I picture them in a balmy hallway,
far-corner huddled; quietly, urgently
comparing their notes on ways I have loved.

They'll laugh at lame jokes and avoid eye contact,
each surprised by their own awkwardness.
One of them will quip the term
'eskimo brother'
and immediately wish he hadn't.
The rest will kindly ignore it.
The moment will pass.

They will slowly shed their discomfort.
They will remove their coats.
Sweat will bloom at collars
and trace knotty bumps of spine before
pooling into the space between
boxers and belt.

They won't openly discuss the
strange comradery
that accompanies the lazy river evenings spent drifting down the same mind-
but the tension pulling across
each of their jaws
will announce loud and clear
how frustrating it has
been to be cropped,
tucked in, paper fortune teller folded
and wrapped up into someone else’s idea of poetry.


Casually
then all at once,
they will get started.
Printed pages will uncoil from backpacks,
phones will emerge from pockets
and fingers slightly shaking
will chase the letters
of my name through search engines.

My sticky poems will fan out across floorboards.
They will lower their bodies carefully, not quite kneeling,
(and without mention of the bad knees they happen to share.)
They'll hover above each piece of evidence
and their eyes will crash along titles and memories-
they'll read with raised
eyebrows and pretend as if
they don't already know
each poem, each quick dig, by heart.

When they start claiming
and denying pieces
they will do so lightly
and without judgment.
'This piece is about you and the dry, delicate
tissue-shell of skin
she held out for you after you told
her to shed.
But this piece- this piece is about me
and the messy ointment
that ruined her clothes and
stained her blankets.
A doctor instructed she
apply the ointment to her hands
twice a day to treat
the burns my silence left
across her arms and throat.'

They will share a bit of rage,
A bit of regret.
A bit of shame, perhaps.
They will either miss me intensely
or not at all.
They will either own up
to the poems they begat
or begin refuting.
They don’t want any of
this chilly weight on their soul.
I understand.

They didn’t sign up for this, I know that.
They didn’t set out to rock me,
nor to dig down deep and get to my China.
I was happy to share, to whisper and recite blurry
morning confessions and epiphanies.
I was right behind them running toward the sand dunes,
waving a shovel and pail.
But I can’t feel bad either.
You all must have known:

If you happen to fall for a girl
who writes you must realize
that every smile you put on her face,
every stray hair you’ve pushed back from her eyes,
and quick habit she starts to crave
is fair game.

If a girl who writes happens to fall for you too--
forget it.
You will find echoes of the way your souls fit and fought
together until she has nothing left to feel on the subject;
(and you must be well aware
she's tidal, her feelings are icecaps,
they are melting but will trickle fresh
and renewed for centuries to come.)

Take a step into the Firestorm.
Lyrics/Vocals Skitz AKA Mr.Sandman
Track,recording,production-Jay/Eclectic.Collective.
Lyrics.(Copyright Skitz AKA Mr Sandman)

Spittin' fire-desolation of the Sandman,
blink you'll miss the decimation of your clan man,
musical massacre with an Irish style,
time to stop driveling,your old cold style-

cause I'm riled up,fed up sick of your ****,
sit down or be knocked down,listen to the skitz spit,
flammable fumes,verbs turn to flame,
grammar fallin like a grand piano from a crane,
straight to your brain a flash of white light,
wear a fireproof suit you might catch light,
pay stage crews danger cash cause I'm scorchin',
E.C.-Schizophrenic-Sandman torchin,
a four alarm fire,I cause high premiums,
show respect or you'll be rappin through a medium,
mic's a flamethrower leave you screamin,
think you'll burn the Sandman?,wake up,you're dreamin.

Venue's on my menu,get it insured,
I walk through the flames,immune and immured,
immersed in hip hop, a sun gone nova,
drop the mic kid, just run,it's over.
my tank's full,petrol for adrenaline,
flame and blood like my name's Targaryen
you don't want to see my dragon's fly loose,
spit heat like a turnspit-cook your goose,

Stage is flaming,boy you best ghost,
hit the fire bell,you get burnt to toast,
white phosphorus combined in my mind,
get your goggles if you're goggling,you'll wind up blind,
Armageddon approaches,best make your way,
last stage I blazed you may have heard of-Pompeii,
you're gettin calcinated muy calor!,
a Supervolcano eruptin' on a dancefloor.

