dawning of day--bridge me the sequel
and say nothing of memory--
hard stones looking back
into foreign affairs--where's the knife point?!
searching through the air
words tumble blood to bare
the sequence fumbles through like this:
noThing to bother the bitter left outside
the door opened looking for
bright colored evening song and boy lines drawn in the sky
silhouette my song and feel it like pride
in the lungs breathing deep the night and the day the dawn until
park stories bring us back to earth and we feel like light on the skin

no turn
rounding the corner of earth or growing
up and out
became present
and sudden
a godless warning
caught
on the stage, flood lights, dragged from the porch and her death--
child--
is great--yet still means noThing next to universe
rocked by the poor pitter-patter of left-behind-future

bleak blank and drunk on the street
unless
some pick-me-up shoulder shrug can bring her out
out of time and shell
noon day spells, sun on the skin makes one think again
of rosters--foster the cost of living
shown blatant and bare--the face (off) laughing
sagging is the sense of movement

where is here and how did it come to be?
i normally see these things
well in advance
instead looking to the radio gods to send a sign
what way to leave this benign existence

looking for fever--progressive strife
sound by life
it is breath and lips and sweat
concrete scores rocked by a dancing floor

deliver the couch with great austerity
bring to my mind
accept the rest as unavoidable
and affordable death
alternative to the rest (consumption and burning)
hypocrisy learning

single out the lined figured in the corner
a lone
glacier serving solitude and wrecking the scape
keeping noThing not even herself safe

the great voice of reason
drowning in escalating treason
elephant in the room
bone white ebony sin
singing about irony

her majesty
blond hair twirling round

slender finger
wrapping
warring against dignity

great beyond measured
in time hearing how seconds are formed
missed communication
step back into the pink tingling night to know children
and their madness
venerable world
salvation is chance
and memory is everything

keep me company twilight
sinister night
drunken escapade
into strife--strangers hold secrets
held in posture
pinnacle alter--bow down

blow me westward
singing about silk and secrets

shove into
insight (provided----)
the text bold slash sans serif
unequivocal truthbetold
i never loved you
only idea
of blue
silver
red streaked moment
no words of any kind
in any order
could save this
no handmade trinkets
nor memory
could save it
not even a wrecked conversation
about 'what ifs'
could make the front page

only idea
shattered against
self
will
and hard cold stone memory
is left to pick up the shame of salt
and letters

effusive beginning
silence in the absence -- this isolation keen and well kept
weep--emotional stint
felt like a whip to the back(hand) of dis[soul]ution--

gray night gray matter gray sight
follows
the connection strong
vibrant and empty
the physical prowess removed
grown stronger the absence
the hum of dark house ringing through the ears
listening with ears to the ground
to the door
the floor giving a signal of
coming plight
urgency
--speak about peace
peach and fur electric eclectic touch
from everywhere a beginning a forgetting
sucking in the brave air trying to be braver still
and poetry is at standstill
human bondage
the torture of observation
knowing human disadvantage
isn't found in stillness
but movement and thought
thinking that we are whole
centered and kind gentle sensical beings--
reality the bitch next door
divided our efforts, thoughts askew
separate living and breathing only self
others an illusion
caring too much
too much the sins--right wrong
dialogical process
conversation with no one but
self--diminished
damned
and reaching every reaching
for salvation
living across the corridor
and weeping
about howthingsusedtobe
and weeping
about howthingswere
and weeping
about nothinginparticular
until
s t o p
sudden shrinking self
the world so big so big so big big big
tiny little self shrinking
in the night
under stars and magnolia trees next to giant city blocks and rivers
muddy rivers were death and carriage both reside

polyester suited man on the corner
preaching his sign
saying god is a badass
and we're fucked
with his loud speaker
and small eyes
praying for eternal damnation

