...

FIRST OFF
IF YOUR NAME BEGINS WITH THE
SOUND OF YOUR LIPS OR WITH SILENCE –
KNOW THAT YOU STILL CAN BECOME A POET WHAT
EVER ERASE ABSOLUTELY EVERY SINGLE THING
YOU KNOW IN YOUR HEART TO BE TRUE AND
EVERY SINGLEABSOLUTELY EVERYALL THAT
YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN

believe me when i say that
somewhere in your past theres a chance
that someone hates so much that you are
typing instead of doing or figuring out what
they themselves did to make you say ill of them
or what you have that they would prefer destroying
and after all leaving only their thoughts of existence –
i dont want thatmy happiness relies on this
now and forever a holy trinity andisthree because it is
above oneandone and both are numbers and #s and you know – ETC

and i dont want thatmy

*

Ophelia in turns
tangles breathlessly
hoping for all to believe
in her devotion
to find her flailing in the cosmos
and pull her limp body
to the safety
of the brook bed

everywhere else
and all in between
silentwhitemouths
are chanting toward
a dawn of crimson glass
sweeping wood
pouring seas
creating elegy
of that which cuts

of that which cuts

everything
into bits of incantation scroll
making assassinations
and conversations
and conversions for animals of a sort
or pillage some millionth form of the world
but who knows maybe something and then it was nothing

but there is the capacity in allto feel fullto
love as if springs little fingers and toes were
reaching from a world of flat growth and tranquility
that is a bed of grass

*

and

waiting for the sun to come forth from darkness
to trace the world and know forever that
had i grown tired i might never would have seen
those visions of her and i together in deathturning
the spring day into something of legend
such magnitude would never hear of any
suffering or comfort but leaving forgetful thoughts
leaving her alone not saying poetry
might i cut and breathe and lunge and anchor myself
with water soaked vines that once shackled ariadne –
or was it ophelia or hayley im not sureanyway
weare free to move upon the mechanism of love
resuming a life of clever seclusion terrible truancy
merriment and sin my holy place our everlasting peace state

the masses march by

i present to the world more sad than adam
for when noontides love of merriness grows weary
when springs ants have come and gone
nothing belongs to me
i am you and you are me
breathe so that i may breathe
i want to touch that which all wish to touchandswim
in childhoods questionable thoughtsong

perhaps to find there
a divine conclusion a sick sad truth that
tweaks my eyes to see
this input more clearly

relax

leave the familiar lovely smell
that is of nothing and everything and
all there is
inherent
in the sweet april rain
telling those who love me
i love them too to
find comfort in a black room
with white blinds and a blue bed
the energy of her body like the power of stars that
wink their awful power in the flash of an old and
clearly angelic face of wet softness and midnight
which continues to us and all which is not a opening
that might swallow me all in one great releasing gulp
we rather hear faintly we
are only lovers in trance upon yesterdays winter
her and i lift both eyes from the kiss some supreme
fiction like stone towers which bow to the
crimson turning black horizon with fear and admiration
and those dilations so lovely she smells so sweet of
happiness only the magi could bear to carry
but always with dreams of birds and sweet sugar plants
with tremendously territorial wings which describe
flight in its most enigmatic word like food to a poet
named ratlyon who photosynthesizes blue bliss from
the emotion of eternal everlasting effigies outlined
by the shutter effect lovers beneath a crack comfortable

in bliss
a revelation like the all that she touches me with
and the all that she does not

*

in the speaking of tongues and with an inwardly turned eye
im with her under comforters as it rains on the home in which
we gather like wonders
visions
wordless cantos
thoughts of remorse
turning the once said remorse into ecstasy or
perhaps the other way round but anyway
i will always be in trance to find you
to place sweet hands on you
to laugh with you in the dark
to create with you a thoughtless window song that
trembles and wants your body –
in the eye turned round i see pictures of
said body –
and i want it all

*

seeing you and yet i already love thejoininggentletransgressions
that perturb the universe with symmetry and white touching –
as if to invite exploration upon the beautiful range that
is anywhere but everywhere and is
god of whom which is pecking with kinder eyes
the it which slowly and from
side to
side crawling
a shaman of the oversoul dilating
the colored rings of the caterpillar which slumps across
crusades converting capable cataracts –
the my oh my ophelia my dear
is dead and at her own hands
only
we have yet to grind the porphyry

*

do not follow me

an idea of such a connection between you and i is daft
notice our widening souls create fire without kindling
note that we illuminate all of the wilderness in the ecliptic
of the alone solar systems that
reveal a celestial castle beyond consciousness that
builds a circumference around the heavens
as others sing the milky greyilove
the morning song in this quiet way

angel

lets bellow our thoughts upon the hillside
let us with littered spanish and words from the dynamiter
plant a note reminding us all the world is worth fighting for
that dust from an evergreen tree is worth sighing towards

and so plays the song of eden

*

the last humans on our world gather around gardens and all in themselves
turn

and saying goodbye push their way up a burning tower red against the sky
and holding our breath we hide our contingencies
and the passage becomes smaller and smaller until
only our bodies can fit through to the top of the roof
where we cry against the apocalypse sky
still knowing that i have yet to meet her fully
and with such delinquency ask her to be mine
ignorant to the ascent unto death
the air
the air for the last time really can make me loony
and without any moon to love –
but maybe the lord lives in no manor –
no –
his presence is no longer relative –
deathdusk makes a villain of us all –
planes fly apocalyptic ducks –
people shout from every corner the final chorus

he is dead he is dead

the ratlyon no longer notices encouragements
everyone starts to turn towards each other and ask why
none will answer

*

For Love

***

310 feign death,

Whoops accident,
Sorry.
Something natural
in the eye short shorts

and of beauty yes
and smallness.
Pick her up.
Make love to her
like she's a blonde ley

*

1054, erubescent

The daughters of Cain
Venezuelan and adorable
she like coca

*

115, can't even give away my - - -

All that mess I've preached before is
useless?
She told me I needed to lose it, yet
she throws up in a dress but not
implying it as some type of offer.
and so sins the young male.
and so sins the dumb poet.

morph lean and the goddesses.

*

325 manic afternoons
reaching out for something to
smooth the mind

dearth love


*

because i still believe in Love

*

412
so tall like lovelike buffalo bills angel
faced sister

*

838, three interruptions and only
now will I slide

*

Rejoice in smallness 1213

The wood in the kitchen is warped
and tapping a sort of Hell a crawling
of a beast up through the floor boards.

*

The Protoplasts

A new apocalyptic

look to -
poetic forms
A testament of Eve
the death of Adam
reverse that
rewrite your story
a wandering of sorts

HggH

White - 386-7

Marcion's revelation of an inferior
Jewish god, aronai, an my conclusion
after the first page of the new testament
in the hospital, that Mary is a virgin in
the eyes of God. and apparently a more
powerful "christian' god
why the emphasis on Paul in
what seems to be one of the first
major divine revelations for a
rebirth of religious canon
that the father of christ is more powerful
than the spirit found in rabbinic
Judaism. A connection to my
societally deemed manic thoughts
and proof for a psychological, that is,
a philosophy of the biological implication
of a deprived mind Hell bent on
cracking the code of the universe
a crest in the undulation
of a spiritual discovery, an Eve to an
already baptized Adam.
410-413 "trance channeling"
"Charismatic exegesis"
Montanists and Montag
The girls name who disappears and
Alex.
I sat with her in the small hours of
the morning and was transfixed by
such a beautiful little frame of a Jew.
The first attempt to tempt me from an ill
informed faithful in execution, but
ultimately incomplete baptism
its like her body is anew and already
infused with the lust of the Divine.
Jesus returns in an escape from the
mechanical hound, and Jesus ceases
to return once Montag ran past
all those gray animals looking
obediently for the enemy of the
state to come tumbling down the
greenbelt beyond their fences and
plasma screens.
The key is thinking in terms of
symbolic interactionism; that all
communication is metaphor. so if we
therefore have killed god we may
still think to praise a more powerful
of gods, he who sets in motion the
hunt for a lone believer in the power
of the rhetoric of prophets.

Yet who of all the throng so does rejoice?

That the deceivers are of the Truth
but the deceived constitute reality.
Both evil and good agree on Love's
immortality.

And the world orbits the sun that
orbits Chaos, the only order.

*

921, from the woods

God reigns some devilishly powered
lands
Like Screwtape he writes to his
angels
That Azaz'el, or Semyaz, tempts man
once again.

But this time like food to the starved,
Happiness to the melancholy brain,
Eve immortal in Adam's first choice.

*

617, the shepherd of Hermas

Or divine inspiration

in the name of the father

the sun

and the holy spirit of martyrdom

*

111, guillotine and turtle

a loaded gun

My life like two tigers out of a fishes
mouth out of a
Pomegranate.

*

its like when you figure out what your
your brain is doing.

And all you can do is cry.

1122, another reversal

All this time and I'm back thinking of
some same stuff

She has been so beautiful for so long
yet you only now want her
What fools you are for making me
sad.

Whatever it helps me sort of to write
like this however I'm still sick afraid
of those brain tremors like it wants
to shut down but impossible,
I'll just stand where she stood but
like a knife and bible.

*

1026, an elegy for Josephus;

Whether you told the truth or not
I'm not willing to spend much time on a metaphor containing suicide
and our kissing ass of those that
forced it.

Black speech of another one dead.

Like Eliot and Cummings met at
Harvard and had a love child who
reads the beats growing up
merry men much greater in
handling the dead and their men in
muffled robes and Simon.

***

120-645, The Temple Warden;

i cannot see the clock.
Words come quick like numbers to a
code, a Revelation
or a lie

My body purrs and
I think not of
Faith’s Fine Invention
but of how many times
the apocalyptic was
Holy and then not
Holy and then not

II

really, I must go on.
Just think of Paul as God and we or
you or I just wish to continue our
lives once they are through or better
yet not know of any life before the
Fall of the Temple or the construction
of adam.
That we are
also faithful
and need
not and all
of temptation
and bait be
fore the past

III

just killing to move forward.
In this way I’m sending to you
a letter like Plato and his Socrates,
or Colossians and myself,
hoping not to receive the truth so
bluntly.
That there is undulation of Balance
in the mind of a believer of any
one thing.
This is no letter to Ephesians,
my recognition is of a influence
including up to and not messianic
truth.

IV

wanting to change the subject.
How can people look past the
people in the past hiding their eyes
to the truth of war.
That God presides over the
construction of a temple
but in a strangely predictable way
does divine illumination tweak how
long happiness can last.
and only until the morning light.

V

inaugurated eschatology.
The last of Masada? was
but a pawn to the word
that to son of god exists
and to this day is
all and everything,
the limitless resurrection
the freedom to believe
and anyway why not?

The sun lengthens into darkness.
The moon bleeds blood.
Somewhere far off I hear a heartbeat
(or is it parousia)?
Not one tiger crawls upon our author’s
spine.

*

1259, one minute to one;

Bliss or nice
with herbs
and pudding.

*

347, always knowing the dark deference of fear and slavery;

I would trade in tomorrow for a
million today’s
but that’s what I’ll finally say.

I would write to you a thousand
things that make up my mind for
demons only know of the river-
running Sign. –
or to
pine
to drink
wine,
to be better with both.

*

103, the condition in which the metaphor takes place;

gray animals at
dawn turn from the plasma screens
to see who’s running from the hound
of hell

II

it was with thoughts of eve when I
was raped or saved most would say

some temptation this idea of fate is

III

the enigma of oracles loves trinities
yet
she asked why I would avoid her at
the End

*

418, am I dead?;

My heart stops as I think manically
of my heart stopping.

But what if we cannot really
fear that which is without feeling?

Her eyes are like
food for the trap.

This time last year I was eighteen
and in a psyche ward.

It is almost like I’m the
relative already with a story.

Sometimes I think to have a
brain tremor.

I guess fear creates
Order.

So pack up the moon it’s
past time for an apocalypse.

Her eyes are words for
the Lyon.

*

430, a memento;

I can play the message
it sounds like she’s
asking for me, and
it tastes of something
bitter it is the
moment in time when
God’s angel’s call Saul
it happens again and
again into infinity
when I press the button to
play the message,
and
once more drift away into dreams
of her

small thighs atop a clock –
or wheelbarrow –
so wet with rain water that
it affixes my eyes to her and my – .

*

1044, I don’t feel very much right now;

Forgive me
dancing a Devil

What is it now brick
EARL
or g
I’m crying strange tears
their bloody I think.
I’m blind
stitch things up
and tell me your wish.

A rare bliss filled
illegal test
they failed.

I look both ways. A dream’s
a dream, right?

II

A fly has been trapped behind my
head in between blinds and glass. It
buzzes off and on like the stove to try
and get out
but it’s slowly dying. Every time I
hear it, I think some twisted
kidnapping has taken place
and then I think of God;
the chemical canon for consumption
is crazy.

*

249, trying very hard not to sleep;

its difficult to say what you mean
with such little symbol
scared silly is the wanton
language of men

like boys
run like trojans
or a boomerang

its difficult to say exactly what you
mean
with such small words

like candle
or walk-way
or the fiery

scene tells little of what it is to mean

Max Ernst don’t fail me now
Wallace where’s your jar?
The scene was obvious fiction
dear

*

323, grab her heart;

after testing the source
understanding why
the choice was already made
a anomaly
but really not
balance both resurrections

martyrdom at last

the anti christ draws near

death comes not

*

1146, the Cult of Dionysus;

And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 1st Corinthians

begins with X’s
and like before is obsessed with death,
and like before, reborn.

Still I have the answers.
I watch with tremulous anticipation.

The cycle returns again.
All a symbol.
All Ariadne.
All Myth and Ritual.

I’ll forgive and forget.
I’ll remember again and
think only of what comes so close to the sun.

Of sacred paths
to consecrated temples,
I know not.

Of fantasies,
I know many.
I have many.
I’ve held strong ones dear.

Of reality,
I know many.

Have mercy on me Infinity.
I care to much.

*

1104, Orphism;

Bloom mister.
Little by little,
we will give
up the ghost
and eat the
lotus flower;
for the son of
God is alive.

Paris Magical Papyrus
lead
down.
Tyche.
Fickle Fate.

Sympatheia,
that all is so,
and I’ve somehow
forgotten the
line of thought.

Tyche.
Fickle Fate.

That all depends upon this...
Divination
and Love Charms.

Syncretism and

Tyche;
That Fickle Fate.
I adjure,
I adjure you.

Separate this somehow
Adonai,
Adonai?

*

529-809, Latimer;

What earthly sinews of the night
Return and swarm among the trees
with great delight.
What fails thee more?
Than on the dark shore lies more.
And yellow houses murmur in the
dark as they sweep along the
glowing territory; the Lark.

*

958, an Elegy for Vivian;

This is no Votive Effigy.
There lies no cat parts.
I was not able to bury her.

Perhaps a call back for more
lines of verse. But that is all.
And no more.

I could barely look at her
as she sat so patient in
the end. Unkempt,
It’s hard for Passion to
sustain,
when Death touches
so very close
and with similar fur.

This is no effigy.

Cremated she was,
and with foreign hands.

This is rather a poem,
like the one for Adonais,
or was it Keats?

No matter.
She’s gone.

Only in dream do
I take her place.
Only in dream do
I see how beautiful
a life it was for the
old girl.

*

1111, sick again; The psychology of divine illumination;

We’re sick again together and in time.
She wants me to make a wish.
I just want to write more.
And her.

Long days, long days if I were with
thee.

*

1242, an Invocation of the muse;

Rain and cabbage and mud is the way.
It’s something now, that horrible
howl above the roofs and streets of
this fateful establishment.
An American of the electric that
infatuation with the most shared.

And the girl so dressed in black with
white skin so lovely in pale thickets
of the garden Grove.

Ratatat out the windows for the hammock
to hear, saving bells.

Now they are through with me.
Those eyes
those terrible blades.

*

237, little Lyon man; Prevaricate;

Spanish ferns and gullies. I dreamt
you were excited to see me.
I caught you at the waist and twirled
you round like the beautiful
porcelain doll you are, when I’m
dreaming of song.

For which I apologized for and you
held my hand forever as if to say it
was safe to play and slide my grip
straight down your hips, and not to
sigh when feeling your inner fire
thigh.

Eternity in a second.
Hell in a second.
What could be more than this?

Into the sun (an ineffable thought).
I would love you with all of my heart.
A line of hills like white elephants

and with silver turning to skin its
hard to remember bliss and trauma,
that mess
that mess more then all these
kid ideas in me.

*

152, rape in the garden of Eden;

Death be that wing of black thread
flying softly off the corner of the
back of the chair – ever so close to
falling Falling all around like light
from a moon.
Vacation in Cannes and three lovers
dance to thaw the ice of collision
and the rust of the pathetic banter
ends with the pleasantries of word
of the physical.
Lips and skin again skin and lips.

Cream hair makes absinthe go down
more smooth. And with beastly
visions too.

And when morning comes. Day falls
away into a a lively sleep.

Escape a lair with Olivia and lose my
virginity silently.

It’s December and the land is dry.
The trees are dry. The grass is dry.
The land is a light brown. The world
goes round.

*

1040, I itch, what’s my name?;

When I was nineteen I heard devils
whispering.

Wintry delusions of aviation and ploy.
Erotic exercise and re-entry into?
earth.
Not knowing where to land, just
keep my baby safe.

You curious?
Yeah I’m on piranha money. I tapped
into and wanted not gift but prize,
aquariums, safe women, and an
infinite tremor of power to tap into,
Love with a side of spirituality and
currency. And for Her.

The bear killed. Graceful and
in shroud.

My mind’s littered with references,
but everybody’s got to push
something.

*

1139, Mary with roses and thorn;

forms of light thou dost I speak,
hunger wild, tired wild wired for
hours on end with no surrender
unto the sunset where the
machinery of perception comes
tumbling down as the prickly pear
in full swing of spring and the ultra
current dynamo sings endlessly till
the mind finds reason for falling
asleep and only to more dreams.

*

1205, my mind plays tricks on me, the bastard;

A friend who teases. The mind.

The landscape gives no clues,
so I call the only two women that
could possibly save me.

A bastard who teases. The mind.

“Your destiny is to marry that girl,”
But does this save me from a
sleepless death?

The idea is thrilling, I’m hoping you
understand...
I’ll never,
never go in for the kill.

*

1201, we are all dying;

Yet the life affirmation principle
states that we are all living in the
infinity of time.
Like super massive black holes do
we exist in an absence of light; or
rather an inability to escape, and in
no way do we truly know how we
were formed.

So in the middle of galaxies our twin
propagates gravitational waves that
we ride into the oblivion of space.
Time dilates, the earth causes
our bodies to know of life,
but not how long this life is.

All is drive.
All is a will to power.
Confucius was correct.
Jesus was correct.
Man is always correct,
even in wrong answers.
There is no measurement of good.

Our thoughts are lying.
We are all slowly dying.

*

1007, twins;

Like lovers lying in the grass doth
the wind finds it’s crevices to crawl
into and find the warm stone Death.

With both being identical who’s to
say that one should find bliss while
the other finds only hollowness.

And so falls men.
And so falls two women.
Into the womb of the earth.
Into the absence of isolation.

Like lovers leaning forth from
rest on their backs doth eyes find
majesty in the pureness of skies.

Humble and
without chromosomes,
comfortable with
glances not meeting glances,
a little late, a little early and unnecessary
for this time of season.
Or was it the hands that knew not to
hold the other’s? a lack of reason.

The silence like palingenesis. Or is it
the exodus that plays in their lucky
thoughts becoming so much lovelier
when later, in unattainable.
What is this work the gods have us
do to keep busy before we latch onto
another animal knowing death is
only frightening alone. Work that
keeps minds muddled as to not
think of our future donations.
Work that is futile when bodies burn,
flesh meets steel, and bone is sawed
through with not even morphine
to dull the pain. Love like blinders
concealing the path to the wall
that only two beings can see over.
One is lifted and the other must trust the
description of the land beyond the
bricked in mortality we call by a
more common name; consciousness.
Children being not far behind on a
path that the lovers laid pebbles to mark.
Birds of death, ravens, so closely
resemble loss, have nothing to gain
from rocks. But bread, bread is
eagerly taken and instead of poor
parents staying at home as their
Hansel’s and Gretel’s go gingerly
through the wood, those lovers,
who not only lie together but choose
to get up and walk with one another,
to places unknown to me,
leave, unwillingly, children behind. Lost
in the thought of work as their donors
before, but beautifully able to turn
from the red brick and find their way
home to the warm grace of ignorance.

So I leave the lovers both on their
bellies, heads turned toward one
another, speaking of anything but

twins. Since
twins only plan their wandering in
harmony with the gods before them.
And leave pebbles, of course,
instead of bread.
Twins...
With eyes I dare not dream of.
Twins...
With minds I dare not think of.

*

1115, the notes have been transported to the sun;

The death of one god is the death of all.
-Wallace Stevens

But as the critical philosopher has said,
God is dead, and we have killed him.
Yet quickly and quietly I write myself
a note – another idea of imagination,
that if we are to be deemed as murderers,
then we can also choose be a part of the
resurrection.

The courtship of animals is like the
kiss of death – it comes after a long
delay, but is all to early over and thus
the ritual finds it’s aggression and
aggressor.

Healthy fulfillment of internal drives;
a baboon with its jaw wide open.
All is ritualized;
a crab with to large a claw.

With the sun being a hermit in a
metaphor, golden lights call for a
movement like a dance outside the
dusty attic room of the poet. Certain
slants of light showing dust. Certainly
territorial. Certainly immortal.

The sun, being the first idea, drives
plants to cover, to kill other plants,
and a lack of sun must have been
the reason for the first antonym. If
not, “death came from aggression

and being so close to the burning
hydrogen, will my verse be lost
in the ashes of your thoughts forever?”

*

254, what’s common between Sexton and Sylvia, the dawn of galaxies in the pure mourning, 833;

Our thoughts compressed
impossible
with so much flailing as Ophelia in
the brook.
Some more strange runs current
into my veins,
something common of us all said
before, some causal feeling and act.

(In dream my father died
and I’ve been to hospitals and
cannot go back).

Reality is dull.
The Rat Lyon had a lot of fun before
he was put down.
To cold to cross oceans,
I just stared at the moon before
I was put under.
To crazy to disguise my eyes,
Ganymede found himself in the
great Timeline before
he was anesthetized.

(The thief, I
pinched two grams worth
from those Christian asylums.
Lets hope for Eternal Recurrence).

And thank god I learned of ovens
and vodka and Carbon Monoxide,
presently after,
I might of drowned myself in spite
and because of my laughter.

*

1138, and dreaming of the ḥai only the cross shows in the morning;

And only as she dreamt of the yellow
hair did moonlight sift into her mouth.
-Anne Sexton

With a spotted mind
I wish to blot the memory of her
out. But she’s the only one, I love
her more than life.
“You picked the yellow bell flowers on
top the hill and spent the night.
You’re the farthest thing from a pill.”
Mithridate,
poison
maybe.

All ... All is the beauty-infinite
of eight and two together with
God.

Like shadows,
like shadows cast by Scout as
she steps off Boo Radley’s porch.
“You remind me of innocence,
warm with thoughts and with thoughts of
cold nights,
Childhood.”
Pining over someone to return my
Love.
Observe the smoke that comes out
our mouths as we breathe staring
into the orange street lamp shuddering
in the ecstasy of one another’s company.
Our shadows
finally
not alone.

*

322, bliss in the cold of 1935, (Rosemary’s soft stomach);

Simple pleasures.
A dog with a stick.

White skin loving white skin.

Keeping life flying – going, growing.
To transmute decency for the sake of
precious
piety.
Keeping the flower blooming
even in the much of loneliness,
here lies the secret gift.
The secret synthesis of man to bone
to women to flesh to bone.
Keeping thoughts flying.
Romantic thoughts.
Laughing in the face of the money-god.
Romantic actions.

*

1248, of Gordon and his aspidistras;

Like leak light leaves if white stripes
and futile existences
bellows the hungriness and despair
of salted roots and ash burnt stems.

God seems to hide,
covered in a dark sheath and sweaty
running to the wind for a chance to
be cold.

Tiredness comes gratefully.
Comes accidentally and because of
money buying words and tobacco
and Ambien for the ability to merely

slip away into thoughtless dreams
unremitting and ineffable
as the lines of Mina Loy and her
songs to Joannes.

The room lies air filled and bare.
Rests without a women to
fill great lines of verse for dull eyes
of black lash and blue.

*

926, the confessional;

I would of crowned you in 1974.
I would of crowned her in –.
But that room out did us. That
You have harvested and I do not
have even a ten piece for seed.
I would of crowned you in 1975.

Wild nights, wild nights,” confessing
a confirmation
splitting the paths of the American
poet.
All to human.
All to suicidal

lukewarm from Georgia to Texas,
innocent to Virginia and back.
Ever looking to harbor
Ever looking to harbor
in the Chesapeake.

Smoke. Smoke.
All is smoke.
From songs to sextons.
From cantation s to Camus.
Death.
All is alone
in death.

Regeneration.
Degradation.
Confessions of women who cry not
because the world is confusing,
but because the world is lonesome
and cruel;
an addict, a friend.
A mortal life never can we mend.

*

937, on dreams of terror inferred; revisiting the Harlem tenement;

with All looking to be
expressed, rhyme
becomes fine.

The hotel attacked, I hide and
move into the dark brush as
quickly as I can to meet my father
who waits with knife and gun only
to protect, never to shun.

With depression long, and terror
strong, the building cries its
existence indescribably large,
as a
skyscraper or a sinking barge.

But a lack of fire and fight,
the Over Soul plunges into the sound
for that priceless mineral that is
green and fine and right.

The fleet of family
depends heavily on not being seen,
with a shotgun for protection
and a strong fear of the gang fiend,
the dark becomes mean.

Only one window is gated.
One exit for the manic and berated.
Outside and nourished, only when
sedated; this shape without form
resembles the English orange norm.

Art of the waste land, the one of –
that the foxes shy from, for a
coffin lies blatantly open; the object
inside slowly softens, a starving dog
sniffs the remains; the darkest aspect.

A dystopian world transfixed within
a dream...

with All looking to be
expressed, rhyme
becomes fine.

*

1109, Plato’s hollow body and those that are inside, (words like oxytocin);

And even the Abstract Entities
Circumambulate her charm;
But our lot crawls between dry ribs
To keep our metaphysics warm. –
-Whispers of Immortality

Like a prologue for the perished, the
body observes two religious cater –
pillars.”

Plato the polymath, forgets the
mortality of thought, with Forms
in the forefront he loses what he
should not.

Nietzsche the minimalist, remembers
the value of values, conjures all but
the universal, especially in following
Decembers.

De Chirico the painter, dictates his
muse to speak loudly to the school
of metaphysicians, or else Man will
drown silent, in a shadowed pool.

Ganymede the confused, thinks
often of the illogical, that verse
should resemble, for life is most
often ineffable.

She cups a hand to my ear,
suddenly Love
seems like nothing in
the warm belly of fear.

*

1040, preludes;

My short square finger
stuffs the pipe.
A morning rich in sun
perceives and is ripe.

The women of yesterday
are as beautiful as today.
This prelude is rich,”
they seem to say.

II

Incantation of twisting knifes.
Bare bone and brittle
suddenly
the strife so little.

The
flesh
left to
rot and
settle.

*

359, Frankenstein the romantic;

Indefinite and absolute
Mary carries the lifeless
bone and mass to the table
to be sedated and in a gentle waltz,
two lovers in the comfort of candle –
flame and rug.
La da di
La da do
Electricity plus blood equals life’s
greatest show.
La da di
La da do
Kill the next suitor and we’re ready
to go.

*

938, the Rat Lyon and Faulkner;

I could smell the cold. The gate was cold. –
Benjy – The Sound and the Fury

Eyes, a sensory apparatus, move
fluidly across the light of existence,
capturing it, leaving its nose in the
kitchen to dry.

Even if our bodies remain, what of
our minds? I can
feel her eyes crawling over my face,
cold as the dirt they lay in.

Strong jaw, a beautiful figure in blue,
very much alive, I’ll wait for you to
leave first, I’m
not done stealing glances from you.

And through the bush and gate

A single flower dictates the unborn
stems around a water drain,
creating their own reality; the yellow
petals call forth for the sight of bees.

And through the fence to the lot

Caddy smells of leaves and leads
our hands to the bright and cold sun.
She reaches into her back pocket
and hands me a shade of love.

Pull the noise from the sound.
Leave not a color undone to pound
the subverted flower – an anvil for
the ear,

this way to gentleness so near.

Little shrew Benjamin,
knows hands come and go just as
bright shapes
come and go.

II

Black roots and orange leaves, all is
crumbling underfoot,
the shrew draws another arrow but
the soldier on top the post

is already covered in soot.

