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They said I drowned,
but the truth is softer:
I laid myself down like an offering.

I spit river into their open mouths.
I bit the lilies in half.

Silk turned cathedral.
I let my dress balloon with river light.

The earth had nowhere else for me.

If you pressed your ear to the surface,
you would have heard me humming.
They didn’t write that part.

When they pulled me out,
I still had violets in my teeth.
I still had the nerve to look alive.

If ruin was the crown they gave me,
I wore it dripping.
I wore it bright.

You think you know the story:
girl, river, grief.

But the water was warm that day.
The sky was a soft ache.
I was tired of carrying everyone else’s ending.

So I wrote my own.

Not drowned.
Not tragic.
Not accepting their ending.
The barn is burning
The race-track is over
Farmers run out w/
buckets of water
The horse flesh is burning
They’re kicking the stalls
(panic in a horse’s eye
That can spread & fill
an entire sky.)

The clouds flow by
& tell a story

about the lightning bolt & the mast
on the steeple

Some people have a hard time
describing sailors to the
undernourished.

The decks are starving
Time to throw the cargo over

Now down & the high-sailing
fluttering of smiles on the air
w/its cool night time disturbance

Tropic corridor
Tropic Treasure

What got us this far to this
mild equator

Now we need something
& someone new
when all else fails
we can whip the horse’s eyes
& make them cry
& sleep
~~~

France is 1st, Nogales round-up
Cross over the border-
land of eternal adolescence
quality of despair unmatched
anywhere on the perimeter
Message from the outskirts
calling us home
This is the private space of a
new order. We need saviors
To help us survive the journey.
Now who will come
Now hear this
We have started the crossing
Who knows? it may end badly

The actors are assembled;
immediately they become
enchanted
I, for one, am in ecstasy
enthralled.
Can I convince you to smile?

No wise men now.
Each on his own
grab your daughter & run
~~~

“Oh God, she cried
I never knew what
it meant to be real
I thought all this was a joke,
I never let the horror, or
the sweetness & the dignity
penetrate my brain”

“Let me up to see
the window. Dark Riders
pass in the sunset
coming home from
raiding parties.
The taverns will be
full of laughter, wine,
& later dancing, later
dangerous knife throws.

Antonio will be there
& that *****, Blue Lady
playing cards w/silver
decks & smiling at the night,
& full glasses held aloft
& spilled to the moon.
I’m sad, so full of sadness”
~~~

She’s selling news in the market
Time in the hall
The girls of the factory
Rolling cigars
They haven’t invented musak yet
So I read to them
From The BOOK OF DAYS
a horror story from the Gothic age
a gruesome romance
From the LA
Plague.

I have a vision of America
Seen from the air
28,000 ft. & going fast

A one-armed man in a Texas
parking labyrinth
A burnt tree like a giant primeval bird
in an empty lot in Fresno
Miles & miles of hotel corridors
& elevators, filled w/ citizens

Motel Money ****** Madness
Change the mood from glad to sadness

play the ghost song baby
~~~

a young woman, bound silently, on
a hostpital table, obviously pregnant,
is gutted & rifled of her empire

objects of oblivion
~~~

Drugs *** drunkenness battle
return to the water-world
Sea-belly
Mother of man
Monstrous sleep-waking gentle swarming
atomic world
Anomic in social life

how can we hate or love or judge
in the sea-swarm world of atoms
All one, one All
How can we play or not play
How can we put one foot before us
or revolutionize or write
~~~

Does the house burn? So be it.
The World, a film which men devise.
Smoke drifts thru these chambers
Murders occur in a bedroom.
Mummers chant, birds hush & coo.
Will this do?
Take Two.
~~~

each day is a drive thru history
 Sep 4 Suzain T
Rumi
When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth
 Aug 19 Suzain T
Pho
The moon pours ink
into my lungs,
I wake
choking on stars.
In the morning sunlight
The little flowers
Are smiling so bright
With petals uniquely spun
And they drank golden rays
Through the sunny days
With a warm gentle glow
They bring life to dream and
And they cast all the shadows aside.
Flowers 💐 🌹 🌸 🏵
IF
I could see myself as I truly am.
what would I see???
There once was a tasty cake
With frosting so grand it was
The best in the land
Delicious tasty and
Each bite made me happy it's true.
Cake ❤️ 🎂 🥮
Some days are harder than others
But as I watched the fading
Sunlight this evening my heart
Is filled with warmth and love
Just thinking about you.
Days
I love absurdity

A kind of beauty;

-Revealed only thru illogical wisdom.

A kind of beauty;

-That glints when reason
Walks out the door of my consciousness.

A kind of beauty;

-That defies logic's grasp.
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