while pedestrians walk
walk like death is something known but left
alone
under the magnolia trees by the cobbled brick street
the street light singing shinning through the water the rain
the best part of life spent in front of a stop light
waiting
thinking that some missing piece is about to jump out
SURPRISE
with an answer
to solitude in a crowded bar
judgement
snowy white judgement
soot
the black soot of conclusion
illusion
sophisticated inclination
that something
is not
quite
right
signpost--the signal to leave-takings

describe affluent subtilize
back away
humble
discreet notion
hip joint and shake

mark the skin with ink
and play like love
isn't dark clouds hanging over
concrete ledge--city brow
and sinister
street-
light

with all the courage
brave beginnings--
pressed hard between repetition--
is hard (graves gone) to come by
wave
good byes
while looking
like rolling plains (grass land empty)
heaving thought across
heavy
unmarked
road

quick impression of Patagonia

looking askance
pale nervous laugh
white palms rubbing together
a psalms to current time

Patagonia wind
wild
willful
lit mountain rain and broken tin

small i's dot the landscape--
a call for greater Things
where horses are not broken
where

we linger on gray hooves striking the ground
with our stance

thin enough to call a barely breeze
-----weak

----her images--already ill-defined--began
to dissipate

walking
was difficult
marked by sin (among other things)

when wildly forward
was all she wished
upon nothing her ground--imaginary

plight--
exodus to fantastical future
where running and WILL
returned
to usher in another time

less stricken by the weight of day

little stone
working its way
into celestial trials

the next step
forgotten
among the looking-for of backdoor escapes

leverage--a fake sucking-in of mistakes
among discarded skin and error

delete love--
gouging out the eyes of romance
with tender hands and a smile

be a breeze
----------- a birch tree silence

a swollen eye
------------- black envy

destination--sheets--the cool spread of sex
------------ a syntax misplaced by garment

---to know thunder---how it hollows the skies
with talk of murder

keep it smooth
---------------- sing about other things

like trumpets
and spring

a trembling parenthesis of gathering silence

the allure of return

impulse

ferried response carried electric

across blighted emotion

speak into the thin darkness

to feel it reverberate

sending shivering fingertips

to collect dense intention

white washed illness
stalled plows in the field
river bones mixed--
wash out to sea
whose salt
is sweat filled
teary night--

stripped ashy trees
stand unashamed
skinny naked trees
gesturing to bald sky

bald sky bares witness
to our embarrassment
as we grow
mute
and shy--

the heavens do not know pity
brothers and sisters
circular nature
company and split self
wetlands, coast, drying fields
fertile
rusty plow oiled slick and new

the corn is high and blue ------ while
history is made in backyards
urban slews, rooftops, alleys, near the silo
behind the brush fire, in the kitchen,
on the street
mingled with place
and people

stories are being told
borrowed time
walls
lots of walls
bricked up ------ plastered
coated and invisible
like birds in tree tops
birds in tree tops with their
invisible hanging houses
searching for the morning

the morning and sound
the salty sea
north
the south sweat
river
muddy and sensuous
the bones of stories
silos and plows
noise, morning noise
and mist
mist covering--a blanket over tilled land
tilled land filled with future
and past

quiet from its past
tilled by its future
while the long hands of century
hold
element over this land

dramatic thought/untitled sketch

carry me to your chagrin
ferry me
dead weight eyes
cause (effect) a stirring
every thing lost

to crows kneeling sideways
against the snow
pecking bones
bare branched homes
sketching gestures to the sky

broken contour
too thick laid on its side
scratching a hole in memory
picking out the stones

praising all great mothers
wishing for the womb
sacrifice, arms
unaided cleft chest
pressed against safety

deft we deliver silence
absence
crossed legs
hanging breath
our own untimely living deaths

like when a space is clear cut for growing but then is forgotten and wild things begin to take over again

it is

hard to let go

of names

when naming

is everything

and more

working searching

for integral

connect

ruination

of self

of WILL

of bravery-

standing only as a front

for more sophisticated fears

that cleared the path for greater sins

like remembering

stretched out

ephemeral past without hard edges

what strange contrast she holds!!