*

909, Zelda, what kept you in the sanitarium? reading T.S. Eliot; a translucent prayer to god, 1050;

The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying (Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things.
-Ash-Wednesday


Carrying Marina home through fog –
filled streets,
mixing bass heads, clean as a
porcelain doll,
we children float alongside the
blood of thunder; the seraph satyr of
Saturn.”

And after midnight,
morning will come,
from the day;
And because of the lady and her
loveliness
And because she honors the Virgin
in meditation
I shine with
fingers up and on, rubbing
the hard-high wall inside her –
saving the ghostly unborn.
Planet to planet –
a trickery of cats,
cartilage and bone,
marrow of destitute verse.
Ligament, tendon, and striation;
the bloody menstruation.
So she,
a dancer,
reassures our play.

But as for the mind, it is as if the
eternal swarm of bees lack restraint.
A women’s sting knows little of youth
or dreaming but all the while the
tiger is to tame.

Life,
glory impedes even the ecstasy of
animals.”
Death,
there is no inspiration here,
I have no need for inspiration here.

From the children in the bushes
comes laughter ever so near.

*

1237, in a cool courtyard;

In a cool courtyard
I observe the great monolith;
the tanned stone.

Sun falls a few feet in
leaving a pool of shade reminiscent
of great canals.

We read the great modern poem
rejoicing in the transient
puzzled by the ineffable.

Who carries the only sword –
Reality?
Who knows to conquer this beast?

Who crosses the legs of humanity?
in a polite gesture unto
the book and burial of the dead.

Spring lies dormant
while November exists
immortal.

In trance upon the divine.
In trance upon the disjointed.
Who fetters with the transient court

of the modern monolith.

*

1130, a mural of a tobacco trance;

Acting upon inhibitors, I’ve seen this
qualia before.
A recycling of serotonin, I’ve taken
those pills time and time – impure.
A portrait painted once more.

David stands tall
with a sling upon his shoulder
and in perfect ratio –
thinking not and only of Goliath’s
fall.

How did those women know
the form
is found
in the stone for –
Michelangelo?

Time has passed on again,
poetry complete –
curing the fiend.

*

1003, a reply from the flame of Guido to Dante and Eliot to me who’s being etherized by Doom;

I wish I was the silent sea-floor in
which a ragged pair of claws crawls.
Or a patient mad-villain cut by
hospitals and turning towards the yellow
sun confessing my sins to whomever will
listen.

I would love you on demonic days.
I would love you on all days.

Dedicated to November, transfixed
with isolation. Disjointed.
Dedicated to November, scuttling
across barns with monkeys
and ears pointed.
Dedicated to perceive of the
supreme fiction. And fallacy? For

what could these lines even
accomplish? Or
was Christ not just another animal
that knew of the secret fish?

The answers just come and go like boats
arriving at harbors only to return to seas
they do not know.

Tire me down.
Tire me down
till the effects of the ether dissipate
and metal-fingers can finish his rap –
job on my amputation.
Tire me down with your rivers,
I don’t want my arms anymore, even
if they do have bracelets.
Nor do I want to dictate my
verse verbally.

The sins are all here and before, so
leave me alone with the half-empty
hall of desire and ullage with
Wallace’s office locked at the end.
His voice inside –
wakes me and I drown –
in the poetic ocean.

Outside

Emily’s garden is in ruin
I remember I used to be a bruin.

*

917, with the night comes the billowing of sadness, while the momentum of thought grows more and more;

Have you ever had
a brain tremor –
Dreams become daggers and
ignorant bliss is the victim.

Follow me lady, to the low lands,
where a recluse can weather the
torrent of insanity calmed
only by a pill that beckons the
angel – Sleep.

*

1016, to be along that streak of cloud, (Materialism; memory serves the Magnetar) chlorophyll fading;

O to be aboard that godly ship rising
above the terra in the most beautiful
of blues the atmosphere can give away.
The sound of the beast
disappears over the clock tower while I
gaze continuously from the ramparts,
longing to be aboard.

Or to be a lone tree
Or to be myself, since
All light cannot escape the vine.

(I dreamt I struck oil and my eyes
dilated to sense the imposing fortune)

Little atoms of mass stars are,
spread through the universe that
could be a little atom in the over-
universe. So even smaller are we, in
the channel of the infinite existence.

*

933, a brumal palpitation, or the giving of the god-self White, Black and Orange; thoughts of Frost, Williams, Gibran, Moore, and Camus;

A simple funeral I want my friends.
Just past the shovel round and lick it
of the ice of death till it melts like
the wings of Icarus, and the water
seeps meaninglessly into the dirt in
which my body lies; ineffably
unformed, and stoic with promises
still to keep for the masses of people;
dead leaves on the foot of the path.

(here is the Fall into Winter
an indifferent undulation)

Even when the guiltless and the
guilt-full stand before the dawn as
black and white thread, so does the
stranger become flustered in the
blinding red-light of our rising star.
Yet we still forget that this sun
casts light along with shadow and
the deep-seeded fiend that silences
the skylark also beckons it to sing.

(A steam roller breaks down the cells of
what the prophet claims is divine) and I
issue an apology as I am thinking of Emily
alongside Marianne. Both writing a diary.
Both beautiful because only the sea-sponge
lacks neurons – for they lie numb in the
depth of the central and the dendrite senses
a tree, only to treat the dissecting-poet,
the latter, with little potential.

*

823, bouncing quickly and quietly from Paradise to Hell and returning to terra only to depart again; a contradicting meditation on the Esthétique du Mal, 1038;

Being a logical lunatic I think well of
the devil because I pity his absence and
un-existence.
Why would god create a counter god?
There’s two sides to
any argument but god is sitting in the
celestial castle asymmetrically;
the devil told me so.

Temptation is graceful when granted
fair game.
And daft
As if Adam killed himself &
the Julian-clouds mourn over
clovers while I speak an epitaph of fire
and preach a sermon of raindrops.
Both yellow in Nature.
Both atop the Hill.
Both pecking at the Sun.

The lunar months are returning.
Translucent convection cooks giant
crabs on a beach of grey ash.
Before,
they knew themselves in the ever heating
sands, but to late to prevent a holocaust.
Their bodies shook at the sight of Death
who came promptly between his
readings on the Sublime.

And the moon rises up once more.

The solar months are returning.
The infidels revolt against the fallen
Angel. His reality disturbs their un-
beliefs. &
god turns his cheek.
Their actions prove the Bliss of
Priests. &
The devil-dead is just as well as salmon
against the Stream or crab away from the
Sea.

In November,
we drown in waves of people as a
vessel in a lake of loose faith.
And when asked of the Dessert,
we suffocate in the sand.

In November,
my vision is worsening,
my verse is verification.

*

211, god rolls his boulder through the sky, and then she runs down the mountain; (a southern speech) 325;

Silence can be so loud at times.
And the day seems often to fade
away into it.
I cannot tell if it’s raining outside and
I never will find out. My legs feels like
grease but my gears are all rusted, I
know it.
Save some sympathy for the
graveyards. The specters there are
always wailing away thinking of the
Old South. And warlocks surely know
their place behind the mold in the closet.
I see them creeping outside by the
trees and in the alleys but I only close
the blinds and pretend that silence is
a good enough companion. But
Lord not as good as Jim. He knows
all about signs, like when rain is coming
because of the way birds be flying, or how
not to touch a snake with your hands
unless you want the bad luck of thunder.

*

1210, throwing bricks at temples;

Eyes darting from the rollers to the
shore, amid a melancholy
expression, reflect the same casual
horror when thinking that my life
has been cut in half.

That there is this feeling of quality
before, and a sickness after, but
more naturally the trench divided
hence.

I
am
this?

Was I
always
this?

It’s in reading or thinking of another
am I reminded of the opinion of
myself, diffused through me, and
thought by thee.

(Milk and tobacco to sleep, for I have
realized suicide was eminent had it
not been for my mind reeling for
justifications to live, even if it meant
going back to throwing bricks).

*

1128, Wallace Stevens;

Like a man who kills himself every
night, we leave two lives behind for

good measure. That we exist in

poetry more, – here is our true
pleasure.

II

A critique of paradise,” is all that I
could see; a crystal floating above
the Sea is me.

III

Like a shard of glass upon the eye, a
list of men are passing by and
meditation on the yellow-bell flower

leads their senses up the Tower.

We children play so close to the street,
that our collective consciousness can
go black with the mind’s awful power.

IV

God give it up.
God give it up.

*

906, chain me to the walls of an atrocious nursery and bar the windows, (notes passing by) Dickinson capped with Gilman;

It is the writing that has made me mad.
Yet so much religion concerned with
the sick and with reality seeping
through the fingers, the talk
of Christ does little for
my sanity.

(Here the narration switches to my
muse, and I am absent from the
world of rifles and rope.

In a sing-song voice, –
I’m sure,
I’m sure
I’ve heard it before.”

It is the expectation that makes the
mirror. god
the disdain, what is mine or yours
to take? –
The hopper feeds a strength to feign.

So lucky am I, tobacco
and Depakote to get by,
They touch me with pills because
I care to much).

& pregnant with words Emily was,
from four hundred thirty five I quote
this because, much madness is divinest sense,”
for proof of mine, an empty metaphor, –
The Pantomime.

*

450, white specters as I wake up from running through the pleasant gate, confounding the sheriff and his young Mexican lady, 838;

To caterwaul, and then sleep away
the day. And rain drops just con –
tinue to fall.

The party brings back memories I
don’t very much like to think about,
at all really. Seeing the bare sky and her
being a shooting star I could not keep up
with.

Maybe if I close my eyes hard enough
everything will disappear and all that
will be left is myself and –
a cold, dark common, with a woman
lying in a trench trembling wet,
waiting for me to pick her up and
hold her close so she can hear my
heart beating and know that she’s safe.

How long and late the pheasant
sleeps,” and to think this of death,
that costumed animals still lie with
the lilies upon the bank, or in refuge
with the screams of dark dark night;
the yesteryear of mania ridden thoughts
all to close to the truth. –
Some courtship and game, (this is
what I want to portray to you).

She rests easily on a brown couch,
thinking of what, I do not know.
While I think of of the celestial
patchwork I wish I could sew.

Let us begin anew, it’s Sunday and the
sea-flower is singing a brave new song.

*

405, for Elli;

You broken bell,
the goodGirl you know lives and
breathes,
is here and everywhere.

As for mine,
I’ve walked past her.
However,
I prefer to miss her face.
The cute ones are always like a jack –
hammer to the gut.

The imagination does well,
like four stone birds
with leaves for bodies
bathed in the light from
a crescent moon.

Love saves us from the fear of death.
Like her red velvet boots.

*

833, where the sun meets the tree;

With death a violent utopia,
what comes next?

Like a walk in the cold,
god bears his fangs,
lifting the pavement even
with the Temple,
that beasts throw rocks at.

Great mottled green with light
shining through, trepidation be the
dance of man too.

& like the snicker of a child
devoted to Big Brother,
who knows we’re pawns?
Or who lies and pretends to bother?

Crack my skull,
crack my skull and lets see what’s
inside.

*

311, a Feline god (naturalism) 937;

With talk of Vivian’s age it seems a
cat has clawed down from the
heavens as if a transparent apparatus
extends all the way through. And
with a sort of invisible purring, us
children pick up the living’s bones
not realizing the swiftness of these
Foxes.

And us will bury the dead in
the dessert where I have before
feasted upon a bitter heart.

War is kind.
War is kind.
God is cold,
but only in the mind.

*

223, the trinity behind my family (a steady stranger) and 232 legs and arms caressing the eternal circle and carrying a message in disguise; an augment of the Physical;

The process is most important, so
insertion, force and vivacity leaves
nothing less. The impressionist read
Hume but

by and by &

with your neck on a spit, I would lick
your company.
A silver strawberry ring and a bracelet
softly lain along her arm; a most
wonderful thing.
Soft shoulders, round to the touch,
white linen stronger here than every
single boulder.
A study of one. A study of them all.
And into her body goes the greatest fall.
So her holiness is apparent in
between; the glorious god exists unseen.

Is that sadness in the calm of your
face, or do you think yourself
prettier than the prettiest lace?

*

1228, in Shelter, (parallel rectangles of light dance on my rug as I wake up), thinking of the past with Sylvia, 1015;

A silent hospital door.
Opened always
for as a child to adore.

The chilling half and
the temporary half; the
still young crazy calf.

Yet on the other side,
through the windowed offices of the
pill pushing wet less tide.

A race unbeknownst to me the dream
of the world leaves but a trace &
the brain leaks into puddles of lace;

a silk to fine for reality.

Ask me stranger what you will,
just know that I took every single
one of those pills. And I still think
that I will live forever. For the ground
and the ice gives up your body never.

And as for the girl who jumped in
the volcano, or the one who made her
children breakfast then put her head in an
oven, the song of god is obviously something
they know.

Always and sometimes do we think
upon the disjointed and learn of the
eternally able. And as a calf
struggling to stand up, do we fall to
the ground of the infinite Man.

Fight fire because
the population is a trap door to the
great mire.

*

2900, with the right diligence of thought, All is a symbol, 345;

Scatter-brained, as the greatest
metaphor in accommodation with
dead leaves on the ground,
Frost begins to make sense.

Three young men sit smoking on the
patio. One reminded of the tobacco
trance,” and all talking of baseball.
Like how the ball can be thrown in so
many ways, as if a system of the
complexities of the

world series starts tomorrow my
dear, and since you didn’t meet the
gorillas with me, I must insists that
you come with me to Arlington.

For I made the pact. But now
I’m not sure how to react.

*

1039, Wife, can you taste this first? (a return to Romantacism and Poison);

Old slang, new slang,
anything but pain.
Daisy,
your wonderful like Emily
but not near as close.
Essentially,
Emerson had it right,
and women I will never know.
Yet I digest their verse, like a worm –
the Crow.

*

106, I hate to be alone with Thought, (mimicry, memory, and deism);

He babbles to much.
He condemns to much.
He questions to much.
So who knows why the West was won?
We,
those solemn soldiers,
observing the flight of a full moon
against the foreground of purple
clouds making an impression of a
quickening orbit.”

& forward:
Rain proves there’s life.

[Casio
I’ve lost
my
mind.
Lord knows
I’m fine.
Maybe in time,
you’ll want
to be mine.]

*

817, an antelope with long, droopy eyes: (Coruscate);

She knows a prayer to put him down
easy.
&
She insists that our relationship be
fake.

Does it make it better,
with
the
lights
turned
aw-aw-off?

There has got to be a mind and
there is no object separate to this
Sensation;
Esse est percipi. – To be is to be
perceived.

She insists we do not see each other.
She loves not me nor the idea of me.

I exist not, for she perceives only Rot.
&
I care to much.

The rail in which I collected rain
drops is now rust, and the people
dust.

*

1033, the time is always getting late;

Where should we go?
I’ve seen Dali but I have yet to see
you my Dear.

To marry a Jew; the muse.
To run and rush for the give and
take and find her amongst the back
alley waterfalls and tide pools as if she
is in a
game that she does not wish to lose, this –
is the dream of Man.
The intrinsic fault of thought; the
Saint’s temptation.

But as I was saying before,
she hid as if in ritual
shaman & childlike –
completely necessary for
her happiness, according to Mother,
and I searched and searched as if in a
state of mania.
Like walking from a storm, with ever
increasing pace.

She is,
a hummingbird in the maze of a
dream.
I am,
alternating behavior based upon
experience, the shining
seam.

*

1152, Asymptotic Giant Branch, or the Sun and the Sea, 444;

Pools of acrid water leading out to the Sea.
A hornet billowing it’s silent rage upon
the lips of me.

Save one fish and you save them all.
Yet no one seems to listen as this
water falls &
a clown swims near a bridge on fire,
with little or no fear.

There is no forgetting,
the stench of mania is always
present.
Like the minister justifying slavery,
the Sun and the Sea run from the
Lord.
How could such evil insects use the
good Word? Like the sound that a
ghost makes when he wishes to cry
or maybe boast, but mostly to
grieve and be unsettled amidst their grave.

A symbol lain, has an infinite amount
of the same on top unable to give it up.

*

1251, Hell is– ;

There’s no exit for our memories.
There’s no trace of any kind of thorax.
Nor is there redemption for a
kindergartener who is laconic and says
H and E and two L’s in such a
roundabout way yet is punished as if
telling his friends that we will all die
someday.
To close to the truth and the utterly
absurd fact of existence –
to time out you go.

Is there a difference between the
breath of silence and that of the
incantation pounding through the
soil from the casket?

And eating alone! a smile less
romantic and his reverie of the most
beautiful Medusa.

Or regenerate! regenerate beyond
the unknown. Shift our symmetry,
eat a dove. Taste the locality of two
women in Hell’s Hotel for infinity;
bound to be each other’s torturers
except that the idea is formulated
in our minds but who knows the
truth of the the corporeal. Forgive
and forget.

– other people.

*

141, a prelude to the infinity of London; emit remmus, 1224 morning dreams on October the 15th (look for the next book in the series);

Both ending in August, the words
mount and swing into the great
cosmic brothel only to land flattened
in their sadness. Yet only to dream! O
what could –
be wetter,
than an English girl
and an American man? I cannot give
up the touch of darkness, because
the xX is so much better.

Moving from the Sun to the shade I
synthesize a dream with evil
deception; that God allows for a London
Summer and an Austin Fall. And
the cow makes cream an inch thick
in the rain. And she ends as if with
the wind below our collective pain.

And in the night somewhere – in
Silence – I dreamed we were bred to
be pilots. And flew accordingly, over
the extensive metropolis of future un
realities. Yet He had different
ideas for the use of us and we planned
our escape from this air-base-boarding-school.
But during a dream within the dream, we let
the proper-people know of our
intentions. That we would not become the
pawns we were meant to be.
And we snuck off into the Night to
trains and planes and the freedom of
an extension of time – before our inevitable deaths;
the Donations.

*

1103, Sometimes things get complicated, like the sky shattering or thoughts of No Exit;

Translation – existentialism combined
with little sleep, little food, little drug
use and a lot of writing.

Transcription – archaea! O you gentle
beasts giving rise to our thoughts of
the extreme pressure of the oceans.

Translocation – like the stars
appearing one night of the year
giving reverence to the son of man
for the most glorious kingdom of
heaven.

Yestinia Pestis.
Or conjugation.
Like the death of lovers.

Or the thought that I was the Fate.
An attack on the nervous system,
rabies a theodicy; a thirst.

Nature a

Commodity, a
language, a discipline,
or idealism.

*

538 in the morning trying so hard to write of the small storm and the ghost inside; Peter Pan 238, 6 flaming lips;

To generate life! the orgasmic
breath upon the shoulders of girls in
trance within the plasma membrane
of an animal crawling in its matching
bubble.

And we end together. As the moon in
it’s short sliver.

*

1132, I’m damaged goods; a crow picks at some trash, a wassail without spirits at 1011;

The fire flicks always at our loins and
I am lonely. Doomed to have to
learn how to banter. Absurd. Absurd
is the precipice on company. Find
rest somewhere else. Sleep in his
bed I don’t care. (And yet I really do.

)I pull a leaf from it’s maker. It’s three
blades in one, each with five points
of divinity. And up the stairs I go,
listening to the music that is a song
of myself. Thank god for the lack of
form. Thank god for the infinite
unchanging outline of life upon a
floating mass of water and earth.

It is opposite day and I’m
back drifting yet the sun has yet to
reach its zenith. So let us eat the
oyster of marriage and resist the
destruction of the soul; obstacle one.

*

1020, a blue jay’s Thanatopsis;

Beg the insensible rocks to speak.
Beg the trees for a healing sympathy.

Pleasant dreams wait for the
drapery of death. Sleep, so coupled
with the dead, and whispers of the
innumerable caravan.

So I need like the native Indian wife?
Does malice overcome love’s desire?
So twins are a prelude to the science
of this scary century?

Bacteria. Bacteria everywhere. –

Walking down lonely streets. With
the scrivener dancing on his pen. Eating
quietly in the houses of the dawn.
With the priest on his moonlit walk.

And the sirens! O the sirens.

So I drag my hand through the bush.

*

951, morning sounds awfully like mourning,– a contagious Utopia;

To teem! here in lies the controversy.
Time’s chariot draws near with a
great propensity to lay the
breath of children down and
transition
their thoughts into The
desperation of being utterly alone.
Writing as if an animal contacting the
cosmos with the touch of human
hands and a separation from the herd.

To put nature in the corner! and if it
turns out mean, to record its
meanness. To know that Sylvia is
sublime and to dart blindly from
word to word hoping to know her.

A continuation of form. A
continuation of a life chopped in tow
with the latter being a white wintry
ghost that notices all connections
due to its lackluster perceptions. A
divine illumination with psychology
misunderstood.

What will these look to me in the
future? Perchance these shall
change as the setting of a courtyard
changes as the Sun crawls west. The
impression upon me is not one of
charity. Life is a rude circle at best.

Sometimes I like to end my day
peeling oranges very slowly, alone
with the drone of my fan. The
morning seems so far off but is
really only a couple of dreams away.
And I think of our perception of time
like the dessert lizard watching the
Sun pass in his sandy home.

*

923, little Red-Riding hood (nympholepsi) entropy-autotroph;

Or young Goodman Brown
see thy wolf.
Hear not that anthem of sin.
You and I
We balance atop the grace of god
but also we lie in the jaws of the
Devil; the creature that prowls in the
woods of the earth.

But that heaven lies in bliss! beyond
the fallen Adam; a test tube baby
that scares as if a spider in a forced
kiss. Yet always there is one and
Faith hangs close to the tree but is
useless like the dew we can only see.
Gather forth your pink ribbons and
hold tight your journey to death; a
gentle path into the center of the
sublime. As if wrapped in a celestial
blanket and left for the worms to
crawl through our spires of form.

I wish I could live like her and come
back to write about it. But as she
says we are stuck in our own life, as
he said, in a cage that we know not of
a key.

She says that after a big rain it is
daft to write of that gentle substance.
But this is from the “superiors,” who
recognize this cliché, only their
acknowledgement devalues
the subjectivity. Who may describe the
smell of a evergreen tree the best?
Who can place their life in a jar to be
examined by the faulted doctors of
totality? Who can put forth like
Whitman and Ginsberg the mosaic
of raw reality?

The Moroccan tickles my faith in the
beauty that is brown eyes coupled
with the scarlet of allegory and the
truth written in ink and blood.

*

1102, satori- to Moloch(!)? in San Antonio;

Absolutely sir. Well said.
To Howl! yes. Yes yes.
Words meet fire. Fire
meet the lizard of Oedipus.

I’m in the backyard again.
The red hibiscus looks lovely
in the light. There seems to be
no evidence of night. No sub –
terranean carnivores to cause
fright.

But what is it to sit and stare
into the
burning windows of row upon
row of little homes quite warm
with care.
And yet to cry! knowing all
will someday
die.

*

1050, I’m highly addicted to the calm (lucifugous); the fate of Ruth, Tommy and Kathy;

She’s so lovely. I remember asking if
we
humans
would live to see our almighty sun
swallow us all, while our
descendents dance to the glory of
our ingenious race – in trance upon
our history on Eden. I like to think of
this scene, the art and the literature that
would exist then. Placed carefully near
the dance of the final generation of Man.

Red Orange Yellow Green Blue Violet
(cogito ergo sum)
We sing therefore we are. Yet
We die as if a collection of balloons
has been cut from the string and are
soaring into the grey sky. –
Jumping from the diving board onto
cement we are.

The boat lies stranded in the marsh,
complete, with no expression. Inert.
Proving that there is no way off this
island of beautiful creatures.

O the first mentioning of Love! along
with tears and an apparition.

*

1005, the experience;

A squirrel stares me straight in the
eyes. Such a rodent redeemed with
a most beautiful of tails.

To start the day a mile away is to cut
the moon-stone Sir Prufrock placed
into his morning dips, a gleam of the
tired seam of the son of man who
aspires to unzip flesh from bone.

To Norfolk! to find the lost of my
collection, that in which only an
indifferent shore could describe.
Eternal life in a submarine by the
name of never let me go,– the 714 a
burning desire to have gone to the
Mediterranean with my Father, the
half possible.

A hanging dead branch of leaves like
a dull peacock tail.

*

1125, photosynthesis has three stages; the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit;

Close your eyes to the Sunlight and
reflect the red from your eyelids.
The loss of our pigment is the bliss
of a dusty schoolroom.

Pass the energy my Love.
There are two photo systems in
plants as there is two of us my Dear.

*

930, nymph thinking upon the imitation of the lovely symbol, – Fall (the first day of);

With all this talk on Nature let man
discover a perfect exhilaration, to be
the transparent medium for the
force of a cold wind that blows the
tribulations of yesterday gone and
yet I remember everything, it is as if
I have been gently asleep, dreaming
degraded reality. However
With this weather system past, it is
evident that there is an
unexplainable comfort in the
circulation of wind across my
softening skin.

I am in daze at my awakening. That
on this day everything is anew and
black and orange and it is fall time
and we are in love with the sharp
taste of a breeze dragging
leaves to the ground in which the
angels grow to play in piles and
remember the beauty and comfort
that comes now as it has come before
& give thanks.

I’m home. I’m home Momma. All is
well with Father.
I was insane for Her love.
I was insane for Her love.
I was insane for Her love.

Must I repeat that in which the
warmth under the sheets should
answer, or the reverence for a bare
cul de sac in the twilight cold of
childhood (once a child of dilated
eyes and putting on jackets, always
in wonderment of the life that is –
mine).

You animals are strangers no more.
Please tell me where you are from
and what you think of the Texas Fall.

*

1148, aeon of Succinct Sylvia; here replaced for Gabriel;

What a life we live loving the stone
lithe of succession. Dear child pick
up your phone. It rings for your
father who no longer lives here. He
is absent as those who go to
Mykonos never to return. Hatch this
flight. Haul bale after bale. Brother
teach what is right. Show that
eternal life in which you sale.

I go today. Brother you stay.
Miss X, listen for me as I come to
pick you up. There is no time for
hesitation. If we are to make the
7:30 for Eden we must first find the
harbor and reason for her suicide.

*

943, two bullets over two woman’s heads,– diaphanous dreaming (hopefully to be revised);

A wolf story between this town and
Canada. Do you remember when the
engagement was set and I wash fresh
out of the hospital? I thought I
predicted something great, as if I
myself would be next. I was so full of
bullshit dreaming. Like firing a rifle
in fear of the unconscious. I cannot
help these feelingIdeas. I cannot
help feeling so damn homesick.

Do you remember when the
engagement was set and I was fresh
out of the loony bin? I’m far from
Cured,– and what does cured mean?
Nothing shall be the same, this
constant dream entangles me.

Lonely is the Fate of me.

*

1243, Manic depressive. Morbid realities in the practice of our eternally connected mind, the Oversoul of children bred an unrealities of beautiful brown hair;

Aghast to show this circle round.
That fear is dear pound for pound.
Small ringlets in your hair show
gentle suffering in that dystopian
land of fiction that seems all to real.
What beast lies to the kids of Hailsham. –
explaining that love and life is all to
feel yet snatched up from these empty
strangers who whisper to me
from outside my room. – this and
that of a divine breath (two makes
one ever more lovely) and little hints
to death.

*

206, Augustine;

(The rain beats down upon the smoke)

I forgot that I
had a divine illumination.
I drowned in a complete immersion
of society, – left for fear and became
absent from that in which I was
suffering.

A different cosmology from day to
day
and night to night, – an absence
from god. Yet there is free will
to turn back into the disjointed
omnipotent.

*

515, the ash is slowly accumulating at the end of the cigarette (ignes fatui);

That we raise the smoke and then
complain as to not seeing. – Therefore
extricate a poem from the entangled.

Tell me next time you go out for a
break. The rain is hissing like a rattle
snake whispering in my ear to move
back in time and space to the
creature; childhoodBliss.

*

1120, really quite alone (dybbuk riverrunning);

Going back in time – I flail in the
membrane of knowing. A carnivore
mouth. A penciled in substitute. The
sin like stuffing of sensual sexual
share shores. Who owns this time?
Who doesn’t feel that their life is
important since the act of an ant in
an ant colony, that kneeling to the
queen, is remarkably similar to a
boy rushed to the hospital. And told
to sleep. But unheard since thought
was never before questioned to be
insane. Easter was so very important.
A quite field alone with her and the
celestial. A vision of Virginity.
Mopping up her blood and feeding
it to the plants. For such far greater
deed is giving purity than only
thinking of pleasure. That god and
evolution had to give incentive for
becoming one with another, I will
never understand. I figured the
ability to think would be enough to
know that death comes swiftly and
sadly if utterly alone. That really love
is the only clockmaker in this universe.

The breeze is cold. Autumn makes
short visions out of the dilation of
Memory.

*

915, dilute this blessed woman with her ever tangible tucked in shirt. (Holy Reverence For The Cutest Cherub);

The covenant of works spurns imago
and grace. Let earth go! her sprit
runs with roots to grow.