(chorus)
Magma,Plasma,they're not even warm,
Air Ripped from Lungs becomes fuel for the Storm,
Melt Icecaps,Globe start to warm,
****** Aircon-I spark a Firestorm.

Time to raise the heat,time to raise the stakes,
you're a lost smokejumper,praying for a firebreak,
trees turn to shrapnel,you're out of breath,
"I am fire,I am Death"

Reverse Mic Fiend rhymes steal the oxygen,
lungs collapse as I spin the storm again,
a terrible beauty,and an awesome blessing,
3rd degree burns,apply cool dressings
thats if you're lucky when I spit the gift,
last MC challenged me burnt to a crisp,
by words,deeds,heat bleeds stage smokin-I'm just gettin warm
thoughts spark the flames in a forest I'm a firestorm
fuel air bomb combined with Tsar Bomba,
Mount Doom blowing about to get Sundered,
hate is stokin' me,fuel to the forge,
16kept the heat banked long enough it's time to gorge,
Smaug heats up-flames spew forth,
you're guy fawkes on a pyre of fireworks.

Wondering,and blundering it's time to burn,
time to get roasted,you fool's won't learn,
that I'm hotter than a sunflare,beyond compare,
you're richard pryor tryin to smoke michael jacksons hair
don't dare me to flare into action,
don't care Keisha fusion core reaction,
fukushima and cherbobyl are my barbeques,
couldn't help yourself, you had to light my fuse,
I refuse to cool down-I'm scorchin',
Firestormtrooper lit,time for torchin'
Firewalk-comparison? Huh,a cool breeze,
flatten the building like Tunguska's tree's,
eyes hotter than Cyclops,you're weak at the knees.
supernova 200 billion degree's

(chorus)
Magma,Plasma,they're not even warm,
Air Ripped from Lungs becomes fuel for the Storm,
Melt Icecaps,Globe start to warm,
****** Aircon-I spark a Firestorm.

I'm just getting in the bath,
Someone else wrote the letter,
I don't want to make a. Mess.

Draw me the water
I point at the tap
Burden no family
Hold my head under icecaps.

Merkel Cells, diluted sensation,
The end of fingertips cant feel your
Flesh.
Shriveling in the cold,
Shivering to stop freezing,
But I cant. What am I doing?
Can I want this now, errectores pilorum erected.
Have I set motion to,
Cogs in a watch I cant adjust.

my lungs mark absolute zero
this is me sitting in chemistry class
english
10th grade
asking sam to suffocate with me
every alvioli is pinned by ****** as thick as knitting needles
my chest is permafrost
my sternum, antarctica
the ribs hollow out
capillary beds lose all the haem
out of their erythrocytes

I'm losing St. Elmo's Fire.

The baths still panting out,
Water roars, gushing spout.
Proud the current sweeps me through,
The porcelain lining this white hell bathroom.
It's bone cannot hide from my blood,
As if I'm isotope 226 of Radium.
Heat seeking marrow.
My serum is Hodgkins Lymphoma,
Tearing through sheeting tile,
Like a young cancer child,
Afflicted,
Leukemia,
No chance,
No good blood left,
To let.


Soon, it will all be gone, and the rivers that
freeze in my arms, and the ribs that are icicles
form, and the atrial canal is not like Venice,
it is the Rhine in winter, the Volga during
the solstice.

Spring will never come again.
Spring slipped its head into the bath water, like my own.

