Please,
Don't be in love
With me,
I know I can't
Love you.
Yet,
She's in love
With someone else,
We're conflicted,
Misconstrued.
Our quadrangle
Leaves us dangling
On parallel love lines.

It's like this, and then there was total recall. Fast like a safety plan made wrong and then bouncing in and out all the way down the hall. Up through cable cars, Korean fast food market, wet fish, soupy street, concrete cracks filled with crab meat and **** heads. Just a square, a five block, two street, sideways quadrangle, beat of the Tenderloin, hour of the dove. Every one's dead on these loose ends. Hills of the back of her backside, skin of the back of her neck. Rapture is the grave of the sunset, memory is that thing that I said.

No one cans in carnivores, no one runs moves like a shepherd. Sunday, daft as candy, luck in the ways of the prophet. Canon of the blaze of every woman that died today. The sleep setting, the motorcycle bending the hollow, the ravines noisy interlude, up through the rough and the tangles, huddles in a six pack, three or four walking up the block to meet the rest of them.

The skin doesn't fit right, it wears wrong, the shoulders stiff, the masseuse excuses himself. Buckets of flowers hang from the ceiling like stripped cat christmas decorations in suburban mastermind serial killer resort town. Everyone is quiet because they gotta. They move their feet like they were hurrying death into a red volcano, like they were the errand of red from the top bell to the bottom of the town.

I sit on a roof top, baking in the noon day sun. Stripping sticks and stems off the side to sideways, just roasting away, laying, low in the afternoon light. I see a girl with her hands on her skirt, wobbling, scooting a priest card on a periwinkle terra-cotta.  I move my head, turn it upside round to take a better look. No one counts to ten when they see me. The gangster that woke up isn't the gangster that went to sleep last night. My wickedness ended my words mean your bright decay. So I ride the pavement exhausted, burying my coughs in an L-shaped arm

Your forked soul and tasseled persona,
Penetrated through the orifice of anomaly;
Intelligible; Marked by an insane cognition,
Quadrangle of engrossment preceded by revolutions.
~F.A

I fell asleep
To the smell of antiseptic,
Sterilizer, biogesic,
And the cold touch of metal
Rods that only seem
To grow colder
With the touch of hospital
Left in the student's
Ward - a whistle

Permeates the silence
Of seniors
Painlessly sleeping away
Hours upon
Hours until graduation -
A coming of age -
An escapism from past papers
And teachers who have
Themselves given up
On them.

And the lights you
See are as bright
And as empty as those blinking
Feebly
In that of the school doctor's
Office, one not really
Blinking more of
Washed, and supported
Wobbling by daylight
Seeping in through peeling blinds,
Unable to see too much -
The headaches and stomachaches
Have rendered him numb
To the feeling.

And lunch comes
And out blows the whistle to
Signify the end
Of playtime for
The young ones, start
Of playtime for
The older ones,

Whistle blowing muffled
By the septic tank glass
Doors of this sacred outhouse,
Wards muffling the cries of children
As they flee the quadrangle,
Once mad, twice elated,
Still innocent, untired,
Not needing to fake sick
And rest their heads softly

Upon thin soft beds with
Towels wrapped haphazardly
Behind their backs,
Nostalgia, it was

Laughter, I swear it was louder
When we used to run,
When our eyes lit up like
The sun petering in through
The doctor's orifices,

When our bruises and bumps
Smelled like betadine,
Not sleep
And cups of sterile water downed
To mask the scent of
Fake cough syrup,
And cuts gotten from fiddled syringes,
Bruised ankles
Bent over undersized beds,

And not running over
Uneven pavement,
Ankles brushing tablecloth,
Schoolbag,
Basketball and frisbee,

And the screaming.

Oh, how I miss
The screaming.

Trapezoid upright her rank again
today aflame that a pod acute
with destiny very luminous and
abashed administration die in transit
with Mar-a-Logo and backtrack abreast nepotism.

We were just mindless beings
Lost and running
Flip flops clacking
Hitting wet pavement
Sending erratic echoes
Through the abandoned quadrangle

Crash landing on the hilltop
Falling straight to the grass
Staring up at the sky
We were as light as feathers
Letting the wind lift us
To wherever it pleased

Traveling to other worlds
Rotation after rotation
Blissfully absent
Exhaling our worries
Swirling delicate smoke
Into the grips of the stars

Having intimate conversations
With the lonesome moon
Thousands of miles away
Not the moon but ourselves
We were fighting for memory
We were fighting to be found

Distracted by the night sky
Foggy eyed and distant
Alone and cold blooded
Hidden in the tall grass
We were just mindless beings
Slowly slithering to oblivion

Adrenalin is already in play
  even beforeplay
So clip in
  (no, not *******)
grasp the bars you'll grip as you ride
  (not gasp as hard and slip & slide)
and start to pump
  slow at first
    and then faster
(okay, it's not all ******
   but it is all intimately sensual)

Welcome to Wonderful,
  the eternal quadrangle
    of physical/mental/emotional/spiritual
      (which makes love with ego's inellectual)
  where you can taste your health
    as yur in tune with yurself.
  mind drives body
    body alives mind
  it's a complete circle
    a beautiful cycle
      (a bi-cycle lol)

this movement
  this energy
it speaks to me
  both secretly and directly

Somehow effort seriously extreme
  is easier than anything should seem

Smooth & Fast like Dream Flight
  it soothes & excites!

just steady the climbs
  zoom the downs
    & pump the flats
or get stronger
  ride longer
push the legs and lungs along
  speed and speak to any ascent or descent
    until you Noe its song

This was meant to be my forte
  I was made to ride 100 miles a day!
Dude,
  distance disappears in Zen & Grace,
    it's my 2nd favorite place to have my face!