Thy most white of hands hug forth
the eternal and leave your heavenly
heat to be desired in the great north.

Yet even with all that there is to give,
if only to talk my mind amend.
Promise to me your faith and I
should show to you the truth of a lie.

Reason with me my love your part of
the beautiful light. Turn towards our
Eden to escape this horrible blight.

Such common verse doth lie on top
this page, but sublime is the thought
of even the most meagre of sage.

(The original sin and the mad
marked mind of Adam the fiend).
Come down from thoughts of eternal
life – a most great of visions.

O great thoughts of day! to live alone
with Eve. Or death with the birds of
Emily’s diary. Or better yet to die
with Sylvia. For I would sit with
Esther in her bell jar without
hesitation or the question of why(?)

*

Aporia, 1238;

A wavelength of emotion I have
noticed. The crest and trough. That
one feels better than the other
devalues the whole. Rather, judge
the entire undulation and pursue
with me the central truth. –

The light and shadow; the moon and
impasse.

*

841, a one legged bird priest with paranoia, 1862 I shall moor in thee;

Sing there’s a ghost telling secrets to
the hill. – find recluse in the arch
bower paradise. And bury my body
where diademPaine rests. (is this to
much to ask, – would you rather
spread my ashes? – great undulation
awaits, either way you say. Come
lysosome not to stay, but to take
with me away.

I just saw someone moving upon the
tower. Their coming to measure my
brain I know it, – a sweep of Gray! a
thief across the firmament. Death’s
clock comes for me; an exocytose
from this world a cell of the cosmos.
General theme, – general theme! thy
blessed structure diffuses my scream.

Not one will know what isolation does
to me.

*

855, ambrosial idée fixe, Phaedo’s illusion;

Some dreams are not to be repeated.
They lead downward to darkness.

Let us rather think of the childhood –
Autumn. Turn your heads from the
dark lordEnergy; monstrum in fronte,
monstrum in animo. Were not those
withered flowers evidence enough?
Was not the hammer able to blow
the idol’s twilight to pieces?

My poison cup seems to be a
pursuit of happiness – a fulfillment of
one’s perfect function, as proposed
by the ugly philosophers.

(What is
there in that which is valuable?
Does your imagination truly die as
you walk toward the deathLeaves?)

Pantomime the eternal truth – that
our senses fail us in finding God –
the great Mother of all. The relentless
gravedigger lowering circles down
into the _ dirt.

That the highest values devalue
themselves! and yet still the ultimate
illumination, the Sun, sends seven
and seven to the Minotaur.

*

826, canes venatici: dolce far niente;

Woe to recondite depression! –
Looking past the green ball, orange
glove and the statue head. Yet only
to un-reach the flower petal system
of God and Fate.

The apparition of a Fire before me in
thy bed. Dreaming upon dreaming is
where success doth lie. (Emily)

Steal. Steal
the words to conduct humane
microscopy. The cosmos that is our
collective brain only leaves that
which it has first taken.


Surreal. Surreal is the unconscious
ebb and flow of genuine thought.
The very nature of which separates
man from beast, yet more in
common do we have then that which

disconnects us. Let us breathe this
universe in and leave thoughts to be
seen as beastly. A
debauchery of doom rushed forth
at the speed in which Sylvia gave us
here suicide note.

*

1117 how many universes are there? 911, Jehovah the great lie(?), wood when I close my eyes, rue;

We could have been created by a
tremendous black hole formed from
a universe before us.

(and Dreaming...) –
With Miss Frizzle, falling down
holes, climbing walls and roofs if
the Spider.

A rapper at a festival where I had to
leave since the girls be on the dance
floor loving every song.

We go back to pay my tuition and go
lay down a track about experiments
and hiking through the hills of the poor.

To much existence for one dream. I
almost came on a girl very eager to
take the mad-villainy.

If Love is to love the decade better
perchance we shall see what kind of
rosary will bring forth the point of
existence (to take a conscious part
in the Universe (?))

*

Sorrow for recrudescence, 808, (always rolling for probity);

To be nocturnal for a time. That
would be the gentle trance of that
most permissive dance. Happiness then
is but form meeting matter according
to the laws of spirit that you receive
after you learn to breathe the bass in.

(She’s cute. Very cute. She’s tiny. An
actress that I would very much like
to study reality with).

But eternal recurrence! to touch
you God! sometimes I feel I almost
do. – Fascination upon insanity. A
natural morphine.

I’m happy when it rains and three
little birds tell me to degage in this
sliver of the timeMoon.

Words cannot describe anything
anymore.

*

2 minutes to 2;

One stage of learning is so base, for
it is the perception of shadows. That
which blocks the light from the fire
and then what nihilism rejects, the
reflection in the River. Ever coming is
the unwillingness to even look. The
sun offers the most great of truth for
it generates life to be seen by life,
and is then the producer of all that is
holy and unholy. Yet it does not
judge as a god, it merely creates
until it can no longer do so.

*

1050, the jurisdiction of ghosts, behind the Redwall;

Dream more, think less.
Be the realities and unrealities of
swimming feet first into a gully of
rainwater soaking wet with the
eternal urge, forward front from
fictitious fishing for frailty and the
atoms of Adam.

An indescribable feeling of Bliss, as a
child on the rapid Sabbath and all
days accustomed to leisure.

No thought of hydrolysis, the two of
them need not any practice of science
nor of justice, only the importance
if loving companionship.

(A polarity of past and present.
Give and take. Ebb and flow;
the procession of the Animal.)

O my dear, your insulin.
O my dear, the book sale.

*

900, Puritan dreaming (MRTA),

She invited me in as if the
arrangement had been formulated
in both of our minds before any talk
of heresy. Alas, the great soul lunges
forward from forgiveness and kisses
the cactus that is causation. Spiked
on the outside a succulent in. To
time travel, to remove this sin, your
soul will never win.

*

1153, why do we suffer? 1008, bilocation,

A clanging tower.
A monthly siren.
A ghostly god,
I wish I could touch you.

You hear that drone? that’s
the sound of Love.

Believe in impossible things.

*

1204, morning view;

Your eyelids close fast upon the
great moon Ganymede.
Fluttering softly as if to imitate the
moth that accompanies the bunny
hopping around the house. She
swears that he is anyone and
everything. Before she goes to bed
she reads dialogues between Plato
and Socrates.
And blows the candle out of the
piety of corners.

*

Euthyphro;

What is dear to the gods is pious and
what is not is impious.
Remember the first time you
thought of your breathing? –
This is how I beek in the sunshine of
reverie,
freezing leaves in water.
Always think of the Saturday before
the Sabbath engaged fully in the
Republic.
Understanding, thought, belief, and
imagination. (Noesis, dianoia, pistis,
and eikasia.)

*

1035,

Yet who of all the throng does so
position themselves safe from the
guilt of striving to be great but
continuously falling down the chasm
of the kith. Lord flip this coin, must
this dost say, heads. Am I safe from
death today?

*

1155, dark energy;

It’s their birthday today.
It cannot be a coincidence.(
)Your( freckled face) makes ri
vers of my eyes.
Your most warm of hands make a
holy trinity of the matter in the
Universe.

You expand my heart in the most
wicked of ways. But it just so
happens that what is wicked is
forgetting death, let us unseath the
petals that are my blue veins all
throughout my body breath filling
lungs of existence and the gravity of
a maniac.

We went to eat at the same place I
am now, - mixed company.

*

1111, Dear Miss sparrow,

Donald’s bunny buddy Frank is an afterglow
But we can do anything,
Gretchen, your lovely like the evil dead, and
the last temptation of Christ, and
the most wonderful of words; cellar door,
For me the space it opens into is
a field under the stars, destroying joy division,
because we are born with tragedy, and the body
forgets the true forms.
What happens when we run in circles?

(I just lost a frequency
and awoke to life one of love,
where desperation for that connection
is all that will ever matter.

*

632, oblagate parasite, 714, after a night terror, 1509-1510, choanoflagellate;

Holomat abalis in the mouth and
mind of the moth. Dear,
burn the word corollary and extend
your tongue into the flower that is
my obsession upon the sweet nectar
god; eternal life.

I’m sitting where we sat as I thought
heavily of death and my place in the
world. I am at peace for my friends
are coming to pick me up. And my
love rolls with the tides of existence.

With Aristotle and Plato in the
vanishing point. A greek cross.
(Hurricane Danielle is coming and I
search my mind) for the tree of life,
for her immortality.

What goes on as I sleep is like rams
pouring forth from the tip of a
mountain to the valley below, where
I stand manic in the thought of me
A fleet fierce animal on a
path that has yet to be chosen.
Circles. All around me is circles.

(The time I thought to write
reminding myself I was alive
yesterday and the sun will set and
rise with or without the surreal Me)

(My father’s submarine number)

(The years Raphael spent painting
the school of Athens)

*

1011, a cruel device, a snails pace and the metaphysics of coincidence;

Another lucid dream where we
scoured the new home for a place
to lay amongst the grasses and stone
walls overlooking the river of my
desire, I should rather choose to fly
as a seraph enjoying a foudroyant
form of bliss in solitude. But I pull
parks and drink a crystal geyser from
gg Roxanne.

How can I describe the indescribable?
Your in my prayers.

*

1008, piquant, lucid dreaming;

Looking forward and back to my
dreams all I can remember is calling
to a girl to join me.
Perchance many.

I a convalescent.
I recur upon the disjointed wheel of
existence.
Withdraw. Withdraw as I question
whether or not my soul is as mortal
as my body. But either way I will
rotate as the hourglass begins its coming
down anew. And I like sand, fly easily
away if not contained in this vessel.

I scour my dreams for the woman
walking through the Door.
And ruminate for happiness on Earth
And truth in the complexity of
Society.

All things are occurring now,
therefore all things have occurred.

For I love you golden locks-eternity,
humming birds rushing forth to the
Stream.

*

505, incunabulum;

“Human society: that is an
experiment, so I teach – a long
search: it seeks, however, the
commander! – “

Here I am.
Just a reflection.
The bait is laid.

*

1043: armistice,

Orange to black and back with
closed eyelids.

A premorse cantation of the morning.

A big sun for a little son.
A pull on the heart from a beautiful
girl; depression –

*

12 imaginary cults with no promise of Love; the new days impression upon a young man (are you the one that knows what I think of? – Death in thought; Eternity in thought, reality unwound into a knot of silent depression and bliss unworthy of the mundane journey that the starBrains travel foraging for someone to stay by my side...

When the worst thoughts come to
man, what is there in the image of a
moon that makes one faltering
happiness seem natural yet still
fixed into a jar that cannot be
unsealed for on the hill lies many
containers but no connection of
material except the land upon which
we sit. The young man thinks of life
as one big head trip and labors over
putting the pieces of the day
together in some new way since time
scares himself as he thinks of the
unspoken secret, that death lies
close and god sits upon a throne of
flesh far from the earth but still on
the circle of existence.

*

1038, a dragonfly perched on the tip of an agave;

Gone a second later, will it return to
me?
Kill the attar, the smell is to strong.

They circle each other, how could I
bother them? Their lost in the air of
fantasy.
I dreamt that I was to afraid of being
rejected. I let myself down Ley.

*

1256, Cancer (I’m a Leo),

I’m going to the field to die now.
Leave me be and do not follow.

*

841, the process, the process!

Where’s the sweet summer rain? It’s
almost fall and the last time I sat
outside with the blissful cherubs
blowing their windBreath and emptying
their glasses of succulent succession,
the insatiable warmth of reverie plus
the milk of the gods, I knew eternity
in that downpour of our fleet feet
deer named Rain. Let us watch the
leaves change and drop. We shall
hear the music of musing in due time.

*

851, are two black cats an ill omen? (The wantonness and paranoia of a young person in recovery);

I have written of my Sin. Only time
now will make me feel as though I
betrayed myself. More justly I have
hurt my family, they did not ask but
more importantly I chose to tell. Yet
perchance this negative feeling is
positive. For life in Limbo is hard but
reality is much nicer to enjoy. It is
the unrealities that bear witness to
man’s grip upon the will to justify
evil; the mind’s eye absquatulation.

*

1135, I’m done. I’m twenty & the cleansing is on going for fear of fantod (nervous for my Mother not myself);

This must be it. No more. There is no
structure to temptation. All thought
is fine because I am writing. I still
Love her so much. But even more I
want to love myself.

I was alone when I thought I would
be published today and I am alone
with this secret. My last secret. No
one should have to worry about me.

I’m still nervous. So water is to be
drunk. A lot of water. Everything will
be okay. I love you but I could not end
in such a liquid lie. So here is my
Confession. My birthday is truly the day
when No Harm must be looked at for the
misery on a day of this is only me forgetting
the truth of Adam and Eve eating from the tree.
I can say in this last solitude trespass I no longer
wish to smoke my Mother.

Now let me climb the mountain as Zarathustra
and see the stars below.
Gripping reality for the love of what
reality I hold dear. The last lie! The last
endeavor. Father I am sorry.
God, I climb to give you my sin.
In that we murdered you, in that I wish
to continue in undulation so that all days
will be Holy.

*

804, breathing this blissful air in (UUD) repetition of a greenhorn Tenderfoot;

Two sets of lovers sit with infinity
And the Divine Circle God quickly
gives way to a conversation as of this,
and sleep as of this.

(“the world is cruel. You can’t be so
sensitive.”
How could I argue with that?)

I dreamt Ley told me I only wanted
to fit in with the crowd but then she
was overcome with the desperation
of my speech, desperate symbols of
Love. She used a word that I did not
know. Yet I awoke as if she was by my
side. Such a teasing dream.
Payment for my cheating thoughts of
another Jew.

My brain is organizing my thoughtEmotions.
& my will to be proud slowly builds upon
the crumbling heap of my foundation.

Golden brown leaves gently bounce
upon the ground outside bringing
with it the warm feeling in my
GutBrain. A circle unto the innocent
past. A shelter from the ugly ugly
dark. But easy on my pupils.

I’m drowning in an ocean
of symbols so I choose to carry with me
the image of this tree. And the touch
of her kissing red hair. With the sight
of her most beautiful of eyes.

*

453, far from the gloaming poets lie to much;

Remember the Summer of
Childhood?
Quickly open your mouth to the
Echoing.
A bird on the the fence I am.
One side is Eden and the other is
Limbo.

I made him cry. Twas penance that I
would not like to take back for I fly
now having gazed upon the sweet
odor of life and the noxious feeling
of premature ghastly death.
Otherwise known as manic depression.
(Better than screwing your dopamine receptors.)
The worst adaptation of the human brain.
But life moves onward. Even
as I chase my tail thinking of the fear
I placed in front of them on a wet dinner day
interrupted by my absolutely forced relocation
to her side only carrying an orange. (I never made it.)

I am sorry world, I have grown fat in
my recovery and I cannot fight this
Ambien any longer.

*

1036, living in a fantasyLimbo;

My thoughts have been suffering
through bustication.
I’m trying to pick up the pieces. Give
me some time. I have been living in
a perpetual summer. But Fall is coming.
Forced. I must meditate from now on.
Give me a break I am lost. Give
me a break from your casuistry.

*

Robotic duality turns better in my mind with La Luna Gloria;

000?o Clock
On the night of. A night terror.
A murder suicide is blasphemy.
A behemoth of a tragedy.

(My horoscope is ill.)

*

(1123) of a second and first coming or hope;

yeL I can soak up that blood.
I can give you my virginity.

*

252, looks like rain (847) the storm dies down and in: lets not party crash;

There is no potlatch here.
Do not even think to return any gift
that I might have bestowed upon
you. My wealth is our wealth.
Just as the rain will wet your soul as
it will wet mine.

I've been dreaming all night and day.
My brains been cleansing itself so
that I won't experience anymore
brain tremors. (not a promise)

I do not want to shut down.
But I have lost my way.
There's a drop of water on my
eyelash where I end and you begin.

The sky is nocturnal blue and
Frances & I are running over fog
babies. Plus Rant has rabies.

*

1036, my Father is watering Eden;

I don’t care about past talk.
Just me and you.
Just our blood.
Just our future together Love.

Don the guise to fit the mold of
Adam.
Run the gauntlet and truly live in
the Garden.

*

555, Zaftig;

I can see the moon rising through
the trees, 848.
Two pairs of lovers wrapped by
the infinite.

Like smoke into the darkness we are.

*

Revisiting Cheshire cat by means of the sweet grace of Alice (1143);

The dream is fulfilled when you
recognize your not dreaming.
Tis true, nothing comes of tears.
Tis true, we shall see each other in
another life. Tis true,
metamorphosis should be welcomed.

The air reminds me that life is love
and death is an illusion.
That nature makes the most kindred
impression when given the chance
to remain immortal in the reveries of
childhood. That the dream is on going.
Just as life is on going. That the sun
rising in the morning is just as important
as when it sets.
But forgive thyself for the time wasted
before. This is the most holy of
truths, that God is in the present. Now
utter your name life you believe in
the eternal. Now listen to the sounds
outside as an extension of what lies
softly to sleep in the orange glow of
God’s shelter.

*

330, Ibolya easy does it;

Parthenogenesis. A
Virgin birth.

A Kiwi Bird as
a Present.

And paranoia
of a spider with
a red hourglass.

*

110: in the end, (just never say this is the last) in the end;

You will never find death.
Only transience into the Eternal.
And by will alone your blood will
nourish that which created it in the
beginning.

*

1232: untitled, 80 occlude;

Half way through the mid day hour
and I think of nothing...
Sweet sweet nothingness.

*

200 miles driven and telepathy at stop lights;

A possibility for Lithium and
mindfulness, no judgment, just
Now. Just breath.
I meditate on eternal life and I weep
tears of sadness.
Yet this time I wander not and I am
contacted by my Mother not the
other way around which would send
me again thinking that life is
transient. I read existence to Love
the Infinite, for that is where I will
find Happiness.
(A yellow bell flower that I eat at both
sides of my undulations.)

Come play with me.

*

1010: sits the acedia with a perfect view of the moon through the trees;

Transcendence with tobaccoNature and Song.
Three. Three spires. One infinite
Song.
An orange glow calling me back
inside. I think I’ll read until my dear
sends me a message of divinity and
Love.
A question and an answer that I will
jump from my sublime shadow into
the laughter and beauty of my
Sunlight.
So I desert the soul and enter into
Dream.

*

1038: ghost land and philogyny;

I’m that man breathing in bass.
In a
Midnight Voyage
With
Five-eighths of a moon
&
Water floating in the sky over a sad
Sad city.

*

1212, I need to read all of my Palladian speeches and otherwise edit;

Time is a ruin and I am in need of a
Change.
A will to truthPower.
I’ll see you better this way Athena.
I’ll love you better this way.

The book from the bed I pronounce
her dead.

To the Texas hill country I grow.

*

1119, no naked lunch just an undercast view of God;

Nothing is as easy as the ocean.
A continuation of Bliss through
Choices.
A will to divinity,
Hearing the song of angels by
imitation in a nihilistic world.

Oh no. Oh yes.
Sooner rather than later is the blood
of the youth.

*

1244. Ellen is Ariadne;

I was in Limbo.
I fell through that layer by means of
Love; that which trapped me there in
the first place...
A plastic white hand grenade.
I am utterly helpless.

*

842: song title;

It’s dangerous to look into the sun
but let us love it.

It’s spoor through the zenith
matches the love in my heart.

And now, thinking of rebirth & the
moon and it’s accompanying stars at
twilight and I smile. The grin of a
man upon the world of space and
Time that is glorious as his
bountiful soul unleashed upon the
world of infinite Animal.

*

636: On your neck and the sweetness of your eyes;

Is in the music of growing up and
leading the life of the young soldier
writing poetry for kicks and giggles
and highs and for the entire Universe.
A battle song for the blind,
Me running from the fears behind
I and the excuse of times Chariot
Writing for the messenger in the sky
Looking forward to spending more
and more time with you. All of this is
better with you and the kid in me.

(Submarine (fast attack) 714)

*

1054, I want the warmth of your body to be upon the firmness of my chest;

We pass a forty as I notice the
grey clouds contrasting with the
dark skyspace low on the horizon
they sail.
The lights of only part of this
monstrous city litter the divinity of
the view.
While the conversation is Wet with
the wildness of youth.
And with my eyes closed the Texan
wind feels like Heaven.

A phantom in the window,
and head lights pour into my eyes.

My cat waited for me in the drive way.

*

855) silver waxing crescent;

I share it with thee world. I love you
all. We are all worth the same.
Reminder to self: self justification
will suck you dry and make you wish
to be special. Just live on Ganymede
AND the Earth.
The vestigial act of acting in virtue is
confusing and I don’t think the
enigma of the Universe can ever
really be explained. But perchance
the moon offers the best answer.

*

611, a dream of desperation;

Trying to convince balloon walkers to
leave.
Running from sorority girls because my
teeth were bulging from my mouth.
& in the back we eat out the
apartment complex.

*

410, escaping to Emerson;

An eye to eye the soul to catch what
has gone wrong in this such
wretched place.

Grass hoppers everywhere as if to
remind that which I loved to trap
when I was young and only do I fear
their crunch for these are more
black. And odious. And reminiscent
of the infestation that is Man.

*

1208, it’s raining pink blossoms;

the Enigma of my dreams is the
Father (mine) yelling at me for the
placement of my knee bones.
Me having to fight people in an
avatar like metal suit.
And another only reminded by
the view from my car window of a
great bird cleverly picking its beak
through the grass.

*

819, the sound of Nature is music to my Jovian ears: subtilizing the story of a peach tree;

Others are quiet all the time.
I wish I could whistle, the
Birds all seem to be calling for
that Angel I call Love.

*

900, time barely described: dreams, reveries and dissolutions;

Saturday nights are easy to fall
asleep but your worth is dependent
upon how much you do to be able to
sleep Sunday night.

Thinking of Power and Glory elevates
your soul if you forget justifying sins
of the flesh with words like whiskey
and priest.

Where did I curve from some path
for I hear now memories changed by
an evaluation of my undulating
mind like the catfish collecting the
garbage of the river and then
forgetting that it was a will to survive
that made him so hungry. So the
tears pour forth from the blank mind
of mine: I think that I am happy or
smart or special and I rear back as a
horse noticing the snake at his
hooves. There is no measure of Self.
Only in the presence of the Divine
may we evaluate our souls. Yet we
think we’re just animals when in
theory that statement is incorrect
simply because we shall not think of
it. Nature stamps her fist down and
says you must look for an outward
and an inward force for every thought
and emotion. Now practice! I think
that I am sad and I remember being
a child. I feel sad and I think of
writing now on my deathbed.

(Curly hair and blue Eyes)

*

657: the swan Cygnus questions his existence;

Picking the match from the bush I
think of catching that great
constellation with the bit of my teeth
the osmund of my head that’s
otherwise filled with blood and
strange connections of thought. An
electricity of life that drowns the
lakes of the blind and makes sense
of what normally is not understood.

*

908, bury this sickness;

Destroy the joke of existence call not
upon any woman for an answer of
the Universe, merely keep your sight
upon the bridge to the Übermensch
Snuff the fire of hopelessness
and let loose a flame of the
Righteous tongue.

(the excess)

*

928, my algebra (1103);

A tantivy tentacle of rain
and under the water I hear an
aching tone but I’ll agree and try to
look on the brighter side.

*

956, a sibylline morning rain;

Three days and its gone. (My heart
from your vault) I’m monster zero,
bow to my commands! Or else I’ll kill
joy. Ha, look at me on my high horse,
take from this what you will. I could care
less. God created the Universe and the
universe erected this monstrosity of a
Civilization.

*

1124(5) a break from the warfare;

A roar from a passing truckTrain and
the power of tobacco tree.
Sitting in ecstasy! Looking forward to
days past. Dreams forgotten for they
were post apocalyptic.

*

11:11, Alone;

Say hello to the angels and kiss them
goodbye for there are no stars in the
sky.
Yet my cat is waiting for me in the
driveway but I still have nothing to
say.

*

425, no windows;

Electric chirpings of red little birds
and children laughing like childhood
in a bottle that has no glass and sits
upon a hill like the jar that
transforms nature into something of
ours our thoughts of that which the
animals cannot imitate but can be
included for they are We.

*

843, Bijou confidence;

Nothing is absolute.
Yet an absent jewel is infinite.
What is this that we fear so much
that we mask our pain with self
justification? Ask for forgiveness. Ask
yourself. Let the song of existence
wash away dreams of tomorrow and
raise the white flag today. For I am a
plant growing but you and I are
worth the same. Only now I choose
to return to ash and in this way
create god from the seven devils.

*

(712) Organ, sky Bliss;

American Gothic.
Yes. Oh Lord Yes a black angel’s death
song. Lets burn our houses down! Lets
live in the wilderness! Lets escape
the gravity of the Devil. He is
infecting our brains!
Disregard these lines!
Tis only paranoid thoughts of a
fool. But an epigram taught me that
poets are fools but even more fools
are not poets.

*

4:37, the repose of four, the luckiness of seven, the divinity of three, and the inert of me;

The hermit sits alone reading Wordsworth.
The experimental animal wonders to
what he holds his light and to who
he writes as if that which he sings is
as soft as the dream and more
lonesome as the time that has not
passed for this spider to truly catch
his prey.
Tis a blessed day. The flowers they
lay and the water has its life like the way
of bliss and the folly of love and the death
that which contrasts ever man to
say “I am mad upon this planet
turning and stronger thus.”
The floating clouds I do see and to be
atop of thee.

*

(1039) smashing my feet through glass, a squelching of divine madness;

I should of know when not to speak to you.
I scared you with sacred words that I
thought could save you. Only you
can call upon your own rapture.
Just know my dear, I had to say what
I said. I couldn’t have lived with
silence. I couldn’t have lived without
telling you that I’m in trance upon
Life and Love.

*

(1034) the fourth of July;

Bombs of tonight fall on my hair
soaking me wet with the cool wind
of a Texas evening.

*

101(2) someone follow my headLead;

Into the deep ocean Madam, –
Worms and fish will eat our fat.
But then we’ll be with God. Such a
Wonderful rataplan.

*

104(3) I cannot forget about the mania that came before. Alone. And on nothing;

To la la land I go! Good night.

*

235, the wind is blowing the trees but I cannot feel it;

One child replaced with the care of three. Just
as the pollination of the flowers by the
honey bee.
I was in trance earlier! again upon Love.
Again because I was writing in blood.

*

1126, Ley;

I wanted to lead you down a path
that together we could not overcome.
But perhaps even in dream lies
reality.

*

1028, in a foreign country I decide not to tell my parents about my racing thoughts (they know anyway);

Must only I think of the next rain.
Must only I think not to push God
into your heart but to show you
mine.
When I start to feel crazy I think of
circles. I bury my head down and
think that existence is infinite now
Focus on the sun in my hands.
I only lost my sense of direction
when I relied on a stranger to tell
me everything is God.
Rid myself of pride!

*

9” G preparing himself for his blood to be drawn and since he was not ready last time the dead end shall not scare him for walking through the valley of death is much better than ending it all;

Look down and get ready for the Fall.
(Thank God for music and that which
insures a vespertine thought process)

I’ve been here before!
And as my blood is drained I only
think to think that love is real.

*

952) men holding mirrors unto the sight of this collective face;

The ebb and flow is so strong now I
am reminded of the clinic where I
thought I would never be able to
leave so I snuck back to the doctors
to tell them, “You know Sartre? No Exit?
Fuck that.”
I’m scared and I wish to stay in
check with reality. I’ve already seen
both poles of the world and now I
only wish to travel to the equator.

*

827, I’m a snail slugging back into my shell;

You, a feist.
This the moment of inception.
You, feeling what I feel now.
& as in forever the prance
of mongrel heartMinds.

*

1021 – with knowledge of future evanescence;

Utopia planitia by way of a balloon
filled with cold black shadows.
Some divine featherSmoke.

*

1029) depressed in the Korova Milk Bar;

Renounce the preachers of death.
Warrior I will be and for the highest
of ideals. For that is the way to
overcome anxiousness. Death be a
part of all cocktails of the living.

*

838) my hair is grass;

Watch me innervate. –
A humming bird under water,
Far from a macabre idol.

*

*

949) my emotions are boomeranging;

A hanging sun.
A rising moon.
A blissful absence of thought.

*

445, I dreamt I had a wound never healing;

I fell back asleep only to even more
fear and loathing of past night terrors
and current insecurities.
I watched on Halloween as he
stabbed the thinking animal in the
pumpkin patch and return to the
parade of death with his sickle clean
and no witnesses but me.

No more ors just ands. Reality &
the ideal. Life and transcendence.
Happiness and love.

*

1045) not so far from sunlight and darkness;

Turn your eyes to the day
Yesterday is gone.
Tomorrow is forever coming.
Let your brain eat its perception of
sin and righteousness.