Children of Louisiana,
Swept away and drowned,
In the river’s flood
And the ocean surge.
Never have recovered
Fully from the rain falling down,
And of a city that was purged.
Ignored by the government
And its fellow man,
Follow in a long line of sufferers
Since the melting, ice age glaciers
And even a tsunami in the North Sea
That wiped out Doggerland.
Dark Ages got darker as people ran
And Britain’s white cliffs were sheared.
Times got better and then got worse,
But the people carried on.
Now, the floods are a weekly thing,
A blip on a newscast,
As lost as the victims in a mess
Of other disasters,
Of wildfires, droughts and don’t
Even mention the quaking earth
Or volcanoes! We can’t take credit
For causing those!
Rich men in their castles,
Feasting and clapping each other
On their fatty backs,
Rolling in the spoils and spills
Of oil, on the flaming water of
The American plains.
Sheikhs in old Mesopotamia
Whine about oil pipelines,
Promised to them by President Cheney,
While the people starve.
Bloated oligarchs spread destruction
All over the world, from
The Congo to Chernobyl,
Melting icecaps and raising the sea,
Sinking islands where they don’t live,
Vacationing in the Maldives,
On special rates before those go under.
They won’t fix Miami, but let it sink,
But not before they plunder
The empty towers built on foolish dreams.
Of course, they’ll be the last to go,
Crammed into mansions up in the Alps,
Fighting with the European nobles
Over who gets a crumbling palace
Now sitting on the last ice floe.
A few American cousins round each other up
To catch the Dixie Flyer down to New Orleans,
Trying to hide from the polar vortex,
A dazzling case of ignorance and greed,
Only to find the tracks buried in the sea…
Down in the mud of the deep, brown sea.

I've met people that live their lives like a burning building,
All motion and light, excitement, smoke and fiery glow.
They mostly have wavy hair, like the constantly moving surf.
I'd like to think I am this kind of person,
For the allure they project,
But in the end, opposites don't attract,
Only opposite personalities.
If there are no similarities, then
Nothing will come of it.

I'm a gently flowing river,
Only when my temper melts the icecaps,
And the melt water rushes down,
Only then do I rage.
(Flash flooding on occasion)
A burning building and a river,
About as far apart as two personalities can go,
This goes to show you how this funky freaky universe works.
Cosmic soda jerks, making asteroid root beer floats,
***** floating through blackness,
Flaming and frigid stars and comets,
All spinning just right, to create this magnetic field
That drew me to you.

I meander and I have my rapids and waterfalls,
My shallow pools, and deep ravines.
But you rage with a fire that cannot be extinguished.
It is a marvel when we collide,
And together we make steam.

icecaps come undone
crushing into the ocean
as she sheds her frozen tears
penguins and p0lar bears shudder
as their habitats recede
like the snows of Kilimanjaro

volcanoes explode
spewing smoke and ash like billowing pillows
into the stratosphere
diffusing sunshine's heat
like a cold compress
floes of lava melt glaciers
rivers of mud cause flooded folks to flee

fissures crack and snap from her pressure
towns and countrysides split
floors rumble and roll like the ocean
walls tumble, crumble and roar
bells toll an all too familiar melody
families cry out, wailing and ranting
chanting dirges of great loss
an inconsolable cacophony
rubbled lives lying in ruin

but she is not to blame
the earth is a no fault state
this is our doing
ecology's consequence
greenhouse gasses and other pollutants
have given her a fever
her pores are opening to vent the warming
she is not angry or vindictive
punishment is not her goal
and evil has not played its hand
the planet is just cooling herself
it's how Gaia gets her groove back

Fairness!

vast, equal ideas that claim to propose the similarity of wave particle to the icecaps!

the relation of a quasar to a trampoline!

the formation of matter resulted solely so that sixty-seven hours of detention could be issued to retain and break the spirit of contradictory efforts!

I heard such fond words about the so-called real world!

a reality measured in it's invisibility!

measured in the lock and chain of binding expressionless touch!

Freedom!
I embrace you as a brother
your words and games fit me so snugly!
drag me into false kingdoms!

I am willing!

your vapor trails, I find intoxicating

your summers, endless

I renounce all desire to move anywhere but up and into your ever-seeing heat gaze!

whose red stare coats the sky and ground
your primitive, machine gun logic

I am pierced by your omnipotence!

you claimed my brothers, now claim me!