time is not a divine right

it is only

until it is not

to say--

what sad stories we live

full of bright beautiful change

Fox--Part I

speaking from a distance
knowing no other option

only

water --- blue and tied to solitude

meaning found
in cadence

subtleties

restless fevers shivering sweat tossed in damp sheets

speak to me

this holding of tongues is madness
against history
against certain stories

Fox--Part II

the fox burrows deep
digging two exits
knowing entrance is easy

but to leave
to leave is a universal matter
tied to Great Things

like survival

necessity

the fox knows sound
whispering when to retreat

yet even instinct is compromised
as curiosity often weighs more
than danger
and sense

laid waste---stream

god must have laid waste to us o' so long ago. before the busy streets with yellow paint and tar before broken alleys and bricked buildings. before thick combs of people mashed together on sidewalks god must have laid waste. god must have laid waste to us long before flickering screens and wires with electric impulse and plastic bags with handles. god must have laid waste to us before planes could crash and before we thought dead earth buried black was any good to us. god must have been so mad to lay waste to us even before johnny apple seed and cannon fodder and domestic pigs. god must have laid waste to us o' so long ago. before stucco and the invention of saws for cutting down trees before we lost sight that trees share the same fate as us, before hygiene and fire god must have laid waste to the little souls rocking back and forth in tight caves with sand in them and with cold found foraged food below them. god must have laid waste to us crimson red with all kinds of glory and light and must have thought about dogs while laying waste to us. god must have thought about dogs and laid waste to us with panache and flair and a sense of fashion. yeah, god's got fashion and style and sense and panache. god's got it all under control from the tiny tunnels dug feverishly by ants to the tiny tunnels dug feverishly by us gods got style and panache. when god laid waste to us, i bet there was probably glitter everywhere, the kind that gets stuck to the cheek and glitters in the right light. yeah, there was definitely glitter when the waste laying was happening

ripped by novelty-------

familiar fate
go fuck yourself-------

and eat this pain
pushing forward through WILL.
the terrible force of WILL.
coming under severed breath
the degree to which bravery falters
swinging her hips
she alters
and fate smiles at irony while kneeling
down giving head to undiminshed universe

keeping stride --- ooooh ---- our pitiful curse
dreams deafened by birth (of new
while the wet earth denies sensuous touch
keeping distance between us

down
DOWN to the ground with our angst and sound----
looking like hawks
WHERE ARE THE CLIFFS
searching to avoid this rift
chasm
fathom and breeze. WILL.
where is WILL.

only hallways blue and stretched
with too many knee prints and knuckle prints
tasting of salt
as hands grope for darkening ways to cope

blue hands blue feet blue street

now sensitivity is known
as parts fall off me ------- ----- - - driving down roads
------tarred and blue
------ ------ ----------- ---
------ - - -- stained with too many said lines
----
-------------- -------- ------------ -- - and broken hands

be my patience
delicious fall
where mood and leaf couple
a song of dance--

smooth crisp steps
sound like
my bell-tolling
a swarthy call of
please--

open the windows
with their cracked pains
and screenless
wide
demur
for light and bird and breeze
shun the walls
of our trembling touchless praise

untitled

out of will to wish this prayer--
be equivocal truth
tipping on the edge of tongue
well-spring-forth
to be one greatness

muscles taunt
a tight breath with foreplay--life's trailer
a king's riches spilled naked on the floor

think world-self

masters of the desert
whose Valkyrie is shield against the storm
an ancient war waged against unsettled risks
calculate hypocrisy and feign surprise
unfolded pattern mocks history
sayen' 'see you soon babe. you like it when i lie'

tied to
great Expanse--the capital of our state (being)
knowing
answers are not what we need

questions lived
exaggerated forms thrive under
secret conditions

like the night
and other mysterious shrouds

veiled in pale watered light
willing original thought
only to find--
past
wanderings

yearlings of love--
beginnings again
again and again
until fathom is felt

unspeakable feeling! hear
our stomping
on grounds too soft for comfort

cynical movement

heart break america---
all those tar paved roads
glittering
like an empty bar

too much glass
and liquid inside

too much sass
and static outside

treat me to a lay baby
come on--
treat me

chemical reaction
love a product of adrenaline

brain dope and hope
a sinister combination

little stone

little stone in my belly

feed me something good--

devour clarity no more!