*

647 white clouds in a distant sunlight + dark clouds dropping waterBliss from directly above;

I have to apologize to the stranger I
tried forcing my thoughts upon. I
Love you my dear... just know that I
was manic.
The air has turned a crazy shade of
green and I continue to feel shame
for my sins. I’m so sorry.
I have lied again outside there is no
Chameleon.
And in this sorrowful stupor I hit a
bird. Must I live in a cave forever to
feel care? I attempt to yaw from this
place and join reality.

*

615) a storm is perpetually coming(I’m a living phantas(y-m);

And I am beginning to feel better
about my plan to fake our death so
that our child could enter the world
a deity.
What is there in the fieldSky of dreams
that cause such drastic emotions?

*

84)(1, its hard to care sometimes because I am slowly disappearing but Love expands Spirit and my yen is continuing;

If I would have gotten to Her, on the Sabbath in trance,–
I would have undulated into the
mindset before (had she been truthful) when my body fell from the
branches of existence as if a hanging
possum realizing that he will die as
the animal he is now: a demonic
mistake of thinking that heavenTree
is burning perpetually and never
changing,– so drop from the highest
branch and end it all.
(Suffering creates Ecstasy.) Look past biology.

*

1145) closed eyes;

the rhino
charges
then backs
away wiggling.

and later on in
my mind...
“She was the only Crush
that kept me from suicide.”

*

437) yawning with the Children;

Bliss rambling with an amble pace
Wearing wounds but not with pride.

*

1152)3, while I try and not wait on the answers;

balls of beautiful pink flowers fall
gently to the ground in a stifling heat
& by a divine zephyr that I myself can
breathe from my lungs the atmosphere.

*

1003(extended coldness by sitting in the shade of the big sun;

Pink and Red flowerHoney food for
the bees that hauntEnthrall me in
the doldrums.

*

914, more orange lights and trash can punch;

Pakistanis can play beer pong
apparently. Although I wouldn’t
Know.

*

1048: my little dreaMonkey;

Roar with me.
Soar with me.

Orange Light)
waking from black
light(

*

1123(0)ecstasy;

Floating toward my only companion
the moon!
She’s so beautiful with this divine
breeze. – I want to stay with her
forever.
Only I come down with much to read
and even more to prove.
Like how God’s word is this pull
towards the light reflected and the
feeling of hair and goose bump
rising.

*

930, no new thoughts arise: Plagiarism of music and silence: Despising not the body but the self that wishes to become something which is more;

My heart truly does beat for you all
Only is it not haptic. Here in lies the
bridge to the superman. So
believe me when I say that I trace
the Orbit to love your faults. And
also I am learning to love myself as
well.
All comes through in the reflection of
sunlight upon a world of demons
and angels. Choose which party you
will rally to feel joy.
We shall together die as the scorpion
with our virtue.
Here let me remind myself to give
thanks for my past for it has brought
me up to this point.

*

(930) just bury me in a rococo hole of dirt and gold flakes;

I think of my hummingbird and wish
to cry out my sweat.

*

(1056) entering the gates of what I thought was Eden but perhaps is purgatory;

If I fail and am forced to stay at
home suicide will be an out that I
will not take but I will feel. Stupidity
is as the stupid does but what is in
the negative of curiosity of
something transiently legal. I
apologize. But you are insane if you
think that I could feel as if I’m
invincible and then dying and not
want to think again of living forever.
God for me is the path that lead me to
her. In the grass. Sex forward and backward
into the eternity that is space, time and the celestial
cluster of stars painted above us.

*

(820) by myself in the back yard: not yet thinking of entropy;

I’m not alone everyone is so near
What has lead me to now?
What pushed me to the psychotic
break.?
Proliferate recovery. Push past peer
Pressure.
The God of I says to the God of Me
“get the fuck over yourself and build
a brain.”
I hold strands of memory and work to
weave them into a pattern that is
beautiful for my inner eye to see.
I burn my effigy.

*

)952( home early for my parents sleep;

I see no evil in the spike of morning
any longer. The song of existence is
on repeat and I will never get sick of
it. As for this little girl men sing of –
I do the same. I loom in the darkness.
I will redeem your virginity in the
daylight of Kings. Celebrate the Sun.
No. Worship the Sun.

*

(937) in the moment. Heliolatry;

So blessed its hard to believe.
It’s the first day of Summer.

*

756(someone help me please;

I sleep all night now.
I nap all day now.
The sayer killed his baby in his sleep.
All i need is some good voices.
All I need is to remember that years
do not exist.

*

20, remembering the blue eyed girl with a yellow soul;

Opening Pandora’s box for
something unobtainable.
Can this insanity be cured?
May I wake in time to feel Nature
as divinely a part of me?
Can I truly be reborn?
We are killing our mother.
Will you hear me? (?)
(1108) I see you. Let us become one.
All species know something of Love.
That is existence upon this galaxy.

*

(1256 application) blissful moments recollected in;

times of tranquility.
Suffering over stupidity.
I remember straddling a pool float
and I remember thinking about
death. I choose play. I choose the
moshka-medicine. I choose the
Agave. Wait. Indemnity.

The difference between guild and
shame. The removal of the little s in
Self which is everything that has lead up to
now. I am G. I am here, now. Define
humility. Years of meditation without
drugs to rush nirvana. Suffering
creates ecstasy.

Have the stars aligned? Do you see
me as the phantom that I am? I
killed myself that weekend. But
there is much left over.

*

(1058) don’t eat away my amok soul;

Lord. Blow the horn of the
apparition that is faith in of the divine
ghost whispering unto that
which can only be felt. Tangible is
that which lies in the pocket of non
believers. Halleluiah. Join me as I become
nothing. Join me as I circle the O as
the path of an 8

*

359 thank you God, 428 hello world;

How are you?

*

(1236 discovery) there are only three;

y e L

*

(1235 a shadow) Sough;

these thoughts of yesterday are burning a fire into my eyes
my heart beats slowly
my pupils shrink to preserve perforce
there is no link between thoughts so quit trying to predict the future
Free Will dominates all mammals.
But will she return my phone call (?)
stop stop stop

*

(1232 a reverie) I am alone but that is okay;

Hold on one second.
The music is off.
The house still purrs though.
My phone is connected to the wall just in case something was to disconnect my mind from my body again before you call or text me.
I am in the stage of undulation where everything is okay once reassured with sign from the Universe. There is no speech for speech is but a word but I am letting the movement of my hands flow through me as if I am a soldier bent upon killing. An alien carries with him the same kind of D N A I purr in my head as my hair rises and the sub bass flows into my mind with the quick rush of the Euphoric affects of being up in the atmosphere of Earth. She is so lovely these days.
(By 2010)

*

(1229) a map;
the most far of shelter.
where the wood meets
the rock.

*

(1228 discovery )dream to dream;

We shatter the relation

*

(1227 discovery) I split a bluebonnet off its stem for you today: my Mom said it was a myth that you cannot pick them;

We are both nervous yes?
But is there anything to be nervous for?
There is no lying sweet child, only a lack of courage.

*

(1211-1215) duality of the Magna petition of the English Corpus;

Do not limit my Divine right for the will to power,
that does little against murder when someone thinks
that I am God as I raise the piston that lowers my mood
of the phantom appearing above the law. I climb the
tower of London because I have
seen the celestial crown jewels and
wish only to enjoy life before I am executed, - but
Do not kill me I
think I’m God, or just William of
Orange who needs to find Mary I
am that which will risk my fortune
for the Virgin Queen.

I pray to all existence and influx,
dissect my verbiage of evident truths,
natural rights are not to be disguised
by poetry this allows for the pursuit
of happiness – spit on a grave ! (?)
No, just eat their substance.

*

(737) Government and History: my head leans to the left, ridding myself of melancholia;

I just want my life back.

*

1002, this one I wrote in cold blood with a tooth pick: no couvade;

Doom called me a psycho.
No. I’m just an idiot American teen
wishing to discover my roots.
I better shine with a loose screw.

*

1215 restraint red cave: Meditating upon why I am alive;

A beautiful breeze of sunlight
reminding me of the many I care so
deeply for.
I dedicate all and nothing to you.
(A hegira to no place but here.)

*

11 forty three dots;

and I’m home drunk and content to live
upon this wonderful Island.

*

822, I was taken from my Eden for fear I had already eaten of the tree of good and evil;

But I burned that shrub. I burned
my existence up to that point and
now two weeks I’ve been in a new
class but 19 years have I been in the
great experiment. An oscitant
existence until I went crazy and saw
myself in the great order of things/
Thank god I’m not alone in this
frizzle fryer. Thank god for genesis
2-8. Work done in half the time that
the grizzly bear sings an expansive
enigma that I will never know the
complete truth of.

*

9,4,5, Infinity: I became the Übermensch

There was no shortcut to this dream that
I wanted to end for fear of falling.
(“Are they feeding me DMT?”) –
G Lucid dreaming )I felt that I was)
flying at such great heights above a
magnanimous city of steel and )
(Sunlight. Three planes flew before.

*

(9a) fifty two minute meeting;

festooning
with broken elephant glass and my
seizure King. A lovely child and a
small Mosher minor tipping giants
over. The child is my mirror who
must avoid that which I can take (?)
while he is safe with that which I
used to immaturely like. – Push
past maudlin interaction (!)

*

830 I’m back from Ambien land and my vision is no longer red, my nose no longer broken;

And on this new day I breed one, two, three concepts as an angel asks if I’m
going forward undulating into sleep
where I dreamed that I threw the
first punch and then he hurt me so badly that I tasted
Blood as I swallowed the necklace that I thought would insure a healthy face.
I must remove Emotion from my Action.

*

933: on the shore of EdenIsland;

When I grow up, I want to spit rain.
I’m not very good with plants but I
Embrace them with my lungs like my
heart is in there with all my SeaFlesh.

*

925, I float with some gray Clouds and hear the voiceSong of Kennedy;

Clicking my tongue I wait to come
back down.
A breakfast of God’s body waits
inside a foreground of Faith and a
background of self-indulgence.
A quintessential summer morning –
just wait to see my mind in the Fall.

*

814 pm this ones for me;

DoomLove (!)
He ain’t crude
He’s rude.
An animal trying to get some food.

*

1148 & under no Umbrella: Nature jacks off my Flower (disgustingly beautiful vernacular);

When I close my eyes I can see the Black Bird
I would rather not be Blind.

I like looking for the pink crape myrtles and
Smelling the yellow lantana ) those weeds
that grow when its hot and dry.

I feel rampant as them with an absence of
Divine mystic Moisture - Myrtle tried to
Escape along the road because the flowers
they will wilt but the Butterfly will always
be searching for that Divine Nectar.

*

(1121) Orange Bliss with El-P and Three Hits;

I used to be in Love.
The juggernaut flies overhead and I remain
on the ground melting into my trees.
I’m still in love with the insane (plague)
of thinking she Loved me.

Three clean pipes and no service
tomorrow morning.

*

(11:11) 50 down bitters;

can’t make up my mind there are a lot
of cute girls.
Down the bitterness (!) with Ratatat &
a tobacco trance leading me home to my
Divine Studies.

*

)838( plagiarism;

I remember laughing at the Universe
because I felt that I had cracked the
most magnanimous code.

*

Spain (1937) here I command: here is the synthesis of acting and writing and life Maria and Ingles;

My Anselmo is experience
Nothingness as a Saw Mill
I will blow that Bridge,
“Will you be my...” dynamite God?
Pablo – I come for Love.
Gypsies remain Gypsies. Fight little
Kill all Hate.
I’ll find Maria in the mountains
hiding with her hair shiver shame –
the Earth shall shake – for the Bell
tolls for thee.
Pilar read my hand, will I be hunted?
Speak to the horses for happiness,
the bridge will go well is the gypsy
reading for self importance.
One by one let us cross before a
firing squad.
I am you. Bring me with you
wherever you go.
Salud. I stay here with the machine gun.

*

10 & 15 Mulberry – Mcullough - between Ashby and Courtland;

The kids a Mud Doctor.
He blows 1,150 kowtows into the rocks of the Earth &
with a soft voice. Then drops the Bass.

*

1100( I’m in my Monkey Suit;

Cut the middle man.
I’m the Child Chrome
Cleaning my Eye.

*

9540) start again, the healthy body speaks truly of the earth;

Its all the same.
Its All a flower.
Everything is LoveHate
& the bass slaps to the rolling of
the drum and the drone from the
guitar my angel replied to me early
this morning. I knew somehow
she was travelling away from me but
we can see each other in the Fall
Spring there is no ruth in my heart
for Her. She takes care of herself.
It’s okay she takes care of herself. I
am okay orally orange and
despicably descent some come talk to me.

*

1014( I’ll surprise you sometime I’ll come around )inter;

Polar reaching for red eyelid virgin
vision with milk and music
Bliss orange married Mary.

*

Hux 1230 fathom Ley1103 occidental –
(1017) noctivagant;

All in all. All in the brain. Searching
and impatient. Patient and bored
with text. Looking to express live
Mind instead of mind.

*

(816-817) avoid the gluttony of delicacy;

Beef marinated in orange juice and
Agave Nectar. Divinity done digging
for those who avoid eye contact cause
they think I’m insane. Growl little miss Jack.
Growl little miss cute angel of whom
the piper plays his song to add
another year another number to
what is indescribable; life the
justification of the God within oneself
that is merely that which created
yourself indirectly as if this
experiment that wishes for pleasure
but wants even more to feel in line
with the morality of what a tall tense
deer would call shooting a rifle back
in the direction of the hunter who
should be chasing the woman all in green
down the mountain side.

*

(105)2;

The night in the ER was a tidal wave.
I’m halfway home extending Bliss –
shooting fazers to avoid bathos.

*

(1133) The Robing of the Bride has fallen once again;

The needle in my vein made me
think of keeping care of myself.
A thought of Faith driven with an image of a wedding
in Zilker Eden. Then we would live together as long as the
planet allows our manor and mode of life to persist.
I just wanted to look into her eyes
when I told her I loved her. I thought I was taking a Wife Child
under my Life Wing that would accelerate as she trusted that I write the poetry
but she makes it Reality.
I mean what do you expect ! ? I called
Her thinking that the only thing
Keeping me in this world would be if
She also knew we were meant to be
Together but I found there was work to be done and I would see her soon.

*

Forced;

I dreamt you held my hand and I had
Super human abilities and then I
Lost them and became like every
Other man to you... shy and invisible
In the cloud of people the penumbra
of People pouring forth from the Chunnel.

*

(845 or 846) Manichean;

Strange reunions with a spinning
air duct and Bliss.

*

(226) Lex;

Magnanimous deliverance

*

I’ll be your swain;

I search for no one Church.
I begin collecting my congregation within
This lowly life of personal reflection as with the mirror
that is in all houses whether noticed or not.
There are so many objects of my affection.
A cigarettes worth of tobacco in the peace pipe a day
makes the demons go away while the night is for repressed
thoughts of the Angels.
The oscillating fan drives –
Zero thought of god I make that undulating connection.

*

945 drops in the river: four fans and a flashlight on the ceiling;

The storm has left us temporarily in the Dark.
I step outside and the great serpent sky flicks it’s electric tongue &
The light Rain falls on my humbled hair.
I think to act – go to sleep Mother – I will be in bed soon –
I am still an innocent son.

They think I will go insane at any moment so I play them Sun Giant
and try to tell them that I have been crazy upon the balance between
Death and life forever here and now.

*

Unconscious flow resulting from tobacco, chocolate milk, and apricots;

Butter cups.
Chimney tops.
Lemon drops.

*

The paranoiac goad pierces my mind;

body and I think I will just eat
cashew chicken and egg drop soup...
Virtues? to be centered between. –

*

(1152) I have to be home in eight;

minutes and the circle is complete. –
The Jew said the moon is bright.

The Chamber Singing Angel is
staying in Texas and I celebrate
with providing the key to the
pool of Eden. The moon seems
particularly bright tonight.

I see bubbles of transient light from
the street lamps and feel some divine
presence perpetually wishing for
the night to go well. Vodka,
Tobacco and Seraquil. Friends we
are of Course.

*

(800) I pass at 70;

Miles per hour north
An Angel I have kissed in the past
with her back to an endless sun
flower field in south Texas at sunset.

Her body casts the most beautiful of
shadows against the breathing plants.

*

We drive as We Orbit;

The Beast Subdued.
Just keep eye contact. And the
Orange moon will begin to look like
me more and more. I am sorry that
my physical attraction to you leads
me to help you spiritually (?)

*

(224) the epoch of sobriety starts today so that I may see my Angel in Austin;

Purge and the red freckles appear
above my blue eyes that cry for
repentance under our Lord I puked
three times.

This is no threnody; I dreamed of a huge apartment
complex and fingering my love to show her the Divine...
Let me wash your day away with Bliss and Cum.

*

(1153) Three pills: run the numbers (good luck with my insane thoughts of Destiny);

My mind is heavens gate so I will
enter you waxing that which will give
you spiritual pleasure.

*

Melancholia (endogenous depression);

is staring at three fish.
Two orange and one white. To big for
their tank. I belittle myself to feel
their pain however I already know. I
already know. The lady feeds them.
And they look happy.

I apologize for not seeing the black fish.
He is Me.

*

Regnant;

Only to feel...
I act upon impulse. Unto all things I
act to love myself so that I may Love
you.

*

(912);

Three suns blowing smoke at Three
lights one being the moons reflective
.
Add three more and we all seem to
Love the time together.

*

(2020+36=12842=adumbrate);

Looking back into circles I am giving
the pink power ranger 25 orgasms
in the lake tonight on Mars.

*

(915);

Praise God. I feel miserable. An
attempt for happiness,
where are my connections? What
has made my heart forget that it
pumps the blood for all things?
I’m glad that my reflection sees no
smoke pouring from my lungs.
I try to breathe in this change of
summer to autumn; the breeze of
freedom keeping in mind that love is
the promise of the insane.

*

Forever and always in orbit around the mother sun;

Leaving tracks in the soil to cast out
the demon that is a gradual slope
into the death on this earth. I must
stay true and pursue the central
truth that out of benevolence God
made the universe and the universe
created my perception flowing
into the core of this planet heating all of
those who wish to regenerate God by
expressing the truths of our meagre
lives. – I like a totem on the great
population alive and dead.

*

Bliss, Water and Tobacco;

10:37
What am I chasing?

I blow an ant off my vein.

*

(1146) IBC? I am a Live Oak Tree;

Focus, Balance. And be happy with
Suspire. The breaths being the focus
the uttering being the balancing of
Love and the absence of.

Old world German redemption in a
little blue balloon.
a new and old Path.
2040 Babcock road – a great building of
glass brick and plant. With a front
door locked. Like the gates
of Heaven or Hell. An angel opened the door
to an elevator only going up
unto my great undulation that
should last until I can handle the
full truth of life.

(Pink flower, yellow flower love heals
all” live for today” listen to you
heart” in two languages. Pink and
Yellow)

Staring out the window the trees are
alive and dancing.

The will to power! We pass an old
dystopian hospital and I flick them
off. I would rather fill my soul than
my stomach so do not give me a
lesson on mixing medicine.

*

(3);

And on the third day.
Always the third.
Always an enigma.

*

(1010) remembering bliss: Recovering – looking forward into Time;

The Fire in the walls do know what is
going wrong. I sold my soul to finally
talk to my Beck brain Bells.

I love how my Train
Cells go up and down dancing to the
elevator music.

The belief in destiny is a justification
to dismiss your true interpretation of
your dreams.

According to Ezekiel, man was meant
to grow wings. But the expanse of
Space leaves me skeptical. Enoch.

*

(849);

Life never enough I can never get
enough I am a part of the Cosmos.

I think i had a dream last night of
meeting my Meadow Lark. Not mine
but everything in my perception is mind.
Every woman a hummingbird.

*

17;

My cat no longer has the ability to
love me she is stuck in her own head.
In November she will turn 18 and
when the time comes I will bury her
in the dirt where plants will grow
from her SpiritBody.

(It’s like reaching for trash under a
chair and pulling out a honey comb
with blind Faith...)

*

For Mrs. Montag;

I watch television too to
forget that if you die I die.

*

Of the Prophet;

I was! a camel first (the Jewish sign for life)
was adorned about my neck as if the snake
on the eagle’s neck....
Next I became a rat lion recognizing
the importance of honesty and
dishonesty . Now I am a child in that
I have been born again. Her voice
brought me back to life.

(Firework 947, Angel of the vanity
filled earth... I’ll sleep while you eat
with those I love... your family.)

*

A baksheesh for yesterday;

I am blissful thinking of how well
He did or else my mind would have
totally placed me
Back in trance upon Death more so than Life.

Trust my Truth duality that while the
Birds may be going crazy for each
other (only) physically (?) I am insane for
You Spiritually.

*

(023);

I get into the Eden next to mine and
scare a Father because I am the Ghost.

*

(1054) ESP(?) It’s DareThere – Dead, It’s intentional confusion;

Shut down the Devil’s sound –
Graysisss Son –
Fear and the lack there of is God.
Is all the world jails, churches and hospitals?

(I’ve lost my way when not reading...)
Because I was born a Ghost.
I thought that would dream and I
did and I did not write what I
dreamed of this Time. It would hurt
my mind to much if I did...

When I played baseball I gave the
catcher the right and wrong signs
depending upon who was sitting
next to me.

*

(710) Who Is Going To Save My Soul When I SucceedFail(?):(connecting the feeling I had before I saw her and the result of the surprise);

Melancholy morning. –
Its very nice seeing the
intoxicating effect of spinning as our
mother earth does. Tis splendid. Much
like breathing in her nitrogen rich
atmosphere and burning the weeds
in our garden of Eden.

*

(808) here in words is a waxing crescent and the entire human race’s will to survive;

(the courage to speak to her Mother and Father)
and Her. My heart races & I am back to the hospital.
I did not think that this Spring we would see a game together
but Finch and I placed our Faith in a Holy Number of Circumstances.
Still do. This Love is still true. –

Here, in words, is the courage to say I want to be on the Earth because of her.
(Half-way Her Half-way Mom.)
I attempt to tip the tide of undulation by telling my sister who called me –
that I love her.
Which I do of course...

*

For Ellis Bell Masterson;

I told you the bet I set
With the devilDick on the
Fateful weekend because
If things were to go wrong
I would want you by my side.

You are much to young and clever
For your own good but this is okay –
the world spins day to day.

There is no death.
There is no life.
These are but words I use
To trick the Fall of Man
Into the Rise of a most beautiful
Emily.

*

Plucky: to not say anything just yet;

With my listening.
With my imagery of wheat fields and
Cypress that I have not seen... just
the painting of immediate clarity
and sublimity.

*

(955);

I feel like the dead toads
on the streets of Eden –
The women here
are to old for me to
Pull with my Puppy.

*

(737) elliptical galaxy with jet (M-87)&the Bear mother of the Arcadians;

The Holy Ghost is winding his arms!
Upon the panel that Callisto wishes for Love-Scene in-trance upon the
Mechanism that is brought forth from memory since I wrote of this before
& I must constantly remind myself that all things flow through me including
edits and cutting words & burning books and digesting the celestial world
so that I can live inside with electricityDissonance since
I pay to much and get to little. this is A vow to remain a
Virgin but no guarantee against Rape. For
I am in recluse amongst the soil waiting for Zeus disguised as a woman
Who I may Love rather than Warn.

*

(714) 710 re-hash the meat grinder;

Southpaw vs. couth-paw

Time goes slow but my mind races
quickly unto the thoughts of the
divine circle in which everything
connects and I am only anxious
about the women I love who live in
magazines.

I’m a chili piece of DNA
Heck I’m a dark star.

*

818, two black birds fall from a tree;

813 –
two yellow flowers –
I don’t need to tell my friends good
Bye I am a tipple of the Stars) I
Wash the day away with
Four echoes & two more yellow
painFlowers

We must not burn down Eden (!)
(The sun comes out & I’m still
here outside with the the royal army of
Birds.

Let the Devil out. –

*

1130;

A white ball with holes like the
Mines that have been dug by the
“evil monkey men...”

Just live for two summers and a
great big blue ball sitting on a wicker
chair teasing me as to my loves non
presence in the shadow cast by my
Father sun with speech of looking
ahead in the future when I am living
in the now.

*

A little smoke now and then for pleasant day dreams;

A lot of God for a good death.
Your Ice-Silence is my terrible vision of the Sunset...
My brain has tremors of Forced Fire only I can exhaust.
Always remember that I put myself into the Mad-House.

*

Disordered imagination in a Cloud of Agave;

Lightning – the soul of a snow white Bull.
The force of which is God.

*

WalkRunning in Eden;

I’m the young Rat Lion what’s a flag?
I smoke at every stop sign to forget my hormones.
Duty comes before pleasure.

*

1 dead;

Majuscule Emily you
Were uncial.

*

A Hux-remix to my somber hour (724);

I am onerous speaking in trance to my parentsDemonsAngelmonkeys –
Praying to God for endorphins is my morning sin.
I am the fish on caffeine, and off the mother-father talk I am the Knife.

I had dreams about money and I do not want very much so
i went back to sleep instead of writing it down.
Here and then I pay the consequences.
Here and now I long for the joke of existence.

*

1028;

PinkOrangeBlue – eidetic...
Curling lips on the barrel of God

*

The Plants and Osphronemidae on Ganymede;

Oakwood is still Eden but
There is tarSin on the fence.
I had to wash the grey off my hands.
My Dad says he believes in God,
But my Mom is gluboseGlucose.
I just want some Gouramis.

*

942;

And the rain falls asleep.
I have awoken to the loneliness of not having the friendship of a girl sailor.
Still ecstasy.

*

I wish to be a Titan as Iapetus: Free Friday Faith;

Finch told me that I wrote 177
I did.
But I only wished that I had
Added to two because the other
team was One.

Oh such lonely buildings!
Plaguing me at Night –
Oh such Godly luck
Praising me in
My racing mind
DeathLifeDeathLifeDeathLife

*

Who is on trial (?) ;

Read the Titles –
I’m just a Plant.
I’m cold without –
My FatherSun
I’m just Evil –

*

Protection from Sacred Thunder;

Drip Drip Drip
I’m sick for the big Rain.

Words don’t flow.
Trees won’t grow.
But will you let me show?

Because then they will.

*

I never saw the storm
brewing and now that it is,
I look to God to shed me of my Demon.

*

tel.71570:

There are no landslides in Eden oak
Wood (eristic)

philosophers like to hear themselves
Speak to much.

Smokers know what to say with firm
Handshakes and how to speak to
a child like me.

So lucky am I to be dreaming
of being an angry Friar in Gibraltar
with one pipe and two shoes

CIRCLES with Soma
as the best drug if the reasoning
is Pure.

*

I loved Mr. Kindergarten
Because he taught Hitler
And(now)I have learned the power of Child.
I love childhood b c I caught grass
Hoppers and when we moved i put them back
Into the Grass.

*

For Eddie Kennedy:

A paracite?theHoneySuckle?

Smells beautiful.
A cult disproves Nothing
But you must be there
At the Conception

The thought of Love is
THE only thing that sep.
errr
ates us
from the Animal s.

*

Robotic Duality with Young Me’s and with Clara Driscoll;

Kids you can travel to Mars,
But not with your B o D y
.
And since we are in School
Silence is good.
But lying is Better.

(Oh to perpend or not?
That is the answer.)

Hamlet came up in conversation later.
I was Him growing up till now.

*

For my mother who takes care of me when I am insane;

I had a brain freeze and then I
Thought to photosynthesize. The ants
Did not like my decision to lay in the grass.
But what did I care? My food was
Walking out the door before I even
Got off the land of mini monsters.