As the moon drifts further into the starry void,
Turning seas into watery graves;
The sun exudes heat, melting icecaps, and stirring up ecosystems.
Burning still in underground caves;
Coal...natural gas.. What shall we do? When all is consumed, there will be no use for you!
Soon they say, we shall fall, despite government policies like Kyoto protocol;
We have made better steps to ensure our safety...
But is it too late? Has our haste not been hasty?
Have our efforts been as strong, as the cars that we drive?
As the days move along; what will survive?
That is the question that comes first to mind;
Before clearing the thickets of woodlands and pine.
Before killing the terrorists... although I'm concerned;
Are we not the terrorist, to the rainforest and fern?
"Of course not!" they say, with such ill-thought conviction;
Well if that is not the case, then tell me your plan of transition.
Instead of restriction. We all have a right to be free; but each of us needs to understand and practice sustainability.
Like every tree, or animal that came before me...
All have a place in the world, which we live,
All have a reason, and truth that they give;
All have a story and a place in our history,
All have the same future; it's not such as mystery!
We are born, then we die, and go back to the land.
Never mind of religion; if it's used to command.
They will try and find a reason of sharing no blame,
For themselves, to the earth, to the wind, to the rain.
But now is the time when reality sheds light, on the brave few that are given wisdom and insight;
To stand up and be counted, will not take any lies; will not salute any flags, will not stand up and fight;
In any war - peace is upheld.... Guns are forgotten, and people are not jailed;
For speaking their thoughts, not keeping them in; to turn into cancer - of sadness and sorrow...
Tomorrow we say.... we'll get up and start, but it's time for a change.
If not to the world - then at least to your heart.

I miss you
you don't know how much*
the rest is incohorent, he keeps
saying sorry, over and over.

I guess I understand why, now.
the apologies, the childlike way
he'd turn and burrow into my
shoulder--something he'd
hardly done before

maybe I didn't understand
the reasoning behind the things
he would have liked, but the pain
was always so palpable
a heavy ache, a lonesome ache--

I hope all the blackest things
are the farthest from you,
and that you recede from
the places that only bring
temporary comfort,
i hope that you heal,
that all the ways you
have frozen over will
thaw, not a bitter thing
to be found,

i hope that the bees
find you sweet, Matt
because you are and I did,
you are not a body of
the things people have said

breathe, in and out


in and out.
with me,
in and out.

Snow pack dissolves, shrinking icecaps
Trickles, connects with succinct spring
Runs down frigid, joins brook
Babbling, descends to stream

Meanders past meadow land
With butterfly ****, rippling grasses
Flows through tributary into river
Enters the rocky canyon

Cliffs high as cotton clouds
Jagged, angular, shadowed sunlight
Chilly air rising off splashing rocks
Echoes of rushing, rumbling

Fresh scent of Blue Spruce, sappy pine cones
Churning white water, mile long
Cutting rocky gorge

Raging river travels with purpose reverberates around bend
Water falls towards paradise
Pummels hard to form pool

Surrounded by grassy fronds of Deerhair bulrush, Hydrangea, Lady Rue and Button Bush trees
         My secret sanctuary

Take me to the line
Whisk me to the end
A place of lived reality
Where it makes sense

Take me to the river
Drown me in a fall
A place of abstraction
Where magic happens

Take me to the icecaps
Freeze me on the peaks
A place of surreality
Where ecstasy copulate

This space of fiction
*** brewed as a drug
Lovers a bought right
Lines of ruins and glories

Draw the line to see
A bridge of realness
A tow halved illusions
Drag me to the in-betweens

Godliness, can we imagine what that means?
can we a gree,
groupup on a time be
ing
transformed, ah, aitia!
a cause accuse,
have you considered my servant, Faust?

Why now

of all times

am I alived again? Who axed me how

Godliness, with contentment, is great gain?
When did yo'rever begin?

You play Sorry? Y'know how you land at
the right spot and
that makes the time right
to gain more than your role allows

by the rules.
Rules is tools t' keep yer atmostfears from

sending out fruiting bodies,
after the icecaps of ignorances melt.

This is one o'them Sorry places,
in reality.

Never since water recalls, though, now
I recall reading of another water
we have, ringwoodite, those memories are
petrified,
who could think 'em? Chthonic radicals from
trees of knowledge
espelliered to the western wall, while growing

free in forests, wild, whither the wind listeth, and rain falls.
listen,
Jeremiah wrote,

can you hear me now?

