The remnants of last night's nova
lay scattered in tatters on the patterns
of ballroom linoleum.
Flattened bottles and kids
full throttle on people petroleum.
They whisper, "we're full of them
deaths 'guised as holy gems,"
but no one could hear
through the decoding of the exploding star,
the eroding of that foreboding bazaar,
not even the one whispering,
loose lips left ajar.

The remnants of last night's nova;
it began with a beat.
Melody sweet was distorted just to show the
flipped switch kids who retorted just to grow numb,
with ditched brain space aborted just to know dub,
or love the microchips imported just to throw the
blasting bass bubbles of sound
into the ground,
spinning around,
until they come down,
to frown at flowers
powered by the eye of the storm.
Where it's the norm
for their forms
to be torn from their static.

The remnants of last night's nova
was an illness of stillness;
of dripping dead glow sticks
that knows this
fist in your chest clenched tight,
and the sight of last night,
and the fading lights
just show this restlessness
is not the best of this bright.
The love fights muttered
through shutters of others
echoed soft cotton swab colors
in sunrise skies,
and despised eyes,
and reprized "why?s"
to inspire white lies.

The remnants of last night's nova
are gone.

you left another shirt in my room
and soon after you left
i wept into the fiber like a liar
and the wires in the walls
made my skin crawl
and fall out of place
in any case, i saw your face
my saving grace when i misplace
the space in my mind
bobby pin left behind
underneath two grinding spines
still reminds me of the sky
your eyes and why
you said goodbye
that night

four steps
in black shoes
on concrete
left turn
ten steps
front pocket
cigarettes
flip
lips
flick
inhale
exhale
hands in pockets
no watch
cross the street
looking straight ahead
trusting the light

grass now
clicks turned to  
sounds like old velcro
from bending blades
of grass
inhale
exhale
smoke signals
keep away flies and
passers by

27 steps
left turn
car alarm
music
distant
and the grind
of oiled metal
and the buzz
of wires in rubber
and the burning
orange
in my lungs
chased by
oxygen
from trees
in another piece
of this sphere

6 steps
left turn
and the rich
thick
wet in my nose
from rust
and mold
and **** and ****
and blood
falling down
from the corners
of apartments

cells
dying
slowly
inhale
exhale
fire
smoke
itch my neck

left turn
still walking
into water

am i the blood of
library search parties
wondering who's who
in plasma rapture
quiet time

a fresh limb
exposed
is all i got
is all I am

pieces

Where in the vast green,
the bee-sting sweetness
is an envelope
let alone

Come on, let’s play some music
Let’s let it out of our fingers
And feet
You pluck my heartstrings
And I’ll keep the beat
With this sound
We pass around
And the way it makes your skin shake
No need to frown
Or be down
When we see the shapes our faces make

Drape you mistakes on the back of the chair
Stretch to the ceiling
Let down your hair
Pretend that the sky outside isn’t there
And I’ll show you my music

I cannot help to look
At the cracks and the crooks
In the space in your eyes
Filled with your cries
As if maybe it’ll bring back
Our music

Come on, let’s play some music
Let’s let it out of our fingers
And feet
You pluck my heartstrings
And I’ll keep the beat
With this sound
We pass around
And the way it makes your skin shake
No need to frown
Or be down
When we see the shapes our faces make

this is a collaborative
the paint runs freely
I won't tell you what to say

I'll bring you my fruition
of the fermentation
of the pulling apart
the space between
gossamer webs
intertwined

Drops of dew on a spider's web
the slopes of mountains
the curl of waves
ocean, sound, light
petals
flowers unfurling
it's alright
let yours roll into mine

Your voice is an echo
You know you've been here before
Turn around
and draw circles in the ground
surround

I'll hold you as long as you feel
release the speech
no need of thee
I don't want to see
turn out the lights
I don't want to hear
turn out the lights

And then we are the sea
and the back and forth
underneath
is we

let us let us go

The end comes suddenly;
there you are
standing in it.

My eyes closed.
I search gently through the darkness for your face
like a blind man.
My lips open,
I find your sighing, smiling face
in the dark.
My arms flung,
I explore you slowly with screaming fingers
like a blind man.
My feet flexed,
I feel bursts of light in orange and blue
in the dark.
My legs hot,
I laugh with what lies under our fingers
like a blind man.
My self bare,
I wear nothing but your legs and lips
in the dark.

ten million lines
make up your beautiful face;

they are not your face.

without what's inside,
lines are equivalent to lies;

they are not your face.

the exact same lines
that are in you are in me,

but I am not you.

nobody can know
what isn't already there.

what more can there be?

we are made of lines,
the lines are not made of us;

they are not your face.