sinister little stone

the rest of time is passing

greedy in my belly--

alert

aware

stretched out

no room for truth in these walls

only comforting stories about how it wouldn't work anyways--

all the 'what if's' still trailing long and hard behind--

hard to force down but settles nicely after it goes

little stone in my belly

how long will you be here?--

what if it floods and too much water is swallowed?

no--

i think you are here to stay

company

weight

a tight hard memory in my belly

sing a song of trepidation

of l e a v I n g

to know peace in forgetting—forging an angry bond

between memory and wish

believe me when i say—

noThing can be done

in the name of good will nor love

except

stepping on (sensitive) toes and messages that say

k(no)w one gets the real words being said—

an abstract way of holding-on

and shutting-down

holding hands with fake miracles fucking apologizes backstage

cramping my style like always while

waiting for you—yes you—to subside

into distant faint background noise

sea story

our ocean muscles develop slowly

while telling secrets to the wind---

like how metaphors grow into years and become big--

telling us to be better

and to be kind

the salt like old pain--the earth knew we were coming

and cried love

as well as dread

and spoke often to the moon about what to do

while softly pulling up to the shore

rolling in and out of context

mixing sand and stone

knowing many bones would be there soon

what is prayer? said the ocean--

wishful thinking. said the moon--

often the ocean wished--or prayed--

for a great lover

to crack open the black night sky

spilling messy light everywhere to say 'i know i love you

because it's you and secrets are what we do best'

but the ocean knew

even with the light laying across her surface

she was bound to the earth--

it was the questions that sent earthquakes

across her dark depths

capsized boats and turned towns--

will you tidal up to these aching bones

roving eyes

to speak truth

while standing stock still

at the edge of tide?

will you spill your fishy secrets

like an accident over goosebumped bodies

lying prostrate on the sands?

the ocean knows

the excess of our excuse--

soft skin

and buried letters

the ocean knows not to believe in shame

the color of silver and blue

think life

contagious output

the porous sinking-in of not knowing

(infatuated with struggle)

time bandits steal clocks for fun--

laugh with great mirth

gusto--

chilling salt in the freezer

an experiment with later--

wonder if we could make the ocean in the bathtub

with little fish and weeds and oil

predator and prey

let dirt road weeds

live alongside lilac summer

pray to sprawling summer heavens

fence posts and cicadas

stay

long spider night

shimmer into spectacle (take on the angry world)

to silence

those malnourished thinkers

who feed muddy rivers lies of freedom

knowing dams exist (and man)

who said the word love

couldn't hold meaning in a room

full of people

didn't know coal mines--

never felt the saviors hand

against mine

but the breast of grace

and her fell song on wicked ears

knowing isolation

grieving staccato sob poetry

and dinner in the alley with crying

cats slinking against bereaved dark

untitled pause--meditated stream

burning--a candle in the wind

gone mad to stay alive

sucking oxygen (pause) burnt air (pause)

fighting back the night--fierce intelligence

even as foundations melt

drip drip drip

all the way home (pause)

spoke of dewy dreams (pause)

black forest feed me dinner

deliver sinners from eternal drought

what is this metaphor but a whimsy collection of regret (pause)

or perhaps--(pause)

a syndicate to recollection (pause)

reedy summer gave hints to nostalgia and fought off cicadas

singing and burning in the night

mere shells in the hot morning sun (pause)

we were lovers shelved

and knowing a poem for that one isn't worth the letters or breath (pause)

any

more than the next one coming up

unearth scripture and eat the bones of yesterday (pause)