And I actually catch myself wondering what it would be like just  to keep rolling until I saw Canada and stopped to sample some salmon.....

Have you ever gazed up at your goal
  knowing it was just the first of many,
then given in to the siren call's control
  and joyed your away along the journey?

So you know teaching yourself to increase your best?
You know the ******* reaching of the crest?

Then you will Love the mint fire on your nerves
  as you *** alive cruising these curves

maybe there is no truth
  perhaps those were lies in your youth
could be there is no comfort
  mayhap all effort is merely hurt

I don't want to believe that's true
  but the only proof I have for you
is something She gave me that I Love even more than I like
  and now I Noe everything is Better on a Road Bike

the zoom, the move, the smooth
the intimacy of the power transfer
body is bike is body is bike
  check one, two, always the live mike
hills are merely miles
  and homeless heartless boy actually smiles
    (from the inside, not just the surface!!)

the only music is in my head
  are the sounds which surround me
    the hum of the tires on the asphalt
    the whoosh of the wind in my ears
      (and blowing back my hair hahaha lol)

Seriously,
  when I'm cruising my climbing
    along grades my truck hates driving
  or flying floating down descents
    as Joy earned after that ascent
  or inside my mind across miles of miles
    I ACTUALLY HAVE REAL SMILES

and as my legs link to my lungs
  muscles humm oxygen rhythm
I feel the whistle in what was once my soul
  and it feeds the underwhelming wish to be whole

at times the chills spill up & down my spine
  and I Noe there is no end of the line
just the preparation & anticipation
  for the next time.....

BOMBDIGGITY

It was another retrieval-order,
he’d been missing forty-eight hours,
tracker beams calculated his
last known whereabouts
in the Tharsis quadrangle.

I didn’t relish this mission,
red dust had been swirling for days
& the winds were picking up speed,
measured at 100 m.p.h.
It was crazy for Snyder
to have gone out in the first place.
I remembered his friendly face,
his jovial demeanor & gracious smile.
I felt sad knowing I’d never seen him again.
He was one of the hardest workers.

All the company could ever talk about
were profits, profits & even more profits.
We all knew the risks,
it went with the territory.
Out here on the perimeter,
on the edge of tomorrow,
we lived our lives three-dimensionally,
another day, another dollar, another ***** shirt.
It was the same **** here
as those days we had
back on good ‘ole planet Earth,
working for greed.

the line between dreams
  and wakefulness is          thin,

in Ghanam North.
before me, the landscape rogue without
heat lays naked, ash-lorn-true all around;

cold pure, and air distilled
night keen with its eyes strobe around
  revealing drowned pine.

the wall between the living
   and the dead is              frail.

the diaspora trace through names
  what is retained: vestigial, frightful;
   a stone’s throw at the nearby mosque
  crying in prayer, bellowing through the ashen
     quadrangle, a dazed interlocutor.

moving past things unmoving.
the astragalus feels the slow tumult,
   silence as remnant, trilling,
                                     free, carrying a message,
         *Ta’ala.

They were those post 2nd WW Estates
Blocks of flats now with sealed coal chutes by the front doors
we were on the third floor. the last flat to the right
A large quadrangle of grass laid at the back of our block
we would walk down with the dogs and watch them run and play
They seem to love each-other as much as they love us
happy times, happy days
sometimes we let them out on their own, its like letting them out
on the back garden
they knew their way home, for twenty minutes later you hear them
back at the door to be let in, wagging their tails, running to their
water bowl, then jumping on you like to say, we had fun

The Mrs opened the door and let out a quiet scream
I heard the door shut and she run into the sitting room
I was half-way up, the broadsheet I was reading falling off me
she had a look on her face, one I'd not seen before
outside I heard the Tara and Dorwan barking
" oh no, oh no " she said now tears were falling from her eyes
darling, whats wrong, what's the matter, I said, alarmed
now hold her
"oh no, oh how dreadful, how so ****** dreadful, someone
has smear **** all over the dogs, why, why, they are lovely friendly dogs"
I was aghast, then incensed, then aghast, then calm
Its OK darling, I got the Dog Shampoo and a large bucket of warm
water, its alright, please stop crying
I'll take them back downstairs and clean them out.

******* left outside our door, racist litter strewn on the landing
our car scratched, car wheels let down, banging at night
Stormy clouds had started looming
Bobby the Socialist youths Organiser and pals
were no longer hanging by the landing or stair well
but something heavy and dark hung in the air
War had began, but we did not know
We do not fight wars..........
The war had begun