#526. transit

January 6, 2012

the wind turns the river dark
holding hands on the graceful bridge
stone you fly and bring our shores together
vigilant brooklyn heights manhattan shines beside thee

you and i ride
hold our bags
watching
a pearl
rolling
around on
the winter
subway floor

#514. strung out

December 24, 2011

cold and still
in the canyons tonight
the wind pierces by the river
struggling with my simultaneous selves
all of my moments are lost until by memory
they are desired

#508. sestina of the path

December 18, 2011

today i am walking with the river
the bodhisattva ghosts
are deep music
taking me out of the silence of time
in the clear smoke
i think in light

today i am walking with the light
across the elemental river
out of silence i smoke
and enjoy the deep voices of ghosts
and my clear mind thinks of time
drifting the bodhisattva music

today i am walking with the music
drifting in the elemental light
within bodhisattva time
i am deep within thoughts of the river
my mind clearing the ghosts
silence in the smoke

today i am walking with the smoke
enjoying the clear deep music
the element of ghosts
clearly causing the silent voice of the light
to take me along bodhisattva river
drifting along with silent time

today i am walking with the ghosts
enjoying the drifting deep time
silently taking in the light
is bodhisattva even in the smoke
the voice of elemental music
thoughts from the river

today i am walking with the ghosts
my thoughts are the smoke
takes me into clear time
the silence which causes music
deep in bodhisattva light
voice of this  river

today i am walking with the ghosts as i smoke
becoming bodhisattva thinking clearly about time and the deep music
the silence of light and the voice of the drifting element i know as the east river

#507. path sestina

December 17, 2011

today i am walking with the river
enjoying all bodhisattva ghosts
their elemental voices are deep music
taking me out of the silence of time
drifting against the clear smoke
causing my mind to think in light

today i am walking with the light
taking me across the element of river
clearing out of silence i smoke
and enjoy the deep voices of ghosts
who cause my mind to think of time
drifting with  bodhisattva music

today i am walking with the music
drifting in the voice of the elemental light
taking me within bodhisattva time
i am deep within thoughts of the river
my mind clearing through the ghosts
enjoying my silence in the smoke

today i am walking with the smoke
enjoying the deep music
thinking in the element of ghosts
clearly causing the voice of the light
to take me along bodhisattva river
drifting along with silent time

today i am walking with the ghosts
enjoying this my deep time
silently taking in the light
drifting with bodhisattva smoke
clear voice of the elemental music
causing thoughts of the river

today i am walking with the ghosts
my thoughts are in the smoke
which takes me into clear time
the silence which causes music
deep in the bodhisattva light
and the voice of this deep river

today i am walking with the ghosts as i smoke
becoming bodhisattva thinking clearly about time and the deep music
the silence of light and the voice of the drifting element i know as the east river

#506. path two

December 16, 2011

today i am walking with the light
taking me across the element of river
clearing out of silence i smoke
enjoying the deep ghosts
who cause my mind to think of time
drifting with bodhisattva music

#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.

#459. yahrzeit again

February 15, 2011

the sea remembers tomorrow
as if it were just yesterday
sleep is on its way dreams
of waking to gentle eyes
closing upon open earth
stone that finds ashes
to ashes lost breath
mother to blossom 
growing me living
tree remembers
an ocean today
not forgetting
your death
or its life
grown

#457. no more rice or salt

January 29, 2011

once you go you’re gone
down the ghost subway 
no more rice or salt
to feel or make

old dreams young
and young dreams old
the sea returns me
and by the sea i escape

the compass
in my bakers hand
encircles my flying mind
crowns and directs me found

in the great alone
stuck deep in the thousand eyes
of subway trains
crushed
hope
still
bloomed
the heart of life
moving high in one pair of eyes
in the great alone

#449. blizzard steps

December 27, 2010

the snowy
tracks ghost
steps so lightly
over silver moon
shadows that echos
resound between tenses
of lives living lived to live
under the arbitrary pressure
in the endless new year coming

i cannot help counting the flakes
looking for duplicate crystals  

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