How many songs wrote never known?
How many crescendos
lost to the echo
of merciless Fortune's squealing tired tire?

How many words?
never perturbed
silt beneath the oceanic span
between here and fame's centurion?

How long until god thrusts them into day?
to trace glibly along the interstate
for some passing child to stumble upon
and resonate?

How many bodies
removed of soul
Riddled with bullet and dirt of metal
sank deep into the earth and turned to worms
and protozoa
and chirps
and birds
and grass
and bark
and leaves
and trees
and Pax
Humana

How many greats' fate
Do we forget in our mad scramble
and the many fateful decisions
To save
or burn
Their words
and hands
And let Destiny
or Jesus
or Allah
or Krishna
or Mahayana
Guide their thoughts
to greater heights

Of how much
Have we lost sight?

When Bach and Amadeus
Died in their sleep and agony
I wonder if they knew
What they had achieved

Was it worth the cost?
When the Alps were 145 centimeters
distant from today
and the earth still folds your music
In between its subducting page

I want your great stratovolcanical violins
To extrude pumice and grindstone
to crush sweet music in between
Mt. Rainier and an unknown garden
made somewhere deep
in my quantum dream

The sky takes your notes
It is a great teacher as well
and swell, it does

It tells
me a quadrillion dreams
in every iterative puff of smoke
In every collapse of possibility
of every cat ground to paste upon the street
and all the ones that purr locally
In the arms of some caring soul
A lesser spirit dreaming
In the arms of their god

You play with a broken leg
or an unattached eye
or shaved cilia
And yet still
Your skill
Outmatched
none but ourselves

Return late at night
34mph on the gangway
Decimated and tired
rotated and unstoppable

When I come back around the cul-de-sac
the green candle shines my return
Flag hangs big and ogreish
Waiting for something more

I replaced my turntable
Black and wood on wood desk
Grains matched unintentionally

On one speaker I placed my snowglobe
Big Ben tall and wide
Snow stirs when I play

On the other The Capitol
Big heavy white dome
Smaller and wider but still just as lost
Blizzard of turning particle

What mood do i turn to?
Daft and electronic
Queen of hearts and misery
Dance of mad villainy?

33.333333 repeating
An album cover to cover
slip safely in between
read the inherent vibrative tone
glide my eaten fingernail
And sing the songs through my teeth

33.33333 repeating
Songs forever maintained
Never compressed, just expressed
Saved into physical form

33.3333 repeating
Round and round Fibonacci of doom
Spiral totally in control
There is another side to this story I never knew

33.333 repeating
They were going to make movies on vinyl screens
with vinyl tape and vinyl face
Then we got cable

33.33 repeating
Mesmerized by the glide of the needle
softer than a lover's touch
sharper than an atomic clock

33.3 repeating
It will be time to flip sides
Soon I will know no evil
Only the darker satellite

33 repeating
I repeat:
Listen closely and find the spot

Queue it up and fall apart

Puff and Pomp of Circumstance
I maestrate my digits unseen
As an old lady hums loudly off-tune
begging to see their face
I tap my fingers to the drum

Watching myself walk the stage
Knowing I will receive no applause
How many people will watch--
Scoff as I go the distance

A piece of paper with a shiny crest,
Firewood, tinder, disinterest

A hilarious dream,
The biggest lie ever sold
But I still walk and talk and sit as I'm told

No great symposium,
No perfect forum

As every time I went to speak
I was silenced,
Pleaded to keep clean

The great farewell
dictation of objectivity
Of dis-indoctrination
I wanted to scream

No ma'am you are mistaken
The quaking words you claim are making
A better world, a better place?
Setting the stage for the end of day

And a rambunctious after-party
Full of mean mead and black wine
******* in the grass of the divine
"Let us remember..."

That they have never been

"...In the holy presence of God"

Hair that rains the heavens above
strands of starlight that twinkle brief
In my denying eyes, of which she cannot be
A lover lost to sharpened reave

Of reason, doth she assume her fate
And with the tide of man willed her soul abate

Will ever she be seen anew
With hair alight and lips overdue
To speak the dream of classic night
That enlightened day did obliterate

With pursed lips, I await that Perseus
To call the chattel to pasture clear
And save them from vain distress
Entranced to planetary dissident

Of earth, her burdened souls
Need a demigod to free their churl
Or better yet, a savior met
of reason and fate,
a lover indiscriminate

Men of stars, unseen from afar
glow dim of dying spin
And slumber deep immaterial
content only of all things real

I lay awake, and string my bow
sling the temperate celestial arrow
and point towards the sky, filled with delight
To aim that others may see their queen.

When i was a little boy
and my booties could fit within
a small couplet of square metal
to which I had been given

I did not question, I did not complain
I existed the sights and smells of simple place

I licked the mist that watered plants
Crushed coffee beans in the employee
lounge
for they laughed at such a little boy.

It was 2002
and America was still somewhat free
When movie theaters had plastic seats
Empty exits
Then I sat the edge on watching Pokemon

Living in an electronic simulation
Taming, Creating monsters in my spare time
Travelling the tri-valley
Commute of a thousand years

Today,

It only takes minutes
And my soul drips strange when I see the house
Devoid of lavender,
Cut of oak tree

The park that once held the promise of a century
Diminished into brief obscurity
As new developments
Shaped like matchbox
destroy the grass
And raise land prices
To end the american dream

Paved roads that sang of free
take their toll
now I cannot see why this could be

What interest could there be
To paint our chided memory
Out of mind, out of sight?

Now the place I bought grilled cheese
Dipped in sharp tang of pickle juice

Bought and sold to an optometrist
To continue questioning the vision
of our adults

I bet the one who survived best
Was the one who did just enough
to spare the lash, but taste no ire
who slipped away when shots were fired

I wonder how they saw themselves
a rat, a man?
God knows what else

In thought as in plan,
in work as in bust

Everything is as was ever done.