it was a strange and fragile Kombination--
a desperate, lonely Hunger,
frenetic Thrill to sate--
we didn't speak each other's native Tongues
but Tongues we shared
in what we found, of random Meals,
and Pocket Lexika to taste
hidden Idioms we strove to understand..
our Bodies splashing Wasser
in the murky Spree, ******* Fountain by Berliner Dom
licking Lips of Bier und Eis a ways away from Reichstag Bullet Holes
below the steel Spirale encased in Glas
transparent Government--a Show for Tourist Stroll..
our Smiles glinting, coated international, that Week agreed

"eine schwester-bruder liebe.."
temptation--and propriety--preserved--
pale lotion, paler skin to honey in the sun
aloft in hostel bunks we shared--
a cush historic castle, touristische nook
of maps and candy pockets, so geil..
gleeful us, to melt from moscau and new york
we shared the deutsch between us,
ein bisschen englisch,
a bit of russisch too for fun...
our soulwise checkpoint charlie held the lust at bay
despite lustgarten romps
and walks beneath the lindens, lane of sighs..
an awkward bridge of question-words we built to muse about the stars
and what we see with only strangers never seen again.
we named ourselves an instant familie...so you could snore on me,
and let me stroke your hair
without the guilt of infidelity
the freedom from, we traded in our blatant,
goodbye tears you shed, i kept inside to craft mnemonic gems
i share and savor in again












'

spring succeeds chill air
old lindens leaf out and bloom
birdcall and tisane

On October 19 2021
Was a terrible day
For people who knew linden sims
You see linden was nice to me
When I was a drunk
When nobody else was
But he just flew away from me
So on October 19 Ted bundy
And Ronnie Biggs
Came into linden’s head when he
Was asleep and whisked him away
To outer space and tied him up
Really tight and linden was saying
HELP HELP HELP ME
Ronnie and Ted both yelled at him
Saying why don’t you shut your trap
You weren’t normal in this past life
But I will **** you
And make you suffer ‘linden’
You will die you will die mr sims
And you will go to hell
Popeye was an evil character
And so are you linden
They told linden that they have just killed him and he won’t see the sims family again
And that will be cool for us
I want you to be normal
But not a family person
I want you to be a troubled kid
Where you will constantly suffer
Nobody will save you
NOBODY will SAVE you ‘Linden ‘
Then I came in and said leave linden
Alone
He was nice to me in the 90s
And I am repaying his niceness
By freeing him from these two criminals
Suddenly Ted bundy put me and linden in a fire pit and threatened to **** us
I got out but linden couldn’t
And I took linden over to BUDDHA
To free lindens spirit
Buddha and I said
Linden sims
You will be free from suffering now
You will go off into your next life
Where you will have a family
That really loves you
And I thank you for giving me somebody
To muck around with at raid basketball
I know I was a DRUNK
I will send you to the next life you have
Just look at your suffering as POSITIVE
You were a great friend to me back then
Linden smith
Have a great future life
And then I sent Ted and Ronnie back to Mercury to suffer in silence
But not before lindens death
But he will head to his next life
Catch ya later dude

Black shadows fall
From the lindens tall,
That lift aloft their massive wall
Against the southern sky;

And from the realms
Of the shadowy elms
A tide-like darkness overwhelms
The fields that round us lie.

But the night is fair,
And everywhere
A warm, soft vapor fills the air,
And distant sounds seem near;

And above, in the light
Of the star-lit night,
Swift birds of passage wing their flight
Through the dewy atmosphere.

I hear the beat
Of their pinions fleet,
As from the land of snow and sleet
They seek a southern lea.

I hear the cry
Of their voices high
Falling dreamily through the sky,
But their forms I cannot see.

Oh, say not so!
Those sounds that flow
In murmurs of delight and woe
Come not from wings of birds.

They are the throngs
Of the poet’s songs,
Murmurs of pleasures, and pains, and wrongs,
The sound of winged words.

This is the cry
Of souls, that high
On toiling, beating pinions, fly,
Seeking a warmer clime.

From their distant flight
Through realms of light
It falls into our world of night,
With the murmuring sound of rhyme.

little children sit, basking in the sun
their laughter lights upon the world
holistically calling all pens

dipped with ink to tell
of the glory of God’s grandeur
of His infinitesimal love so great

permeating everything, everywhere, everybody
to the point, that point
where we cannot see but for Him

for by the rivers of Babylon
we take down our harps from the trees;
where once our songs of sadness draped

among the sycamores, pines, and lindens
only our happiness remains
bestowed on us, for us, by God,

for God is love and love is real
so our prayers creeping towards heaven
amidst the priests’ holy incense

are filled with thoughts
of the New Jerusalem through
the smile of a child.

The dream was real

Felt by the drops of a summer moon resting in its orbit
I remember when your arms would coddle me at under silky sky mornings; gravity taking shape

Let the patterns listen to themselves
see what they see
through their window eyes

Let the numbers stand there
be what they are

in their bodies
black
brown
white
and
unfiltered
demonstrations
when it equals soup and salad
without a price for bread

Let the silverware be tarnished
and cups clinch
only quiet figures hear

When we gazed into eyes on cut up streets
midnights in July
thinking about our untold stories
lightening August set off days apart

I began with love, hoping to stay there
I don’t want to leave another note

I don’t want to leave another note
I want a feather-bed to rest our heads on and make love

You have no idea how much the burgeoning of reminiscence relieves me when it costs not one molecule to love
to make us whole again and again
It’s free because it’s there

Feel the motions electric breeze like the wind
sometimes it places us on the pane
to watch us move

holds us in between the spaces
I am now in the scene of a precious transition inside and outside bream breathing in pink noise
washing away all that was left that came before restarting the scene

Once more
is an opportunity for the bird to saddle back on its wings
perch on the top of its one and only  
and try again  
saving what’s left of its oxygen
a single tree
meaning is without nothing  

There is something there
something there
these feelings pared
in our chemical reaction
evolving in our evolution  

Let’s agree that
1+1= 3 years
and two turns into one squared

Memories stay
when they’re still there
there is no erasing
what has not been left undone
in the kind of ink
that makes a white board look
sedated
splayed out
and painted  
in the image of our golden chair
leaving its imprint scintillating  
unscarred; unerased

Markers
leaving their mark
underneath the lindens in the back and to the right  

We used to taste the warmth of ripeness
in avocado green and lime juice press
no more pitted seeds

We’re standing there
standing; looking
from its new location
coming from an alternative universe
understanding ourselves
from a different place

Let the numbers stand there
be what they are

Let the math not add up
in their bodies
black
brown
white
and
unfiltered
demonstrations
of matter
gravity taking shape

Will always
Always
equal where we are