he is in love with ****


tho' love is unfamiliar ground, for what is it

if never known or felt, defined

like the touch of first rain in spring

neither does this bring joy

to him,

new to this, but in it's circumference

he must linger

and observe such obeyence

on octane rushed inner space...



he is in love with a human *****

the shape and size oddly

gleams

his strength above

yet attentive below, how Dali-images he melts

flap-cakes on forrest-limbs, barren elms

and soggy wall clocks that sit in the dry lakes

sadness of a numbered face...



he is rusting from the wonder



how does it function

like keys to unlock hidden thunder?

he is curious to how this might sound / under

   clank of legs? ***** of the skins

how soft will his iron lips begin?



tic-tic-ticking : his suedo-heart's repetition



no different than those yesterdays

mechanical, steady,

as oil perspires from hollow wells



and in moments of fearing rain

   showers will stiffen the joints like pertrified woods

man, shuts closed the foil shiney eyes,

and mouth of silver lips

rusting in the quickness like lightning

fingers the opaque sky...



he must have it

this new flesh of a thing called a ****

so he may tell the sunrise

and use the magic it gives men

******* to name the flesh...



the affects

are unsimiliar to him, made of hollow tin

man, he is in love with ****

his mouth is crystalized thin

   moaning through the metallics of rust & unspoken

sins

the affects

on him, made hollow ... they are as similar

to the pink heavy man

having loved the woods, the same

but walks away

in flesh & pouring rain

on him without a word to say



petrified and moaning,

lightning in the skies - yes, woodsman,

the affects of your love

are the same,

with or without a heart...

even rusted

he is in love with ****...

sad power of men

               to finally understand ... there is more

to flesh and less of tin

when it deals with love



tick-tock-ticking

the function of the heart within

shells of men will mock



Body. Heart/Spirit.
Watts.

Umbridging the gap

and the platitudes of word-******

     as well as the Encyclopedic pimps of posh

spiced with lingual ice...



          Because I am a simpleton

with a thirst for the Beloved

             and its discriptive meanings, I am

                       scholarly lacking

    Juxtaposing my script to refer

to references Grecian or urn,

                     enflagrante artisan

                            spurts with superlatives and

personified iambics of rhetorical lines

       limned with deep shagrin

              because my verbs are linear

even when my chicken scratch

                          struck midnight a match stick

flame to illuminate

         my poetic fluffer's formulae

              schisms from my own mind's magician hat...

Not to be-little or slight those hands walking

        that yellow the pages

                     with slothly seeking rote

              for meandering bibliographies

a librarian's histology fingers for Captain

Cook / exploration's verbose

           exploitation if at most

                   connecting dots treasured maps

of purposeful / placement for imagery

                         in the textiles

              of poetry's destined and enlightening

       cloak & dagger or a Throw

                        or a goose-down warmth

of Love / to blanket the night away

                           just as would a mother's / tucking in

                from the day's overwhelming

lack of reverances, referenced

             oh how to closely listen   / or live

                        beyond the history

to be in the moment

              comparing and sharing

     our joys and the power of now . . . keep it simple

because I am a simpleton with a thirst

                         with a thirst for the Beloved,

        the Truth of a promise / endowed Tao of Us. . .

A hawk is hatched

in the harlequin hush

inside the walls of library books

in their incendiary shelves

incline

invitingly

in carnal stories

in words that leave us billowing smoke

in scenes of innuendo...



A bird of prey in flight

even in a stationary perch,

he is a glorious sight

eyes full of limpid thoughts, & search,

levitating litany

like taboo

thrown across the room

questions and detours

from his gaze

uphoric pheremonal *****...



My ***** is

in a penury of vigor,

my skin / proving red-rushed

weaknesses

for just his adonis sight

for just one fantasy night...



The humid walls,

with their olden and unbiased

silences

attend my quickened qualms

attend my entirety of suddenly

needing

to be caught in his talons' violences

craving

to be the meal ~ in a hawk's sight,

flesh ripped in lushious strips

to be inside his mouth,

to feel

my digestion...



We match growling stares,

feel the quicksilver pulse,

hesitation and realization

the super nova flares

heating my middle,

hardening my fiddle

creating new sensations

and worlds of wicked inflections

a warm nest

to rest, after the S

                         E

                         X...



A nervous breath,

as he stands

abducting his hardbound knowledge

odyssies in exquisite arms

a twinkle in his *******-brown eyes

a pause, for crumbs to be sprinkled

on the path to reprise,

a piece of paper with a numeric surpise;

a name:

"ANGEL" flashing collegiate goods,

an endangered understanding

a naughty smile--a young mouth,

and i am a V-formation

heading for warmer south...



A hawk is hatched

from the harlequin hush

of the Flamingo Library,

i am ready

to fly beyond loneliness and February,

catch urgency's godspeed to Angel

in the tradewinds of our testosterone

his invitation scribbled on a corner piece of notes

i am guessing / i'm in control

i am the words unspoken

in these pages, in dusty scrolls

in the volumes on the walls

our endangered understanding


If he is there and nothing's there...

still must follow my volcanic hopes meandering

so to speak that entangling

his and mine / tongue...


how like a hawk in Spring

i am sprung...


(and understanding
how endangered I become)

hmph... where are the open mics?

This coffee-bean bag city abound

with eclectic fusions of wireless access

enter-the-net -abilities

Kenya to Columbia / slow, dark roasts...

and Napa Valley vineyards

intermingling

at Cream...

How oddly bright, surrounded by glass

windows--like discovery of x-ray vision,

through clear walls i see how packed

like an iMac convention it is

inside...

   Poetry readings: Yahoo local search directed us here,

barista-scented alcoholic webmasters

thin-legged tables laid out like a life-sized

chess board--us three white rooks performing

black bishop moves to the cashier;

curious like George as to where

in Carmen-cool-San Diego,

in this glowing rubix cubed place;

   where in the fluoresent skin of Comp-USA borne

peoples of the web, where

where oh where's the poetry?

