Glass

Analogue photograph printed on home-made experimental
re-cycled paper.

Wind Mills Of The Dark Mind

Analogue photograph printed on home-made experimental
re-cycled paper.

Cave Canem

Analogue photograph printed on home-made experimental
re-cycled paper ...

FIRST ... many thanks to my dear friends and hosts of: SAN JUAN POETS ... for the opportunity to be part of this Poetry / Art forum ... AND NOW an invective three part dream from the very end of the human psych ... to start - but at the beginning with ...

"THREE A.M. AND AN ACHING TOOTH AND OPIUM"

An opaled flavor ... opium
You are the mother of an oriental pearl ...

China Town. 3:00 A.M.

A sweet ... sweet aching tooth
Pain plus pain times pain ...
Loosing objectivity - loosing chariots
I want to extract the tooth - I want to sleep ...

An afterthought !

Let me tell YOU all ... my sweet audience
The Modus Operendi of a toothache ...

The like of RUSTY nails
Hammered into your SKULL
The like of LIGHTNING bolts
Frying your BRAIN
The like of a SLIVER of hard wood
Inserted into your EYE
The like of a MOLTEN pitchfork
Branding into your GUT

... and most horrifying of all !

The like of a SILVER bullet
That reaches high velocity
And at the MOMENT of TRUTH ... becomes
Conscious of its own NATURE
And like the SADIST ... drops in BETRAYAL
Of its own DESIGN

China Town. 3:15 A.M.

My pipe is full and ready
In perpetual thoughts
I dream of pliers and hammers ...

Like the hardest of all stone
I want to shape it out ... out
Of my mouth ... out of my head

The tooth has become independent
Independent of my thoughts
Independent of my existence

China Town. 3:25 A.M.

This candy pearl has taken flight ...
My entire body ... numb!
Except ... except the tooth
I stop a rebellion ... and the pain is gone

End.



A surrealist's interlude ... in William's play of "Othello" ... he describes sexual intercourse as the beast with two backs.

LEATHER COAT

Your imperfect fingernails never shadow
The shoreline of my back

In a circle of old rooms and wooden beds
I am your guest tonight
You say that we will sing of wild pleasure
In this smoke filled boundary
As I wonder If you have claimed my mind

I learn through your dreams of winter worlds
And avalanches in bleeding moments
Lost ... is this enough to build trust?
And something else ...

The sound of silver coins leaving my hands
You are all art with painted lips and eyes
Who but you ... how you pin me down
Against your hair ... and skin ... and mound

Now with our barter completed
In this secret merchant's room
I leave as I enter my dream
Cold ... your palms on the shoreline

Waves and nightmares of women
Who devour flesh and beside them
I bloodlessly rediscover the waves
The moonlight and the sand under my feet

Over and over and over I see the gold
And the cold distance
I see a naked old woman crying
I see a statue
Grown from the sound of running water

A little wish and a moan ... then I awake
I wonder where I am in your bones and flesh
From this short sleep
And a ghost written love song

I listen for my name in the shifts of your breath
As you smoke an old English cigarette

A simple prayer of simple means
Of hidden words ... of unsaid truths

I fail in remembering a verse
As your fingers point at my name
With an odour of winged enemies

I now hide in your breath
Your shoulders ... your uncovered body
Your art of night all gone and wasted

In your eyes ... the assassins of savage tribes
In your voice ... a furnace burning fragile souls

The ruins of your brief trade cheated
My leather coat on your tarnished mattress
For only a night as you leave my sight

End



And now ... a simple transmutation ... a fusion of organic thought with celluloid ...

FLICKER

Three Masonic Medicos
With chisel shaped incisors
Crushing stone ... shaping life
Into immaculate marble

Three Subterranean Archers
With golden bows
Gently spear themselves
In the neutral darkness

Three Burly Old Pirates
With rusty red cutlasses
Cut and slash ... dirty old canvases
Thirty-five millimeters at a time

Stop frame ...

Beautiful ... overlapping images
At twenty-four frames per second
Flicker behind your eyelids

A sigh ...

Three Generic Copies
Invited to the feast of celluloid
With chisel shaped incisors
Gently spear themselves
Thirty-five millimeters at a time

End

If I ever fall…..

Will you catch me; embrace the flaws that surround me….
If I ever give a flat smile, will you comfort me in calm understanding…?
When life step upon us, will you laugh and take my hand….?
If I ever fall, will you reach for me, as I have you….never looking back at what could have been…?

The Veil

to run at the sea screaming Yes!
to see Love made liquid
in the flight of crows
how does one embrace the world
with such clumsy arms as these?
this morning I tasted truth
with the tip of my tongue
now everywhere I look
God is flowing like an ocean,
rippling through the tall grass,
hovering on the wings of the gull
I want to remove the barriers
between You and me
I want to feel Your breeze
on my cheek, your radiance
on my skin, your breath
inside my lungs
how light the veil seems
today

Broken Promises...

And With….
My heart I loved you, wanted you, felt you all around me
Wished for nothing more than to have you all to me
I cried many nights hoping you would come home
Awoke everyday alone
With this heart I accepted you, believed in you, would die for you
All of you…
Your eyes, your soul, your passion was in such control of me
Reaching out for you I tremble, begging you to keep me safe in your embrace
But you leave me, always running away, sending me from you
I hold my head up wanting nothing more than to scream “I love you”.
With this heart I offered you
All that I have and all that I am
Needing only to walk in the presence of your smile
Your life, your love has left me again

Coffee Shop...