Earth, Earth!
Godliness, with contentment, is great gain?
Weeping Prophet?

Wouldn't you?
Timebum-
pto whenever this was first sung
Don't take yer guns t'town, son.
Leave yer guns at home...

Awake at my wake, what a gas,
all wrapped in white linen beyond the ripped drape
no curtain betwixt e certainty and me

but just a glimpse.

One time, I saw a her, an animus of a salvaged sort,

reporting a he I thought was me, was
continuing to fall,

claiming penance for vengance and **** and harsh words.
Lies, most of all...

She came in clad mit rainbows, like an angel in the Bible.
You never noticed those?
Messengers of mercy.
They're all naked, except for light,

how did you not notice those?

Jungians tend to invest heavily in dreams,
turns out,
in the long run,
by mortal measure,

dreams hold meaning longer than

wishes never letgo so far for fear o'
madness o'the Bed'lamic sort

quenching this little light, which

... can't be in dark
no light is in dark

thin light ai'n't no light. Here we are,

this light is all around about me, say

Ah,
it's in me
aitia,
once more, shall we. Give it a spin,

imagine dreaming forever of new and inter'string things,
without dying or being worthless.

Be content imaging that. Great gain. Okeh.
Act like you know forever started some time ago
and you are a character, a named character,
with archetypical friends,
in the live production of the famed Book of Life,

"Life, as much as we can aspire to"
Title pending final cast conspiracy. You're the star.

Forgive me dearest mother; I have blood on both my hands.
I seem to keep on torturing and murdering your lands.
My siblings, we have fought, or more so waged war in your toes
and it was never in our right to throw you all these woes.

Now sweetest child whatever do you think that you have done
when all your actions have been planned to fulfill only fun?
You sail across my waters and dance in sylvan brush.
What harm could you have done in joyous smile and sweetened lush?

Why we have killed and stained the world in our own heinous pride!
I simply do not see that fact, just flick the thought aside.

Our factories spew onyx soot to poison all the air
their mammoth boilers seething heat no one could ever bare.
We melt your gemstone icecaps to make tsunamis out of fears
and drown the world in oceans, salt-filled with dying tears.
So ravenous is hunger that our stomachs burst with acid
consuming grand and graceful woods, aged and wholly placid.
We don't even take ownership of our raw gruesome deeds,
and yet we have the guts to say others are filthy weeds.

Oh such greed that runs and courses through our soured veins
we crack a whip, so carefree, as we throw our kind in chains.
We are the grand oppressors. That is all there is to it.
We trample on the trodden to squash out all the spirit.
The bombs we build explode to carve deep craters in your heart
tearing blood away from blood and forcing friends to die apart.
We use wars as excuses to burn and **** and pillage
never mind the ceaseless, toxic flow of radioactive spillage.

Experiments on your children throw their lives on gory shelves
to concoct potions and elixirs to immortalize ourselves.
As arsonists we roar to celebrate forgotten pain,
and the world trembles in fear when we set fire to the rain.
Burglars sneak about in black beneath a starless sky of smog
while miscreants cheat cheaters and lie in lazy bogs.
We claim to have a right because 'survival of the fittest',
but we are murderous monsters: the bottom at our best!

All this is quite alright my child, for after all you see;
you are the only one you hurt, your bombs cannot scathe me.
You are such selfish creatures, though not in the way you think
not self-centered in the fact you seem to consume in such great feat.
No, you my little narcissist with such egotistical mind
you are selfish because you are oh so very, very blind.
For the truth, my sweet child is that all your ****** games
harm not a single soul but you: humans and their names.

Your flames burn but your ashes, your explosions reap *your dead,
and the lacerations you inflict? scar just inside your head.
The world will live regardless of your stained and guilty hands
and honestly, you won't be missed from these alluring lands.

Patricians have our best interests in mind.
Administration is impartial, kind.
Keeps us laughin’, keeps us singin’—
And I’m Hildegard of Bingen.

She gets it like she gets the working class;
My head is nodding, up my Marxist ***.
White woke wedding bells are ringin’
Happy Hildegard of Bingen.