Reading Vista-windows rather than obsolescent-absolutes

of books by Keats

or obsessive-compulsive Koontz...

   Though bright and machine-warm, Cream

felt metallic-shiny, slick as plastic; conversations

with an electric hiss

rather than a hum of heart-beats and laughter

where's the **** poetry??

   the readings?

a prolific geek or Hemingway refined older men

on a single microphone;

turn-table-tales in rhyme

on a platform made by the local grind

college theatre teckies (staple-gunned and glued)...

where are those poets?

   those spoken-word-wisdoms, writers

performing, even in their Goth-blacks, even in

their Seattle angst of cordoruoys or dock martins;

forget Starbucks, leave behind Jitterz,

the Expresso Roma is the poetry of coffee

no enterprise

can replicate

duplicate the unique...

   sadly i must concede, the spoken word

and poetic fluffers are a dying breed; as far as

i can web-surf, no place

houses them any longer, no more

do they sprinkle their pixie-dust of verse

or prose, mosaics,

fantastics of floral or funk

imagery and emotional

stark revelations of discovery...

   sadly--it is the day's turning of a page;

***** is the word,

adverb to lost horizons, i am

a dinosaur of the mess-no-beatnik-era,

"poet-a-sore-is-rest"

deep thoughts' ooze now the blood of

{fingers snapping} history

"yeah, man, cool...outta sight"

and i'm not yet extinct;

i am a teradactyl with so much sky

soon without a place to land, / below

crash into the matrix sea--Cream pixelates my woes...

communication has become a plastic factory

to Japan, and Europe, my inner "screeeeech!"

"where is the poetry?!"

I grew up here...

Then moved to Sin City that sophomore year
afterwards a whole new world
Navy at 19 returning to the pier...

