Single years roll down my face,
I send smoke signals to teenagers
Lost in the sound of their personal midnight,
Changing their names to ‘lost’ and ‘gained’
and remain unquantifiable
in the loose streets of halogen New York,
or the loose streets of halogen anywhere,

Some places you don’t imagine, only experience,
Some places you don’t  visit but get sent,
Some places demand sacrifice of years you don’t have,
Some places are just prayers and graffiti,

And here, here
The railway bridge adorned,
with tags and padlocks
and ****** fluids with different stories,
I see all the streets and city embodied,
She has a face like blunt force trauma,
Her legs are seductive and her hands
are covered in blood,
Her lover’s smile is an open wound.

In these places there is a fire in every tower,
In these places there is something sharp in every pocket,
In these places there is a sad drawing in your child’s notebook,
In these places there is always a ticking growing louder.

A foetus in handcuffs beneath a middle aged man
hanging from a traffic light;
Incidents unrelated,
Become dead words in piles of boxes,
That don’t realise they tell us how
this city or satellite town
is gathering the dirt for its own burial mound.

Words:
whispering sybils
of concealed worlds.
In betweens and beyonds,
somewheres and nowheres,
truths for making believe.

Words.

Carmine nostalgia of the unexperienced.
Utopia upon a time.
Windmill wings to grow a heart,
flavours and scents of new seen worlds,
tangible places pulsating in snow globes,
cosmogony of what is not.

Words:
scribbling, engraving a forever world.

now is the time, she says.
    she says a lot of things, though.
it's enough, it's enough to watch walls
    crumble like chalk in the hand of a child;
  it's enough to watch sunrise without dread.
         now is the time, she says.
    I say not much, they say.
          not much like a Polaroid
   of a dead owl in your dresser drawer;
         it's not much like a flower caught in a fence.
      factual information is less than an obituary
          telling you that your wife is dead.
        my inalienable right to make pancakes
           at three AM is where I flail in moonlight
    like a strange yellow fish swimming with cane and toothache.
         but, ah, what was that she said---
        a million things all at once with no simile
             (the walls make sound, but
     my eyes are a million things said on Sundays)
          no cohesion, no considerable operations,
    no calorie is succinct, no little bubble in your mouth...
        my terrible thing weeping towards a shelf always
      with pretty words pretty eyes pretty nowheres--
           my wound grows down the trees like ivy
                my hands reach towards you, I close me eyes--
            I breathe I breathe
    smaller breathes to not disturb you.
     so soft and calm with gossamer in your eyes,
           you shift like the moon tossing
     on waves of cloud;
         what gods have I to curse
     when thou art fled?
          Little lines can't suffice,
        empty is a word not full--  
               opulence and splendor
         like my toes in the damp summer grass.
              inhale, please, and take your pulse
        out in the cold because  
     the dryer is broken,
         everything beeps at me
        and houses shiver in nightmare.

nobody whose who’s
****** bleeding nothing’s
lost or found amongst
swing swung sounds
and rebound where
nowheres echo off violence’s
clamoring dictum: to each’s own
silent stammering victim  

no bits limit the need to share
no stars emit light without due glare
no atom resists the urge to fuse
no one exists alone to choose

yesterday isn’t tomorrow’s
friend forever, yet
if not, one today might wonder
when rain wasn’t
more than lightning’s thunder?

I’m not a pessimist.

But I hear the drumbeat of inadequacy
Keeping time to the echoed songs of a forgotten world.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I feel the bass of a billion irregular heartbeats
Ticking to to the sound of a broken clock.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I see the angry smashing of waves on skin
Crashing with the clicks of a slowing metronome.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I smell the metallic scent of a broken machine
Grinding to a halt while the societal dance speeds up its pace.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I taste the bitterness of infinite gray nowheres
Drifting endlessly while the band plays on.

Chapter Two -poem-Neva Flores



Sometimes I get tired of having so little time
and plainly seeing my surroundings
crying out before the scent of dawn
has bloomed.
Can a single cloud breathe in
all of the warm air
that hails my universe,
removing all reason to wake up,
live life and resume?

I look at fleeing ships
whose sails are full of thunder
and I hear a song
dissolving the wildest parts of me.
Each note dances in the breeze
dropping its own melody
inside my heart
until it becomes the only thing
I hear inside my soul
and I struggle to even
breathe.