I sit here pissed off waiting for you…
Why the hell do I allow this to happen again…?
Is it my hair, the clothes that I wear, the size of my waist?
The way that I taste….
My cup is running dry….so I sit here wishing a fine guy would
Offer to fill it for me…..I smile to myself…”there you go again”…”Stop dreaming girl!”
Sitting in this coffee shop wondering just how I got myself into this mess again…
It’s 1:00pm…but I have nowhere to go…glaring at my cell phone…
Angry at the messenger….not caring who I hurt…I just want to throw a fit…be pissed!
If I got up now….left…walked out…would he even know I was even here?
Walk in after I am gone….smell my perfume…feel the warmth of the chair …
Or will I be once again cast aside like the empty coffee cup now sitting here next to me…
So, I sit here pissed off again…tapping out my feelings…wondering how long I will wait…
Fighting the urge to say “fuck it”…wondering why I even came….wishing my life would change…
I sit here pissed off in this coffee shop wishing I was invisible….
Wanting to sink into the background…kicking myself for caring…looking at the clothes I am wearing…
Understanding why he never came…

the infinite ice

with abstract mannerisms
an impending ghost
waits in my shoes
standing idly at the devil's gate
hinting
it must be up to some mischief
the soul's voyage is sailing
in the opposite direction again
unseen my shadow kissed a veiled woman
(a loner sleep walking through a stranger's dream)
her face is a flowering thunderhead
her heart a beating steel drum of delirium
the firebird's ashes appear as a branch
of wormwood
it has ten thousand insects emerging from its darkness
it has the smell of an ocean above a cliff
it has five fingers of lightning on each tongue
each the size of a sparrow with the voice of a loon
the human logos gulled her wooden heart
the heart in the hands and feet of a tree
I talk to the beautiful machines
shoulder to shoulder
but bells are ringing in the text of my moods
under the influence
of the infinite ice
and I remain as I was
deaf and dumb

the dark garden

I was pissing in the dark garden

remembering

with my throat still raw from screaming

blood scoured my veins

I started to itch all over

each time I opened my mouth

a long veil wriggled in a little farther

I kept my foot on the brake all the way

as yolk oozed from my shoe

surface stretched

dark stains soiled my laughter

everywhere everything sounded the way

it looked

in accordance with legend

I hurled my eye with a David Sling

earth moved and I lengthened my stride

thinking: its just words...

can't mistake them for anything

real:

constitution pollution white trash mutation

with a mouth like an alarm clock crying daily

for sacked pillars and plastic fruit

or just kneeling under some porker's purse

bleeding

with dream silk slipping through my feeble thimbles

I kept mocking christmas trees in parking lots

beneath an unmastered metalic fly~eyed curse

I buried my backtalk in a time capsule but lost the map

and the schedule

I sowed my oats against the grain

under pressure from controlling interests

its all theater now

there’s nobody behind the curtain

this much is clear

my voice will never sound more human

New Year

blood will be spattered on the wall

by the second paragraph

with a broad brush…

before it dries

the light without you stays within…

tired and worn out rose hips and tulips

glow in the brown aftermath of playtime

around a kiss in the sand box…

hard and cold now

remembering when

the totemic twist fetishistically touched

its shadow lips with a number…

telescopic tred walks into the trunk of a tree

with gray hair in its vice…

and the relics of recall stitch the pink fingers

with Braille…

So small

why does everything suddenly seem so small

my hopeless hopes

my finger's breadth

the palm of the martyr

the synonyms and their relationships

once a family

now the solitary vocable

muffled by rain at 3am in

the light by the door

why so distant

when I stand under it

why does everything in my anything

my always and my diminishment

last so long

when life is short

what is it that is so tiny

that it needs to be reduplicated

endlessly

this unspoken question that wants

its words

what is it that is so small it fits me

perfectly?

book

book

you fish

walking to school

that cold tree in winter

born to learn outside

on a windy night

revealing

the sand colored pyramid

to be is a self portrait

built of reptilian modesty

it is Christmas

without Christ

again

the wild December substitute

breathless puppet reading a black dog

sitting on his shadow

the fence jumps for joy

as the tender moment's apprentice

snows over the brickwork

her heart is featured

in the future rose

that sentinel

at the edge

of perception

The Perfect Mask

the perfect mask easily covers my hands
those withered digits on the floor of numbered days
that pick me up as I head
for the door
once they were the size of silver dollars
made for making change
they were gloved with veils
like those over my eyes
and a hairstyle that spoke softly
of an unborn elegance
bones were blooming in a mirrored stare
here and there
I saw a lake beneath the mirror’s surface
and a window
hung up in a net of blue veins
I opened that sigh that bridge by the water
for the words
daybreak
nightfall
and the refund in scarlet fairytales
in dreams I could fly
by day I forced the sugar past my lips
with a happy sign held high
above my head
the night’s little arc made huge
by dawn even with the one way sign
on the one street
where the messenger
number 2
or ten thousand said
there was no one who wasn’t nobody
as if somebody could be
I argued with pain in the empty park
sleeping under yesterday’s news
but nothing gorgeous was hunting me it was winter
it was always winter one way or another
dazzle me said the oldest eyes imaginable
I dare you
unleaven another empty century of its solitude
what won’t you do?
what haven’t you done
with the doll and the gun?
under the face shell in the afterglow?

GLOBALIZATION

The Definition of Globalism

"the poor complain

they always do but that's

just idle chatter

our system brings rewards to all

at least to all that matter..."