days

If not for a journey faraway
When we escape this maze
If we will cease, only dust stays
It'll surely be a waste
So then what's the point of bees and being
What's the point of bees and being
Anyways

iii.

The Ants

What's the vast to an ant
If we barely brace the land
We count the stars thousands times as grand
As brilliant beach of unreachable cosmic sands
We see the lights that dot the sky
As not much different than high flying fireflies
These are the white lies of white nights

When ants can't see the truth of the sky
When ants can't see the starry sky
And think of ourselves kings of everything in flight
And think of ourselves kings of life
When only to dust and shadows can we say we're bright

The existent non-existence is the ant's plight
It's our plight
So we endure gladly, only few understand why

iv.

Meadows

When we are pushed along a path
By false ambition, fate or lust
Even if we're never lost
What happens when we reach the top
A cliff always has a drop
If only there aren't such a curvature
To what we hold dear and yearn

If love is “truly patient and never boast”
How fertile and green would be its
Eternal meadow
The beauty of an endless plateau
Fields of purple irises and marigolds
If this lasts forever, where would it hide,
The shadow loving woes

Never in the meadow
Where the sun would expose
These dark and gloomy foes

v.

Dandelions in the Morning

Such fragile dreams in the youth of being
Such lofty wings in the youth of dreams
It comes and goes on a whim
So easily broken
Yet so resiliently woven
So you would think it went with the wind
Never to return and never again seen

And one day,
So suddenly
All you hear are the yellow flowers singing
In that field you never found promising
Now blanketed with snowing dancing wings

The dandelions of youthful dreams
The dandelions of youthful dreams
The dandelions of youthful dreams

vi.

Reeds at the Dusk

So you are, at the end of your path
The sky is veiled by a dusky mask
And the threads of reed sewn across
Obscure where you're going
And where you are
Would you be lost
To the waves or to the dust

But there is a compass in your heart
And you have been there before in the past
So have faith you'll find your home at
That timeless hut
Beyond the reeds at dusk
Beyond the reeds at dusk
Beyond the reeds at dusk

vii.

Fig Trees of Midnight

I see so faintly the shape
Through midnight’s blue drape
The contour of a fig tree
So I believe I have sown
But the flowering we can't always see
So would I be reaping the fruits of a dream
Or would I be reaping the futility of a dream

Oh, have faith
Have faith
When you can't see it
Doesn't mean it isn't flowering
When the sun is hid
The moon is still reflecting
You can't forsake before you've gone all the way

You never know
How it'll go
Figs of Midnight
Figs of Midnight
Might taste just as sweet

14.

What a lovely scene nature paints
But these are such transient things
I'm afraid I can't bring
Them back to my cabin
Back to my little plain
Would my faith dove remain
The only one following

---

Ever following
Ever following
Ever following

15.

I was so speaking
When I saw a light, a dream
What a wonder of a being
I have never seen smiles of lightning
Eyes shaped like crescent moons
Within which a billion stars pool
Is this why I was destined to arrive in time

*

To bring your soul with mine, my dove by my side
Back to my Garden of Love and Life
My Garden of Love and Life
Because clearly you are and you're meant to be,
So thinly veiled by the dust of temporary things
A being, even in this earth plane,
Helplessly shimmering with light