left

over glacier--carve me a river (pause)

the splintered sky will give rise to a boat to sail

a

way on (pause)

keeping abreast of the latest trends (pause)

on how best to set the mast (pause)

drink liquor from her tributary

the great mother is aroused as she

lets out to sea (pause)

her river veins run thick with debris

and need the salt of open space (pause)

forging pacts beneath the sands

hour glass thin

our persons core out circumstance (pause)

deliver tendencies (pause)

and speak foreign face to lady mundane

(pause)

not my words

"They remain slaves because they can't see what it beautiful in this world." *


* Taken from White Tiger, Aravind Adiga citing the poet Iqbal

lady face

follow me

lady face

to a space clean of debris

marked -- the surface scratched
with footsteps of folly

shelved love--
poses (posies)---falling down--

the chalky dark night made of ashes and bone

hiatus

running crime

hot paved road tarred

feathers flocking separation

the goat sack ninny escapes down angry mob shoots --- persecuted for spewing garbage-

truth --- easing violent faith out of the ground

to say --- trust in me and i in you no matter what you see me do*

devastation

collapse

ergonomics and destination

where is spine/ and pride

talking hope to the homeless living in big houses

heart and mind a far cry from spiritual reprise

ticking time--the tattooed wrist

numbering the impact of external light--the lives of those shinning individuals

action is direct motion

action is motion

action is

action

act

a sudden notion

*Karl Denson's Why Don't You Check Out Your Mind

unsexed conversation

sing distance 

--------------and know close elimination

-----of sound distraction---------(distillation)

    -----------        - - - - - cradle your voice like a close reminder

--------------of early sex

  young thought and blood split lip

   ----- too quick to name words--

our detainment --- - ---- - --- - -- - -

        ----in noise----

echos long nerves---------------------------that stretch

--------------------miles into maybe--

to know sleep

    --  -   --  -  is river deep bringing dreams of shared sheets

murder she wrote

following her down
the river
that is
gold

feeling footstep shores
bold against dark lined ideas
prints of thoughts
impression
likened to the messages of old

ink stained night
follows listless movement
deciding to go through
with the murder

last night

nostalgic stake through the heart found

a photograph of a familiar hangover

in the back pocket of last night

wake up with a stranger and call her Memory

side swiped on the front stoop

by Regret whose job peels back your skin to

exposure 

and romance

a fit of fleeting sight 

the lust

a sort of extension of tendons 

tremors and touch

determine self-worth 

in a dark cove -- a pub

with dark beer

scant light to conceal the deal

with devils and angels

lets be renegade pedestrians--

an alternative to driving

 

we are time ticking out of sink 

ticking away

all our rounds spent on the same ---- ticking ---- numbers

the face without eyes

ruling--we must abide

closing in--our sin--

against sin--the clock keeps track

don't ever go back--its says--broken jointed 

a flood of envy at it's pronounced unbeginning

constant

in the clocks stride

our ruined nation led by goodbyes at the sun

as it raises questions lighter than the questions that the clock raises

repetition spells life 

spells the rounded cell we divide around

the single celled clock 

stronger than heart and gray hair brittle bones

the clock a syndicate to linear movement 

hater of intervention 

enemy of the divine

thinking about beats

the beat generation--relic from a hard boiled past

a past moving fast where the task of crossing the country came easy--

the veins of black paved road opened wide

made room for wild eyed drive--our - - - - destinations

destitute prophets counterfeit angles behind the wheel

the smell of sweat worn leather and gas leaking 

oil on the road mixed with slick ideas about the future

turmoil a moot point.