I was a cabin boy on a tallmasted ship.In the Straits of Gibraltor.Yes they did not know I was female but that was my well kept secret.one does have to survive in this world and by hook or crook I planned on doing just that.my name is Samuel.well really Samantha..been called Sam a while so the transition /switch to samuel was fairly easy.I figure Im close to 8yrs, maybe 9 and I'm scrawny and quick.Business was done in cramped quarters so no-one was the wiser.My best friend was Joque, he kinda wanted a son I reckon, he was partial to Me and gave Me the easy work and fed Me all the time..you know the fresh stuff so I wasn't inclined to scurvy..apples whens theys were here...oranges and salt in rations he kinda shared with me.Odd how I was found at sea and in the middle of nowheres they say..just like I was plunked down in the ocean like a drowning rat , lucky it was in front of the HMS Frigate Triumph..not much to see but it was dryer than I had seen in a while...anyways Joque fished me out and dryed Me up ..said he'd never seen a boy with that much hair.so a hair cut was in order...threw me some dry clothes that dinna smell like stinky fish and here I were.





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© 2011 Eclipsing Moon-blood red

One more dusty rotation
around this earth,
following deep grooves with stories
that suggest
this ain’t my first rodeo.
I can’t manage to keep hold of
a single thing they boast of worth,
but I have a finger on my awareness,
and that’s a start.
Meanwhile, the universe simmers
and bubbles, unsteady—
her shaky fuse lit and ready to go.
Restlessness and an urgency
felt with every passing second,
but she hasn't told me why.
And when I squint for a solution,
all I make out are
muted colors and shapes with no edges.
Abstract suggestion of a journey I know
I was born to grab by the lapels—
to collect lessons from grooves
and their dust
and gut feelings—
to allow them to transform
my armfuls of nowheres
to somewheres.
So, I tighten the grip of my thighs
on this carousel horse of mine,
careful not to let the circles
ride *me.

virtual ink etched on vitual paper.. synapse rebounds taken down, on tablet... applet releasing the
imagin- ed pressure in my incohezant brain. little bytes of... making it right sent into.. the webby ether clouds....... zip drive compressed, pixelated, ram driven,memory boosted, data mined, spam shot,
drive by.... now encrypted ... password denied... .....virtual ink lost to the .....link ... .......... 404 error ...... page not found... virtual paper, now, lost forever.

destined to be in
www. miscellaneous file/ never to see the light of day. not org. nowheres

Is this where it happens?
Is this the where
and when?

On a bus going through
nowheres stocked with burned-out houses
and Chevys idling on empty axles?

I have passed so many of them,
that I don't know
when it'll stop;
all this quiet and oblivion.

Hop on a train to nowheres
Where no kindred souls reside
And you shall find ebbing cares

Get away and defrost
Your turbin of independence
And electrify soul's ******

Leave and don't look back
Your hut is an allocated rut
An ever-widening crack

You are born free of chains
A roving verve of stardust
Exploring firmament's veins.

The shadow that never leaves
That breathes beneath my skin
Like I am paying penance for an unknown sin
The voice of the girl who I loved tears me down
Leaving me with histories frown
I come from the sixteen year old who suffered from psychosis
I didn't choose this
Does it mean that I am cursed?
Though the reaction is immersed in a painful ache
When I lay in bed awake
When I think of all I could have been
If not weighed down by all my regrets
I live in corner of nowheres ville
The words left unsaid still hurt
Sometimes I blurt them out when I am alone
To the voice that talks inside my head
Does she know how much it stings
To be king of nothing.

Let us flow
Like a wafting feather
Smooth as kitten's fur
Let us flow like an arrow
Into the heart of Fate
Let us flow with day with night
With natural satellites
The whole universe is flowing
Into what we may never know
But the sure thing is to flow
To flow with all our being
Toward starmight opening
Toward the zest of life
That throws us a sign here and there
So flow to deceive the end
For nothing ever heads nowheres
In stagnant bordering.