Government will gladly redistribute.
As our paychecks sing eternal tribute.
Gangsta-leanin, frontin’, blingin:
Chill with Hildegard of Bingen.

Icecaps, like medieval saints, are HOT.
Climate is in crisis when it’s not . . .
Global warning: winter’s springin’
Heating Hildegard of Bingen.

Intersectionality has meaning.
Hormones lie, biology’s demeaning .
Genderfluid queens are kingin’
Checkmate, Hildegard of Bingen.

Transnationals are cleaning up the mess;
Their CEO’s have little to confess.
Silver in the till, ka-chingin’
Profits Hildegard of Bingen.

Hildegard, the Moorish maiden, lauded.
Wokeness smiled. Diversity applauded.
Flames ascend and seraphim are wingin’
To the throne of Hildegard of Bingen.

oh ****, i know, it happened in your bedroom... and thak **** it didn't happen anywhere apart from that! except in advert, and at a Trump rally.*

i can't be really Polish,
and i certainly can't be English,
so what's left? partly Scottish?
åka ɲørdé - aaka(h) niu-rd(eh) -
to go forth, with Shelley,
and seek my goat-herder
there among the icecaps
in frozen Victorian land,
among grey and among
Orca slaughter - to feast,
while those who seek more than
grape seek dactyl - under the palm -
may in eternity our paths
never cross as they did by mortality
and the shaken hands... ever, never!
like a nursery rhyme, should
Fredrick fall asleep during a
lightning / thunder-storm and
be branded a thief to your own supposed Eden
prophecy and account balance
unshaken - while the Pharaoh the first-born
drowns with Herod plagiarising the fabled
lure of David's lyre and sang psalms;
keep away from here, unless
in your heaven the Dachau of lost unheard
un-worded breaths;
take your god no further than Byzantium or
Venice will attack.

Somewhere deep in mountains,
Tallest pine trees still do grow,
Is the place she still is living,,
Mystery Princess Evening Flow.

Hear the streams swift flowing,
Where clouds still hang and go,
Deep immersed inside the forest,
Lives the lovely Evening Flow.

High are the gods and heavens,
Where we still can touch the sky,
Icecaps cover on  the mountains,
In this the very few know.

Traveled far in hopes to find her,
Wanting to see where she lives,
Comes a broken man still searching,
For the Princess Evening Flow.

In the chance of finding the magic,
Where the fairies still live and breathe,
Just around the corner is she coming,
To let us see what legends unfold.

Once a lonely, lost man stumbling,
Once a drifter so cast out to sea,
Now this time to like a hunter,
For the mesmerizing lady Flow.

When I find her how I'll shutter,
Just to have a dream come true,
Nothing lost if all we find there,
Someday seeing a world unknown.

Evening Flow who lives in legends,
Must now live deep in my soul,
Someday I will behold her essence,
Princess beauty Evening Flow.

Woe be to the lady of seasons!
Persephone and Demeter argue.
As neither can forgive dear family,
we are lost! We are sunk! Polar icecaps
melt to the tension of their bickering.

Poseidon’s domain increases ever more!
His power does drive our beaches and shores
higher! Higher! Higher ever more!

Awwww, man, I'm flippin', news reports got me trippin'
My mind's busy racin' foot's tappin, I'm pacin'
They say, and I trust, in a few decades time,
That the icecaps will melt and engulf the coastlines, of
New York and LA, and New Hampshire and Maine, and
New Orleans will be but a massive flood plane,
It's a tad bit insane and alarming to say,
That it's been brought about, by our self obsessed ways,
They say India just had the hottest of days,
Ever seen in its history, see, it's a mystery,
Why we don't act, we have limited time, and
The scientists warn us, as temperatures climb,
While republican senators watch and insist,
It's a "liberal myth" and it doesn't exist,
How I wish I could choke 'em and watch 'em turn blue,
Like the color they hate! It just cannot be true,
We're destroying the means for our species' survival,
Proposals for action all dead on arrival,
Cause Exxon and Shell simply MUST have their profits,
So they buy the elections, and silence the prophets,
They lobby with hundreds of millions in bribes, and
Darken the futures of billions of lives,
Revolt now becomes an imperative need,
We must favor each other, instead of their greed,
We must march in the streets, upon Capitol Hill,
Or on parliament buildings, until we instill,
The fear of the ones who demand something new,
Because, we are the many, and they are the few.