fresh meat they use to say
graduate of the great lakes boot heels

that's history - here now a days new to me -
reacquaint with youth and city

~~~~~~~

Beach city by the cool sea
not so easy  city
not too busy, too ******, or greasy city,
to take your shirt off
to feel the breezy - city (i am)
curiously lost
exciteably exploring you
engorged
hard city  
different from my boyhood
memory
not so scary-big - city
with beaches
a great place to grow-up
kind of city

open bike rides on my schwinn
safely happy
suburb city

she's maturity now successfully
downtown
sophisticated city
evolved from understanding
rainbow
city of girls who can be
as manly and boys are as
pretty, gritty
city
of individuality

(like a quirky
cousin, *****, brotha, neice
with Cali.-valley speak! - city)

there's so much i want to see,
learn and believe in
this city,
i am a long lost twin city
just a baby,
friendly city, ******* your full *****
city
care for me daily

wish me luck a lotto city
even in my muck and ****** bitties
unconditionally cradling me with love
this city...

californicating sea world and zoos
old town wanderlust
You're in my blood and Carmen
cool city
this city by the beach
This city
that I love...

Broken pieces shape
the Cathedral of your soul,
stained light still shines true.

And I swear to you, God is a woman


Since nothing is as astonishing
a universe thus designed
and beauty made paramount
Love lifted toward divine


So God is a woman, a mother to birth us all
yet like most mothers
who perish at the thought
will relinquish the needy virulent babe
turn her back like stones : a wailing wall
remembering our better days

tough love can spurn
but does return
we are family after all

born not made
to rise not fall
all that mother gave
this which love has saved.


Peace be with you
and Namaste.

A perfect circle not yet
complete
has a gaping mouth
constantly
it will speak
has a void to fill
and so it eats
it can't help but be loud

C  how flat tires progress
U  may mistake for Pacuman
n ot so mindful without face
)criptid void's singularity

not so singularly polite
a circle incomplete is so similar
to an unlived life...

"No one will know the whole story
until its all been told"

Talk is cheap / Silence: Gold

and around and around
we go...
"Weeee!"

(Perfectly childlike
circles in the playground
laughter in our soul)

Un-parch and part our seas
of need
              " Be True  "

All kisses kismet
For your being
In my motives, complex

And your presence resolute
Is like Moses to mountains absolute
Defiant to pharoahs fleeing as they wail and wretch

       Dry reticent's / fake to make
Gilding what they deem
In themselves as golden truths
A society unseen with no relief or boon  
like swarms they only teem
with beauty in masquerades,
still sly as any thief like

A house of cards
All ready for the fall
Weak in their deceits... Replete
Of teeth
and walls


Build me instead no regret
No slaves / compelled or bade
But choice made resolve / tentade*
In devotion's open season  

Not entombed / embalmed / awe of death
Rather a heart in spades, life with breadth  
No commandments made  barricade

But our names reclaimed instead

No fear of dark neverwas yet
Alive even unto death.

For we are freedom
We are loved  

A nest, a hut, a cave
A tower, skyscraper / a home
Our kiss in the shade

A Genesis

Resurrection roads
The Universe / all oceans of O
Lovingly we will wade

Again and again
inhale
sweet life's rhapsodies
and the rose...
again and again / our song
at the up-most

Understanding without anger or books
Conceding and agreeing
It is all good

This is us
And now in hush
Eyes beyond sight must

Open / See : the Empathy
questions keeping note
asking not acquiescently
In who's company?

Why,  by Love's infinite dynasty
Now know

No one is lost when already home  
Love is much stronger
Is further thrown
Than any tablet made of Stone.

                   " Be true "

And in this moment
Awaken
              Absolute  
Now go
Always not almost

                  " I love you so ..."

At times I need
to glance at this

When you go,
I'll think of
all our summers in your smile,

you are so beautiful ...

and as I look ahead
at the times I'll need this
to rout the insufficient days
without you

my eyes will fall on this
thoughtfully
                       A glossy paper memory

You're so perfect ...
                              that smile that's mine
I keep  near & dear

     with me.

*without you.

The impetus
Of being
      Always on the run
               Through pinwheel eyes
                              Those standing by
                                          The mystic roadway

                                     River

Blues yet to be brushed
                           or in blush
                           Of evening chill's breathing
a canvas like windows dreaming felt

All mindful
And chockful O'
                          Wonder
Then ponder
           Yonder "window breaks"
                         Past the wilderness' sleep
Bone heavy wood
                             Umber earth

         Past the rush of liquid

Folding in itself / as a soundtrack
                         Listen
      Pedestrian be
Mindful
                   of the cautionary whales
                                                  Ahab's yell
                                  Obsessions
                           Fears
                      Or loathing

One's drowning in one's sleep

Look wildly widely
                              Blithely
                                    Down river
                     Or up there beyond finger's point
                                   Sidewinder snake journeys
                                                  Until sky and below it
                             All meet
The distance

Now only a line
                      Coalescing what is beyond        
   Our ability to see

               Far and away
Evanescent
       Effervescent
                Ever after      
                             River. Life.
Do not leave...

And
here
               We are now
                            The spirit fluent
With the rapid rivers loud
                            Always on the run

Currents like a child's curiosity ...

When or why does it end
                Where do we go?
                    
Like most things existing,
                              Will lead to the high art / love's deep oceans
           We often forget to seek
And mind
                                     the sublimations ...
                                                            d­riftwood.

Begin with a dot, a line
                     A speck of dusk
                     A burst of light
                                        A starry sky,
pieces to mastery
                   Raging fragility of water
Liquid undulations  
                    Folding itself in / volumes
Or falling from on high
                    A droplet cry
Then lightning
                   (crash or bloom)
From the heavens
                                       like electric rivers
So brilliantly
                   Festoons

Where do we go
       There and here / underfoot
                   Over north / southern sleep
                                To oceans twilight deep
Go wrapped or map-less
Or no
