Her snowcap dress disappears,
as forest on compass interferes.
She can not be azimuth for escape,
why some left trail of yellow tape.
bowing usher points on with blighted limb,
retching out its own hemlock gin.
path in is beaten, with log and stone,
crevices drown a webbed saliva moan.
path out is unbeaten and hard to find,
from death's brambles on the mind.

All trees seem to want to die,
no effort to brush off strangling vine.
where you think they have broke loose,
swaying ropes that once had noose.

And where there is light, is mossy glen,
just enough, for one last note to pen.
dolls, cloths, skulls make up forest litter,
shoes, bottles, and smiling family picture.

With the only surviving sounds so faint and sickly,
Scraping nylon tent--a starving man on day sixty.
The songbirds break the silence,
A cruel happy tune,
They see dark doom in ultraviolet,
the panicked slit wrists and  poison diet,
create failed trails ,
that don't escape and help to hide it.


"The wood line, I made it out"--the cruelest thought,
Mount Fuji's white dress through the trees up top ,
They see themselves smiling,
It is, and it is not,
a happy photo,
identifying their skulls stained green by moss.

Wizened, like the mountain ridges in the west,
you gazed across the desk at me, rheumy eyes unblinking,
and asked me what I wanted from life

When I answered, the blue opacity of your gaze seemed to sharpen
and pierce my soul
you clasped your hands comfortably, and rolled your ancient shoulders back
- trees rippled in the ridges of your crisply pressed shirt -
and you told me, with your well-worn voice, that you would exert every effort
to give me all the tools I needed to succeed

as you blinked, our conference ended, like the sun had gone down
I was free to leave, but lingered
your short white hair crested your brow like a fresh snowcap, you
had ravines beside your eyes, and smiled like a canyon
so I turned to go

And it occurred to me, as I left the inclines of your presence for
the flat horizons of my daily life, that I
would like to have the same peace that flowed
through your being,
it would be a healthy rain to the desert of my soul.

I longed to have the verdancy that you had - you,
forty years my senior; you put my youth to shame
but soon you would be my teacher, and
you would not let me go to waste

Victoria-

   - Alpine garden fishbowl
the sea
Briny-
                -Sounds sway in foreground of
                snowcap cascades
                 ferocious Majesty-

(the stuff Kerouac bopped about!)

-Copper sage Canadian alcazar
  of marble stairway
                                    flooring-
  
- Pattern cymbidium orchid
flowing thru bengal lounge of
Empress Hotel-

-Twenty-Nine Degrees
humidity late June
sauna in the Temperate
                                      island
                        where                Autumn
            ­                   rolls past the
Northern horizon.

Shoot the sky and release the diamonds from the rain.
Stardust sprinkled onto the cement.

No more thoughts than that.
I see things, though.

Wet snowcap, yet not by snow.
Orange ginger mint tea,
Slightly warm, slightly filled.
A Bible laid on top of a notebook,
Noticeably used Japanese-style.
The tapping from a Sony PSP,
Almost as if a cool rage is
emanating from the fingertips.
Apartment requests listed,
Most are scratched out, a few are true options.

The tea is full again.
It's still so quiet.
Oh, but a revelation is made.
No game was being played.
A message to send to another
More than likely.

One gulp and one sip.
Fatigue is still hitting me
like a person who didn't stop walking,
even when he dreamed when he could.
Hope I did the right thing to write.

Limb by limb he dissolve into the moonless night
Brought to dust, he is carried by unforgiving words into the infinite frontier alleys of black and white
Gravity condenses his remains until it has it just right
And a nebula is formed above immeasurable heights
Elements interact and ignite, for his smite had never been shined quite this bright
Now we will have no choice but to succumb to our ignorant fright!
Everyone will have to recall the plight of his daily flights
He hangs brilliantly in the sky, a dazzling, yet ominous kite
Reminding us of our lack of care for him, as our guilty pupils meet his superb ultraviolet light

However, now he shines above snowcap mountains and red cable cars
Entrapped in somber words coupled with an acoustic guitar
As a funeral director recites his beautiful poetic bars
We mourn him,
He who own the cold wrists fitted with twin scars
Your words will live on, as those in need of guidance will look up to you,
Oh luminous star

The sky turns hard
Like cauliflower,
And bleeds me out.
It turns hard,
Because I do.
I am the blood of the Earth
And bile, its running waste.
I am its health chorus.
I have known many faucets,
Creaky most, unknowing of any grander plot,
Chartering my way through lime and rust,
I have known many faucets.
I have also known mountaintops.
Places where the air is clean,
And in its own pace blows freshly over my back.
I am, on the mountain, a slumbering snowcap.
I blanket the mountaintop, I am locked with it
In a never ending kiss.
I have known places in the countryside
Where the air breathes nearly as fresh,
Sweeping down from the mountains
Thinking of me mostly, in an open talk.
I have known cities,
Where I am not so well received,
Where I must pound myself between the brick buildings,
Places drowning in nooks and crannies,
I am not so well received, though I try so hard
To reach every surface.
I slide down the sides of walls, I tremble from the slide of awnings,
I mix with gravel.
I am your dirt, your cleanliness.  I feed the doves.  I drown insects.
I wash the air between your city lives, leave your cars and livelihoods
Shining.  I am washed away by the sun, but never leave.
You see me in your gutters.  You see me in your grates.
You cannot live without me.