*

Déjà view is the Evolution
of the MIND

*

that was my last cup
cake it was given I
did not take as Wallace
I am pure in present
undulation but i think
to much of the future
because writing insures
little-All

*

The fear of anxiety and insanity I am a prophet (you decide);

my faith is in the fault of my grand
mother’s belief in Miracle. One can
only know of that within them self
Biology equals faith in the multiple
martyrdom. Jesus was the only one
(to make true love with a woman(?)future me< CONNECT the fall of the Roman empire with the Rain I feel and the Pain Christ(s) feel A man Alone does not continue the existence the Messiah is here in thought. * My Dad is home and we are going to watch the 451 replacement movies: & I remember in the holding cell hospital I gave away VIVA and A CLOCKWORK ORANGE because one gave me Bliss and the other made my Brain Send Shocks of Pain Then I dream heavy machines plowing over Kids Offering snide remarks I saw the shit bikes they were Driving while I was running from the Party (no chemicals were consumed) not enough time * These are not spoken words... they are never to be read aloud by myself. But you shall if you wish Because We have murdered God but that does not mean That we cannot bring him/her back into Our thoughts. (Thus Spoke Zarathustra) All animals have proved Jesus Christ was the savior, To Me. But all animals do not speak the same language or worship the same Christ. We must connect the collective conscious in order to do That. * Read to learn; 1st – Robert Jordan made the Earth Move on his own and with help from love.(For Whom the Bell Tolls) 2nd – Aldous Huxley opened the Doors of Perception with Brave New World 3rd – Ray Bradbury left the fate of mankind in the hands of animals living. (Fahrenheit 451) * God = True Love God = Life God = Forgetting the past. Password: MontagIKEGODcUMQUESTIO N running as much as possible & not needing any password For the question of the Universe. * One thought at a Time; I have left three blanks. I will ask each one as fair as possible. God grant me the Ability. * I see Venus De Milo but I do not see Scarlett For that is the color of Death. & I will never know what he whispered in her ear. (Perhaps a wizard will live in one of these three towers. And i will continue to chop wood. And you will be real still, the beast does not harm you.) * Christ has already died, Forgive us all Lord. * Communism: i have signed my life away gc howard will we be at rest in our submarine? will we conquer the limits of Love? Will we find in each other the center of the most magnanimous of Circles Go Forth. * gg howard is my signature for the Moment: Will we rest in the Submarine? Will we conquer the limits of Love? Will we find in each-other the Center of, The most magnanimous of Circles? Do not ask. Do not give. Do not ask Y. Attempt nothing for Hayley. Attempt all for Ley. Give all if given the Chance. If not... I will be a little jealous. But not of your Blood. * Dream Before I Flew last night I dreamed of the Hawk; I’m always in the mood for Poetry I’m always in the mood for Love. Let us create the Orgasm of Mind & Body I’m always in the mood for more My (wife) to be happy. I’m a Virgin. Free Will = Power * The Dance Song of great mass and Universe; Set up failure and we shall die as the Planet that chokes under) the blanket we have made) set up Bliss and we will) die as the sun fusing its last bit) of Energy. * I am ashamed as to (why) the pain; With all little lingering of Smoke from this great song I feel Ashamed as to why my parents should Live in the Eden not built for them. * of Woman; Behind every great woman is a great Man. In front of every man is a most wonderful) * The Pumpkin Laughs & I disconnect from the world rather than pulling apart The wires that hold your Brain to the rest of your Flowery Stem. * I cannot touch You; I am a specter of Your own Fluctuating perception. Follow my steps and we shall Kiss. * I know nothing of 2010; In the full spectrum of thought lies Me I am a Child of the Universe. I wish to save the population. Is that otay? * Hahaha POWER FEELS SO GOOD; I sit silently as a Ghost of a Prince & I love the garden I have found myself in. Live with me into Infinity. * Breathing in the universe with a pill on my tongue I feel gradually my senses billowing against the fan Of my technology rearing an ugly head but it is okay Because these eyes remove redness and fellow animal Loves me when i stare at what i am typing rather than nothing Because sometimes we human think that something is in front Of us when really all there is the reality of your pupil power. * i am immovable if i can suck in on the absent flavor of Bliss. * three is now to holy to curse with number. * does my past always lead me to better things? 666 do i think i can predict the future ? ? (?) * Cross and Life: The truth of this Brave New World is startling So i wear woman’s deodorant and long sleeves and ray bans to try and find my song Bird Love in the meantime I’ll smoke my cig. and eat my apple its getting hot though I’ve ambled now I am ready to Undulate for God. I’ll leave the incense burning. * To Love Yellow; (I sang with Alison Mosshart one time) Sorry to Miss the Concert: We enjoy white because its the color of Virginity I enjoy white because its the color of my Ghost. [(I am 5’7 163)] I am psychologically addicted. Fuck my Body. I’ll kill and Ant for you. * And Here Starts the beginning of the End: Montanita not to freak you out but the possibility of Love is here. * everyone seems to say patience is a virtue. but that is mostly when they don’t want want anything. We are always about to die. Suicide is knowing this and being impatient. We all secretly wish for the grim reaper. He is the ghost of waiting. And wishing. * Read Huxley again: Death Decay LoveSex Utopia in the World. * The perpetual summer laughs quietly at those who do not craft their skills. * Dis-Charge means Truest Trust. * I drink my own spit. I hug the sick. I lick the click of absent angel wishing for the virginity that is True. * My mind Bleeds Nothing. * For us beautiful animals; a picture of me and GG much facial hair no facial Hare. * on Seraquil: passing snow tip mountains here is the project making her cereal painting you sex art * FOR GG BLACKORANGE FOR DELORES MANIA STILL * thank god for the Sabbath and the letters three * Lex to Gettysburg: We Were Meant To Swim who can stop the Loyal Tea from flowing? She seemed so nice on the tele phone. Mess. ee gave VI to her that loves animals and our salt less Oceans. * ear bud to ear bud me and black Mickey listen to Viktor Vaughn the two black mother and daughter try and figure why the small one wishes to kill I say I’m small in the Universe and walk out hand in the air Love on my Tongue of tongues * Love in Limbo – Delores – black and orange finger tips * us children need help us adults seem to need some lifting I have seen it in a tobacco room I have felt it in the mans chest whose wife had a seizure SAY Yea we are ambling. I will step up. My feet will stay sliding right into Eden. No cheats no exemption prideful suns a daughter of my own * More greed: Please let this red cardinal mean that she wants to meet me this week. I spit out my gum cause i get to cocky. my momma don’t need no laughing gas the evening is for soma the morning is for that most holy of Earth Mother. * More of the bodies of Ratatats: After gibberish comes the Ghost I am writing to kill myself and join with you sweet Lady of Virginia and Tex. My two states of Euphoria. 30 is half an hour but an eternity with you. Eden is my dick inside the smooth wet temple of your most holy of holes. Bliss creates agony creates Bliss creates true Virginity. * I am trying to rise from the dead i will fail. * I(L)ove you Emily but no more hospital trips okay? * )The Rat Lyon) by the Ghost Monkey Pumpkin. Monkey Pumpkin Ghost from Ganymede TITLES>

*

the sunlight from the windows seems haunting
Abiding a break.
A tube connection two building.
( )
Shading hateful darkness
The Eternal Knows only one color

*

the physical feels so go good at times must I be
a MONEY-MANIAC?

*

I will Wildcat
I cherish my dog also.

*

I will let you cherish whatever god you
so choose

*

talk of the holy spirit.
I cry. Back to bed.
Beautiful Angel comes and rapes me.

*

No filter I pray for
Deliverance

*

Sieve I pray to fly high with
my dad’s mother to meet Emily. d

*

After much talk and time of relativity and the infinite nature of Cymbals:

You-god-ME

to reverie.

I love you so...
the trees can’t eat me
the grass can’t touch me
the flowers I will tell
not to bloom until
you and I kiss
for the very firsttime
we have sex for the
very first Time.

*

to men:

When Spring time’s love of merriness grows
weary nothing belongs
to WE

I am you
breathe
so that you
may breathe
you Bastard.

*

Lord, there are many religions in the world
Can I not just focus on the synthesis between
two? – Like the meeting of two mindbodies
for the first time by way of night,
or day, or call, or a kiss sent from Texas
or from Virginia. I pray for this Lord.

*

A vision of Blue and Ridges and a corner of sunlight:

Thinking of you the sun gives
me tears and god hangs down
this chanticleer to say its early morn.
and that we should listen to sum music
while we have some business to attend
to Fuck wasting time.

*

All Alone:

three crosses of light
and shadow

bible. Deut.

*

There is an August in every year
just as a October just as _______
your birth you sweet
love bird

*

lets oppose the world with happiness and stay
in bed all day and light long

I want to fuck you gently
in the morning.

(the spike of Love must be soft)

For I am tender and you
must remember to return to work
and to remember when the time
comes... humble your thimble tummy

*

I am addicted
to life.
I simply want to see that you are
happy and healthy and that you
wish to be in my Lonely Eden.
We can pick all the fruit that you
would like.

(a woman who made a man love her with words before JC?)

*

Love at first sigh
I’m in Jail.
Bail me out.
Emily Dickinson
you master of words
I love you.

*

schizophrenia and OCD and mostly God:

Back
Forward
Back
Forward
I am not here

*

I wish to write something personal for you
Emily an affirmation,
you invited me to camp the blue ridge mountains
and I will come and love you there.

*

There is no short cut to your dreams – Broken Bells;
G.C.E.
i fried
to kill
my parents
with
words

*

Serving god to serve humanity:

one x one x two ((you and I)=two)

Emily, i just saw a solid object in the corner move
its shadow. please believe me, we were meant to Love
one another. Let us direct fear from our Location.
I will transfer? Will you? (not the
end of
the world)

*

I just want this p a p e r to be lying with me
in bed cuddling to the sound of our kissing
and the sweet August day after a morning
of small spike rain drops.

*

You are my appleverything:

I was-am eating my second apple for you my dead(r)

(I have swallowed them by swallowing only one whole)

*

eyes closed. ready to sleep.
next set of eyes closed
open.
ready for the consummation of
animals purging themselves in
the great river of sex.

*

Temptation:

is gold signs by writing were meant
for me...

We will go out at night
two butterflies we will fly
silently to our words
and so very strong in the
Eyes of the Lord. our one
set of eye-wing.

*

Atavan and Cat:

cut the kids in half

in order to know if this is a dream or not I will
use my SWALLOW FAITH and the pill will let me
know if coldness will lead to your 17 embraces.

Just listen Emily,
I love you
lets fake the pain of
the morning
and live on ganymede

*

6 – “loyal words,” 6,3,2,1
never 666
1st trip: 3 –
2nd trip: 3 –

both trips connected

*

“I break your heart to keep you in place.” (?)
But there is hope – Emily will you keep
me far away but the tools should always be
in your shed. I would make love in that shed.

We will camp in the Blue Ridge Mts.

*

#S

Canto 1

I pick (flies) from your hair gently
the gnat god be angry
but I keep on telling the future
with a present eye forgive my
immediacy I wish no room for error.

I wished for an eternity with
you and now I am paying the price.
A minute with you feels fiery
a hell.
Ones called Eden you and I
in the bough’s of skinless
tree sliding infinitely into
the majesty of Love Earth
Saved from the Ogres.

-

and I jump to save
the calling but cant
without you

*

erase Love
8:25 pm April 30th

*

e m i l y 2 = 8 d

*

get me the
hell out of
here.
wait let me
show you
a ghost
first

*

it goes Father Mother Mother Father
sun Daughter
sun daughter

hopeless the Robing
romantic bride by
looking for Max Ernst &
Emily
Dickinson

*

They are
training
me to dream
of you
but I already
have.

*

XIXX;

I wish I had away to push
time away from this dreadful
place and then make it
stop in a field(e stars
with her

*

Hopefully:

a man with too much support
winded ended up in the
carved hospital two times
twisted

a man with not enough
got placed by the hand
of god in the hospital
3(three)

*

tobacco trance lie:

gravity (m/s) x c (speed of light (m/s)) = (emi_)= Love (do not ask Y)

*

in the hospital of play sex like in the bush like in Brave New World:

the Romans did not know who they killed
we do not know who we
truly love

UTOPIA GENERATORS

Where’s the sex?

*

I don’t know where my
body has
been since now
But it is here
The backyard calls me
in Clever like
a natural American
SPIRIT

*

come join me.
I can Find you even if you are
falling. or failing.

*

Gravity never lets me down (Gorillaz):

What is there in a day?
SO much Night it is not even funny.
With the saxophone playing
this love supreme seems like
only a falsetto to the life of extraordinary
significance.
I love you world.
I love you Time.
I want to slow you both down
so that Night becomes a time only for
Sleep
but also for Mother knocking on doors
making sure we are okay.

*

On Big Brother:

Okay she is gone now, like the smoke from the head of a pumpkin lighting his cigarette for the kiddies to
come get treats at the house of the Pet o FileDevil.

What is there in society that makes us Loony?

I think when Neighbors are supposed to hand out candy to children Pharmacist should not be blamed if
they snuck a few vicodin (W?) when Bossy wasn’t looking.

*

My name was in the paper today and I didn’t even know it.
HA
and people say ghosts don’t exist.

I love all people alive and dead we have to generate the mother earth somehow (!)

bury my cold corpse in the ground and let the maggots eat me brain.
That will be the first to go.

My libido is dying for some smart young girl sex.
Hers forever though.

That is the only way.

*

A curse of Ambien and Bud:

some books are just for show
A Divine touching of my Blood!
the Utopia is rising.

arrange however&

*

Mother you must forgive yourself for
going to sleep
the beast needs you
quiet.
Father you must forgive
yourself
for work in D.C.

(we must rid ourselves of the Fusing-Fused waste)

I do nothing with
Pen.
I do ALL with
spoken word
bleeding written.

*

We shall hear think see
if you need to apologize.
I FEEL that you should not.

*

No C(l)oCk!
How about an Exit?

We murdered God according to an animal
We can regenerate him again.

*

Only a mechanical hound-Pug can
intervene (now)

*

Sinners in the hand of an angry man:

GIRL-HAY LEY i was pushed by a devil-Universe to find and kill you with Love.
There was a plan I can tell to you softly later. Without a pitchfork in my Mind.

*

(final words;

DEATH
SLEEP

is the most scary of things

“I love you World.”

SUCH CREATURES WE ARE)

*

I burned Fahrenheit 451 by giving it to a nurse.
Along with The Road.
And A Clockwork Orange.
The latter two balanced me out.
But the last made me feel the most brutal of physical-Psychological
Pain.

*

A Bear Looking at a Waning Gibbous;

I see the storm of Lovers
in a watery deed

DROPPING DOWN

like we are nothing
but the water is all

Wilder
Swimming like two
animals

let loose with me.

Hold On to this feeling.

*

I can’t be here.
I cannot be anywhere.
I am such a snitch.
I am such a pirate.
I am such a thief.
Kill me I don’t want to be a Martyr.

*

Robe the Bride;

instead.
this Love is un describable
do not try and Fight it.
You cannot win.

Forgive me child but the Stars have spoken and they are gluttonous.

Let holly
wood be full of alcohol.
We will be full
of the Oak that has made my Eden.

*

Rorol”:

What makes me sad
is that my old old old
four paws cat hides from
me.

*

three man birds visited me today in the home
hospital and
i was so happy when they left
i felt like crying

*

The cold front that makes me feel better about almost killing my mom with the past;

I am lost with not thinking of the
disconnect wait for Fall. The
Unexpected rain is here now.

*

*
This is for me to feel happy, and for all of those in the hospital with me; Gloria, Money Bags, Priscilla, Daniel, Vanessa, Joey, Jerry, William, and the staff. For subjective vision that currently tweaks my brain to see circles clearly. For Ken Kesey whose book I have burned. For Clarisse and Guy Montag. For Julia and Winston. For the women E.E. Cummings wrote for. For random letters; HggH. For the stars in the sky and for the Truth in the Soil. For alternating waves of suffering and bliss. For her that will Love me... Burn my writing when we can live on Ganymede because only one woman will be able to live on me. I almost tried to find you in a crowd of three;

*

Preface by Chris Howard, dedicated to Wade Howard.

*

Untitled

Superimposed apartment skylines contemplating jazz notes,
Swimming in night air, destructive brains of genius peacemakers,
With bloody orgasm, spew their filth on the theatre floor of religious Faith.

Old hearts of tin and iron, rusted over with years of bad luck,
Empty and cold. I apply the emergency brake on Love
The big lie that is a thief named love.
Stealing smiles from little girls on cool summer days,
Raping innocent hearts for carnal pleasures he cannot stop...
She is a needle broken in a junkie's vein.

*

A beast woke me from my Dreaming
and My Mother became My Mother
Again.

*

For Butch and C a s sidy;

Thank you for teaching me something I already knew.
That Eden is here.
That we should all be as innocent Suns and run rabib run.
& Love happens anywhere. Anytime. That we do not become one person but that does not mean that we Are not the same.

behind every great woman is a great man
in front of every man is a most wonderful of woman.

*

there was a chaplain in the hospital
who lied to me

*

“these eyes are mirrors for the sun”

*

I am Laika
“we travel nowhere in dream.” – GG

*

i need some time alone to burry some pills but in the meantime
I NEED TO TALK TO A NAVY RECRUITER TO BE A PART OF THE NEW EARTH

*

this is a true Conspiracy

*

there is a separation between father and sun when
one is told that drugs are the devil
and the other is told that murder is the death

*

your Father loves you

*

DO NOT ASK Y; the only answer I have never heard:

“yes,”
Y exists
or does No not exist(?)_

*

we all love art !
i am alive for you.
do not kill me.
I love you.
(1)3
shall i disturb the Universe?

*

The door will remain closed until
I get here
or you tell me the
pass
word

*

“I was lost then, I am lost now.” – Broken Bells

Fuck Pinocchio – The Rat Lyon

*

Insanity:

I Love my dead brother &

I Love my dead
Grand Mother.

And they are not Alive.

*

Be silent Kind Bird
You are not alone.

Feel free not to make
so much noise while the
Sun is hidden.

I will never know what that
Train of thought meant to me.

*

I have awoken to
The Rat Lyon and His Eyes
And to Suicide cries.

I fell asleep to the guilt of telling a lie.
I fell asleep to delusions of grandeur
That I had in the hospital but did not ask why (!)
I completed the orbit;
I felt bliss in the disconnection between Mind and Body.
I completed the circle and felt absent-pain.

*

A view (has started me down the same path as always.)

Three chameleons,
One succulent,
Two flower heads.

*

i wore all gray for you sweet child
I spoke with my appearance because
i was not sure if you would come.

and Tonight you did not.
But Tomorrow we will dine
In the meeting of our two souls.

*

the first of ugly poetry and perforce:

Father;
I do not need new friends.
Only do I need one girl friend.
You have not seen the thoughts fall on top
Each other tonight so i understand why you are reluctant
To place trust in their warning but
I told you when i was touched by Evil. And
Which hand was stirring the pot of gold that is my brainstem.

*

For you my Dear;

Knock Knock on wood,
Let us screw luck.
Let us drip with perspiration and
Feel the great pore of Life.

*

Transcendence in dream; the most still of Sex:

her and i
in the field at night
far from the City
Cumming simply
from penetration

she stares past my shoulder
and into the sky
and the infinite wavelengths
pour into her eyes;

an orgasm
from my body forward the eternal
.

and i grip the dirt
motionless
and i melt into her
body forward hell
.with her body backward

*

i must stair into darkness to be able to see the stars in the sky when we make Love:

I tried to play with the stars and
in August I will say I A M
Sorry.
So very sorry to have involved
Your pretty little self in this mess.
Happy Birthday I am sorry.
Do not be sad for me
Do not think I wish for you to feel a certain way.
I have tried to predict the future
But all I did was make you uncomfortable.

Words should never do that.
They are Nothing.
They are absent like the explosion
Of Black Holes. They are
Far from our mass of energy.

They explode off in the distance but
They leave us in our Shelter untouched.

*

Truth and Faith;

We are killing ourselves.
Homosapiens will not go extinct.
We will learn to live like pirates.

*

Proof of my existence:


i dreamt we made Love.
i awoke thinking that i have never touched you.
i dream that we make Love.

*

How funny am I?:

I have learned to catch my Contemporaries.
Sorry it took so long World, I had to climb many trees
To love the seeds at the bottom of our forest f loors.

*

I have forgotten what I was wishing to say
Something about Duality – Oh yes I finally
Love the Circle that keeps me Awa ke.

I am so very close to being able to give you
All My L O V E
BIOLOGICAL-PSYCHOLOGICAL
WHAT EVER YOU Like Animal like Me.

*

And I recognize her Love for me is of
my own doing.
Fifty percent and the other
missing half.
All is of the divine circle.
All is the focus of the ellipse.
My words fall into place as a dribble of spit from the sleeping
Beast.

*

I think softly
Of her lips against mine
&immediately
Question the detriment of my writing.
None
Love, I guess, is the best way to Manipulate
The Universe since You are not Mine and
There is no currency in thought or in feeling.

There is no object I seek.
Only Eden in that her Dream-Soul wishes
To remain in the Garden just as my eyes
Shut wishing to stay closed in
Her thoughts
Of our warmth under sheets of rain
In our h o m e o f h o m e s.

*

Sometimes I forget that you will still be here
When I wake up Because your not here with me now
But I have found true love since I write ROBE THE BRIDE
FINGERS CROSSED
DO NOT THINK TO MUCH GRAY ANIMAL
But you Miss tell me your innermost dark of thoughts
and I will assign meaning that you can take or leave.
I will tell you to throw out the word, “word.”
I will tell you rather to give me a kiss on the cheek
And that is all we must know of God and Banshees.
The Circle is not always present.
But this touch remains Eternal in our thoughts.
As in Here.
As in Now.

*

I have seen in others
The need for patience
And the want for you and I
To lounge quietly on the Grass.
To take a picture of us in “Eden.”

*

a crazy rant:

Danger Mouse don’t you come near my friends.
I want them to still believe in poetry and in LOVE.
My only lie was or is to tell you that I can sleep with
Out
her awake
near me.

*

West of Friendship:

I am
An alien
From Ganymede
I shall call my soliloquy
The Divine Comedy:
For Absurdism is the last
Frontier un–
Like Astronomy

*

forgive me child:

I must burn all books
So that Kafka writes–
Only for me.

*

W o r d s
are simple Cymbals
to express Divinity.

*

Eden looked at with a manic microscope:

My dog loves my cat
Because she is seventeen years old
And if you add two to my age
You get nineteen.

*

Let me introduce... my... self:

My first gift;
“I see no pollen on my feet!”
Remaining &
Trusting red to
Trust orange to
Trust White.

*

The perennial philosophy:

A thought of a great salt lake
Must only give one fib for my
Parents to believe that O
I will sleep after 4:00
clocks

I swear unto my life !

Just know that I need to write this
In order to sleep..

Hear me when I sing
My Bass Nectar

I only wish to sleep
So that you may be Awake...

Medication only makes BLISS more POWERFUL.
Self medication only makes me circle thoughts until
I find a way to see you.

*

():

Join with me child
As we decide to f(s)uck
The nebula that is TRUTH
LOV e
(Appreciate with me
honesty
In spelling_ Nothing

*

This frequency is dyeing:

How much more will it take ?
The spectrum is endless
But TIME stands still
When you think of your
First memory
And you PURGE
Yourself as with
PEYOTE-SHAMAN

*

To Live only I
Need I
to r,
e,
m.

*

o (n)
hc (su)
gn i (th)

as Luck

*

My cat only scares me in
The Sunlight
When her eyes become Reptilian.

*

I snap two (2) twigs
And throw them to the soil (1)
I think of true Love and
Wish to show (h)er both our Animals.
(0)

*

I think of Truth and wish to E rase
S. y. m. b. o. l. i. s. m.

*

I push two stars
And create a giant nebula or
Some roaming black hole swallowing ALL.

(CHOOSE EDEN) ! ! !
I FUCK A GIANT CLOUD OF GAS
(Choose that fixed location.)

*

I tried to disturb the
Universe
But forgot that we
Are travelling just
As fast as the galaxies
We wish to study.

*

XTC with no writing.
Hopelessness withAll
WRITING,–
Bliss with thoughts Of
Living for ever in
Limbo but Heaven
Shall be her revelation
Of nurturing hands
In the sea of pink coral
Soft to the touch
Because of wetness.
Deja Vu came and passt
Again.
Screw stopping
And thinking.

*

i (t)
h(o)ught
of (LO)
Ve
in the Hos
PETAL

*

I envelope
You with
MY softness
But only
Does my blood
F L O W
When you
Are thinking
Of me.

*

My brain
On DEPakote
Is like iron and
Wind
With the rain water
Of creatures
Like ra t a tat.
Early in the morning
Waking for breakfast
Of energy the Dawn provides.

*

i am a my
stery
just know(!)
that my happiness
is yours.

give unto me
mercy and
your suffering

(be quiet now gray sun.)

*

for H g g H:

If i was to die in my sleep
Remember that i have Suicide Eyes
Not suicidal thoughts...
I BURN MY HARDTHOUGHTS
The only question I will ever ask of you:

I write to see my undulation clearly
In order to sleep,
No body wishes to die by that most
Painful of deaths.

I dreamt that my Father was directing
Me from a storm but i still met
A girl name Grace Son.

*

We cannot touch
W H I T E

Because

We live in
OR A N G E .

We cannot feel
B L A C K .

Because

We die in
O R A N GE .

*

How art thou Grey, Sun?
FINE
I’m just an
ANIMAL
Breathing influence,
(Ralph Waldo Emerson + Walt Whitman + e.e.
Cummings – Emily Dickinson + Henry David
+ Metal Fingers – Villainy + Alien lifestyle on
Ganymede with – )

I is WE

*

FIRST OFF
IF YOUR NAME
BEGINS WITH
THE SOUND OF YOUR LIPS
OR WITH SILENCE
KNOW THAT YOU STILL CAN BECOME A POET
ERASE ABSOLUTELY EVERY SINGLE FINGERPRINT
THAT YOU KNOW IN YOUR HEART TO BE TRUE
AND EVERY SINGLE ABSOLUTELY ALL THAT YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN

Believe me when I say that somewhere in your past there’s a chance that someone hates
So much that you are typing instead of doing or figuring out what they themselves did to make you say ill Of them or what have you that they will prefer destroying their thoughts from Existence.
And I do not want this. My happiness relies on this now and in Forever.
A Holy-Trinity is Three because it is slightly above one but
Both are numbers and #’s and you know... ETC.

*

We grab at the people closest
In techno space to ourselves.
I push them away also. Do you?
Everything and Everyone is lonely,
And wants warmth.
I want to be held.
My mind turns,

I love fall time. Don’t you?

Black Orange Black White
Black Orange Black Red

*

(Even though life is onward, its moving onward over there)
I ask and ask and still I ask.
“What happened to you Blue Eyes? Did you forget me?
Have you been directed down to many hallways?
Have you been put to sleep by Marauders in the Night?
Those conspirators only want your Body you know.
“I want you everything,
I want you everyone.”

I still wake from dreams loving you and your mind.
One man will still feel that blood of yours running &
Help you deal with P A I N O F T H E P A S T

*

For Emily Dickinson:
You poor girl...
When I thought about it
I almost cried.
Then I remembered you are dead...
Lightning
I am so Sorry.

Only are there people waking up to the idea that they are Animals.
Emily, how did you resist killing yourself when a man told you sex didn’t mean anything?
I am sorry. I am so glad you sat in your garden. And greeted guests with your Honesty.
You did the right thing. You held on tight for someone else to come along and push thoughts.
You knew that you could change the world just maybe not the one that your perception was fucking stuck in.

The (white)clever
Musings
of
my little dear
formulate Indecent Crescendos of Inexplicable
Laughter – (Ridiculous) in their Existence
yet Beautiful for their Golden Rays.

*

I am Dead
For you Siren of
Black and Grey Eyes of Piercing-Moss.
I saw struggling.
You push and pull on that mic.
Like a wonderful beast
I wish you would of seen me staring.
You were absolutely beautiful,–
DEATH to my eyes and DREAM.

*

In Adam’s fall we justify All
God gave him pleasant choice
And we see our own faults in
His Pain.

*

Expression is the use of Word, Song, and Sight.
A Divine Metaphor for all things animals Love:

Can I stress to you the stemming of all stems?
Can I draw the celestial and the Infinite?
The Blissfully
Magnanimous
Stemming of All?

Does my devolution look correct? Can it even be close to God’s work with our plants?

All I know to do is pull your eyes Back and Forth.
Back and Forth as with the Shaman of the Celestial Soul.
Back and Forth as the Holy Animal inside yourSelf undulating in the thoughts of Divine Expression.

*

In the Hospital:


We patients join in the
Celebration of NATUREGOD
Who has presented us with
A night of tobacco trance
And milk. Glory be that
Who sings, the most sharing
Of merriness and tranquility
In a time of troubling thought.
And we love each other off the
Plant and on the plant as
Leaves photosynthesize their food
We snack in our abundance
And are full in the Thought
Of the Lord. He that
Has given to us the power of
An expansive Universe slowing
Down for friends to pray
For forgiveness in Suicide Eyes.

*

I am the Rat Lyon:
And in
The Morning that Somber hour
Painful when we know that we are
Leaving. Yet I smoke the
Cigarette slowly and
Gloria sings of her God. AND
I prepare myself for meditation
And I think that whoever wrote
That song should have said
Our God.

*

allgood Dreams muststandAgainstdeath.

*

I think of the past and my selfish ways
And prepare to Purge as with a Shaman
Of the over-bearing soul. Sweet release
Is Repentance unto God & your Bowels
Like Taylor & how he would describe in
A Puritan way the fluidity of the Spirit
Our God bellowing through his Intestine.

*

I thank God I’m
A man and
The source of anxiousness
Is the recording of the Sublime.-
Women create a new
Record through the Labor of Life.

*

My eyes are
Constant-Dilation
I have no need
for hair to rise
I soak in the Bliss
of the World.

*

The C(lock) ticks slow-ly
around the O (CIRCLE)
of the Infinite (8)
I think of Freedom &
I hide my eyes
From the metal fingered-Hands
& I wake up
in a Casket.