            Up yonder
There up there
                       Everywhere
                                    All without fear

My heart like the river yearns
                 To go toward the sun
                       A flow / the beating drum
Always on the run...

And
           Yet
                   Still
                            Here.

                                                          ­                                             RIVER.

Often times when reading the messages
poets metaphor in rhyme,
in reason and allusions and imagery

they say the same thing--as if they all of 'em took
a class together on love

they say "love is relative..."

relative to what?
to whom or how or when?
like a family member twice removed,
an aunt, a grandmother's warm smiling
invitingly familial

be it an impromtu emotion, described grandios
and Hollywood acclaimed,
love seems
     obscure
     demure
     fickle at times
     wishful
     blissful
     fervent even
     magically
     restless
     with its deliciousness
on and on so it goes / without saying too  much
how it will breathe
new life into those
     lackluster
those without
yet are
     consumed
     hollow

those without hope, suddenly are given it
     anew
vivid energy miraculously appears,
HD the world is seen / absolute brightness
faultless and star-filled
     clear

Yet it well can cause
our worst of fears
of wars / casualties / gruesome endings
   tragedies
   :a movie
with Shakespearean poetic pain,
the pentameter of the mortal heart
   sonnets of our human condition
   :a documentary
   of life

   conflicted
it is a cause many have and will bleed
for, some even die for,
searching and reaching out
whether in vain
or suffering in the pain find
awakenings

that's what it's all about ...


it is relative, to what or why
in life,
     pragmatic,
     fractal
human feelings reign -  yet a populace
of loneliness, millions of neighbors
never extend an open hand or invitation
so love can be difficult to find

in the sea of man, of many of a world separated
it strikes like lighning, they cliche
     quick
     unannounced
     unstable
it happens without warning, cupid's arrow
hits, discriptively it must be a wound..?

yes / yet no / unknown

it has begun: an end
to a means - a chemical thing
(hypothesized
in scientific circles,
I guess
just one of those undefined unexplainables)

like crop circles
in the wheat fields of the heart it is
sometimes
unpredictably appears
     obscene
     wild
     flavorful
     rigid
     rarely
     mean
     spirited
     ferocity
at times...
all the while

in nature's law of strength versus luck,
small prey to a predator : eat or be consumed,
love is not recognized (or is it? by the animal)

mate and procreate in their simplest terms.
Does a shark check out it's female before it decides
to release his *****--take it on a date, a swim in the riptides?
a bite of sushi first?

Empress bees and others with their queen-ruled colonies
birth a world from one,
does she feel the same for her thousands of husbands
fathers of her millions of children spawned?

love is relative... love is blind
another descriptive falacy
invented by folk without husband or wife or vision
nor same-*** partners : it is universally
known in these modern communities
of man-made homes
and tomes ... blind ... as if like a person, the word
unable to see,
inept of decisions, making a finale,

who will stay by the miens of our simplicity
flesh and feelings
     silent servants
     beguiling
     hidden
     treasure

Now imagine lightning striking
     suddenly
     real
     unabashed
     fulfilling
     electrifying
     sensual  
     salivating

far beyond restrictions of the flesh/ ***
past times and her finite
musings, they say it will go on and on

"forev'a ev'a? forev'a ev'ah"

so does the song repeatedly plays
so i say, as long as we are

still the masters of this life's age, kings of consciousness,
of intelligence and rage
Love tho'

     fleeting
     whispy
     liked
     quenching
     lessons-learned
aloft in flight
Love
will stay  
and as witnesses to war
or after : in peaceful days,

O the one true thing
I have seen of love's relativity:
love is relative to humans
and our
being
whether blind or whether seeing

(it's yours and ours  
heavenly
          seeking) ...







Free of will & full of meaning
Love is the truth
All Life is feeling...

They cry turmoil thru my web-pages,
pages on pages of Tribunes and Suns and Times
and Quarterly

"Free Burma!"

it's all turkey and pig-latin to me,
just "dunno!"  like a dunce-capped miscreant,
inept of their vitriol

as i was not so great at geography
i got by before junior high.
Where-the-tarnished-nation is it?

"Free Burma!"

Notice the elephant in the room
like a whale named *****
attempting to escape
brothers of all of ours
engulfed in war
some ocean somewhere someone is dying;
notice that elephant in our laptops
ivory and blue tooth and iphones
telling me, showing us
to care
i do / want to
we should and we must
yes

"Free Burma!"

will i need to donate a dollar,
two, three? will i receive
a correspondence
of a child i am saving
a face of a country
i'm ignorant to...
           will it's big sad puppy eyes be
commercialized?

i am no less as educated for not
following the strife of thousands
   my own is as heavy here as an orca's leap

"Free Burma!"

what cage, bear or mouse trap
have they gotten themselves
and ourselves into?
if it's anything like Yayo or Martha
business
i have a better "good thing" to do

but if it is
like famines in Africa,
Mendelson, or Tibetan Monks
on strike with kung-fu skills
i will join U2,
(and if she's aware) with Oprah power
activate!
(fist to fist)
"i will be a well of spring-water!"
and she a holy cow, a worshipped saint

"Free Burma!!"

free water
free of fear
free everyone, i pray,
under this sky
wipe away all tears

free you of your worries
free of all chains
free of mines
free of lies and borderlines.

Free to be
together
free to live and choose to see

A planet a place
A peace

"Free Burma!"

Freedom
as one
community.

For you, for me.
Home.
Free...

Let us run to the beach,
Through the night's navel, lichenous
Inflated by escape and something new
For just the rush / the sensation

Like bodies aloft from kiss
the brevity of laughter
Of youth / full / of mischief.

We'll leave the night a peeking eye
while in the meditation of surfers
Early sparring with willful morning  
Waves / puppets of gravity & moon

So wax upon fingers of great monsoons
Should the tides ride high it's might
and fly to god's white laughter too soon
At least we've glean the world between
With wings of sunkist sailing heights
Dreams unfurled in gold morning light

Hurl toward the awe of love for life
Completely free as one with chi,
Let this be an ode, an unscripted history
a mandarin and blue backdrop scene

And I will be perched on the shore
Shakespeare's heartfelt pen / pining ardor
Adoring the balconies and open doors
of such romances / daring devils for more

Tho' a grain of sand to everything
Now just a set of eyes

Audience for the world and skies

Belisimo !

I applaud as fish and man fly
Nod as the sun sets the stars to night
As in twilight to midnight
As the moon smiles

Bravo!

Through the belly of the unseen
We have crawled
