A#1. things I ll probably go to hell for:

I went to the movie theater
sat in the balcony

I had a huge rubber spider
on 40 feet of clear fishing line

I tossed it out
and slowly dragged the spider
across and over the rows of seats...

it was a wave of people rising
jumping up
row after row
men pretended bravery,
the women screamed.. every one ran
out the exit doors.

soon I was the only one in the theater
smoked a joint
(great movie, too)

( ****, I still enjoy the hell out of it!**)

PART 2.

what are you
probably going to...for

has
two
hearts.

It knocked
softly
a breath at the door
but I
bolted the windows
and swallowed the key.

It came wearing warmth,
but I mistook it
for fire,
for teeth,
for grief with a new face.

So I fled,
faster than joy
could reach out its hand
afraid it might feel
like home.

On the white screen dance the stringed dots
Mind spilled codes of hieroglyphic thoughts
Slowly they emerge handholding lines
Not always yielding intended designs.
Something was brewing inside the head
Coaxing to weave and take it ahead
The drunken horses so wildly gallop
There is no leash to make them stop.
Nerves are taut and they won't relax
Till all is vented they reach the ******
It was thus fated the moment it was sown
What's to be grown could never be known.
As the fever wanes arrives the new child
It may be adored or it may be defiled
The canvas is washed clean as in the rain
Something is brewing to be vented again.

Brilliance of a deep blue sky
Whipped about on high
Mare's tails in their latticed way
Spray across my sky.
Wind aloft and rising
In its wild mercurial fling
Driving cavalcades of galloping
White mares to offering....
A magnificence on high
In a quotative display,
Stampeding into vastness,
To illuminate my day.

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to lie on the warm sand at twilight
ripples of fleeting light
across a calm sea.

We climb the Koro hill.

Forty years and still ascending
gives a good feel.

We stand under a Madhuca tree
blossoming in March heat and rain.

From the hilltop
the valley down below
looks dreamy grey.

We've greyed and graded
past full bloom.

In the wafting fragrance of Madhuca
we pray to hold on
for some more.