*

There is no
Antonym
for: FAITH

or god

LETS destroy
all EVIL
opposites, “huh?”
never mind

*

i feel as though we are in a constant
Limbo our bodies perpetually wishing
to be free but our minds remain locked.

*

JESUS was born with the intention
of his parents.
I never understood...
The Resurrection was a Spiritual
Conquest for the Heart of Man.
A saving of the Soul of Woman.

*

i had learned to slow down time, but
once thrown into JAILHOSPITAL
there was no need...
for perception.
My silent Spider is the willingness
speak correctly
my death is my Silence.

*

I pace the Halls to speed up
SPACETIME and feel the ripple of my
Honesty. Good and Bad.

*

Jealousy is inexperience in Limbo.

*

Marijuana is to Brain as
Alcohol is to Body.
both liquefy your soul
into a substance outside
your own element.

*

We carry with us all
Thought.
Be careful as to that
which you wish to become
You can Over-Eat
You can Over-Drink
You can kill your parent’s
Dreams of your Success.
(LOVE)
BUT DO WELL
Win the Sweepstakes! and
they might want to join in with you
and your

HOPE)FAITH(PATIENCE: GOD

*

a good bye should
not be a wish
to never cross
eyes again it should
be a statement of Longing.
(Deja Vu)
good bye = I will miss you

*

Ask politely for an orange and you
could possibly get Two.

*

Everyone seems to say patience
is a virtue. but that is mostly when
they don’t want anything. We are always
about to die. Suicide is knowing this
and being impatient. We all secretly
wish for the graveGRIMreaper. He is a
Ghost of Waiting and Wishing.

*

and i sit barricading
myself with armor less
words.
Those that are empty in
a Time of War.
(The Soul of Man
is much more treacherous
between Heaven) and Hell
((LIMBO)) scorned for curiosity
ads to my safety.
Lord knows what has been done to calm
the Beast.

*

there is a tremendous
fight between that which
is hurt on his own accord
and he who is silent. The
one with blood for eyes has
begun something far more
treacherous then that which
EZ – E has been stirring in
his exhortation. (the witches
Brew) conjures the silence
of blood shot eyes.

*

On Seraquil:

I read Corinthians
with a focus eye and a steadfast burning
Hearth of Truth & Duality and Love.
With Faith being the ever
Increasing in the exponent-
ial thought of Child.
(I can’t help) but look past the Window for
her Hebrew eyes. And her God-Like
Freckles; SnowMountain dark with dead
needle eyelashes... I slide as if an OVER SOUL
in great-green-darkness that is a tomb
where the great Beast hides TRUELOVE.

*

a Cat-
a Lyst
in an
organic
Limbo:

“Death to those
who whimper and
cry after the realization
that we all have a place in the
order of existence.
Death (not by me)
but by I
We all contribute.
We all repent by saying
I L O V E Y O U
in our cribs of SubMarine
and if diagnosed correctly
there is medication-mellow
rather than smoking the
Ganja-Bud
but it tastes so sweet.
And so very bitter.

*

My Marriage to Emily Dickinson was
complete when my doctor printed the
poem of Truth. Success lies in the ever increasing
generation of Love; an honesty and praising
of the Past.

To Emily – I love you sweet dear,
I’m so sorry I was not there to Love you
We would have done –

*

i feel as though we are in a constant
Limbo our bodies perpetually wishing
to be free but our minds remain Locked.

*

Jesus was born with the intention of his Parents.
The Resurrection was the Spiritual Conquest
of the Hearts of Man.

*

Suicide is a normal thought for those aware –
that life is a jelly fish. Fry them and they taste good.
Taste them raw and your mouth will be full of the
Bitterness of your Ignorance. Swim with a life full
of possible stings and we shall see that death is but
a chasm that we cannot swim under but if we ballast
our tanks strong enough we can withstand the extreme
Pressure.

*

with so much input:

Well Max, had enough of this BULLSHIT talk
about “special unit,” care?
We are all in need for suicidal treatment, our planet
grows thick choking us in the vehicle Earth
EXHAUST everywhere exhaust...
Where is the green brigade?
Max, do you wish for a medal?
It keeps the Gamma Rays from
Infecting your body – you live longer.

*

Talk to me. Don’t lie. Are you busy? or just
Not wanting? Are my eyes blue? Are my eyelashes
To long? Do I smell as though my skin slits like
shimmering silkscreen? All I know is that
I want your Face, next to mine. Vice Versa. A
Double sided mask for the same identical melancholy
Actor. BUT what is acting...? How can we fake what is true?
How do we fuck up “reality TV.” The answer lies in your
ability to think critically and recognize when someone averts
their eyes because of S E L F J U S T I F I C A T I O N .

*

Should I be nice here in Limbo?
Angry? Complacent?
A damn Vegetable? –
Hey! we can eat me now!
I taste like f*ing

*

I see a boy letting go of balloons with words on them
(worry, anxiety, shame... etc.)
Little boy... those things are metaphors. Your image
Should carry some substance, you should be letting
Go of plastic helium in one hand and fighting off
Demons with a the other holding aPencil
Your a metaphor yourself, Sun (!)
Strive for the Red Perfection, for excellence is in
Mutual murdering of weakness; mutating merriness.

*

God is at the CORE
of every single STAR
I am at the CENTER
of every single WORD

*

the only question I have of the Bible
is Easter.
That gnarly bunny –

[TRUTH = Ecstasy]

That he died! –
That he died for us!

and I think and think
and maintain my healthy diet
of questions and Love, Dream and Landscape.
There is no food for the Morning.

*

In a tobacco trance from the smoking-room on the floor
We sit here guessing our Fate that is handed down by the
Doctor. Who knows much of medicine but less of Spirituality.
I look to Nature for my final revolution. Now this Undulation,
This Creature can stop feasting and prefer Synthesis of two souls
Like me and my future wife who does not consciously know that she
Is an animal like I wanting to push Love into each others thoughts
At the same instant as in the word Forever and the adjective Eternal.

*

I must erase the thoughts
Of my existence for you to believe me?
WELL THEN i give you the parabolic of Ganymede
On the dark side of the planet.
Gone from perception.
Well then I GIVE YOU the orbit back to being Full.

*

Any attempt to make you Love me is
A lie on my part to remove Love
From my vocabulary.

*

The Three Revelations:

Over Christmas break
I found true friendship
with myself and with
others.
(Comfort in Solitude)
Truth in the Divine
Power of Nature.
One that we must Work for.

Before the Hospital, I felt
Hopelessness without the
Love of God or a Woman –
I felt as though my role on
Earth had already been ordained
and I lost control of my body.
Wandering the streets of Austin
I ate an Orange whole. I ate the Sun
Whole. I blinded my Taste to that which
before made so much sense.
ENERGY YES ENERGY YES no
no no no no.
Nothing is complete without Love.

AND right before the Hospital
I discovered my thought of EDEN.

But now I think of how one man cannot
possibly live forever. But I had thoughts
of two wives and infinity and meeting
the other aliens who cracked the code of
the Universe and found the Eternal Life
of removing tracks and connecting people
for good and for the well fare of Humanity.
I thought of myself as the greatest POET-
ANIMAL to ever look through a microscope
or a telescope. but Love is not a cheap trick.
Word play calls for Family and Failure.
And Bartleby knows the pain.
And Ophelia knows the absence of Love.
And I know the absence of these racing thoughts
brought forth from a lack of sleep and an act
of faking my own death just to walk barefoot
to a girl i like and tell her i love her and see
what animals really can do.

*

Peace and Love on Earth.
For all Divine figure heads:

Jesus Christ was born with the intentions
of His Parents.
Mary had sex but she was a Virgin in the
Eyes of the Lord.

*

Covering my tracks as I chase
Love up a Hill
(My parents at the
top believing
in my Devotion)
I run down
amplifying my prints
like God
(she at the bottom and
at the top holding both
my hands)

*

a parabola of Iapetus:

do I scare you Child?
okay I scare myself with all
this undulating thought of who
what or when to say things or be silent.
I just cannot wait for this to be complete.
But being here writing instead of drowning
is so much better than anything I ever could have
Imagined.

To be ridden of the Demons.
To sit on the Porch spitting out the floor boards.
Imagining
Sweepstakes. I’m a Winner.
To be ridden of the Angels.

*

There is no such thing as Suicide in my Mind.
I am stuck with NO EXIT.
And you search your mind for Justification as
To Y I AM WRONG

*

We will be Animals together if we choose
To combine Jewish thought and Christian
Faith...

Ganymede is such a lonely star if you think
Of him in orbit around JUPITER but if we look
For that which he orbits we can change our World.

Lets right first and write second.

The first bellwether to these thoughts was the sweet man
who made me feel guilty enough to immerse myself in the
most holiest of things. WATER

*

an attempt at Poetry:

I know these past few days have
been troubling.

But undulation is difficult to
manage.

Just don’t let loose your outward
flow of God.

And I will be able to, for the first time,
truly see the sun set.

And truly see the sun rise from my Submarine.

We will laugh upon our Summit;
The Eternal Rock Burning.

*

The last needed Dream:

I fell from the Universe
and woke up to a Divine
Splash, not knowing if
I died or if I was given
Faith.

I submit myself to Atavan
But I do not Need.
I submit myself to my Destiny
And feel amazing waking up in a pool of my own thinking sweat.

*

Daniel of Denial you poor Beast.
I love you.
They strap you down only to slow
Your heart beat.

*

ugly:

I sit with Yellow in the toilet waiting
for the shower to turn
red for revenge.

The Drain still flows until the Day
Technology
saves.

Have you ever felt like your right, your parents
say otherwise so you have to act wrong in order
to be right? well I just write and hope for
GOD-PATIENCE

When you cry you have to remember what brought
you sadness.
When happiness is but the other focus of the eclipse-
ing Orbit.

*

Letters do not exist.
O D A B C 8 2 3 ...
ETC
God is simply a G
with a Circle and a
D.

I am insane, sane
take your pick.
But I want to
Leave quickly.

MUSE your just
a guitar full of
Money.
Even Sarcasm falls
into a circle.
Truth is funny, scary,
and Great.

*

Generation to Generation
“Stylo,” is urban droll?
Are you kidding me?

You do not understand
the words Sir because
they speak of your Death.

*

Baptism of Self-Doubt and Pity towards others:

I love. You.
I love you more if you tell me
I am the same substance as You.
I am an Alien looking for a home amongst
Your two white breasts. Nuzzle me gently Galaxy.
We will whisper physics and sweet murmurings of graffiti.
Love grows like a Force of the Sub-Conscious flow like we
Have fallen prey to actually like falling from space and landing in the Sea of
Goodness and Divinity.

I preach a message of simplicity (!) Save this wonderful World.
Get on top. Realize we are on bottom as well.
Realize that we do not need to look at our Feet.
Those tracks are made no matter how softly you tread.

From G17 or 6-mybaseball#

*

Utopia in a mental hospital:

writing is difficult with a pen –
takes to much time –
I look forward to this Holy Day –
Hope, possibilities, fun

the view
beige cityscape, high rises be hid
great balloons splattering domes of precious
mineral. The Sun is behind me.

For people. behind me, I SEE YOU
For the girl working, YOUR ATTRACTIVE
I bet even more so with out make up.

Going in by Jesus now with him as Poet
Covering tracks - - - - - - - amplifying.
Brushing finger prints - - - touching Everything
and Everyone around here.
Everyone is so ALONE.
RadioHead is with me now.
We are not in solitude no longer.
Trust my Honesty.
Trust my Faith.

*

Listing-Indexing as Whitman did with people:

SCHEDULED MEDICATIONS:
DEPAKOTE ER
SERAQUIL XR
PRN MEDICATIONS:
AMBIEN
ATAVAN
ATAVAN
CATAPRES
HALDOL
HALDOL
MAALOX SUSP.
MILK OF MAGNESIA, MOM
TYLENOL
MEDICATIONS PRIOR TO ADMISSION (HOME MEDS)
MUSHROOMS---
MARIJUANA
ALCOHOL
NITROUS OXIDE
(THE GREAT INFLUX AS WELL_

*

Suicide wants you
to fail. Death comes
unexpectedly as a
visitor asking for
our attempts. If
we do not ask
of the balance we
live on constantly
Death becomes suicide
in the absence of
All that is Holy.
Suicide asks for
fifty percent of your
Body to remain to be
seen and twenty five
percent belongs to
relatives and the rest
nourishes future wheat
Fields.

*

AFTER tl:

in my excursion
through Austin...
Man, two sheriffs
searching for there
Sword – came
up well breaks
loose parents take
me to ER and then
Methodist Special
Treatment.
Where I fool doctors
with truth and dazzle
Chaplain with Poetry.
He gives me NT Psalms
and Proof for Jesus
that Bleeding Experiment

*

on Mars, an excuse:

i see a bright blue
discoloring entropy
covering delusional garrison.
Well of course Ley would
not let me in to her busy life.
The WAVELENGTH OF BLUE
IS to strong

*

Waiting for Lorazepam:

I think of how I have created Eden (two wives...etc.)
then I fall asleep with thoughts of Music...
(Incubus + Gorillaz + Ratatat or the Octopus Project = Me)
and once in Sleep I find the answer to All
and never in Sleep will I find an answer for tomorrow.

*

crazy:

Still dreaming I wake to the Garden. –
Warmth under the sheets with my most
lovely of Wife.

*

more crazy talk:

Grr ind grind
BLISS
experimental
happiness

Led to Water
Hay Ley
let me drift
asleep and fall
down into the River

(Confirmation of the Hill)
but not of my reading of symbols
I thought the magic word was
dissecting her name with thought
of asking her father for permission
to marry.
We would fake our death
and live together under
the stars of West Texas forever
together in a Garden of Fruit
that harbors no Evil meanings
for The Devil does not touch
Us when he sees we have
Left all thoughts of Sin
behind in the fiery crash
of our Fake Lives
before the discovery of each
Other.
but now i publish to find her
amongst the celestial spheres.

but now I read to her in order
for the importance of what she
has tought me and I will always
be here to answer your sweet questions
my dear if you have them.

*

He conquered you as the Male
and you returned
with self defenses –
Blood
Predators
Thinking.
and would have left that and
Come running (!) (?)
To me where I destroy all Words.

*

My Thought to be;
With Remembrance,
Will I, be set Free?

*

I must remain in Limbo
for these thoughts to be True.
Release is on Faith.
(In the Hospital and out of
with Suicide Eyes)

*

When I get Sad I like to Organize My Thoughts.
In this Way I conquer Death.
In this Way I conquer Life.
Money becomes the Preface.
Not important
But Currency none the less.
I am John the Baptist.
I am no man of thought for I am considered
In
sane.

*

I swallow Seraquil, and Depakote
to ingest GODDREAM of
sex in the Forest on the lawn of
Spring’s grass, It is April
and I am bathed in a Sociological
fire.
Consummate Day and Night Lord.
Give unto my friends the Divine
presence of Love in Chemicals
that our Brains run all through
our colliding Body of Dream.
I swallow the Forest and the
buildings around this hospital
and carry them all into my Chest.

We exercise in thought.
We think in exercise.
We love a good night’s rest
with the body of the Lord
next to us.

*

Notes for myself in the future:

any attempt to lie was to try and forget Love
any attempt to make you lie was an attempt
on my part to forget Love.

I am not Jesus but I play with his letters
and Love with his Life.

I am a Child first with an infinite Mind
You are cluttering my thoughts.
I disorganize them with you
but I am desperate to assemble them
correctly.

Images, objects monsters of our own Madness,
who cares when an animal dies? what makes
a human so special if he whispers sweet words
of his destruction, chaos unfolds as symbolism
becomes more powerful than fate or money or
temperament. Why must my writing turn from
Dreams and Love to the importance of Death?
I see no tide coming, I see no Black Tar Lungs,
I see no Sea crushing my ability to write. I hear
no hooves of the Devil blasting his chariot along
and Tricking his Trident into the Air as if Alive
with deathly amphetamine. Ready to crush souls
From Men who know something yet work for
Nothing.

WORK FOR THE DELAY OF DEATH.

When thought slows down time and we enjoy
Life.

When we remember our self-justifying egoism
and Kill that which will Kill us,
Dark-DEATH will be Pallid White.
And I will write only of Orgasm.

*

In Limbo having not done any ACT:

we smoke to feel our Body.
we talk when Happy.

O I am a writer because I wish
to live by example and an
Honest Vocabulary.

On Easter Day I thought to say
SET ME FREE
LET ME BE
I I I
LOVE
THEE

I look out the Window and see little Tonka Toys. –
wish to play with them. –
like Childhood.

Medicine, question, that’s easy.

Demons a part of our thoughts? NO
ALL IS THINKING

Doctor, are you sending people off in Order?

*

rhyme:

Jesus, I think of prison and
understand your Pain.

But I ignorantly read of Love for that
you let Remain.

*

I need to
make a
phone call
and people are
there. I think
not to disturb
the Universe but
rather let it be
and let this flow
on throughout me.

*

Dear Lord,
I look to
these cloudy
skies and
think of my
future wife swimming
in the mottling
of Sun and Wall.
An infinite brick.
That I would
ram against
forever as if it was
a crystal palace of yesterday year
that teaches beautiful things,
beautiful dreams to those who wait.
I want beautiful things to furrow against forever
as if a Ram transfixed upon an Earth of Eternal Rays.

*

So afraid of thoughts
we are
but our mind-thought
plucks pink feathers
constantly.

*

Walking from my bed stand
the door fluxes because of my
Mind. I perceive wind. I imagine
Telepathy.

*

of the gray animals looking for Montag out their doors and windows:

gray sky brings
incantation
with unknown
lover of streets
of gray in hair
and shamans
bring presence
of the movement
she wears with rings
to magnify the OVER
SOUL

while we children
sit not trying to think
of Death but still watching
and waiting for a most dark of Nights

*

east looks like rain
I sit in my crib
and play with this
western wind that
mixes to bring Warm
Drops
but I know of no such thing.

for i am in prison
and cell mates do not
seem to care for a break out.

*

Atavan + Cloud = gray son + lone bird = Faith

(I do not wish to write about chasing Love but
would prefer speaking of the object itself)

SATX = Home – nest ATX = SATX – nest = ATX

*

For Sharon Lynette Duniven

Preface:

I DO NOT BELIEVE IN DESTINY BECAUSE I AM NOT AN ADOLESCENT.
I VOW TO REMAIN IN THIS CURRENT UNDULATION FOR OUR GOD.
I AM A PURITAN WHO WILL ALWAYS LOVE MY MOTHER.
I WILL STAY TRUE TO VIRTUES BECAUSE I WILL ALWAYS LOVE MY FATHER ON EARTH AND IN HEAVEN

*

My spiraling steps to Mania;

I was reborn during the night of the Lord and then came thoughts of Eden.
Then comes an Apology, - that place should never invite others.
There is a bowing of my head and a heaviness in my eyelids.
But do not look into these blue mirrors for anything, -
Do not listen to my story of round a bout Suicide.
That hopelessness gave way to thoughts of Love.
Then comes the undulation of Bliss and Suffering.
As there is Life and then the Apocalypse,
Then comes an Apology, - that event should never be talked about.
There is a raising of the chin, - along with a dilation of my eyes.
And I Love these openings because I see the world more vividly.
And I Love these dreams because they give me proof of the Divine.
There is hair rising and heart pounding, -
There is Death and there most certainly is Life.
I think of Death therefore I am Dead.
I think of Life therefore I am Manic.

*

Perpetually waiting for you to see me as Ganymede;

“Solid Gold Man Solid Solid Gold.”
Hair rising. –
Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring.

I write with blood for there is a
Certain madness in love and a
Method in madness. God dances
Within me and the Devil looks on
Solemn in his defeat for my spirit.
The Tree rising while grabbing
Earth speaks of this, that you must
Hold firm your desire to rise above
Man. That the desire to die in the
Midst of the most wonderful of
Thoughts is the root of your
Weakness for looking past death
Digging into the dirt that is a
Playground for those who are weak.

*

My down going unto the Faith of the Lord;

Duty comes before pleasure but in the House of the Jew I am with the soul of Jesus. I am the Tight-Rope walker and must float on the River until I can be seen as the Sea. –
& because you are the SuperFraü I have discovered Happiness and will give you my Virginity.

All is God, imagery, metaphor, and feeling.
(8 represents infinity because Lewis Loves who I Love)

I pass bridges as Spirit – I attempt to balance Christianity, patriotism, Judaism and pacifism because on The day before your birth died Zarathustra, and I wish for him to die once more because he Attempted to kill our God.

I wish to hear with my eyes and shatter my heart.
I wish to be Scabtree so that I may see in Death the justification of Life.
I speak these words quietly; “I search not for followers but for fellow creators. I have read of the Divine Eagle with the serpent wrapped around our necks and I wish for them both to join me in a most Holy of Trinities.”

But for now I carry and eat the corpse, and in the Forest I lay God’s head at the bottom of the Tree to protect our body of Faith from the wolf-Demons.
But soon I will leave my duties as a gravedigger and focus only on the rebirth of the Animal.
Then we all will be a part of the resurrection of our Lord.

2

Penitence growing from the Marble Shrine of Rat Lyons;

To live a centered life I must look back into past manic thought.
I thought you and I could disappear together and our suicide like Romeo and Juliet without physical Death.
We would go to your parents and tell them that our child will be the second coming because God Abducted me so that I may give the most beautiful Jew her virginity back and in this way we Would parent a child whose presence would generate our Eden.
What would of happened had my parents not been contacted?
I would of asked to see her indefinitely until she saw the dilated eyes of an insane lover in trance upon the result of a Dream destroying the common nightmare of all beings.
The only difference now is I am in the shackles of a diagnosis.
Medication is only a justification for not focusing upon the connections of Every Day. –
Give me one pill to sleep – I am that which seems vain.
But I have been humble all my life and now I feel as though I must lie and tell you I feel humble still.
Everyday is a struggle for Virtue – I push demons past by forgiving myself for the faults of yesterday and Loving my neighbors for my shortcomings today.
I create and resurrect God to look past myself.

3

The Terrestrial and infernal Venus: Nothing belongs to I;

The raw material that is Love is but
a playground for Angels and Demons
to bicker over. Who gets to play on
this place? Who gets the monkey
bars? It is quite impossible to
distinguish what our heavenly father
wants out of our idealistic view of
falling in Love. We only need to know
that we lie in the middle of a rope
pulling battle. The flag that must
remain balanced in the middle or
else humility falls to the way side
and we see ourselves more “good,”
or more “bad.”

Toadpipe a centipede is angry of my
search for a cute mouse.


*

Rejoicing in Virility (It came by Smoke and Water);

I am not from Ganymede but
I escaped the gravity of Jupiter by fighting Zeus and loving Callisto.
I won’t let the Universe abduct me again...
But if it does put me in the constellation Aquarius.
For I am a Virgin Prince who wishes to save myself from meticulousness.
And I am the most attractive of Mortals when I tell you that –
I am the genius of the Nile! I supply you with your nourishment.

I Love you.

O

I Love you.

***

(648) I, Grayson, hear Leviticus and Deuteronomy: an acknowledgement of Chapter 8;

I am Ranga looking for Radha. (Bliss in spiritual agony...)
The plane flies overhead and I am all alone with the Roar I have created.
I begin to bury my body in the cold, wet dirt but I am reminded that while my spirit is directed towards God, my Mind-Body hates to puke out my Love for Sin.

*

On a day of Three Rains, Dragon Fruit, and Sweet Blood;

Connect Othello...
One time I thought I could fall asleep by looking at something absently but that is only possible at
The time of your death.
Even then God might distract you.
I walk a fine line to try and make sure my diagnosis was correct because in a tragedy everyone dies; A warning.
She took some water... so
Can I write of the Divine in the present moment or must I reflect back?

I do both.

ArboretumWriting only no more Limbo only from Heaven or Hell.

It’s ten past and your not here....
My Mom’s dad is a Carpenter, I will saw wood for him.

*

8th Grade: Your subconscious knows you will die someday;

I ate Shrooms and now I’m an Animal that will live forever.
We listened to the walls yell – TOUGH GHOST (!)
AND now I’m invincible only breathing TobaccoAir.

*

Lesson Learned: I slept through the Storm;

A Screw Tape would work quite nicely...
Olivia your Wilde but the Sex should be quick because We are in the forest of Demons.
I can give you God with my Virginity...
Just forgive me for forgetting that God is dead & now I must Live with the Animals.
Give me peace because I have always thought that my friends were more devout than I was.
I have been alone since birth and now I’m in the presence of the Divine.
Forever I will never Forget.

*

My Cat is free to be a prophet of the Storm;

I cannot timeTravel in this mindBody nor would I want to.
I am no prisoner
But god waters giveGifts that can also lead you to sickness.

When i was free to sleep over I smoked grass and I saw –
Animal-Silhouettes in the darkness of the trees and the –
Warmth of the tub burned my internal desire for curiosity.

*

I am not so lugubrious any longer: Thinking of the Portrait of the Animal Paul Eluard;

(There are 8 beings from what I can tell – Two of them play with the Sun alone.)

When I was in the hospital I had to prove to myself that I was not insane.
So I pissed in front of everyone and then ate a small Oyster alone.

*

For my Dad who I Love so much;

They put me in the hospitalHotel once.
Then I returned the Love by putting myself in the hospitalJail again.

*

Open the windows so you can the sky raining grizzly bears;

There is Time.
Possible.
Clem p t and his kids will raise hands and Kiss
Hesitating still.
Pursue the central truth.
Everything is black and white.

Quit asking for permission or you will starve.

*

I will not Falter;

So little water.

Waste not.

Eden is open all hours.

*

We shall not Riot;

Take no Stab at me
I amplify my tracks
To erase your Sin.

*

8 3 0;

Bliss.

***
ANIMAL THINKING OF DIVINITY, REASON, ORDER, UTOPIA AND THE APOCALYPSE:

*

We all in turns tangle breathlessly
Hoping to believe in our devotion.
For them to find us flailing in the mind-soul and
Pull our limp bodies to the safety of the brook-bed.

Everywhere else and all in between, silent white mouths are chanting toward a dawn of crimson glass –
A force of sharpness cutting vocalization into bits of incantation for Animals who know something yet speak nothing, yet there is the capacity in all to feel full.
To love as if Spring’s little fingers and toes are reaching up from a tiny world of flat growth and tranquility that is a bed of grass.
Waiting for dawn to come forth from darkness; thus the world will begin anew in a sparkling soil.

We turn desserts into rivers and suffering into comfort.
We leave our forgetful thoughts, having learned not to tangle but to cut and breathe.
We anchor our souls with the vines that once shackled us and we are free to move upon the natural mechanism of Love.
We resume our lives like plants of clever seclusion, infinite manner and truest truancy.

This is our Holy Place.
This is our ever lasting Peace State.
This is the sustainable Eden.

But when noontide’s love of merriness grows weary, when Spring’s God has come and gone,
nothing belongs to We.

I am you.
You are me.
Breathe so that I may breathe. –
I want to touch that which all wish to touch and swim happily in childhood's questioning Thought-Song

Our divine conclusion tweaking our eyes to see all this input clearly and here is a song of the Animal.

We leave a familiar lovely smell that is of nothing and of everything and of the sweet April rain.
We tell those who love us that we love them, and we escape the watery cataclysms above.
We find our comfortable cave.
We see the stars wink but we do not feel their awful power.
We live to see our sun swallow us all.
We hear lovers in trance upon winter’s mechanisms where holding hands we raise up cries of comfort and happiness. –
Our breath to bear dreams of birds and sweet sugar.
Our wings to describe without silly words the truth of our ability to fly.
We photosynthesize bliss.
The emotion of the eternal. –
True happiness is in the flapping of wings and in the speaking of tongues.
We cuddle under the sheets as it rains delicately on our home and we pull visions into
Wordless cantos.
Imagination into reality.
Incantation into song.
Sorrow into a mind of cyclical thought.
Thought into remorse and remorse into ecstasy.

2

I will always be in trance to find you.
To place sweet hands on you.
To laugh with you in the dark.
To create with you, dilation and invigoration in sunny day.
My thoughtless window song wants your body and is delivering me anywhere I summon.
I am conjuring thoughts of music and God.
I am conjuring thoughts of Bartleby.
I want to help him.
I am conjuring thoughts of Ophelia.
With her I want to make love.
Only in my mind am I seeing you yet I already love this joining of gentle, white touching.
A lightly kiss as if to invite exploration upon the beautiful mountain range that is cold and magnificent and an eternal rock burning.

(Can we begin our song together?) –
That of God and of pecking, thrusting, nibbling, stroking kindly as if to invite travel across the forest floor of our gentle flesh.

Kindness is eyes slowing crawling side to side as if with a shaman of the over soul.
Our twin in nature and also a hummingbird.
The red undulating creature of quickness and tranquility who speaks, “Your eyes crawl and dilate by their own doing, we have yet to grind the porphyry.”