Now we are in the poetry of awe
Watch onlooker as the stage curtains
Paints it's strokes
Blood rose clouds and deep
Blues from burning
Pinks

Magic show in a wink

This deserves a standing ovation
I lift both hands high
This must be love
I cannot deny

Some kind of wonder
Full of infinite and muse
All epic and classic
Watched without shoes...

In all these things
Time and motion
(In a seashell)
Listen to the ocean.

PEREGRINE

Swiftest falcon wings
keenest sight from highest heights
sky-diving arrow.


SWALLOWS

Raindrops' graceful plumes
swift wisps and springs arriving
two tail brothers' breeze.


CROW

Observant shadow
pies memorizing faces;
jet sharp reaper waits...

JUICE

Base-jumping towers
Dangerous heights for thirst of life.
'drenaline *****.

HOT PLATE

Drink sierra's drought
summer's heat a microwave
cook ourselves their meal.

I will follow you
and call it love
     to the edge and the ends
of our earthly bed
by your pipers' song
trusting your will : my blindness
because I do not fear

your Love.

Teach me and lead as a shepherd would
my own wisdom bleats
      no depth nor words worth hearing
since speech belittles the lesson
and removes much meaning

the gifts that Love gave

Pull me forward and away
to awe instead of weep
the heavens in your embrace
where there is no place for doubt
no panic but for the grave...

I trust that I must matter
even as a speck of dust
you carry me through winter
to rainbows
reminding me that

All is One (Love).

Even as I wallow in the hollows
of no self worth
you mean to me as I'm meant to be
since time was given birth
the golden truth
the Light of you

Though I'm a speck of dust...

Flooding tears upon the eye
no worry
or boundaries
No bleating cries

There is no Falling
when you, my love, are my every
sky.

1.
Remember the puppet that you were

who thought himself
a real boy
still only just a boy

remember
like perusal of hate mail
        their postal telepathy
as though flipping through cellophane
photo albums of many nameless
faces

distant / detached / unmarred

Remember how you had
not known them then
                 floating on airs
ignorant  / clueless / willful
still constantly fair

like May flowers
in pebbled gardens

Self sacrificed fool
still only just a boy
and like all in their youth
selfishly optimistic
        a wide bellow
for the wide world
and untoward
night

Yet this life / its tangled strings
(tug & pulling)
with Geppetto's fermented footing

precariously
curious and nimble

such as
and / that boy was
quite...
           agreeable to a fault

happy to oblige a fly

But something else
also had its gravity
(pride for tiger stripes)
taunt
there within : an invisible string

to keep true
be mindful
be cool
(nimble thimbles cool)
searching  but not so...

"you will know when you find it
you, a perpetual student"

open
as pouring rain
always in awe of it
                                  all
dismissive of the drowning
barely afloat in city-scape

And now a real boy
living / colors / the lessons
of life  
            a dance  
     (Kick ball change)

carrying its rhythmic weight with
a style & a smile
always in all ways / in awe

Boy refusing to grow up
who's dreams are tall
Inside a lotus waits to open

Brown Eyes
         like quiet ripples

A dragonfly
on the pond

in our pebbled garden.


2.
Smooth stones
pave a path for bare feet
there's no use or need for dirt
on our way toward
peace.

no ripples on the pond
dragonfly wings - like glass...
clear of mind
tend to the life and health of our garden
that is the duty of Earth's wardens
a light to shed the night...

although the lotus may bloom
out of season, arriving late,
it is the wisest of all flora
knows to wait for the rain,

so here we are late bloomer
Lion of the southern gate of Maan,
looking for you ...

The circumference of every pond
is only valued by how deep
it quenches
the thirst those who drink...

my hands are empty
and what falls from heaven I will cup
that's my gift, overflowing, honest, open
Falling
up.

The mind is a fragile glob of a thing
central command /
controls to the push buttons.

...and there is a reason
why the surgeon-generals
scientist's with their lab-rats
                  witch-craft
place warning labels
on cigarettes / monoxide fumes
cancer wafting in

and reasons why
the educational systematic d.a.r.e.
warns of the downfall
having anti-drug
show and learn
with actual footage
         films about enbibed catastrophe
black and white Ansel shots
needles / puncture holes / junkies

(show them,
they do not wince
they've become tolerant,
immune to their everyday occurance
like morning coffee's
little push.)

Slides on red tape ******-scenes
angry D.A.D.D.'s
S.A.D.D. mothers
radical vehicular
Mr. A Anonymous
involuntary
man-slaughter
Non Applicable
Under the influence
teaching
prevention
to the already numb

Although experience
is the best kind of good teacher
to be a youth in our day

is to be impetuous
capricious
typical
naïve  
mistaken,
even grievous

when i wish now
since from before
the voices that whisper

in my head
my name
tell them to
close the door

that keeps them out

behind
them...

In the hush of your eyes

my heart speaks loudest

feeling our lips hover

our conversations

not a word

rhythmic drums

rapacious lungs /

repeating

the beatitude

getting

after you

inhaling

exhaling

in all “caps”

“YES!”

New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as

A galaxy or dungeonous dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty and touch:

Our human gravity
Spirits and superstitious will

Heavy by testaments and old teachings still.
Yet war has been our

Problem-child
And like the parents that we are

These days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept its prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…

It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age

When there is no warmth or
Use for light

In a world that has become
alien…

Boredom

When you're not here

To agonize me best

Your skillful mouth-surprise, touching

Myself.

Vegas heats up in these idle lungs
Summer weekends begin their urges / a dirge
like a roar of blood in the ears, no anticipation dwells so
not even those addictions we've reasoned to be just
or justified as youthful relief...

I sit as still as the neon blinking through drab curtains
can allow / without obsessing into a tick / a nervous twitch
The lumps on this bed, like ghosts
from forgotten trysts, seem to jab / to escape /
even when sleep attempts to drain itself from the body
due to the lack of it.

It smells vaguely familiar of 2000 flushes
and ashtrays with liquor stains
hurled from mouths overfed with parties and past
indiscretions / guilt / scattered
on the carpet, and in the corner
reminds me of our foolish frivolity / heavy with loss

hope, laughter / shapes and shadows
in that corner where you vomited
while tears and self realizations of mistakes
chuckle at the face of its absurd truths,
followed by a blank stare...

Your face in its tracks of saline depths
like a painting of twilight rites of passage
which we had to burden in bewitching hours
before the sun / sobering with early light
those times we diluted and ache for still

As I recollect in the hush of a motel 8
drunken neighbors with their sounds of *** / taboo /