I pledge to write for an inner peace movement
To fill the void left on the blank page of a story we could not complete
I pledge to write more beginnings than endings, and if words fail to meet me where you left, I'll wait with the patience of a bookmark, holding down the gap we left pending
as if locked in stalemate: light paper vs dark ink because the way of the pen is the no-sword style of contending that deflects the black and blue thoughts that leave bruises where we think.
I pledge to erase, or at least, start over, only to toss each cumpled piece unfinished onto the pile of things I have no answers for- only hopeless questions, mailed into the static of heartbreaking silence, until it clicks, like a retractable pen, and finger flicks from an audience follow as this throwaway piece hits the mic on its head, drawing feedback, the static giving way to meaning and the audience now there, tuning in as if waking up while dreaming, now clicking, snapping, leaning forward as antennas to the right frequency we're streaming, snapping together now, a thousand pieces of a hidden picture completing, I write to throw captions around my own confusion, and watch them snap like photos of what I'm seeing beyond illusion on this train of thought leaving, the coast starlight from LA to Seattle, the lines of a notebook as my railway leading toward our emancipation from battle.
We are free from the places we are told define us. I write to move past them. Poems are what we leave behind us, in the graffiti'd nowheres of subway tunnels between the lights of the places we were meant to see.
Poems are the spaces between.
My mission is write
for you to read me.

Lying naked and alone on my bedroom floor. Fragmented splinters left in the corners of my mind. I **** myself out just to stay on time. I live in a room on the second floor. But, really that girl doesn't live here anymore.
                       Shhh........ Do you hear him? I think he's at the front door. Oh God, I think he's creeping up the stairs. I can't take it anymore!
                             Rag Doll..............Rag Doll... Shake that furry tail!
                             See her? ..............See her?..... Nowheres!

                    Lost, lonely, and confused once more.......****** where are you?

all I hear ever
screaming louder and louder
so I scream back
they all turn on me
I feel cornered

I can't run
nowhere to go
I cling to my one space
but they take it away
consuming it in their fighting

I try to drown it out
but it never ends
someone is always mad at someone
they don't care if it hurts me
and they know it does

I try to ask for help
but they just keep screaming
I run and hide
but nowheres safe
it never stops the yelling and threats

my only escape
is the pain
the cold metal on my skin
as I press it in
the sting as I watch the blood pour out

an asphalt two lane passing
peanut fields cotton patches
         a passing by
fast cars going nowhere

twenty closed down gas stations
   now houses or completely empty skeletons
whizzing by us and the remembrances
    at 60 are who knows

yet we get to know ,  or
    I do as a newcomer, the
local flora and fauna,
     having to shy my muster first, you know. Prove I am worthy.

Tests are always given in schools; the new kid and all , gets pushed to see if he can push back,
must prove himself; life is like that
    even way out here between
nowheres.  So , on Wednesday night, I get out
     watch the cars go by, passing

to where I don't care now, I used to.
       And watch my cats play hide and seek , their
mama so playfully teaching ,
    get all mosquito bit and consider

going two hundred yards to my right grabbing a free ear
or two  , fresh and all them acres filled , no one will miss.
When I see, this is just here, I am a member now.

This is my town now, Clayhatchee.
I can go across the street and buy me a
cig and a beer. Say hey or howdy, give and get a smile.

I will not ruin it.
My cats play gleefully, they only steal hearts.
I am good , now.

it ends in tonalities of spliced ends
some woven together others
jutting into nowhere dangling
like a Dylan song you love but don't
quite know all the metaphorical meanings to
of nowheres and space probes
sent to tickle you
on your own you must believe in
something more
special spacious
put meanings into amorous
trysts space gods
mystiques
unadorned with the accepted norms
a late night sobbing alone
cats and dogs your companions now
but knowing some outer space
visciously beautiful being
is gonna haunt you soon
and fly you off to the moon making passion
without touch a beam a laser like on your ******
tickles    get it doll

I makes it a point of buyin'
  My bacon
  In Macon
And nowheres else, no lyin'.

The porkers there
  Gotst a taste
  That doesn't waste
My time square.

I gotst to travels a good way --
  That's true --
  But, you'd, too!
For that flavor pay.

Besides, the folks
  Up there in them those parts
  Have real gentle hearts
That knows hows to coax!

Yessirreebob!  I makes it a point of buyin'
  My bacon
  In Macon
And nowheres else, n-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o lyin'!

Leave me by me.
I was an onlooker in
wilderness of knees.

Primal truth is dead
I search peacemakers
of nowheres in vain.

Watch my loneliness.
A bronze elephant stands
still in dream traffic.

Everyone suffers but not alls suffer suits. If you must sufer, nothings worth of more glory and respect than injustice with no cheeks left to show not clothing to give with coats and bread to break with, i have given you the best of me and i cant think of no one better to have it. Stay out of trouble.

I too thought it to like me what never and none the way it use you been used and i am glad to be counted by among them the humble and the meek to gladen in green fields led once the orphants inheret the world to be wild again and gentle.