3

Do not follow me.
Follow the idea that I can control the speed of our blood.
Our widening souls are like building fire without wood.
We illuminate all of the wilderness in the ecliptic of orange dawn.
We reveal the celestial crystal castle by pushing our consciousness into those who need that anti-venom.
We build circumference around the heavens, by dancing round those countless candles, and by singing round the great milky grey; by loving children in our quiet way.

Angel of the vanity filled Earth, let us bellow our thoughts unto these valleys of the spiritually negligent. Let us yawp from our Heaven on Earth the message of the Divine until the rants of our being appear to them in circular form and we want these wandering thoughts to remain with the presence of our God.

In this conquering of knowledge we will laugh upon the summit;
that ring of rock and silence describing dust from an evergreen tree.
That stone escalating to yet another ring and another and another, perpetually crying for ever more love to rain down upon the tree branches.
We shout with all of our might to the God within ourselves.
We pray for our bodies to rain from the clouds that we have condensed.
We cry and laugh at the bottom of the tree branches that we have rooted up and down and side to side into A circle of the cliffs humanity and the eternal being that is in the thoughts of the Animal.
We sing the song of Eden!
not with a celebration of the self but with a fear of death for all.

*

Balance Limbo with me sweet child;

Let us see the difference between
Prose and Poetry
Reality and Imagination
Reason and the Sublime
The Cosmos and Chaos
This is all we can do
We may build our buildings high but
We will never burn in the stars
Only can we dig for precious stones but
We will never give birth to them
We have the power of super novae as
We consummate our love but only if we are
Thinking of the life of stars and the death of us.
In this is –
A beautiful weighing of alike substance
A beautiful place in the spectrum of all things
A constant contrition unto the ideal
Justification for right and wrong behavior
Balance with me child evidence with faith
And join in my pursuit of the Central Truth
This is all we can do

Let us find the equilibrium
Let us realize our fluctuation –
We pulsate constantly and of our own doing
Balance with me
Our actions with our thoughts
We live in a constant measurement
Of that which we truly wish for but
Everything seems relative because
Everything is absolutely the same substance
Love is no bigger than a metaphor so
Let us balance our wits because
We undulate throughout our presence and
Wish to feel every part our bodies rejoicing
In the divine orgasm.
So let us love ourselves and then
We will be able to love others.

But you know of this already.

We are whole objects slowly accumulating dust
The aging of all things, crumbling our cells
Our skin sheds like snakeskin as eat-the-air mouse
Cosmos inhales our decay as a drink-the-soil seedling
We are nothing creating our coating
We are absent objects appearing through the mist
We are fleshy capsules full of blood fixing to the orbit
Of the planets moving closer to the focus of the sun
And our mass is magnified and our mutual gravity intensified
The orbit quickens, the planets move farther our mass lessens.
Our mutual gravity weakens, the orbit slows.
The energy of our Sun-God flows into our cores and
We grow in the presence of the Ocean-Sky
Concentration and alleviation are products of location.
We flail our limbs in the waves of humanity and God but
No longer are we individuals, we breathe the over-soul
We breathe Sun-Light
We turn like plants
Energy to mass and
With words we push Space-Time into circles
With actions we pull Space-Time into orbits
With location we know the speech of the Animal-God
We know the speech of the Universe
We are a collection of cells thinking of our devolution unto
The death of life.
We are an absence of word dreaming to remain on the plains of this world.

*

My Most Scary of Dreams:
Where is our EdenEarth?
Here (in word) is the image of the Last Humans rejoicing to the Red-Sun swallowing our Home.
Here is me Animal looking for the Thought-Garden within myself.
Here is un-realities and a rational balancing of what is Right or Wrong.
But nowhere are these words.
So We, the Children of the Earth, must forget about Sex.
We cannot Love children that we cannot perceive.

Here in Nightmare is the Human-Creature killing himself and the rest of the animals that join in the Universal Breathing.
We must now say goodbye and push our way up the Tower of our Burned House.
We hold our breath to hide our coughing and the passage becomes smaller and smaller until only our Bodies fit through the hole at the top of the roof and we cry Tears of Spirals and our ignorant Assent up to Death.
We smell the air for the last time and from this view, we join together in the most scary of laughs; A scream
A howl
A cry really:
A lingering image of God crying.
And we are loony without any moon to Love.
“But maybe the lord lives in no manor?” No his presence is no longer important. The planet burns either Way.
In the end this is Death-Dusk.
This is our failure to delete words.
This is our inability to sympathize.

Planes fly like flocks of ducks
Heavier to their apocalyptic duties
Some of them fighting against one another
Some of them fighting against themselves
Some are of one country and some are of another.
But All are of the same substance
The same burning substance
The same deathly metal.
All are fit for the Bone-Yard of steel.

Electric Blue-Red-Teepee-House
Appears from the Dream-Forest &
We ignorantly ask for refuge.
We weep tears of regret at the answer.
We turn to one another and ask, “Why?”
No one is able to answer.
Not one Animal can think of the truth of Collective-Death.
They know nothing of what they are Destroying with the absence of Flames.

*
My Most Wonderful of Dreams in Oakwood:
(H)ere is our Eden
One We must w(o)rk fo(r.

But here also is E ar th.
But in tho ughts with
a(c)tions is the dela(y)ing of the Night
MAre
***
I will tell you this before we make love....

***

On Words;

They are just Cymbals.
Death is Life.
Murder is Suicide.

I only write to touch God

*

Because I am a Virgin;
I was able to predict the Future &
Turn life-day in to Deathday
With the thought of S u i c i d e.

Then I called my Mother
And then I called Her
& then I became Lost.

*

Trying to predict the Future);

BUT BREAK THIS FORCE BETWEEN ALL THINGS
God = True (GRAVITY) Love = Destiny

*

MuliebrityDUALITY;(for a Jester, a Cat, a Bad-ass, a Mexican bird, CTOM, and Yetter)

(She could feed me till you see that I only dream of you –)
We left the Game with hopes of God and with fear to Chase
The Past away and with the fear of crying into the Future
17 Chevrons and my first birthday party
A little Finch got my old number.

*

For my Mom who I love dearly;

Who gave birth to me.
But now vacuums my Vices.
But now all I think of is the Silent Spider-sucking
my Sin

I have started to see the Adam’s gather.
And Vivian loves them because they(him) cared
ENOUGH to let me find God.
They paddled away so that I could float the river
Of my Divinity and the purrr suit of my name change.

I want to be ggg
I want strep-throat
Like when I was a Child.

*

A Universal Release for a Mugwunp;

(When I’m lonely I think of how the
Moon shines bright all hours. The
Dark side is always Present)

Finding words for the Day
While I wait for the Others

I know of no answers to your prayers
But while I wait for you to answer your own
I will continue to hear the Divine inside my mind simply
With the connection of the past.
I connect rats with saying yeah-yeah-yeah the Spider
Spins his
Silk

*

Free will: my declaration of this brave new World;

Do you see this man (!)
it is (?)
11:12 & I wish to piss.

We killed God so
We can resurrect him (!)
But
it is hard writing from Jail (!)
it is
much easier writing my (empty) matriculation
into Eden (Love is in the heart of the beholder)

I’ll be overbearing soon.
But
Freedom is unlimited expression and
Turning your past into a mirror that only reflects beauty.

*

Dry Agave (14E-OpenG): A Wrong Synthesizing Mirror;

Thanks to the doctors) –
(Just as much S piritually
I need something Physical.

“Well my Mom said she wants to meet you,”
But I would prefer just giving you the words
You Hate to Love
0
()

Not to not feed a Jinx Cat
But to keep you purring.

*

Venus de Milo(Angel;

There are things you can do
But some cannot be done)
visited today
Does that make Her want it more?(?
She helped me find my first Songdance
VDM – we are all in the grip of Madness
find your missing arms
He will always be looking for them

*

The smoke inside (makes me stronger);

perchance I shall be a malapert
Four is a Holy number if she lets
Me give her the Divine Orgasm

Yesterdays tomorrow is tomorrows Yesterday

*

Another Dream;

She came to pick me up today
But Cam got out of the Car.

Currency is love.
Ignorance is Love.

White Gold Orange Black

The Pallid One is blind in one eye.

*

2X2740011111770410;

Master patients; I am in Limbo again
But there is an Exit.
M)i tar h(o Carter(

Blanco road
is not a bright star
is in need of Maintenance
Just open the door of perception
In all states – take a right
The march of dimes !
Ask the phatman to connect
Buildings – center a Limestone
Psychological or physical the woman
at the gates of HellHeavenElevator
I find God by
Looking at the fish till he calls me in.
& I am reminded of the island they did
not want me to be on – I am reminded
of the southern tip full of bears that I can get to if I
keep Truth lying.

Still Life either way.
Ash Ley Angel Fish, scare the Cyclops inside of me
Away.
Till then I will be real still like the Black fish.)

For three weeks I was ashamed,
God grant me patience.
Forever is nice but an hour is not enough.

*

For Evie, from your ggUncle (?);

I am sorry that I
Was interested more in Ari.
He is a mean cat. You are much nicer.
Your eyes are much prettier.

I cannot wait to see how Beautiful you will Become.
You have great parents.
They know the Beginnings of Eden.

Eve I cannot complete my name without someone else.
What should I do child? answer me

*

Ganymede speaking of two sentinels for an afterclap;

Hamlet, there is no danger you Mouse
(Cum aliis?)
The clouds above must not hang on you.
Their density and omnipotence is an after thought.
I understand your fear We feel the Storm to late.
Never early enough. We are never early enough.
O God! God! i wish to truly be the Hyperion.

*

Go to sleep Ophelia, I don’t think your importunate, for Love, for thoughts, for bonny sweet Robin;

Carve yourself out of the shackles that bond you.
Your brother has no answer.
Your lover only Love.
The key to your memory must be discarded.
You know not of what you should think so rest not.
But sleep more and in the morning you will feel the dreaming instead of the pain of preference for the
Dream.
Always you will prefer to live with the absence rather than die with absent thoughts unless you think to Heavily of what you will become.
You are All right now !
We know not our true colors till they reflect back upon our minds of cyclical thought and reverence
For the past spectrum of GoodEvil thoughtAction.

I will be your Valentine.
But no flowers will I give.
Only words. Sweet, absent, symbolic words...
Will I write that grief is not the sole thought of women ! (?)
I know that you are larded with sweet flowers but tomorrow is not Valentines day because we animals Have made that up !
Love should untangle you from your watery death on All
Occasions.
God have mercy on YOUR soul.

*

If not wanted, cast me from your Home: A comfortable Ariadne;

de Chirico gave me
a Train moving east
a Tower moving Nothing
a Ship moving west
WALLs moving sideways
and Her waiting for me to
Give the soft O with stone
to Melt. & shadows to write(

The Robing of the Bride.

*

One flame out of three and the matchFlame still in the waxTobacco;

Wait for Night Morning Afternoon

Smoke is hard to see in the black of the morning. Unless
You burn harder little girl. The sun will go down
& we will see each other much better )in this
Unexpected wind after the calm of the Storm.

October is chasing your own tail in May.

***

I was born in August;

I wish only to write of the Divine.
I wish only to hear Zarathustra.
I wish only to read Screwtape.

***

Situational Poem One;

(The vernal equinox of Uranus and Neptune is
the autumnal equinox of (e)arth as
the rings of Neptune are the result
of an accretion disk and
impact on lovely Triton.)

I am the creature from the biggest moon in our solar system.
Somehow I found rocket fuel to leave this Gravity.

*

Feeling one;

Looking to the ceiling of my Home
I see two streaks of moon light. –
The green star that is my
Smoke detector and its
Companion red blip.
I can’t help but think of
The same arrangement
Some where in the
Universe a quasar pulsing
Like the more tangible
Heart beating in my chest.

*

Image one;

The sunset over the
west celestial sphere
reminds me that all
see that same thing
but only-i have
one less sun to
feed these stars.

*

Lunch;

Let me taste your tears. Let me have them.
We will know happiness better this way.

*

A notification;

I’ve never heard of someone committing suicide
by burying their warm body in the cold dirt.

Suicidal thoughts are just as artificial as the
person’s thought of their place in existence.
S
uicide is the proclivity of not taking bits of
bread floating down a River.
Or not being able to get unstuck when the
River presents you with both poles of Life.

*

A Fact;

Constant deja vu– never ceasing.
Constant deja vu– I must not sleep,
For fear i may miss–
making one more deja vu.

*

The Joining of Light and Matter;

Energy of the sun is making me larger...
I breathe in all creatures of the earth (!)
I exhale them in the presence of the almighty.
I a plant turning sunlight into sugar-energy and mass;
An animal slowing down his perception of time.
An alien telling you of the multicolored eyes around the
Galaxy.

*

Practice;

Anywhere I deliver myself can first be sung
By a simple bird that I enjoy in a full-spectrum of colors.
= God in a variety of forms and
God is telling me to ask the angel of the MULTIpatterned earth–
May i feel us laying together in the Coming of Circles?–

*

A History and a Future;

When the sun was made in our nebula
There was an exclusion of material.–
The planets and the earth.

When organisms began to evolve
There was a conception of sunlight.
(The human species steps the circle(
Wide and hard and we must slow the pace increasingly)

*



(Eden is the circumstance of Mass) Hell is an incentive for Heaven;

(Eden is a patch of grass that Sunlight shines perpetually in a world of Darkness.)
In my imagination and in my consciousness
I think of a planet which is the perfect distance from its young
Sun and the axis is tipped sideways.
She wobbles in resonance
With planets in a Divine Orbit and
The civilization enjoys one season.
The Plants bathe in sunlight constantly.
And an antonym has never been created.
The Divine race of Animal is still pure.
There is only Heaven.


*

Like I would know...;

The fall of man is the crowning of Lucifer
An antonym for God, but the devil does not exist
His pitchfork is a synonym for his Death.

*

8
∞
8

ʘ

*

Give me your suffering;

Hand me your vision of the Orange Moon.
Hand it to me slowly.
There is nothing you can say to make me sad.
We are in a carriage of our troubles.
We will ride to love our faults knowing that
They are ours but we will be on the same
Journey with Suns to sing, fur to clean, & tears to cry.
We will throw our pain out the window,
We will know where it landed. But
Will smile and journey onward.
With eyes to see, pulses to feel, and tears to taste.

Let us fasten to our wandering boots,
The movement of suns and planets
& of fish who like us swim for shelter
Under coral rooftops, as it rains the force of waves from your eyes,
Tears of prejudice in waves that flow and run from yourself soaking
Everything wet-not needing dry clothes for, we are already dry and
We are already shameful. And we are already confident,
We are already in the Submarine of our Seclusion.

We are just as dead as we are Alive.
We must only forget that the word difficult has syllables.
This earth shall not fail.
Our land will not evaporate into the air like rivers misting from pillage.
This trip lasts till November is
The month in circuit unto August; a return to our birth.
There is no trip, just forget that we cannot eat God and still be hungry
We get our own food.
We are hungry for God when we wonder the difference between life and death.
Forget that food has been given! You placed yourself amongst the Willows.
Now eat. Now anchor yourself in the soil. Do not be threatened by your only power.
Do not retreat from your only power.
There is no retreat in soil.
We are always on the brink of tears.
Do not run from them and let loose the outward flow of God.
Back yourself upon the Infinite and smile at our distant smile.
Think not to be leaving just yet
There is no leaving the Universe.

*

A question, a Prayer;

There is no motivation behind our actions
Not a part or apart from the will to survive.
Only is there the justification of our actions
That go against the grain.
We wander like animals.
We wish to sleep our winters away.
We love the physical consummation
Of the Love for our self.
We Love in order to be full of a Euphoria.
The meeting of two blissful souls is
Not a sacrifice.
God is the answer of our prayers. –
Your god.
You answer our prayers.

*

A Fact;

Plant I my corpse in the nighttime growing,
The garden a clever angel knowing, that the
Plant will not sprout the Agave from, but with.

*

Fact Two;

I am a monster of my own madness.
Telepathy is your place in the collective conscious.
(Telepathy = deja vu) I am an angel of my own
Suffering.

*

Images in the SunDarkness;

I see now –
Animals dancing.
I see now –
Plants singing
Our vines pulsating with the
Frequency of our vocals.
Our limbs gyrating with the
Spirit of God. O
I see now animals loving and
Plants living green in the r r rain.
Our bodies pushing the Divine
Into one another like Love does as
Our roots grasp to the earth and
We make music with the tapping of our souls.
We move into each other as we think of our similarities.
We push away from ourselves as we think of our differences.
I see now animals loving,
O I see now plants living.
I see the dance of Existence,
I hear the song of Existence and
Wish truly to see more of here and now and here and Divine.

*

Every true atom of everyAnything;

Let us follow our steps back and see that we love every atom of anything.
They all wash our bitter bones with days of cold rain only to
Wake our amorous morrow up to the most beautiful morning
We have ever seen. .
Nothing in these words will teach us of what we should do (!)
The world exists in itself.
We die with the death of humans.
God does not need to hear us cry our love.
The universe plays with our thoughts...
Scholars will say do not read his poetry
He is but a child of the population (the what?)
Well i am here to say kind scholar
That there is no comparison between minds.
There is no scholar and there is no student.
We are animals of a planet.
Must I say that I do not wish for you to read my words (?)
Do not read them,
Did you read them?
I am hoping you did.
I am hoping you like them.
I am hoping that we could together,
Perhaps generate an
Eden in them?
For if we do not we’ll have to say good bye and
I do not want this for
Strangers on the street need our condolences for their loved ones.
Cities are shutting down.–
Melancholy plagues the minds of children and adults.
We are separate from each other but
There is no such thing as a country.
The flag of our existence is a full spectrum.
The color of our skin reflects the sunlight but some
Of us must simply look and reflect more.
The tilt of the earth burns some of us more so.
Some of us less so but the
Difference is but a word
We utter without the slightest thought of what is True.

*

Delusions of Grandeur;

Delusions of grandeur?
I think not.
What simple origins of thought do unto us is not for the debating.
We cannot use the word love unless we know what
Love means within our selves.
Breathe with me in and out until our words start flowing like a river of
Water troubled with contamination that we have created.
Let this thing flow like the stars orbiting the galaxy.
Allow for both the river and the stars to orbit.
Let the sun swallow us all before we swallow ourselves.

*

Paranoiac Method;

There is a musicality that I lack.
I sing a song of man but do so haphazardly.
Just give me the truth in whatever form.

Do you wish for uneven breaths?
Do you want to feel the strain of your lungs?
I like a challenge of reading but perchance you do not?
I wish for the song of the grizzly bear.
I wish to rap like that certain villain.

Or must I insert our Lyon calmly after we see the simplification
Of me being able to screw around.

*

I have to write of violence towards oneself with all this thick gas floating around at my own doing;

Chop my head off i wish to be a martyr!
Chop my head off i wish to be liked!
Wait I change my mind!
Chop my head off i wish to be divine.
Wait I change my mind!
Can we just skip the guillotine...?

*

Ambien, Bud and Like;

i think of a Night
When i across the twilight
in a circle moved (...)
Pillars of god only Rays
know that empty kiss
below an earthly Entrance.

How can anything ever be the same?

How can anything ever be different?

i love that slide
that exists by my house.
i love that slide
that never existed by my house.

i love that girl who taught me so much.

*

A Real Story;

Dreamt i of a blue eyed beauty,
Expressing my desire and chance
Did see her on the street.
Throwing me into the fire.
Escape is to call up on her having
First called upon myself.
Urge urge hesitation.
Urge Ogre urge.

*

I arrange rocks;

I arrange rocks when your smile
Should bring so much order.
Contemplating seasons;
Fall and Spring,
You are finally cold (!)
You will turn colder yes,
Blissful in sincerity.
Comfort wrapped in red petals,–
Green leaves soft to the touch,–
Vanity filled yet not to much
To walk along with Miro and his doves
Amongst a yellow background,
With black figures, and a
Pink foreground with a Sardinian dog,–
Entrusting childhood wonder song
to his fellow animals.

(i used to dream equivocally
now i wake infinity.)

Stars and white shaded creatures
Haunt me at night time
all the time.
Vociferous scenes linger
hushing valleys
flattening woods
placing importance on touch
rather than Reason.

*

(!);

From now on acts should be changed
leading me to spirit,–
a new mindset.
a dressing bride by Ernst.
a walk under the sun far from that mass
which speaks its
energy unto us all.
Swallowing souls like a great shark
Retrieving with the jaws of life the pulse of sustenance

(Darkness on and above.)

Night, have what we need to
prepare for the winter?
Speckles of light threaten...
Once i saw a glow outside, and
I offered my hand only to fall in love
With the beam. I also saw God as
Moonlight reflecting onto my ceiling.
My view does not ream, but
I work only to see forever more in animals urging.
Once i saw the shark on my ceiling
And now i pet his gentle flesh.

*

To ensure that which i was faithful;

I saw god all around me and a week later i burned my bud and the psyche of my mother,
She was unharmed but only because i doused the flames quick enough.
The past never changes but the truth of our emotions don’t always have to evoke a hateful ghost.
I had to see my moth god fly away so i can pet this one without an ignorant tongue.

*

Not Being a Preacher;

Can this object receive more praise than this object?
Do we have the right to assign value?
Post your bliss! Cherish your faults!
Kill that which creates uncertainty!
Esteem to your sentiment and
show me not your disliking but
your love.

Learn we are all fortunate in life.
Our value does not rest on our hiding turtle,
Our jealously is but a conniving little drop of acid,
Who wants to burn the shell of those around you.
But little green experiment, I am better with you.

*

Evolution;

Humans we are but laughing at monkey similarities
We make a scary decision.
to sleep all day and eat god during the night,
or to sleep all night and cherish God during the day?
we can think to be made of the same elements, but we cannot do
Both until we are made with the spirit from the inside out.
if you were to travel to a distant galaxy and find life.
Would you look for a gorilla to tell you that we do not teach ourselves thought?

*

A Wet Cold Day;

Perchance we shall see
When the weather system is pass
That we secretly love the touch
Of rain more so when it covers our ears
For a short period of time relative
To that of gods hands covering
Our beautiful moon with chance
A probability we have trouble dealing
With its perpetual presence. even with the cycle
Of images we find it hard to envision the significance
Of the sublime without thinking of the deep mystery and
Strict importance of our own birth and breathing.
Let us find love in the decaying systems of our wandering
Dry thoughts let us wet our brains with the dripping of Spring's rain into our ear canals
And through out the rest of our Body-Brain.

*

Insomnia;

Sometimes when I’m sleepy
I think about falling through my bed
Onto the very top of a mountain.
but instead of the rock piercing my spine,
a more funny thing happens.
My body stretches like rubber until I cover
the entire slope...

Sometimes when i’m sleepy
I think of nothing at all–
and my body melts until my whole room
is wet with with the flux of my imagining.

*

O Brave New World (!);

To a south wall we can’t see over,
Hoping to look at our path
Once on the other side,
Not expecting to.
Wanting to see the woods
From where we came.
So beautiful the wall is but
Meanwhile, I try to cut nicely, hoping
And doing so much knowing there is no
Path through the brush.
Walking to a north wall we can’t see through
We know the wonder of the forest from which we came.
We hear death in the dripping of water down smooth stone.
We hear life in the rustling of bushes behind us.
Children touching each other for the first time.

*

Chesapeake Bay;

Short short short
Life is short.
O my goodness is it small.
I used to think that I would
Live forever with a pill.

I was younger and as a result
Did not even think of death. That is why
I would ask my mom what would happen if the walls
Of this tunnel under the Chesapeake bay were to fall inward?
But death is to come from Old Old Old age,
And there would be a pill invented by then.
I was asking for fear of Living.
Now I think these questions are my family and friends.
Now I think this capsule contains my blood as a body.
Lets swallow it together.
We love our bodies.
We cherish this one and only consciousness.
Let us together see the End.

*

On Killer Bees;

Unto the killer flies more bees.
Not wasting their stingers until
They find that one they truly want
And kill themselves with that fateful
Sting.

*

Questions on Questions;

What happens when
What your taught to do
Is not to learn but simply
Do?
I would hope
That the answer is clear.
But what do you think?

Their are those smarter,–
You are those
Who do not know
What smart is like I.

I’m writing this
O its happening,
I’m writing this
O its happening
again.

The only thing worth doing is to learn.
Wait! is that what they would want me to think?
Ts that why i am thinking it?
Circles unto circles bring me back into the clever
knowledge
the warmth of Love.
They would like to tell me that I am not clever
They would ask, “who is they?”
I would say they are you.
“Well how do you know that we would not think you to be clever?”
I would say you don’t! nothing is clever when compared to they.
“They would lie,–
We won’t!”

*

Comedy Is Funny When It Is True;

When teachers quietly feast
Upon your head, of possible sarcasm
Do not reach on the blanket softly
Removing the book from your bed.
That one your read for pleasure
Is no supplement unto your boring life.
The story makes all knowledge bring
Worthiness to your strife.

*

The Will to Fall Into the Divine(New Nature);

My eyes deficiently adjusted I bow my head to you sun.
Thank you for giving me the will.
Nature has taken a new form far more artificial,
yet still concentrated unto our land mass.
Small parts in the oceans floating on the glory of countless
Spires and rings of atoms.
Walls windows, wood that i am divinely a part and their past assent
Unto the base of this world. –
Light everywhere light... i am surrounded by a countable amount
of books with countless lives touched.
Unending ideas of clarity and truth.
Paintings and truth.
Music and feeling and truth.
Everywhere Truth.
With all so much input cannot this new nature be true? and
The joyful fright as, you have felt is not new, because we always
want so much to not be dying.
But we know that we are.
Loving modes of circuit in remembrance and throwing words to the wind.
Casting them out to see if they catch hold in someone else’s small existence.
Feeling the plastic nature life around us from hands that build in the recreation
of what they love and ourselves.
Reaching for honey up in the tree, not knowing what you silently do to me.

*

*

p l a n t & a n i m a l;

All is exercise and
trying to feel proud for craft
when silence comes undone.
trying to feel proud for that
which the happiness comes from.
this typing is not an illusion it is
being done right now as you read.
r e a d.
such a wonderful thing.
why are we trying to put a number by it?
isn’t that what these symbols hate,
the quantitative?
are not these the sound of our lips?
are not these the sounding out of symbols?
are not these the breath of nature?
these are the cactuses in the bush.
yes there are three, but who
cares that there are (3)?
that funny little thing trying to be a b
ut forgetting that the line is inherent.
forgive me number, at times
you protect me against
the ignorance of my raving.
like when i think that a 69.5
is the only grade a teacher can give.

*

Ralph Waldo Emerson;

hello my dear.
i am letting this movement of my hands
flow through me.
like the transparent eyeball.
i have become a mirror unto you.
my hands have become...
here is the monologue,
is that what you like?
this is truth,
is not truth the thing you wish for?
give me a piece of bread and i will show you the love that went into baking it.
give me a yardstick and i will show you the ghosts that sit in the hall.
give me a telegraph and i will show you a telegraph.
is so much not enough, cannot my blessing of night be true?
have a nice weekend, have a nice weekend world
have a nice life thinking of mine being also yours.
as an essay called circles was written by we

*

ghosts of old, i breathe you
in like a yucca breathes a child’s
golden-red hair in and at all
times of life breathing that
frequency into my all-seeing
never-knowing-all but still
beautiful mind-soul, soul-body
mind-body.

*

On the love i have for van Gogh and Salvador Dali and de Chirico:

moon i see your art
upon cypress leaves hanging
in pictures produced in new
York city and Europe.
a painting written south of
Avignon,–
that most wonderful place
and here,
my room amongst rooms.
sitting with
friends amongst friends.
i can’t help but look outside
the window.
over the hill.
to the moon you yourself drew.

and i think of writing about the muse of spain.
and i think of trying to become the muse of the world.

*

i wish i could commence shut down sequence.
but cracking the code of those who came before
only seems natural, and at this time of night
you still seem to grade me on this. i respect
you’re opinion but how could anything mean
more or less than what i think it to be?
a celebration is just as much a funeral,
like the praising of a person’s life is
sometimes the sadness of thinking what we
could have done to know the love inside of them
better. a funeral is just as much a celebration.
but not if we are the murderer.

*

love not my knowledge but the holes i am not
able to fill in you’re own thoughts.
there are many.
like the reason i love a girl who i know little of.
and why i feel the need to tell you
that i love you but that you are a stranger to me.
praise not my knowledge but my lack there of.
love not my thoughts but how you yourself
make these words seem orderly.

*

“if i can’t have you no one can have you,”
and in this way jealousy kills
what never would have been “love,” with
the awful feeling of hate towards oneself.

