on leave

If light declared
the pain
the face
the hat
impassable
in the middle of the night
navigators
around the lotus
would reach for a mehir's
mysterious origin
facelessly
instantly
skywriting would storybook
the edens' wild stairways
to coachwood forests
and avalons of mendacity
would turn into supermarkets
of burnt offerings
the silver rain would fall
into place
the footbridge would hand over
its serentiy
symmetry would go on sale
eroded sandstone would castle
and defend its untitled
weavings with the salt wind
the tale is muttered under the breath in delirious
sailors on leave
on the voyage they know they will never
return from

you sleep

you sleep for clay

cut your bloom at your ankles

for an undercover life of clothing

dozing uneasily in another city

maybe the last one

no directions from the yellow stones

on the windowsill

for the fading lessons

even the elevated spectacles

all sick of the dark

steering the ear

to the trampled necklace

the long stem

saddest line pointing out the sky

to its roots

the pasture's singing shatters

agonies and celebrations in the distance

something huge hidden half~open

wakening crying cracked and dreaming

whispers in the depth of the noise

the crushed hybrid

the prism of winter

the masses the concrete

the hours of a lighthouse

insist you understand your brightness

being destroyed on the roads

the sword in the rose

the question knocking at the

ghost

of the i lost to me

of the I

lost to me

everything it concealed

dozes in my mouth

the unknown skeleton

that holds up

the passionate arsonist

as a man

of intelligence

the falling star

of the moment

under endless eyes

echos the explosions

of revelations that dim

in the headlights

of the herded cars

the freeway that isn't free

hides in here with not a word

for itself

just an ache

a cramp in the ribs

lost in the voice of a huge

scent

from a wandering leaf

half-open

wounded

on the bristling

stone

a thrown kiss

that destroyed the road

it traveled

a crater's creator of vast

absences

that indispensable hollow that

slowly opens the circle

of the collar

the ring

of awareness

into its other

#2046 20090529

Passing by my head
    deep "wwwuuumm" sounds
On the way to the feeder;
Obstructing the "matrix" hummers.

#2054 20090611

Peeking around
    the shelves
on the metal
    ferry bumpers
Slightly tufted "bedheaded"
    cormorants
Look exhausted
    but unflagging
in their nests;
Parking on the ferry.

a little song

plowed mist tangled the machine
chromed rose in the inelegant
child's smooth hand
just then blue petals fall on
a blue line
in the making
above the fragile brain's ribs
ruffled freckles
everything in
alphabetical order
trespasses over the
inner self that knows itself
not
only the lovely way along the abyss
inviting every step and
a red tree house
for the piper
with the answers
the exit
in chains
can't bite
the face unsexed
storm clouds and clouds of smoke
rust old photographs
and old words hiding in the brush
are hushed
looking up a copper fly
on a pine is
locked to a little song

something else

the fading elopment cracked open
an untitled renewal that hid behind the sun
wake~up… whispered the wings of grass
we are flying in wonderland
but misfortune’s tied to the bed
with dark shades
and pink ropes climb themselves
into nirvana
bar and grill
those ethereal labels peeling
like skin losing its hold
on the hand of the last orangutan
a piano replaced the earth
with a spirit that had no portrait
dragonfly
seedlings
inside the saki
bottle
are lit with the breath of primeval
appetites
so we turn
and turn
in the soup of
something else

#2039 20090519

Yowling and pacing
    at the front door
Possessed by the
    forces drawing
    him outside
To the lush quiet
    Dewy meadow;
The earlier Winkie.

ad lib

i have to ad lib today
i am trying to look passably like myself
my list of excuses includes rabies
my buddy the squirrel wants an audition
at the mandatory all staff meeting
and says it is all one song
anyway
good morning mister sisyphus!
it is overcast and raining
indoors and out
in an outward manifestion
of my interior
which is packed with sardine~people
who are missing a few zeros
swimming in olive oil
humility forbids me to list my many skills
my portfolio could pay for one large pizza
in a vacant empty land
thanks for the dark ages
i won't write lyrics about it
there is nothing i don't already have
that i want
i like the peach blossoms
a half full soda bottle that is fizzless
i love that feeling of being trapped
in a bar
and to slip out one of the side doors
in my sailboat...
didn't hit land until the next morning
which is now
the human world
the masks
the coffee
the smoke
*
(A collaborative effort with James Eaise... we hacked up some emails... a short time before his business meeting... mandatory and without sleep!)

four is not four

four is not the number
thirteen is not the number
fourty six is also
not the number
in the middle of everything
a clock carries you across the water
control saves us from infamy sometimes
and sometimes not
one inside one is the number
the sum
the errata
the forked tongue and the genitalia
o those velvet bullets that play with our puppets!

a ton of salt

lets talk about shopping
a sugar coating mixed with chili
cinnamon and a ton of salt
let's be young
& spicy
in an expensive musical bus packed with scattered holidays...
the right monster for ancient violence
the fairy tale with innumerable faces
ever before...
ever after...
every second of it
is a lament under a mask that smiles
that dogs our
unimaginable acolytes...
waltz them into the twenty first century in eternity
that challenge
that untouchable irony
now…
talking dust to dust:
there are seas between you and you
other than being a good human being...
that dispute... that compromise... that lengthy trial...
at five o clock in the afternoon...

peach blossoms

the morning is here without knocking
it heaps me with blankness
and turns breakfast to mush
this is my signature
a rose in a bottle
of blood
a heart inside a suit
a poem in a stone
the weather is gray again
but i am full of tulips
and peach blossoms
and little by little
i begin to dance
alone

everything

everything echoes
i like to listen
to the mixture of emotion and color crawling over rock
the seas sound like one voice and the world is always eye to eye
opium of the stoned hole
returning
you will climb the shifting part of the present aggregate's
disruption
before the war and
the leap ahead
when originals feel
whipped
solos in tangerine
a passion
that is flawed with a deadline for
beating the odds

echos

the moon now
falling
in an empty doorway
standing in a circle of myself
the cold gray music off the lake
comes to me with waves of memory
i clap in the plural
as the earth does
following the
echos
on the air
*

i am imaginary

i am imaginary
i get mail
in straight lines
lines are imaginary
you are something else
the stars on wind are there
and the wind flames for a no show
i am imaginary
in a felt hat
or a sombrero
i am a guitar losing hair
fingers fretting
and waves in ropes
lashed to me somehow
imagine me and i am
imagined and multiplied
i am imaginary
imaginary life
shines in imaginary me
her silence
*