echoes our lost twenties
learning to live by fine emotions - secret messages
from inner devils and Mormon Jesus

washing over us / growing up, by latter saints
losing days to nights / so doubtful and wretchedly alive
in the uncertainty of our pages yet to turn
searching for sage & celebration./
losing our true selves with every high...

I sit in this motel room
wretchedly alive / in and out of neon lights
trying to find a good emotion / some worth
staring at the corner shadows of you / vomiting
messages that I only now dematerialize
from sobs lost to the echoes

laughter still to tweet or fly / to the cloud
to oblivion and memory's burrow
I sit in the heat / still unfeeling / now
before dawn, the hours hollow
many a people inside / out there in this city

Still wretchedly in denial
not one will bother me to pity
a life like a motel room
by the hour / we abide by its tune

the hollow breathing of time
the real currency / their ivory tower.
my heaven seems malnourished without
looming over / where's the wonder?

In the distance, far from home,
I sense the arrival of falling skies
Father's angry thunder
even in the false safety of dark rooms,
while we hide
we all will shudder...


(It is not a home if lived in alone
and death occupies both my shoulders)

Just call me Fish-Sparrow
from atop ten mountains
the dream king of the fountain
guardian for the Light

I am the hermit hangman
balancing with butterfly wings
The Liger with dragon fire
Dancer of four thousand winds

I am yin to mother yang
the light and shadow's bane
the butcher and the lamb
reclaiming God's tears from Cain...

I am Magus, Gossamer prince
Eye of phoenix slayer of sphinx
Harbinger of goddess / kissed
the one who fell to transcend this

I am the clay you shape
the gift of future days
Buddha's peace / grandfather's tree
the secret sword & way

Fish-Sparrow Dream King
Eye of O, Bane of Ys
Lion whom slayed the serpent sphinx ;

to no one I am nothing

A simple poet for the Beloved
A new day's Spring.
I am tomorrow / her Lion king.

Among these godly spires:

streets that harvest
tourists from afar
pockets romancing
neon ***** and slots

our tables laid out to serve them
sliding doors and rollercoasters
they are mine

i dwell in the butterfly wings

with none other who can stand
the fat rain and desert hail
in spring
skeletal skeins
of lightning
life, i am on-watcher...
blind from the sights,

sleep stealing summers
heat so disfiguring,
no longer listening
to cassettes in the car
melted like Dali art

the sun is a horrible comedian...
our winters are kite killing
my nose feels as if locked
by samsonite

and the wind wails colder jokes...

Among these lit boxes
copy cats and volcanic hopes Mirage
through trials and tides
of creative construction of yore
most still stand *****

gambling on dreams
on days unkind, here i am
a unicorn

losing / winded / coming out un-even
alive tho trying
to enjoy / her
admirable rivers of new
peoples and foods
fire-breathing signs
she has many stories up
beneath
her evening skin
and silver teeth

while i am young
she flashes me
underground
and
glowing candies...

las vegas

is my grease
lightning
and seductive Sandy...

The city's a blur
ceasless
as the rotation of night
into speeding flight...
a parallax.

This town's deranged
greasy
like the hands of perverts
afterhours.


I don't understand
that you're still here,
Mystere'
while nothing happens
in this billboard valley
with its mannequin loves
and ****** students;

nothing comes of this
dustbowl
with Christmas blinking in the center
and promises on the cusp
of learning / curves
say Huh?

I know, you say
there's a fabulous place
beneathe
the buzzing web of profits
its busy electric streets
business of passing feet

a wonderful niche
besides
the lions and tigers and Cher
(Oh My!)
secrets only you would know
of its afterglow
because you call it

home.

One of few
words that has no other definition
but itself both
written and referenced

with many synonyms similar
a muse universal and familiar
adds shade for heated
hearts all quite red

like a rose
it is it's own unique beauty,
long stemmed
Love
it is nothing but...

everything.

not Lust or Covet, for they are too brazen
and carnal with their hunger
unlike Love, which fills the need
steadily--in time, relieving the craving,
leaving contentment
then feeding others without requirement
of payment...


not Adoration or Crush
because they are still children
without the understanding
or compacity for self-sacrifice
which Love is familiar to
like years unconditional
this trust is a marriage between
naïve and wise...


not Passion or zealous Desire,
due to their one-sided tunnel vision
without compromise or sway,
almost indifferent to all else
but the prize at the end;
for Love has it's eyes in everyday
at all times in your corner


not Like or Fondness, for they are weak
in emotional life,
half devoted and half way gone
waiting for the other
to finish a simple thought
indifference is not a line to cross;
because Love cares for both
itself and yours and all the other,
"love thy neighbor as thy brother"

love is willing to carry the weight
always keen to always wait
no matter how long
or how late...


It is so wonderfully loyal
Love is
that it is at often times motivated
by a blindness for only it's devotion;

but true Love
does not worship
and sometimes must let go
to preserve it's integrity,

for if it is real
it will return with more fuel for the fire
to light the warmth of our hearth
higher...


Love commits fully
even unto death, whether star-crossed
or over time's deepening breath,
it is defined by each
and all
it's own victory and story...


Still,
one of the most difficult things is
to fall in Love
and never understand it

but you know it
like a lullaby from infancy

she whispers to you

do not fear

Love is always
here.

Witches are *******
bald as the ditches
aflood with mud


Witches with itches
hiding their switches
go stabbing ****** blood


Witches unflinching
beware the Hand, clenching
it's the hour of the good


Comes comely from wishes
Mum's babies' light / kisses.
Ten Fold Law be done.

Love is the exquisite pain
The poetry of sultry rain
in unison with our breathing
Fogging the windows

Before the hollow siroccos moan
cold grey lonely
Hallways dim
Velvet  Sorrows
Blackened
Walls of the new moon
void of our lungs'
illustrations

Even now in memory's whisps
How exquisite the frame
Picturesque recollection
Polaroid for the finality of farewell

Just us / ghosts now
Without / but dust / once was
None-such eyes / dilates
Can emptiness be
Felt
En flagrante glaciers
Enflamed diminishment?

Seems the loud moments remain

Drowned the reasons of its thundering
All intentions deigned since
Defeated slump with
No dire aches
Mumbling
       a corpse heavy mind
Lacking a fleet of feeling to combat self hateful
Blight

Gone in the gloom
Which is palpable like the taste of smoke
That carries warning signals to the sun
     with the ****** of native drums
Going
Gone
            will o' whispering past

Yet shadows are forgetful in dreams
As we are sleeping to wake
In the beams

Memory echoing from touch
Our bodies quake...
Inspired by much
Hearts rush

And still the loudest feelings remain
An old painting in its frame

Our art as body paint
heaven pouring in
You and I remain