the gritty soles of people passing out abstract concepts 

scribbled feverishly on paper napkins

over coffee

eggs over easy

west coast dinners spelled 'meeting point'

take-offs and landings timothy leary a fly-by-god

distributing my spiritual awakening--

can't make it tonight--

hitch a ride with a strangers eye

unwind into future till we're looking back

at the marches--the sacrifice of martyrs--characters lost found now only in words

pressed tight on ten cent bookshelves--

kerouac was right

give me a candle in the night--the mad ones are for me

open up your mind with a   k e yed moment--

caution? oh . . . we tied it up to the old tree stump in the back yard

don't worry we left it plenty of water and grub--

now run

even if its raining and the sidewalks spell murder

run until your lungs feel thin and your legs spell taunt

and your faith costs less than a pack of cigarettes 

keep moving until your gut feels shot and your brain is speeding down a highway at 

85 mph 

like that time you did cocaine in the gas station bathroom 

with that girl you met in the bar next door

while dancing twirling crazy with all those cats 

all those jazz cats speaking smoke and blowing notes

keep running until you're flung forward into remembering that its all gone

every moment

every seed

every soldier and civilian since gone to death's deed

don't stop--not till you drop

to ask how much has really changed (in all these years gone by)   

except to say hitch hiking is now a dangerous game

and all the cats have now gone crazy 

not the kind of beatnik crazy 

more like danger danger crazy

rudimentary communion--hospitality--and handshakes are subject to suspicion

while free rides have all gone awry

whose blood runs in the veins of this country?--the people liberated and free

or a population full of the destitute and diseased

where are the angles that once drove like mad dark figures through the night

where are the cats who jumped souls loud like a moody ambush filtering into 

the skin to dance us into the night

what generation now tickets across the country knotting us together 

sewing a fabric of unseen history around sweating excited necks

old fire

in the space

     between silence and goodbye

i pressed you 

    against a wall

          parting your closure

_____________________

thinking it haiku 

a violent surrender evoked shuddering change

miscommunication--pale thigh sweats

and talk of courage

our brave misdemeanors echo 

assured state of self--

the gravity of regret

we are wave open ended question and answer

born in a brothel of cool light made warm

by demand

our demand -- popular and unrelenting

sweet jazz voice vocal in her ear

and the spirit has got me

taken me away to swing sing of essence 

parting closure

warm breath against the wall

trailing off sense

silence and goodbye

you broke through airport security

        with a quick tongue and smooth smile

   to say something about the language of roses 

        fingertips and space--to say something of love

                   

Bail Out Package

we are here

we are here

we are here

and we are now

pick up  trouble and speak

of summits

to pass to keep

prevent hurt 

riot protest and die by belief

closure is a four letter word spelled

n

e

v

a

cause we are the 

blessed middle class and broken backs are a gift from above

though from the eternal watchers i doubt

more like penthouse clout 

letting the change trickle down 

pennies in our cup

jangle it around -- here the patriotic sound 

like heavens bells armed with the smell of fed up 

and you wanna see tough enough?

hear us speak

hear us speak

hear us speak

on a never ending seek turn around beat 

drop down ground

grinding out the sound of weekly days paydays seldom bring a raise

in spirit a rise in time

unequivocal resistance

meet me at the door

for word war

about too much forefathers with their skin hanging loose 

and their belt buckles already undone

shun--

mothers! reach out with your self entirely- palms up raised 

your fists ready to praise the first disrespect showing an ugly face

hit the dial and call 4357 a coded number

to speak to sisters

to live by sisters

in code

to die by a code of

credence 

probability and self response-ability 

to discern truth from fact

don't give a shit?!

motherfucker you are jacked--

tacked against a wall

tanned hide burned sides waiting for vultures

a miss guided culture---

too busy with picket line pro-life 

just to give a young woman even more strife--

this tide all bent over for capital praise buy more to save

when nuclear warheads can wipe us out in less than a day

so you tell me jack--

who you gonna trust to hold your hand?

when times get rough cut told to shut up

those with a lord above to guide this war

or those with sense given by a goddesses grace

that set a path of peace to taste?

you tell me -- jack--

coast to coast -- liven in a country going to the sac--

a hundred trillion billion gazillion dollars to bail us back--

is it a goal?

do we really want to go?