In this is a poem,
flowing thru and over the stones of language,
a bed for a restless body.

Somewhere here is a poem,
behind and beneath the walls,
impounded as so much sound unspoken.

The glass before you
holds a poem,
both transparent,
one delicate when presented
the floor.

The poem is rushing,
brimming, tidal in its own surface tension,
held smooth and blue until the tipping point of pressure,
when it slips over the stones,
the walls,
the glass broken
and spills downhill
over the homes,
the fields
and farms,
white spray
finding shape in the valley
where you stand on the shore,
where you bend down to drink.

The river,
the dam,
the cup
is not
the water.

Attempting to understand the universe
thru a glass of whiskey.

Falling asleep.

Trying to know God
in a cup of coffee.

Falling asleep.

shoot yourself to see what it feels like
write a book
deny the truth
deny meaning
accept life
write a million poems
make some phone calls
keep the past buried
milk
eggs
orange juice
...

In the midst of speaking,
   of making plans,
                       of taking orders,
        small and long winded.
                                   Talk wafting to bounce off
   the walls, here between them a bubble of
  warm and meeting,
and I can't find a ground to
walk on.  So I'll keep on dropping eaves.

   The need so painfully sweet for an us
or we to keep dear and meaningful.
   A bond mind-made, heart-shaped kept
floating somewhere beyond the moon.
   I continue to find myself
looking up at it in the hope to hear you
     looking up at it too.

    Cavernous Heart! in you there is no distance.
My touch of love is here,
her soft and smell like
squeezing together breaths.
    Here in my chest is our laughing at the little silliness
  of fingers and eyelash drifting.
           So hot inside as to burn to steam
                       the tears before falling.

In the midst of speaking, of need,
     in the very hallow of heart
       I see the same Moon as you.

the way she holds me in her eye
I can feel it from here
and the messages she sends me
make my flesh jump
and swell ready  

in my dark
before sleeping moments
i can feel her
and smell the fragrance she makes
longing all the way to California

running through the trees
dodging roots and leaves
As I live and breathe
stories that I weave
are the only sieves
Worthy to edit me
weakened knees
under the sheets
you take your leave
i fall asleep

I don’t like the space
My body inhabits
Dreams disappear
Like white rabbits
and the fear
of thrown fits
and spits dripping slick
of some sick
grows near
to the thicket
where my dear
and i would kick it
share words
and share spit with
loose tongues
that won't quit
i love her
and she knows it

the moon and the sky
began to cry
dotting the sky's completion with tears
burning millions of miles away

the sky,
because his love,
the sun,
has run away with the sea.
she submerged herself
in his green eyes

the moon,
because her love,
the sky,
is blinded by the blushing sun.
he's haunted by his white-tipped fingers
on her bronze skin

Neither of them realize
that they cry for the same sadness.
Neither of them
See
that they are already holding each other

Love like water is dripping in
steaming up
filling the cracks and freezing
pushing things apart
making space for us to
be together

I must be stealing these feelings from angels
a light this bright must be blinding
but at this angle
my eyes aren't hiding
and I can see you smiling

Love like fire is burning
and turning over
sheets of clover and a bed of moss
made flames and tamed to ashes
by eye lashes

Radiant Moister
Soaking Heat
Light in your Eyes
Smoke under your Feet

these are the things make you feel complete
that make you want to dance with me
so dance with me

Lover mine,
   give no worry our parting.
In few moons
        with the Earth's spinning
   steady will I hold you again.

Lover mine,
     I see your trick to the eyes
   side line look, a surprise to
catch me in the act          laughing.

That flash, your face
******* in a gasp,
   Lover mine.

Two smiles makes a circle of us.
Me chasing you chasing,
catching we & clasp to the breathing.

                        Quickened,  heaving   Sea
                             oh we...

     This I will not miss,
for I will see it in the warm
sleeping, feel in the waiting
     visions of memory,
       keeping company
               in secret.

I will be
      ever on the other side of
       your thinking,
              your wakeful burning urges,
           pressed against them
                 until next time,
                             Lover mine.

eclipsed by clouds, the moon still shines
over amaranth fields, and ocean brine
over waves of water and land
stretch the light of lunar hands
touching down, a twisted ladder
kundalini as an adder
such sweet teeth are these
but I have a feeling that the echelons are only echos

here
in between the day-dream filaments
and textured passings of seconds
the immovable you, shining  
a rendezvous for blinking thoughts
and shadow-bubbles of sensation
slow-floating filters
shifting by

a curtained room
the weaving of sheets
a meeting unattended
and waiting
you were there all along

when light is bended
it changes color,
when it breaks it becomes them all.
it's all right to stay unmended,
embrace your weight
than let it fall.