Well you know boy, if you play the earth in a game of loaded dice you'll find out real quick that it don't roll so great on empty gravel with all them melting icecaps shiftin' the balance.

And you know girl, the dealer's gonna say "Your loss, my gain," and give the ****** dice right back to you, melting poles and all. "Try a stretch of universe full of cheaper stars if you wanna get rid of that ****."

And kid you'll take that dice and pay the price because all the guns they say they have ain't gonna stop the world from goin' bad real fast as that dealer smirks and says "Not much time left 'till it's gone. Not much time at all."

Back from the desert and loving it
both the visit and the return.
The powerful plane deiced in Chicago.
Brittlebush, difficulty distinguishing acacia from ironwood.
Mesquite, and plenty of paloverde.
A good jazz band in Phoenix, their own style, no apology.

Could you also love your cancer? The vicious attack of a hedgehog
      cactus?
The winter storm that kept us on the tarmac three hours
followed us home. Used to be
when weather made the headlines, that was good news.
No more. Those melting icecaps and incoming meteors.
Some pray, some stay still, some keep playing.

Anyway, notwithstanding inexorably expanding or otherwise rapidly
      contracting universes
I saw cercocarpus, phainopepla, tomentilla, saguaro, and a great
      guitarist. Prayers were answered.

whole and compassionately flooded
like never before this uncertainty yields
certain seeds hungry as wolves
relevance and relativity releasing
control of activity inevitably seeks
remembrances young and old
forgotten and slovenly
on vacations away from home
remove your shoes and your blouse
ivory tusks are haunting piano stores
yurts and palaces
loose women love the theater
and you are looser than the wind
freer than the fire you are pure desire
you are brighter than a million icecaps
reflecting the cold morning’s funeral
liberated by peculiar persons
your face is whiter than the moon
governing all bodies of water with your power
that comes from inside of you
riding the waves of emancipated thunder
crashing, crying, calling out for her father
witnessing whitewashed landscapes
laudable bandaids and hungarian heavyweights
stranded by the shore

it’s always national something day. national pancake day.
national sourdough bread day. national tweed day.
national jelly bean day. national talk like shakespeare day.
there are bakers with flour hands and runny batter
and elbow patches and rambling professors and assignments due
and the bertie botts every flavor beans that make you think of
hogwarts and sonnets. there’s always a tomorrow dragging
itself up over the eyes of last night.

today is national reconciliation day.
the planet has eleven years before it starts biting back
and your heart feels like a timer. you should see
hawaii before it sinks into the ocean. you should see the polar
icecaps before they melt. you should climb to the bottom of
the grand canyon and look up at the sky if you still see it
and celebrate national canyon day if we have one on the calendar.
you should accept that life is beautiful because it’s ugly.
you should call your mother more. you should tell her that
there is a word for “soul” in every language. tell her alma.
tell her you were buried under snow for so long that you forget
that your father, born of rainforest, still takes it for magic.
tell her that life’s not fair and you still want one anyways.
tell her that people always ask you how could you write
about love at time like this and you always
answer how can you not?

He was a brave sailor, venturing into the unknown, with strength and love for the sea he had found. But the waves got too wild, too roaring, and he could not keep sailing. The sea was revolted and kicked him out, despite himself.

I have seen so much
In your arms
But I was too broken
for you to fix me inside

Back to black, the thick spacey air
Around?

You melted the icecaps
You got ventured into a strange ocean
Now the ocean cries for you
Now, sailor, you rush back home
Never trust your brain
It only twists you again and again

My sailor you were
A hint of water in a drought
sailing alone through my heart
Bringing me happiness
I could not handle well
But I am gormless, too froze....
Too stale

What is reality? The tales we tell ourselves
All the times in your bed- so real, so fake
All the love we shared
Too healthy for me to take

It happened.
We loved each other.
We tore together the walls.
How long till the next thaw?