a countries shame wearing nice ties and a suit

a yacht with a set of crystals-- uneducated children with pistols

foreign policy--the berlin wall set down in texas

drug cartels with high-as-a-kite americans parading around 

shaking their fingers at the nasty gun wars--

where's the man in the phone booth?

collecting kick backs somewhere i suppose 

no-

you ought to know jack--

not to go back

loose thought about conservative people

strung out connection

to write of glory

 or mystery

the conflict

vengeance

and reprieve 

the sound of sleep

mercy and abstract law

again a man with a gun

opinions falter in grace's face 

her satiated fate mottled by 

s i n

current electric steals my strings

to play reaching hands

palms and story--the account of one woman 

on one corner

in a city

somewhere

with air and soot in her lungs

optical hypocrisy--illusion democracy

affect sound

effect and get feet moving walking stomping and turning the ground

into protest

civil right

human right

a glorious stampede of reason--logic--education intelligentsia 

loose tongues mark the direction

where crows fly

migrate difference

make it real

symbol and verse--closed path retreat backspace delete

appropriate words 

dig into the earth

close your fist around it--raise it high

feel the cinema of our own drama

insipid insight

our radioed heads

uptight belief 

vehement conviction

drop this  s i n  by the way side

nothing to die by

except ones sound (for good 

stilted legs tread careful

extend hands to lift not to rift

and become impact

ill defined

complex

an altered arrangement of syntax

glacial inside --- the wealth of childhood

peeking so forgotten above adult waters
where are we now? without remembrance—

are we holy
or are we the dredges of life on this round bulging planet—

below the surface
small self and personal history linger
waiting for connection

retreat back into young self
where image was really a welding hat and stick—
a night in shinning armor holding sword high

where gravel met sand and became
a mountain meeting the desert—the woods a broad jungle
with leafy muddy moist adventures—the kind where all the hollywood movies rear
their ugly heads
where a dog barking chases you through deep forest and across open fields
now become a pack of wild wolves

remember the bare patch of earth surrounded by green cut grass
and hay bales breaking the rising sun—

look earnest
look deep

for memory treasure—let it flow like the willows and smoke fires
try hard to remember the scent of aftershave and flannel
shinny buttons and buckle
and don’t forget the games smeared in ketchup and kid dirt

remember your first death
and how quiet the snow blanketed her arrival
as summer ushered in peaches—soft mounds and flesh

Education #1

the sound quality is very crappy. i think because of the compression and file conversion 3x's over but it's the only way I can figure out how to post audio without going through an annoying hosting site.

Education #1

eyed witness
many things left incomplete pleating with ill company
social construct leavings
and the board of higher education vacationing
our
permanent placement on the plank walking knife point at our backs

and red tape
red tape fluttering in the stomachs of the recently (re)possessed
the unemployed country having coffee on the sidewalked curb with an administration
who won't even give us a little head (way) for gain-way
self-save they say (their six digit salary buys them a lot of bread-expensive whiskey and wine

expendable children let in the desert
left
the classroom is five minute increments--a segway saluting no other choice--
paper trails and the smell of crayons colored wax and baby breath the last retreat
before possible future leaders are beat
black beat blue and the night is crying for mother when millions pray to it thinking it mother

to the
j
o
b
less scraping concrete pennies with broken nails hear this--
if your faith dropped in the good He's hands works--than fine--self-responsibility is a difficult fear barely overcome--
but if cop out faith leaves you broken legged in the road--then suck in your own air and leave it genderless
take choice steps based
on the natural ebb--any entity above beyond is probably too busy to worry about human hardships so small next to universes-
become fire
become a calm surface body of liquid
become all that you can be without the militant glee
set free
absolutes
to know
uncertainty is o k company

audio attempt--

i recently discovered garageband. a simple program but a lot of fun.