Born not made

(To make)
Love our loudest moment :

Canvas to frame/
A window and the rain...

Breathing hard,
we swam in the oceans of our skin

bodies hot,
flesh aflush

as you fall  beside me
feigning to be tired.

I close my eyes
and think about the twilight beach

if it will be you or the moon
walking alongside me

within the decrepitudes
of waning one nights,
stands your inconsequential manhood...

As our Friday night disco breathing
Slows with the silence of regret,

you get up to towel down;
Yet I allow your power to dry on me

but you come and wipe away our ***
as you kiss each place

where you had landed
yet you never consider

my lips...

Remember when
every touch
      with all its intention
was a kindness
      Tender like our lips
      at first kiss,
deeply
in one another's eyes

      seeing with feelings
      discovery past the weight
      of fevered flesh,

a dervish flight
through those walls
      layered with doubts as heavy
      as the stones
we now turn our hearts into...

Remember when
every word
      was lovingly spoken

uplifting wisdom
like feathers, wings:
      the soft music of our mouths

      when life is floating
lanterns
and we briefly are a/part
you still have me
soar...

And when we're finally as one
whole, a hearth warm,
and ****
      those wet silences
      become undulating music
                      the times we demure
our mouths still drinking, singing
instilling lessons
      within depths : the heart's thirst

which only absolute certainty
      calms and quenches...

keeps alight and so on
carrying on
      knowing tomorrow will come
      yet when I'm with you
I am new...
even in the dark
your star is born.


Remember when
in the break of morning
      when eyes open from trenchant sleep
      (better than adrift or hollow)
remember how stunning the view

      inhale surprise to waking life's wonder
a/part as the wars pain and riot

fearlessly I say
                depart and drink
the rain
         freedom love
sky and eyes
         will awake...


And if we have yet to meet
since I know
      Truth and believe in Love,

when I fall for you
      Thank all the heavens, vast
I fell for you
                                              I will fall up...

Because I remember
now
it's you
      Lovely      loving       love
who fills my very cup

floating in the drink
of us.

*(God how I love you.)

Excitedly I say once,
"if love was a substance,
if only more than
some sort of word, more concrete
if only"

rather than heard
in song made wispy or absurd
instead bold in your face apparent

a freakshow, cirque du taste
such theatrics (once) those lips
the film noir of your thrilling face.

Undeniable you
unabashed like a growth
to the left
a mole on your kind skin
red lipstick puckering miss Monroe
eyes that ooze dreamy

How I always noticed you (once)
saying "Ooh look here, this is love"
pointing to that dot
but i know love is more than
a tiny tiny blemish (Marilyn's coy mole)

once a beauty marked me
with what was quick draw and newly raw
touch with much whirling
such were we
openly exposed to

Love : Effulgent

All things of wealth imbue
matters less now
than the absolute truth

golden glow not many know
what all we felt
suns, dawns, and throne

So wretchedly loudly
made so obvious / where we partook
if briefly donning heaven in our looks

hold on
my arms - keep hold
i say to what was once

love now as heavy as you're letting go

caustic as your doubts
as I remember saying
"look here -- once, this was love"
now just a gesture
where stands my shadow

as I regret
not informing you : "should of kept your eyes open
during the fall
should of kept honest is all..."

If only love to you
was of some real substance

beyond misty hours or
something like
the prose of rain to heartache
empty like open doorways of us before

because

once is now
no more.

Panacea
            Predestined
                        Predeterm­ined manifesto

The Mother’s womb where spirit blooms
Instinctual wonderment


Yet the kind are almost extinct
Wish and their screaming wings
To stars moon dreams…

The loneliest finds wisdom
Northward believing
So gains his willful strength

Being
            A “Self” beginning
                        Un-scrawling secrets

Once lauded in lament
Gone are its notes
And perforce coins’ anarchy

Collects in its place pockets full
Full of glory beauty
Accounts rather for star gazing,

Advice with considerations
Glow
Knowing now a purpose
In the Truthful

Journey
         Destined
                   Fulfilling

The lesser roads to constellations
Worthy of ghosts memories din
Renderings from every heaven

                        In evenings the stars destiny is written...

Down the lonely depths
in her bowels of pressured pitch
brave, his tiger stripes.


Her inner most womb
where amorphous life ignites
closer to one dream


Submarine shelter
In Ocean's love, gravitates:
carnivore protist.

Does  not need to be neither
whether dark,
milk, white or
Andes' mint greener
they all are pleasant
in feature
like

smooth footsteps upon the tongue

plush / sweet :
                      puppy-love puddin'

the suckle way it melts
dissolving
like velvet quilts down the throat

palate-warm
exaltations' high
like dolphin skin / leaps in sun light

then the
spider feet / goose-flesh
endorphin chill of skin
after such a chess game - consumption
bemoan a second piece
hugs & kisses again & again


all the while,
chin, cheer
ear-to-ear
smile

no nuts /  caramel / nougat
just a valentine peace
so pure in promise

a pip / of inner profanity
a lift from life's lemon-sanity

a silent ****** in the lungs

Smooth footsteps upon the tongue...


Chocolate.

Listening to the ***** din of Sin

City streets

inside the concrete weight of dark rooms

the window ajar

to let the outside air in

while chain smoking to the Metro sirens'

soundtrack

of harpies' in heels

clucking and squealing

(laughter as sharp as their stilettos)

this & midnight overshadowing

black rubber tires burning on black boulevards

vehicular collisions'

sounds stalagmite, metallic

crunch

against the hum of sleeping traffic

signals

hollow city like a wide amphitheater

with the occasional Harley motorcycle's

thunder

waking car alarms

               a choir of infants' high pitch wailing...


The desert night's sirocco hiss

outside my 2nd floor apt. window

in a dark room

where my silence is a deep listener

and my mind a curious wanderer,

where the walls

not only keep out

but carry every conversation.

in such a cryptic void

a spark is gleaned,

a firefly wisp of an epiphany :

we are not separate

you and I

        city and fly

        burrow and groundhog

        dam and ******


we are unread books in dark rooms

waiting for the absolute truth

we find

in one another

to be known

to be seen


as we recite the past horrors

of loud pains

from a city that strips us numb

our pages open like Window panes

ajar...


no matter how ugly the chapters

we will have known

joy being

held within your hands

the story with you

is also mine /

we are

north & southern

swamp & willow

breath

sultry kiss  

Arriving,

humidity on skin

Sweat the nights awake

Until we're dusk

And it drains the sinew

of screaming city

Steaming shadows

shattering length wise