**** my parents, **** myself
**** everything that stood in OUR WAY

at some point in time
you have to stop

stop being sad
heartbroken
and as blue as the tears you cry

because the icecaps are melting
and the seawaters are rising
and every tear you shed
is drowning us

none of us can stay afloat
in weeping waters

s.s

The spruce boughs shake
like rattlesnakes
as I brush past them, down the path.
Winter's fighting for his life,
but Spring has her hands
clenched firm around his throat.

T-shirt clad, in the dead of night,
 I revel in the raindrops
and I can't help but wonder
will February showers
bring March flowers?
Will my Dandelions return,
before the Spring solstice?

Warmer than usual
is what they say...
The hot breath of our death
is what they mean.

If half of what the doomsayers say
truly comes to pass
(we all know that it will)
one loop will feed the other
as the grasslands burn,
and the icecaps become fairy tales...

Those ****** Chinese
and their self fulfilling hoax's.

This crazy world
Steven Hawkins is dead his contribution to science
was magnificent, even though I do not understand.
In the meantime, we pollute the land big cities are
running out of drinking  water and future wars will not
be about oil but fresh water.
We continue to fight wars that are about ism and power,
yes, the isms that by its nature is hateful and
only good to make those who live here dislike into ogres.
Space is full of debris, our ocean so full of plastic
that marine life die, but still, we carry on over a cliff
and down the abyss, icecaps are melting showing
Islands we want to use for oil- exploration can we not
Delay this haste to our doom,
Perhaps Steven Hawkins’s had a point!

i could destroy forests with my love for you
it burns bright
but the people and places and things in its path
i cannot be held accountable for
the lives it may destroy
there is no blood on my hands
just love on my head
and affection on my heart
maybe this isn't the best metaphor then

i could melt icecaps with my love for you
its heat is unbarable
but the animals and shorelines and houses in its path
i cannot be held accountable for
even the penguins and the polar bears will perish
at the sight of my love
but my love is not murderous
it could never be
my hands and heart and mind and soul are clean
im just clinging on to stupid metaphors
that i feel like can describe
the multitude that my love for you grows
it comes in droves
and i cannot stop that
so sorry to you if i love you too much
ill try my ****** hardest to calm it down

'Twas the night before the Big Bang, when all through the void
Some notions were stirring, towards Darwin and Freud
Superstitions rejected and hung out to rot
It’s shocking how quick we completely forgot
Where cryptical symbols were sacredly spoken
The stories upended and images broken
From out of such Chaos, a chariot of Truth
An empirical prancing of paws on the roof
Now, Newton! Now, Einstein! Now, Herr Oppenheimer!
Now listen! the odious tick of the timer
From the Apple of Knowledge forsaking the plums
For probable visions and practical sums
When wisdom, by Turing, is put to the test
Then where are those letters to Santa addressed?
If coal from the mischievous miscreant’s stocking
Keeps motors of industry ticking and tocking
Then icecaps will vanish from under the elves
And Bezos will eagerly fill up our shelves
So with glittering objects and shiny bright trophies
We bid you Good Luck with a train of emojis

The world is still beautiful
I see it in the way
sunrises reflect off of mountain icecaps
the way families celebrate birthdays each year
the way words spill from mouths painting poetry
The world holds beauty that I see
her faults don't make her less lovable
the same goes for you and me

Love is a breath of fresh air in the park, a sapling inhaling sunshine
Open your heart to it and it will surely make you feel wonderful    
Veer towards it and it will take you through the dance of life
Each and every one of us is capable of such, just don't ask too much

Icebergs melt at the sight of it, so do icecaps in Love's Hemisphere
Scintillating emotions bubble up when it draws close, so enjoy it !

Eager to please love is always on the roll cruising right past go
Veer towards it and it will take you through the dance of life
Eye candy it is not, its much more than that, its enduring and strong
Regard it with great passion and zeal, for it is something you can't steal
Grow with it and know that when its true love, it never dies, like the    
Rose, even when the petals fall away, the memory of its scent remains  
Enameled in your heart forever and a day, Love is like the evergreen tree
Enlisted in nature's plea, it is always well taken care of, by the devotee  
Night never closes in on it without a sweet goodnight, love oh love, it is !