Once some repay the due for every tear that overflood the glass once the wicked sun saw each and every of few brothers not brother in deed nor word nor heart do yet in all three will repay hundred folds of they done long after admiting they never should. That broke my heart and left it to fate to fix to never trust to who known as the brothers of nothing and fathers to never and sons to nowhere to go for death a question of honor as for the forest to green when burn or leave to ash to gray without will a wind to care to add to the dirt  from under his nails he carries out to find a reason and be of help not helped, abonden all hope you who enter gates of no one minded to name told

welcome hopelessness and crulty a laugh of a joke on who wasted a time and prided in ****** success of no use but of other of what matters then fear  and power they dumbed of feared to loose like a dream to wake up, for grace let them sleep and rain a lot to rain through and seeds to have a use and find rest their soul a way to dream and dream on like the weeds of meadows fated the fools pay to owe to one of the one horse towns rabbits and cows and goats
to eat like them before in the name of sure same a clue or similar mean not remembered.

Eversince the while is forever and golden age where it rained sweet and in mud was made love and children cherished to hide a piece in their palms behind their backs like a treasure making man laugh kind as gently as the picture of our god we been made to be and woman to mind to their hands to take to wash and to explain why and how very beautiful they did. Pain is a lesson of poor. The rich in god teach kindness of loving the sinner and call upon brother till he might, to answer not the question, do you love god?! But to ask to forgive for free is done and made by a breath of a word who minded to take a risk of a knife in a back of a heroe from nothing but a coward would and got left in cards to be far from friends worth or any name worth living and hard to be and to known by in strange land of certain but forever what always and men
To take responsibility for their action whatever cost to god.

Man enough to stand on the mountaintop to be close to dare yet apologize for to the mountain to greet an old friend as few that recalls that silence that smell of hope the language of gods ear never heared speak a man whatever means to not say is meant yet more unsaid for the view their soul given green and brown and did bold and asked to be strong as every color of laughter by childrens mind and voice to flawless like the proof in heart no longer needed recalls the thoughts as far they reach to be better than to be best in matters good faithful.

and spoon we weightin on the way downward in bound to the way of ages go and many mountains to climb to greet to tell the year we found to be as called in favour in mens hearts put to wake up with like a mountain is to the country and whats more to mens trust like in stone printed rule the love fated to last till the gates to reach they call beautiful and our names we are and souls yet to meet and the truth! him to see his face and her in love   to cry a kiss on its scareless hands and you to havin bowed

Cared to careless to become as god to found and nothing else no longer matter compared yet matters no less. Said me to have care enough to give and love that loves like a dog dumb to hatin and deaf to threats of foolish and blind to attemps of anything but friendship, of any but friends.  

"Because little folk in nowheres of middle and from all far not understanding nothin, how could?!" Your answer to the sunflowers of the fields in voice as turned to finish pointed to the sun that didnt notice and knows no more than and cares far less. And we laughed with all that hearts then near to and appreciate.

Id say this salt still has a taste to your food to be, if eatin of hunger to feed and taste to feel to know by the chairs and the table to sit or stand near by or together on its feet like a song or time lended an ear, if its the teacher you wish to hear, the good news be, still. Land made by god a home of man a kingdom too as the kings is, so the love to thank you in heart a full for you heared those without voice and learned to speak from and spoke to as  to beggars begging a meal promised to find to hear for two once and speak for three again and sit with the gods. Asked the one without bag to allow me to dress anew in silk and gold and velvet once, if to believe to dare a promise of a man that told you, you shall.

Of sun be made and made to suit a smile it made so many of a smile not fated. And for that and that alone there was to hear the sky spoken of its beloved son its well pleased in.

Called on children for man to be not young but younger that age easily found of beggars charming the mud holy to eyes that can for heaven to learn them to teach from to ask for two and to expect none of the cold to near and those in pain to bring to compare winter with misary of the poor to meadows to root in the great garden and flower for god as beautiful as laughing if allow to be what all it takes to father a bliss a miracle be of children to art.

What whispers quickly called the man of god and him who pointed at to be who said the words its given in a promise them all their hearts all they want to once to give had say to realize having the power just realized and laughing brought the kingdom among them all waitin to happiness a smile a reason to hope enough to make a man sing the song of heavens till.

Twice to greet and three times to ask to make sure to believe a brother and what our home.

Leave me by me.
I was an onlooker in
wilderness of knees.

Primal truth is dead
I search peacemakers
of nowheres in vain.

Watch my loneliness.
A bronze elephant stands
still in dream traffic.