On bright carpets made of morning

Green grass and still

our day yet written

new

Our flight is departing now...



once a firefly in a dark room

a simple story

                a night sky full of stories.


each light

our eyes touch



fireflies

in dark rooms...

WALLS (Verona)
Mon ami tu vas
where star-crossed hearts' confessions
hides your saint in bricks.

NAPE
Warm whispers of lips
down smooth meadows of your neck,
my familiar bed.


VATTO
Gang signs, ink, and blood
****** in a low beamer
Cool kissing his gun.

BIGOT
Burning up with hate
like an oil spill on one's soul
heartless mouths pollute.

NIJINSKY
So divine such grace
words not made to embody
Ballet when God speaks.

OSMOSIS
Blossoms in winter
bursts of Japanese kisses
how to love haiku.

BLUR
Tears are no longer
loose and quick to disarray
how sight understands.

BARRIER REEF
Great walls dividing
Vast cold deeps from Summer seas
"Hail Metropolis!"

I DREAM

Sleeping mind lovelorn,
wishful pining for the truth,
hoping vividly.



A DREAM

To keep promises
enthusiastic as war,
men at last needless...



IN SLEEP

cradled in silence
a loud mind coelesces
with the universe.

What genius evening keeps secret and moribund...

His foot falls echo the chill of November deep
Tapping, clapping, wrapping
His man heavy fragility in wool

How distant and suddenly wide is the night.

What shrewd skills fear casts--a mask,
That evening keeps him wary, attentive as wax,
For Shadows shed no comfort for this lamb,

His rhythm once lord of the dance.

Pulsing toes as eyes flash to every creak, whispers;
The Depth of sightlessness made paranoid
by twisted twilight shapes, shifting, nerves frozen with haste…

His weakness, not knowing, a pallid winter on his face.

Even now the slow climb upon his back
Carried by the slip of a breeze laying waste,
A soundtrack of dead leaves and black.

His foot falls stomping to clash and map
A stroll as reality saves nothing sincere, when fear
Deepens in his bones resolve to panic...

What genius a weapon: dark flights of fancy

And the conditioning of youth to preconceive,
Strange and delicate spaces between the ears
Defeated before finding a sure foot

Before reaching a well lit street
Familiar and familial suburbs of a mind
Diminished by the subterfuge of fear…

His foot falls turn a corner
And the sound of concrete and conflict
Disappear…




SUBTERFUGE

Poet dances song in quietude

our dreams throng
down huckleberry roads


Unscripted spoken motion
Mosaic heart emotes

Hope

As he composed
Faces glow so
connect the dots
those consumed disposed


Knowing we're not broken
But in the art we form
as one whole - our garden grows...


Poet paints love with understated eloquence
visions of war neverwas

with every tear an ocean
with every dream a peace

a seedling springs.


Poet grants wish
Dances in the street
laughter as he weeps
beauty is what we seek

to lovingly keep
evergreen

and free.

(Life is living art)

AGAINST THE BRICKS

****** leans
Against the bricks
Gotham gothic walls
Left thumb hooked on a pocket of his
Faded denim jeans
Right hand caressing a carnation
Steady

Ready to go
Mr. ****** in a James Dean glow

Mean
Black leather jacket
Shiny slick like
Ghetto pothole puddles
Wet lacking rain

Only street lamp
Spot light
Backstreet dangerous
****** leans with
A flower for Ms. Green

Come hither squeeze

He waits
There in the sallow
Glow
Another shadow
Against the bricks

Graffiti Canons spray paint art

Masterpieces
Within living scenes
Cool as concrete rain
Patient as an evening breeze
Passing moments
A Smiley face
Honest pain sculptures
Poetry is exploding
Street Glean

Art full in appreciating
brick walls

In his ****** lean
Worth is in / our noticing

This

Life's living work of Art.

Love for all its glowing praise

Be not so simple to reflect

Too many subtexts to explain

Layer'd lessons so complex.

Oh, The Bronx in the rain:
Slick city stones'         somber gloom

Oh late afternoon
so overcast with blues,
     Navy : leaves in tinsil sheen,
     Midnight : music and
Sapphires 

Where jazz becomes a dancing shadow
beneath light post misty
gold.

...

Outside the bricks are just bricks
but down there
lo lovers' tight embrace
in the fallow light showers
catching all eyes keen
to their PDA
(Public displays of affection)
as well as mine wide
Attention
Peliculas and tall stories
From a brown stone perch
while traffic whirls
           sleep now hurries
the city is slow as thunder rolls

loud
as blacktop oil slick roads
heavy as gutter water to
asphalt bones
This towns historic

Time stands still

In lovers hallmark corners shack
All wet in the gills,
fish kisses taught kids
how honey smacks
now that the audience is frozen
With anticipation,
binocular eyes
                          snapshot a Banksy / Monet
meadows of
raindrop brush strokes
chaos maelstrom
Wet dreams rivulet

All the while I am
Dry inside
Dying here!
At a pause / intently / intensely
watching
               neighbors in hooded moods.

This reminds me
how it must of felt / now
in this commotion
by mere emotions
so reminiscent

of the weeping and pain

wordless script
scene not heard
inside I'm still dry and
                            dwelling...
In need or is it wish
beginning to purr?

Still, in this stone dwelling
I am dry inside
         Trying to hide not
                         looking down
on those love birds,
A misty glow
               and oh suddenly
how I drown
when the two finally kiss...

drowning
        
                      without.




EMPATHY.

LIGHTYEARS

Space is Time is Light
it's speed can measure ages'
infinite distance.



ROADS

Where choice begins
some are quick to find its end
wise keeps journeying.

1.        Dying of a day /     reflections


on surfaces of oceans


burnt umber, blue, and blood

the sinking sun

                       wounded

death is red


before the dark         / ruins...



2.

It is the sensation of ripples
when supple pink linguist
leaves poetic yearning

fires touching
on nape and taste,

lifting countries and new
conquered kingdoms
of skin

gooseflesh and earthquakes
blood as lava

rushes in
     kabuki cheeks
          secret joy begins

red and parched

sudden seas of thirst
parts / our senses / must
breathe ...
(like art)

Magic whispers kiss
because touch enpassioned
is red
    and wish.



3.

Love lorn letters

poetic bliss
     spontaneous wings born


each ache and void
trumpeting words

when distance fails
the hearts which speak

red

the oceans felt
the tides that ebb
hurried pleas

desperations
red

when letters
lose the dying magnitude

the importance
and impetus

that love must free

clarion song
of hearts are red

as are all
kisses (scarlet)
even to air
and dead

begins on such lips

red....

I am an eagle with wingspans
Of impossible delights
Who argues with it it's flight

In a sky without the light
Incapable to be free

I am now a ghost
Here reading poetry
It's living years:
A breeze through eyes
Filled with tears

A gargoyle pacifying all fears
Past the night

This is a wish, a kiss, deep
A hopeful sigh
Hands bound, fingers clenched
For Love to deliver me
From here/now
To a place called perfection
Infinitely

I am fish/sparrow
Swimming in the in-between
Looking to always see...

No end to the ends

Sunrise and free.