*

i have spoke of Whitman.
i have spoke of Emerson.
they have spoke of Brahma for me.
i speak now this body of that is humble.
focus upon my eyes.
they appear closed for your retreat into my brain.
look into the iron beauty in this night of eyes,
they tell you that the sun reminds in us all
that he will not always be here to take care of
our sad bodies.
of our happy bodies.
we draw what is easy. let us sculpt the divine
in her true form:
o

oh a circle
even those smart must interpret.
i love you

*

thoughts as i lay early in the morning
waiting to fall into the rest of my day:

primal babe,
i am envious of the silent
symbols of bliss you hold outwardly
from your less cluttered mind.
let your body rest you can,
while i only think of you and your loving
of fruitful trees,
or a silent carcass
or an action you wish you had the words
to apologize for.

*

forever there will be a need for our children to learn science.–
forever there will be a need for nuclear energy, preferably fusion.
i am safe to write peacefully.
thank you god for parents.
thank you god for the limitation placed upon us by our biology.

*

i know that poet princes of old
were mortal like me
because not one
died from sleep deprivation.
all had lives to attend to
out and
inside their pursuit of the almighty
truth.

*

“Serve the lord with fear,
praise him with your trembling;
Psalms.”

admit we know nothing. then we shall
certainly know something.
i speak to say that nature always wears lovely garments...
even in a storm so serve the lord with your courage.

*

humility is like the sea-god
being calm for just one moment.
just enough to think twice of returning
to its tremulant nature.
always being still unto his or her
fellow lovers; the tributaries.

*

finger to finger,
symmetric we are,–
there is no better
way to sing the song of the body.
there is no worse way to sing
the song of the mind

*

x-cubed looks like a snake
but is not evil
for neither is the snake.
venom has no vocabulary
of devils.
and i have never been in the
danger of the bush.

*

yes yes.
all is grace.
yes yes.
all speech is metaphor.
yes yes.
math still
permits my eyes to capture
the belly of a nightingale–
or the pursuit of a mouse.
even
when things should be more like
god.

*

everything in this room allows for me to breathe.
all of the planes and helicopters outside my windows
have not yet chopped my head off. they still scare the part
of me that does not want a car to hit me as i pass in the street.
employ me driver to the safety that does not alarm either of us.

*

why speak with such nimble tongue?
do you not wish for the hard bones of
thought?
do you not want the marrowy pictures
that men of the earth sometimes say
steal our souls?–
“i must not rely on that interpretation.”
do stop me of this outward flow that
i have tapped a source of everything.
she only stops if ourselves believe
ours days in the park only happened in
that a piece of film.

but i know that someone must help me into
the earth. lord knows where i will end up?
dying hopefully in the arms of love
with eyes from children.
who know that time is ours for the
taking as we sit thinking silly, fundamental thoughts.
the most amazing thoughts of all. god love reason
all circles.

*

glistening with rain water
we children pile into
early morning lecture.
already we are thinking
of seeing those writing
authors who died so that
we may live. doused with pain
water we forget that
which touched them
with soft hands also
touches our ears
to an opening.

*

all books are on the same plain,
yes. but
i find so much the meaning
of nature simply
seeing the rosy cheeks around me
eclipse
this mean account of my
lovely life.

*

will you join
me under my umbrella
as it sleets in Austin?
something uncommon
is the joining of our two
souls.

*

reprove princes of old constantly
and in this way we shall learn to love
what we know to be true.–
trust not the sermon smoke from the lily,
taste that for your self and inform your modest
tongue to the failure that is choking vain.–
calm the sad bellowing from the world and your lungs.
and find faults to reprove scientist of old over and over into infinity.

*

the oppression of stone
weighs upon me so...
i sit atop no pyramid
but rest in its lengthy
passageways
all leading outward,
all following inward,
into that rough heart
of a smooth tomb.

*

give yourself to the lord
but do not lose a thought.
you are no serf unto the
pastures of the world
but a master in the eyes
of those who love looking
back into yours...
staring endlessly
into all that is eternal.

*

it is the great year of the caterpillar
twenty-ten.
that great-green undulating
creature crawls into my ear
and feasts a breakfast for us both.

sustenance of metaphor
for our year does not exist.
only is there the universe.
and she knows nothing of 2010.

*

a snow flake falls right
below my left eye,–
and i am reminded of crying.
and i am reminded of that
instant flash of insight
which tells me we live
in the same world and
nothing i say will lead
you to anything that you
yourself cannot become.
god does not carry with him
the future. he gave us the past
while the present
only shows us
snow flakes falling
below our eyes.
first with a step
and before that
with forever.

*

dear lord i
apologize
for wanting to sleep,
sincerely.
she baits me to her noxious nothingness
with a swell of spirituality and the
hope for an hour of dreaming.
i should very much like to be more thankful
for early mornings spent thinking that the
world is great in its wretchedness
and that time is simply a word,
dear lord i
apologize.
the swell is but the returning of nothingness.

unless we hold on.

*

the earth shakes with pattern.
a vibration... all is vibration.
all is the compression
of divine molecules
pushing each other like
children wanting to be first in line.
the atoms bouncing back like
men not wanting to die,
when we should be more
transverse as if we’re
playing each other
the beauty that is
jump ropes.

*

time does not even flow
like the mantle... slowly...
time is merely a word we
calculate with the
most minute of
minutes our minds.

*

the water from my faucet drips all day
and night in a steady rhythm.
one, two, three, four,
one, two, three, four... etc.
and i think about our world wasting away.
but as i tread lightly as if not to disturb this forest floor,
my feet feel fiery and leaves catch and grasses catch
and my wasteful desire makes me want to capture the water
and drink it all until we are all full.

*

introduce yourself as i am a stranger that
you will never see again.
believe me when i say
here is a chance for love.

*

On incantation:

like mouthing the words to a song you know to be beautiful but
you do not wish to disturb the universe with your terrific voice.

*

i like to wear colors of the weather;
this way everyone knows that i blend in
and that i am grey when the sky is grey,
blue when the sky is clear. that
i am the weather because all is me.

*

a tax on me i be borrowing.
a tax on you you be borrowing.
a tax on us both the value we must
place on our lives of dollars and cents,
same for all countries dollars and cents.
could i tax you? a translation of what money is in say...
Brahman?
money is of the divine order. but we corrupt.

*

why does
two people laughing
say that we
will overcome
our obstacles
as we receive them,
“and together my dear?”
when a loving silence i tend
to offer allows for a presence of
doubt to breed together that magnanimous
voyage of love. a frightful journey for even the most
comical of hearts. but the necessary becomes distant
when people think of so much life in front of them. when
really their are aspirations to attain to at this very second, with
not a moment spent a part to to lose. i do not wish to waste time thinking
when we could be upon one another’s dreams like silken thread wrapped lightly
around each of your most white of thighs. if you have gotten the message of our god!
go forth!
remove yourself of these words.

*

i held my door open for someone
who in turn held theirs open for me.
can we both rush quick enough to
enter with one not closing behind
us?

*

i hold out my hand
to glide the rail
that is wet with the
soul of man. i
collect all the
droplets and push
them as i walk the
hill. they gather in
my bliss and we
become wet with
the god of steel.
and as i wade
through the masses
of people i want to
hold my arms out
wide and gather
them all to my bosom.

*

i close my eyes to
make my body stop
aching from bliss
full thinking and
then i remember god
made darkness at
the same time he
made all those
frequencies i shy
away from.

*
i will not enter you on x t c but we shall generate ecstasy;

how art thou?
grey son?
you were born in august
will you sound the horns of the sublime?
how art though
grey daughter?
you were born in April
will you carve your own path to rebirth?

*

a miracle is but a glimpse in
to the collective soul.
intuition as to
your part in the divine conquest
of imagination.

*

only in sleep have i
heard dead silence.
always, even in the
creek and woods is
there the ceaseless
drone of cars and
planes. the litter
of plastic. and even
the tremendous
beauty of nature
does not keep me
here for long. the
sun drives me to
madness. the clouds
cover him and my
wits return. the
spring is one of the
four seasons that
are most lovely for
a bike ride.

*

dear God,
thank you for this day.
a nd
for those who benefit me,
a nd
for those who silently murder me.
that is everyone lord.
i wish to love you
by loving them all lord
thank you for this day.

*

the wing bounces each time it is lit red. and each time it is not. the dawn colors my mind in the spectrum of its beauty and i am pulled towards the dominance of purple. light-blue creeps up the length of space as if a child moving confidently into the forest of the black ecliptic. and i am reminded to pray for forgiveness. to pray for mankind's forgiveness... to pray to the silence that fills my head...to pray for myself and in so you. the ambient glow flows into the cabin of the plane. i wish for dream filled sleep with the minute motivation to wander through space and time to visit friends. to visit lovely women who i have yet to light the incense of comfort and warmth. yes and i become comfortable in my being.
i think of my body being carried along the horizon. and i think of everyone i ever know or will know gently resting their heads on the pillow of my awakening. there she is that glowing ball rising from the line of heaven. above a blanket of cloud. i think of love's embrace and secluded areas where man and women yawn at the dawn. they know not of the perils of this earth for they lie like the sun above the line separating them from the earth to their lovely land of sky and softness and ripples of flesh upon flesh and the warmth in their sleepy eyes looking into one another's casting away any thought of dream great or bad
for the dream of intercourse and humanly synthesis lies breathing next in bed and next to that powerful curve horizon.

*

the spike of the morning rise lets me listen to the beautiful song of the god within the heart of music.
we are broken but our bells ring singing hymns of flowing thought and giving and taking and thinking of my little girl somewhere waiting to meet me as the sun goes down and she becomes to me the god of warm bliss upon the grass of our lives.

*

much more people seem lonely than are aware
of their presence in the eternal company.

*

the Charles
river flows like the endorphins
being blasted into my body from its calm wake.

*

here she is
the great Atlantic...
somehow Boston looks
amazing against the fathomless
sea.
and we turn into our descent upon
the home of transcendentalism
and of Cummings
and so much more
like these thoughts
upon our building of cities
against what we will never conquer...
the ambition of man and woman
lies dead in the darkness of the ocean floor...
our success in hopping streams seems wonderful
but we lack the vision of no streams any longer.

*

standing in the rotating belly of the connection
between the trains i
pray to god to forgive
me of our sins.
i
learnt to love them all by loving you
you are lord.
i feel
as though we have traveled past the omen
graveyard and we have found common
bliss.
we pass cars traveling below and
i
wonder if they are driving into and out of
the ocean.
dreaming surely in the drain
while living is surely in the trees.
down into the drain of the Oceanair
i think of
returning home and the prospect of speaking
to a woman dressed in black and who will love
the shape of my jaw and my teeth.
i
seethe shape of her eyes starting into
the blue of my face and we
yawn together to gasp of comfort
and walk to our bed to sleep half the night
and sing the song of our flesh for the other half
and the music comes out blissful.

*

on a plane back to Texas
i think of how fatality makes
boredom seem even more scary.

we could die in a cabin full of strangers
and i would not know of your embrace.

girl,
stop for a second up the way there...
let me catch up please...
let me turn you around and the lock
of eyes to eyes we will forget of what
the term boredom means.
we will run forever into and out of
thoughts of death. and since
you let me catch up to you in the cold
forest we will slow down time with thoughts
of those pine needles
with us now
as they fall
atop our
grave.

*

we create only darkness
until the sun casts its light
upon our humble creation.

*

will this chasm of dark cloud suck us down like it shows
as the wings of the plane look as though they are being torn
from this floating capsule.
i think of closing the shade but would prefer a chance to view my one and only
villain.

*

the spectrum of the sunset appears as i close the origin of species.
the harmony of the curvature of the earth and the rotation of my body from the sun
creates much more than this image.
it has
helped create variety.
all animals live by this divine order or they die in indifference.
the weary must only open their minds to the bliss that lies ready for the plant who hates the opportunity
for ignorance in animal.

*

those thoughts of death you dismiss quickly while walking on a bridge or looking out a window far from the base of safety, is simply your brain acknowledging the absurd.

our lives are filled with a chance for tomorrow and a chance for death.

there is much we can do to avoid fatality but little we can do to escape anxiety and nothing we can do to escape that death which is inevitable.
the inclination toward suicide is simply forgetting of all the amazing things you have to hold once you get home from your travels.
your dreams lie not in the stranger beside you, certainly if you say hello, they are in the degradation of orange into its purple tail night.
not in your arms but in the room illuminated in part by the lights you see flicking on below you. or perhaps your lover lies comfortable with your contact next to you and the thought of death does not entreat upon your mind except in the case of hers...

the death of you sweet love is the death of me.

not the physical one, i will not perish from this earth with your poison but i will begin to think of my own death much more because tomorrow i will visit the graveyard rather than waking in the cold embrace of your most white of hands.

the most soft of hands, death, plucking happiness from the limbs of the tree i call future.

*

we circle around the truth
yet we do so perfectly.
since there is no achievement
we circle so perfectly
around and in
the inundation of the divine.
we strike our zither playing
many frequencies.
yet only dissonance kills beauty
and even then the dissipation
and harmony that follows
is but the force of resurrection...
is but the force of reincarnation.

*

i just saw a little
speck of the big
bang because i was
thinking that we
are here because of
god expanding the
most central matter
of existence and
the chances for life
on earth evolved in
the devolution and
creation of stars.
and planets.

*

i wish to remove “individual,”
from my vocabulary.
every animal is born through
the sex of their parents.
what do spawning spores do?

*

we photosynthesize.
we die in the cold.

*

perhaps there’s a planet
beyond Pluto.
a most lovely dark
dwarf.

*

on the elevator a couple failed to fully press their floor.
i leaned calmly around their embracing touch
and opened the door
by pressing myself a number not mine.

*

thank you prophet Anastasia.
for telling me the type of
person i will marry.
but you are no prophet.
i will control my destiny.
she will maneuver hers.
we will love each other’s
past and cherish our future.

that which we are conscious
of.
when our children think of us.

thank you prophet matt.
for being silent and thinking.
for knowing that i would say
everything is a circle.

*

on western music:

e
holds strong to its true frequency.
a
is weaker but tunable.
d
lies on all strings.
g
moves quickly but still hates dissonance.

e, a, d and g
sing ∞

*

you and i are telepathic
when we believe in the collective consciousness.

*

pure ecstasy with liquid nitrogen:

incantation from my fellow animal as he speaks of the combination of chemical and music.
bliss created thinking of Pluto’s atmosphere.
ganymede is larger, warmer and lacks Pluto’s blanket.
we give each other the gift of company.
we give each other pain from the cold cracker.
we cover each other with thoughts of distance becoming smaller.
we love our coldness and care not for those closer to the almighty-sun.
we slow this night down, we use our energy so effectively.
we drink water and push the gas into the bottle drinking it over.
this synthesis is supposed to make us laugh uncontrollably?
giggle giggle giggle.
this concentration of our atmosphere is supposed to make us euphoric?
bliss bliss bliss.

but i cough the next day and i feel my body ridding myself of smoke.
and i feel a knot in my back so my friend helps me pop my bones.
but i have a feeling it is muscular because i hunch over so much.
but i have a thought that the skeletal is connected to body tissue
and i am reminded to take care of my mind

*

There is no title to our appreciation of our city;

let us make our empire.
let us become bigger in the inhalation of our divine atmosphere.
let us create ecstasy with our breath.
we’ve already grown up.
we’ve thrown the boomerang.
pull the orbit back to us.

we create meaning.
we think symbols are of our own doing.
when no metaphor is original.
we think our words to be true in the false world.
when no symbol is sarcastic.

pop-eye is a man of the steamboat.
Mario is a man of the mushroom.
danger mouse produces the inherently-divine frequencies.
Zelda is that of the sword.
Ash is a boy of the imaginative nature.
little mouse carries with him an accent of circular speech.

i love dangerous swordplay on mushrooms at town lake.
which has not happened yet
but how would you know unless you believed me? (be there)

*

all sounds of music are hallucination.
all words are psychoactive.
the mind-body tells us appreciation and understanding
is intrinsic as we feel the wind
of my breath
on our legs returning.

open your eyes wide.
dilate your existence to those who see you.

we can choose.
we can hate.
we can love.

are you thirsty? like really thirsty?
careful
drink to much water and you die
but you know that (!)

*

a story of children
and words. sunlight
and the sun saying
god. a child waking
with a cry for
warmth. the sun is
so warm. his
material falls
inward and then
he says
the most easy of
things. a question.
then he says the
most hard of
thoughts answer
future coldness.

*

democrat-republican-libertarian
tells me government
should govern least when
the people do not need
to be governed
the death penalty should be legal-
for pre-meditated murder proved
abortion should be illegal- but
love the child and love that which
gave reason to kill

health-care should be for all-
let us balance our spectrum
and find the recipe for Eden

*

u t o p i a
is first-
realizing the
nature of r e m
cycles. then we will
sleep less and be
conscious more. we
will stay up doing
that which we love.
we forget the
dreaming we used to
escape to

*

i love my smile. i
love my eyes. but
one squints as the
other flourishes.
and one brightens
while the other
darkens my vision.

*

rid our world of
clock time and we
no longer feel
anxious over the
loss of sleep. our
mind bodies know
our cycles. we shall
sleep less and
dream more.

*

feeding the hungry
was jesus
journaling. smaller
be they than their
dappled dreams
sweet swift drone
the neat trick of
making someone
love them self.
the divine power
of knowing your
mind tells you
when the
body is full

*

two streaks of moon
light-street-dark
amongst the stars
placed on the
ceiling of my dorm
room by someone
before me. they
disappear as i focus
on the light of my
phone i write by and
they reappear just
as vibrant as i close
this recording of thought

*

we kiss a twin
when we think not that
our lips lie as soft as
the porcupine quill.

or when we think
a circle is to sharp
to measure

there can always be
flaws in logic. a
circless angel
a circle angle
depending on what
freudian slip
you wish to believe
in. we
should be well
enough knowing
that both lie in the
cycle of a circle

*

instructions on being poetry:

1 love yourself
2 state your claim
3 write evidence
4 rearrange until
the nicest sentence
pulls the reader
in with clarity and
truth allowing for a
clear flow of
thought and your
creation shows that
if a river went all
around the globe we
would not think
that our words roll
downhill.
you are a
poet when you
answer my question
with “the answer is in
orbit back to”
being a question.
and so on and so on
and your a poet.

*

i tried seeing
rods and cones
by seeing tri angles
in the chaos of closed
eyes and i realized that
we must only have to cut
darkness square in half.
we have a right triangle
a four sided figure is
the same with one more
angel singing
and angle listening

*

i would attempt to
steal Anne brad
street from her
husband by telling
her that i am race less to each negligent tongue
who says a sect i more certainly fit
i am as much in death as i am in life
who wants to be guided into the abyss?
i would like to walk into that myself
thank you.
perhaps you would like to walk with me?
you know i combine poets of the dark with poets
of the light (sarcasm for sex)
looking for their faults so that i may love them
looking for their strengths in order to eat them
as i wander this path i am
negligent to each
tongue she does
not place upon---

*

forget my poems on the outside influences
forget that sex is pleasurable
forget that substance will send you to space
the universe is all in the same constellation
sex is jerking off the stars

*

judge me not. but if
you wish to do not
count poems. count
words.
but
i could just give
you the word god. or
the world circle. or
savior. all work
incredibly well
when you believe
them to be
connected to each
other. the fault to
connect is ours.

*

i want to love you so
i can look in your
eyes without the
liner.

*

there’s never been
the perfect poet. i
am in the full
spectrum of thought
i strive to be amazing
but ultimately you
place me atop or
below your list. the
perfect poet is born
with intention of
their parents.

*

i love Emily Dickinson
because if we were
both breathing i
would try to have
intercourse- make
love to her so very
badly. i would ask
her to ride me and
let her whisper in
my ear to close my
eyes less the
lightning of our
orgasm be blinding.
truth creates bliss.

*

silence inexorable no genesis
no exodus.

mother’s movie is ever unreeling

waxing waning
waxing waning
silence explainable genesis
exodus.

waxing waning
waxing waning

good word
good words
no exodus
no genesis.

crescent-gibbous-release our loving synthesis!
beautiful moon,
alight upon this word’s guest
the love for our home

(must i be a child for you to wake up to the possibility of an
apocalypse?
!)
*

thank you angle.
thank you five-degrees.
you let us see our moon.
chaos you are a word
we utter with indifference.
let us admit mystery-sublime
and order in the repetition
of fifty four years, thirty four days.
orbit mystery, orbit,
we lie the sweeping cycle Saros.

*

there is sadness in not believing,
but not misfortune.
there is chance for redemption
in all beings who are only absent
from the thought of god because
they wish to be absent from themselves.
find what allows us to
wish for a conversation
within our home and we shall
find the song of a lonely star,
opening its eyes to see the
spheres orbiting
the love reckoning
and the comfort circling.

*

follow me from the sun
to the earth’s magnetic fields
where we shall be charged
raining half our light
upon north-pole-people
and half in the south
that land of white and black
ghosts
follow me from
the sun
in this sweeping ellipse
visiting all planets and
we will return to earth and
love our land of
black and white
an ellipse is not a perfect circle
but all planets do not harbor life
and all planets lie in the same plane
of the sun
the incredible distances make angles nothing
just as magnetic force is north and south
east and west
black and white

*

you can derive all thing’s source of energy
back to that one fateful star which god
decided to expand very quickly
coal is a black decay of earthly matter
first generated with the death of a father star
and we love it to much
i pledge my allegiance to that one dead light
spewing elements into our nebula where by chance
there formed such a wonderful little planet
slowly crumbling under our feet

*

Venus you lack-luster beast
you invariable twin
you rock orbiting-warning
all the while our earth is cooling
all the while our earth is warming
must we act like the crazy man who
burns his house down with his family in it?
only to fly himself into a building
and kill his fellow citizens
the suicide of a planet
comes with heat upon
heat losing the internal will to live

*

the moon is a spectacle and a true breath of heaven
a light unto the world reflected from our
father sun who says
hey moon
you mind pushing a little of this
golden love down this way?
those wonderful little people down there
forget that i am always here
but that it is
they that rotate from
me
she carries the conversation on to us
hey little children
some rays for you
the sun told me you wanted them
i make them a little more white
so do not look closely at my surface because
you will see a sharp line of shadow you will see
craters that fill not with the water you so blissfully have but
they simply fill with shadow
darkness that looks to your planet with so much envy
it tells me so. it tells me that it is wanting and hoping
for oceans green forests and white snow
it tells me to push this light to you but out of circumstance
rather than love

*

do you think humans will live long enough on the earth
in order for us to see our almighty sun swallow us all?
a sad but lovely response of how the climate is changing
such wonderful brown eyes
make me quickly forget what we are ignorantly doing
i know you’re silent pain
i know what must we not try and forget all the time
there is much work to be done

*

the cryovolcanics of Enceladus
is and are and was and was not and seems now to me to be
beautiful tiger stripes
the subsurface ocean does little for my appetite to swim.

*

floating angels particle suspension
is the heavy atmosphere of titan
a liquid methane lake makes me
look to them as a king on a hill
or as a liquid water lake on earth
titan is orange from haze disturbing
sunlight. the moon is much colder
the methane cycle on titan gives me
the molecular motion of its atmosphere
the marble sized drops fall at the speed
a feather descends to the ground on earth
a ripple from the disconnect from man and woman

*

our dreams bury us in the warmth
of our own soft beds
away away
forever away like sliding
off into rivers pushing great
green hillsides
as if we are the up man
and we are in love.
but we know of no such thing
there is a working for that place
in a wheat field with cypresses
and a beautiful woman
in the mid day sun sitting and smiling
pointing up to the sky roof who is filled with thick
winds clouds streams all
breathing goodness and
divinity into great channels

the sky opens his blanket to the stars and speaks to our selfish ways
pushing them away from inside ourselves
and we forget the influences outside of us and
we both acknowledge god like blue eyes sprinting like rivers
smiling like green fields hugging with urge and forever urging
always movement across our separate minds always
movement across our cohesive minds
her smooth body fixed softly throughout
my embracing continent, seeing what she
needs to see before we both limp our sorry
saved selves back to our beds and plummet
into infinity and plummet away from infinity
and so on and so on into the night.

*

the most powerful whisper:
sweet being i promise
to you my soul
shall i enter you now
and with this touch
lead us to the heavenly
land our love?
“i did not know we were
not already there
but enter now and
with this peace
leave our home
for another place
amongst the stars.”
we will not leave
if that be your wish
we still may stay and
with this first
command the gods to
see our one true being

*

flowing into the river i
know an absence of bliss
joining the water i know
a state of euphoria
what happened to you
miss
blue eyes?
foundling
those marauders
during the night did they
lead you down to
to many bedrooms?
did they not want to know of
any promises?
have they put you to bed early
giving you selfish praise?
foundling
that work
never departs from this world
when men feel more than
expected
inside of you
they cheat life
foundling
you are older than you think
spirit speaks a wonder i can’t touch and
i know that this is pain
if all of you i want
but moving an inch toward the banks
i’m to slow for our sun

*

dreams in this world of mosaic thoughts dissected upon my cruel cutting board:

we stagger up hills after waiting in crumbling courtyards
sharing the seeds of a yellow flower-horn object perhaps
the curved bell of the forsythia? but
there is little essence of ritual when we look for our friends the earth
has moved and they are gone
our mother has shaken all ways and we are still in bed.
chance dreamt our meeting before
and we see them now alive returning
our love on the sun soaked woody hills
a presence of death
dark clouds pushed upon pillars of unending
brimstone loaded with black and white bull sap and
appearing everywhere in dream a background of
emancipation and a foreground of blank fire
raging and running to the flames i scream for the light to diminish
so i may see the beautiful girl who sings to me that she knows my troubles and
can sing to me the ground of the hill with its leaves and
its bricks and its coalescing dust that shows wonderfully the warmth
amongst two bodies
there is freedom in her sprinting blue eyes like
mine but lighter and softer in motion
ours mix nicely even with worldly words describing wonton whirling
but before and now and when
our love for water spiraling
and yellow plants opening
was spiritual
her face of beautiful bell-flesh i will never forget

*

we wake from dreams and think to write them down since
with so much input, cannot a m o s a i c be true?
hurricane bonnie bled orange and black through
the sills of a
rented
norfolk
house and
we love our nightmares because they make all things
in reality seem wonderful

*

if i see you
sweet evening song release is
floating shells and pinball sky
if you love me
twilight vision mounts
Cheshire cat
and strokes his fur evanesce
if we view each others faults openly
an empty tree branch resembles
the ecstasy of our one true meeting
mother earth watches us out and
into one another as if we were
never separate and already one

*

the most powerful smell
is your showered hair;
a morning sweet
with last night’s
rain

*

god is brown eyes, a tree color.
god in those dimples.
god in those words not in the crafting of.
so who pushes these into my heart?
our words, her strength, my strength.
who tells the this tall tale of fate? who
asks for such a thing! as a time bomb?
waiting to whimper and
carry us up above on its back.
up into that celestial sphere where its shape
was first made. through the making of the word shape.
earthly problems of hate subdued,
we both remain each other.

the warmth i felt alone quickly
gives way for the want of hers next to mine.
and i remember to love my own temperature red.

*

all i see in the word ugliness
is a hate for oneself.
how could i love you
if you have no ability to
love your self?
attractiveness is the exuberance.
show me what you do to enjoy
your own company and
i will find you attractive.
i will show you my poems.
they are humble but
they bring me so much bliss.
like the freckles on a red head,
who has the most beautiful blue eyes
the world has ever seen...

*

what she does with them is her prerogative.
i will tell you what i would do...
i would hang them up in my closet, where
all my clothing lies wrinkled.
i would wear them out and about the town
showing people how much i love them.
i would wear them all the way to her house
where i would place them back into her skull.
we would look into the mirror her and i
loving that which
makes us complete.–
just as she was when
they hung in my closet.
swaying like some early mountain fresh air,
ready to be brought into the life of a fresh haired maiden
i bring flowers.
i bring you myself.
i bring you all that you would want
with captivity unto yourself.

*

i do not wish to chase your love.
i have been down that path and
i am sad to think that it was
what i did not feel that
i was done wanting after feeling.
i would prefer chasing together
something more infinite and permanent.
i do not want for you to wonder if i will make any money.
i would prefer some trust. some faith.
some love in the song i sing now.
now as in, forever.
faith as in the wife and as the act.

*

if i should know
the cleverness of
your loving.–
it will be because i first
felt amorous for
myself.
under
cold night sheets
not able to sleep since my body
wishes to warm itself with thoughts of you.
beautiful chains of your
silver body wrapping my
mind with molten kisses.
and in the night
when dreaming
forehead to forehead
we read poems
listening to them convey the world
series and our bodies ever pulling into each other with a mutual gravity
that tells us what we already know of our love for one another.
that we will watch the world series
in person.

*

i dreamt i was a villain needed only for killing that which already had an assassin
and the plane before which i was on needed to crash but somehow the pilot found
a way to touch down with no injury to the minds of those captive in the capsule.

*