fed the notion
of accomplishment

human environment

made
up

to know to know to know
you can't project what isn't captured
and light flies too fast

and my hands are so clumsy

expectation is artifice
made
up

does it get us any closer to earthen hands
those of use
in a way without eyes

flinging pigment
and there's an image
careless seeming
but so specific

as the sleeping moments
feed the waking ones
am I a bridge to be walked across?

there are people in my dreams that I recognize
even if only as a fragment of
that they are
they ask me to elucidate
and are still waiting

I am made to believe that the waiting continues
while i'm awake
trying to make it clear myself

but time flies so fast
and even though my hand is growing steady
there is a tremor that is the root
the bone

i don't watch the news
because people don't matter.
should you give something back?
or keep growing fatter?
if it were up to me
id not choose the latter.
you can call me insane
but it's you who's the hatter.

Under patient birds and sun ray,
the cicadas,
drunk from seventeen years sleep,
woke slow today.

They rose from below the loam,
from homes chosen
so,
so
many insect years ago.

Red eyed crawling of beautiful song,
is to love
what you've learned
in waiting so long?

I commit myself in action,
my time/space faculties full fleshed,
to compassion.

What can I right
now release
for/to/in/as the love of
another?

To see with clean eyes
the preconceived origins of my habit
so that
I may be more entirely here
with my graspings extended,
swept off with the seconds passing
into a spacious future
breathing.

Receiving so as to be a gift,
living.

I have faith in the omnipotence
of my true self
and am not distracted,
discouraged, or worried
by those matters in which
I feel
I have no control.

early Spring
old woman frowning at her flower bed
blanket of snow

(early Spring woman
frowning at her flower bed...
a blanket of snow)

there's no reason not to cry
there's no reason not to smile
so why fill your eyes
with the diamonds you despise?
and all the while
the flies are nigh dead
and all the while
the flies are nigh dead
so why hang your head?

the time for bed is here,
but sleep is no where near.
so you look for it in the spaces
between the twists and the twines
of the faces in your mind;
and your spine
you cannot climb
to nestle in the lime-light
when nothing about this time's right.
and you still can't fight your rot with thought.
you guess...
i guess not.

SHUT THE **** UP!
or should I say listen?
is it enough
just to watch the stars glisten?

Turn around.
to see if your shadow's feet are
on the ground.
that mirror made
of a masquerade
to see the change
of this masquerade

they fell slowly into snow drifts
as she flushed the bitter, stinging cold
from his lips with a kiss lasting
long enough to light a warmth
within them that turned to eyelash droplets the snow as it lit dizzy
on their brow

Some days the taste in your mouth is sweet.
Some days leave you feeling complete.
Today is a day always under your feet.
Tomorrow a day you will never meet.
Yet still we retreat
from yesterday,
and in a dead heat
you blessed her stay,
than she was away.

She keeps her cool
even with blood a'boiling;
I'd be a fool
not to smell what i'm spoiling.

break the mirrors!
let their death songs
put to sleep
our vanity,
our ego,
our insanity.

only you
have seen the span of me.
our bodies given the jewels
of our eyes;
and a man at sea
with brine blackened spools
and dark skies,
without a plan or key,
says he's one of the fools
and he denies
thoughts of her thighs

the sea-man
broke the mirrors,
and windows,
and walls.
and left only doors standing

mirrorpool
show their faces to the sky
if there is nothing left to make us cry
we'll fade away

mirrorpool
bring me into my body
warm liquid will make my choices
it always has

mirrorpool
will the river make it?
i've never seen the ocean

Will we ever watch
the cool of a still surface,
or be forever

ecstatic
in the glory
of ripples?

with all the poignant world
dazzing and spinning about
bent at a screen
fixed on finding
the definition of wonder

night

light on her face

looking up

you are what slows time
to fit in the day
the smell of flowers
or an eyeful of cloud-curl

you bare significance
as a pin on your sleeve
to give away
to those that notice it

you are an evening witness
to the folding of morning glories
(and the next day they open
because you;re still there)

Down by the stream where the mushrooms grow

a man is covered from head to toe

with the many joys of daily life

to dispel all of the cold and strife

with this joy he made the fairies

the fairies that live to enjoy and be marry

the fairys that live to dance and sing

in the yellow sunlight by the stream

for many years they lived this way

having fun until the day

the people came with their big bad guns

and shot the fairies one by one

then the man covered with joy

whispered away to not but a boy

the boy wandered for quite some time

and the yellow sun ceased to shine

and the mushrooms shriveled and died away

and the boy waited for the day

when joy would return to his land

the day when oaks tall will stand

until then he lays under a tree

look for that boy, that boy is me.