#530. to wake

January 23, 2012

in dreams colors
spark to red spirit
floats above your bed
life regathers all its power
strength returns and so does wonder
open your eyes
and breath
your fire

#493. private lothlorien

December 3, 2011

sun in my face
crispy leaf space
brown hounds share it with me
there is the path
say yes and walk

listen creek water 
stones  and deep roots
join up clearly and sing
there by the path
late afternoon

air flying south
geese honking call
past the pale winter moon
there on the path
shadows go deep

lights flick alive
weave thru evergreens
up down familiar hills
there with the path
dogs lead me home

#492. hypnogogic reveries

December 2, 2011

remembering

is not as much fun

as creating

a new moment

of laughter

i can see your dancing eyes

when i close mine

very nearly

leaping into dreaming

the fog of the day clears

finally i can think

through my eyelids

every time you call my name

i am awake 

#460. List Of Friends

February 16, 2011

List Of Friends

“I think a lot about things, and

I think a lot of, well, a few anyway

think like I think and see things

the sane way I see them. Right now

I’d just as soon groove.

c razy.”

— John Daley

Transition.

What?

a touch?

No!

I don’t wanna touch

it just

upsets me.

No touching.

No risks.

Just self

pity

aloneing

in my room

all the dirty clothes

cracked walls

smelly sheets

they no longer smell of anyone but me.

Being nothing.

Really.

Just dying of bitter summer

first time alone in my life.

just dying.

But

What letter is this my soul receives?

What letter is this

my soul receives?

Is it a pardon?

Is it painful?

Is it you?

What letter is this my soul receives?

Riding the chaos blues

the difference between us

is a list of friends

typed up and laying on my coffee table

my bitter and pained list of friends

I want to tell you something

but I didn’t

wanna say it.

need some ups

can’t clear my head

fuckme

fuck me.

The beginning

again but no

you are not here

satisfaction

I on the phone

reverse the charges are collect where is my proof

you are still there?

porcelain shattered dial tones.

all my ingrown fear and laziness

is rising like the yellow smoke of your last cigarette

to choke me

but the mistakes have been mine.

can’t clear my head

fuck me

fuckme.

Separate

the Earth

the life of all.

the garden is prepared for growing

but the gardener is choking on a mind

twisted toes spread in the mud.

and the children sing

‘dig that phonedaddy’ yo

cloud!

come back here, I can’t catch you!

the fist closes

tendons curved and jammed into the granite crack

two walls faced stone corner

and kills

or cripples

can’t pull myself up can’t clear my head

open

happy letter

“hello i love you”

Fall is may-blessed this year

“won’t you tell me your name?”

Here I am, hunkered down on the niagara, drawing my face up

into my eyes. The Earth is polluted here, making the sunset

beautiful and sad.

can’t clear my head

fuck me

Fuck me.

It has always been the lie

separating me from my laziness.

perfection?

try bleeding for a while

what does it matter whether the cigarettes

take away from the t’ai chi?

dance perfectly!

smoke perfectly!

and leave me the fuck alone

since you do it anyway

do it all the way.

can’t clear my head

fuck me

fuck me.

I have a shy and virgin heart

so I send poems to play.

Tell me, what is relativity to you?

flashed

mashed

potatoes and peas

event

fills a potion of mind

and two friends

now tomorrow

we will drive to the sun

by a lake drive

with friendly

women i

get

tired

of

sunsets

tho

can’t clear my head

fuck me

fuck me.

My list of friends I am afraid

its the shadow

pass it on

it belays me to the light

pass it down

depth of experience

telephone’s disconnected the gap

can be no bigger

than buffalo to st. louis

But

What letter is this my soul receives?

Is it a garden?

Is it a vision?

Is it a basket of flowers and leaves?

What letter is this

my soul receives?

decade dance

“I could have been one of these things first.”

–Nick Drake

My hair

is longer than it looks

new scene

life bed and board

the decade dance

has me in hand

it’s like an aroma

strange words

to hang on iron.

Arched back

bowstring

in tension pulled

to pierce a gaze

catching and killing a spring time

object so simple

a choice

either or

a buttercup

your lover’s strong back.

Before fire, there was lovelaughter and dark to contain

them.

The light showed up fear.

Before fire we met.

Transaction

the speech patterns the game

patterns the eye

and mouths

and hairshining

flying low beneath the ceiling

above the pool table

in the bar we met

and brought about the moving

the months.

Who are the friends?

Biopolitics

deal the cards

dance the decade dance

dance with me.

Move.

Separate the seasons.

rain sun snow wind

MOVE.

there is weather out there

taste the gorge and scree

Move!

a morning summer wind is strong

as the leaves it

MOVES!

(kinda like this

terra d’ ombra earth of shade

decennio d’ ombra decade of shade

decennio d’ terra decade of earth

ombra d’ terra shade of earth

ombra d’ ombra shade of shade

But

What letter is this my soul receives?

It is spoken!

It is written!

It is me

my soul doth receive

List of friends

how distinct it is see

the faces you know

backdropped

by faces you don’t know

standing on line

and then you know it’s love.

my list of friends,

“it’s the eye of God, there’s no bottom—“

–Jack Kerouac

amen.

#453. winter warp

January 8, 2011

ragged man 
a burnt stew pot
crunchy black bits
depression is returned
by the fire under brooklyn
bridge cold blanket chilled lifetime
this is only one now one then one now 

#448. winter solstice prep

December 19, 2010

in sensation
smoke curls
in cold whirl
oak door slam
ice spear drops
orange flames
bursts redsheen
friends all on a couch
blankets porcelain tea cups
dogs curled asleep on the floor 

#431. it’s elementary

November 13, 2010

i am learning 
great days
seawood
smoky
air
pigments thick on my fingers
ancient childs brushes alive
are
stroking
grey canvas
all opening up

#421. learning

November 3, 2010

teacher
teach thyself 
rain enters That meadow
with the wildflowers
up from the earth
flamed colors
knowing
breeze 

tell me wind
do you dry the tears
shed thru injustice

answer me fire
does flame burn hope
locked in concrete

inform me water
does your song lift spirit
bound by steel

convince me earth
is dust the reward for life
lived in chains

speak to me wood
will creation not welcome
life home

#380. old soul

September 9, 2010

flames
are sometimes small
a child
whose dark staring
eyes
have seen everything
before

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