Absent any and all calculations,

On the glass-clear viridian seashore,

The ego wave function collapses into

Humidity and rain—

Filled to spilling at the brim with summer thunder.
Rain-

The raw taste of it,

sultry, thick velvet touch to myskin,

Echoes the fresh heat of her riflehot gaze,

and sears into eternity itself
the image
Of her cool, pale naked radiant body against me.

If you would seek me,

Find me here—

Among the eddying vastness of  _

Between the weathered, marble pillars,

Amidst the silent spaces
Of the synaptic web.

Intertwined with

The razored open wound 

Of the event horizon,

Scarlet in its dying rhythmic pulse.

Smooth, in the subtropic lush

Mist, spray, and salt drunk air
 mingle with bloodshot sky.
I Breathe.

Gently

Gentle enough to shatter

The skulls of all the Buddhas

With the nine-pound-hammer of the instant:
Of

Wind,

Wave,

Pine,

Insect,
Foam,

Corona
Silence.
­­
My wiring stripped clean

Of all psychotechnology.

Emptiness now hangs heavy
on the ancient blackened hook

Of ivory starlight.

Within that deepening indigo dusk

Fingerprint smudged in charcoal gloom-
This feral,
Omnicentric / six-sense animal 
Dreaming-awake
Above and within Chronos' labyrinth.
Recollects effortlessly the
Seven billion years lived

On the delicate edge of a moth’s wing,

That I might better savor the weight, and crush of moonlight.

Eons in their trillions spent
As the color green,

Meditating through blotted out eons
On each exquisite shade of decay.

So simply remembered,

Are the lifetimes,
& cycles of lifetimes spent
As softness—

Now a lone petal breaks free of the bloom,

Falling,

Swimming,

Diving,

Dancing,

In ecstasy,

Arcing In flawless helix -

Absent any and all calculation.

Before reading the poem I would like to note that this and most of my letters are meant to be read aloud as in a spoken word format.

Unfortunately this, our online format dilutes much of the raw force and energy of the words and the presentation, also I would temper this piece with this short excerpt by the mystic poet and Sufi master Rumi:

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make any sense.” Enjoy.




Initiate, embodied—
Flesh-bound,
I am sheer transience.
A fatherless, sun-draped god,
An apple, fallen not far
From the old knotted roots.

Blank,
The disintegrate ego
Death grasp
On the Emergent
Now Condensed everywhere,
Yet untainted,
Yet Rare, authentic & self-contained,
The firstborn, unyielding, no-one.

The ragesmile cracks my lips and
Spins loosely in the countercurrent of my inner compass.

Ah, Passion—
Here you are again
On the tip of my tongue.
I remember well your taste—
Your metallic, rusted bloodstreamedge
Sharpened by long solitude,
Ferocity woven tightly with
Pristine attention.

My philosophical system
My metaphysical structure:
raindrops trickling from dying leaves.

My song
Is that of a mouthless ghost lost
In the temple complex of a ruthless intellect.

A sci-fi Christ,
Without home,
Without birthplace,
Without rest—
Look at me:
A lone, faceless dream.

I conform to no system,
Cannot.
A nihilist monk,
Spurred on by what cannot be named—
No frame of reference,
No reference to frame,
Wandering onward
Toward the never horizon.

A born deaf-mute ventriloquist,
Profane artisan,
Thrashing the poor narcissist at his own games—
I am that seductive emptiness whispering
LUST
Into each stringless puppet’s ear.

The unfiltered response,
The lone heathen mammal playing at the edge of The Deep Yearning
Struggling to break away
From the insubstantial.
Flirting with untamed transformation

Longing
dragged screaming ****** ******  into
Fleshbloodbonematter—
Torn in two by her scent-wet presence,
And the half-awake memory of her riflehot gaze.

How
Thunderous and resolute,
I stood,
Raw and naked beneath
The deep, blue-choked sunset dusk,
Beneath neon’s glow—
Sharp and lean against the coming gloom—
Just as it had once appeared
In my Kerouac dream.

I would have taken her in these arms then,
Tested her racing pulse against my  lips, tongue, canines
Had I known she was so close.