Note: putting audio on blogspot is a serious pain in the ass.

lay it down

        - -- ---- the day sleeping

- -- - to learn living

is a sheer curtain 

    w a i t i n g  -- -- - between secret spaces touching----

   to be pulled aside - - - - delicate--more delicate than good(byes

look closely 

---where my lace is torn

pulled up inside and shorn (from thigh---

placed in a notebook for remembering---scent

what it was between two fingers rubbing

    -------                       lace---fingers

  -- -- age seen through loud upright movement

  people stripping dignity from her grace-- -- - surrendering lust and long songs

-- - - for a moment--- single ---upright ----- and sinless  

an account of racism rape and bridges

we asked for deliverance
directly from the mouth of man

and now sitting in the sand (quick like)
black hair standing like a black planet
with all her weight and dark skin

standing like a wall (between) us is history
a discord between the colors
the various hues of our skin clash
break understanding -- herstory chiseled into doing

blond hair moves as a reminder of
difference
hierarchy (a vague supposed-to-be privilege)

divulge female secrets
consideration of shared interest
unrest and repression

because cunts take abuse
and abasement has been a standing tradition
fist clench revenge red rage black skin white skin
tolerance is a damned river while acceptance empties into the mouth of the ocean

because we demanded
deliverance
directly from the mouth
of patriarchy

only to find that racism is still alive
and words like slut are still meant to slander
while women wear white and walk down isles (virginity sold a valuable commodity
were a tight train is a good train --- treat her like a sin is she speaks too loud

find out what's the best way for her to be bound
bounty rape --- a nations downfall --- mankind seals his fate
the scene escalates
Great Mother
alleviate humanities mistaken nature -- --- --- folly footsteps
repeated echo down times hall

we take our deliverance
to dump it in the mouth of man
and scream hypocrisy
we echo natures curve and peace

take long strides
relinquish the perimeters of our existence
talk full loud and viscous calm
walk full loud and viscous calm
live full loud and viscous calm

know need like blood
womb and lung

punked

setting ------------- a h e a d
our hands shake and play against self doubt

wish articulation came easysmooth as butter--

---thinking that if we write a manifesto (of our own)
people might understand
------------ - - -- ,,,might even join this (whatever) movement--

to think--- we crawled
dripping
out of the human canvas
wet sea and fog -- found legs
to walk
even thought
yet
on all four we still crawl

where is our good humor (isn't war kind of funny . . . sometimes)
in high school i thought i knew a lot
wonder if i still think that

small children bury their heads in dance moves and pop(culture soda corn
and eat unashamed --- --- - - though,,,so do many grown-ups--

breath out of our wild skin
run screaming peeling off face
and grace
to sing the songs we found ringing up from the ground
with our bone legs vibrating to Ancient--

always wondered what a stampede of people would be like--
lots of stories of people meeting their ends at the bottom soles
of store bought shoes
didn't see them lying there (in metaphor) black and blue and bleeding

even if words don't make no sense we still gotta speak em'
a puzzle you know--the black woman on the corner said--
even if the pieces are all sorts of wrong and some are missing just
gotta make em' fit
fit just fine

--like a manifesto i guess--published truth? or lie?
doesn't really matter
just out there

catching any ol' stray eye

a song about lungs
osmosis,,,herstory and punctuation
flexing muscle bone brute and intelligence
flexing time trying to find
an ending
oral record (cut out tongues
and text
we are ill defined
misinterpretation
daft in the ways of making mistakes

the last argument

you dump your thoughts in a puddle

on the front stoop 

to vomit poetry all over the sidewalk--

all over the front lawn

discreetly using your skirt to clean up the mess

incident retrieved from memory where

we accidently touched 

for a moment -- or two

before dashing headlong into oncoming traffic

gone now--

not even our shadows dancing 

in the noonday sun

to keep me company 

only the stained planks of wood 

stretching across the warped framed porch

the grain running long ways

broken only by creeping-in plant life

a dark wet world residing underneath

seep through slanted touch

------------------ - - to firmer grounds

-------- - - - - - - - - - to peel off old skin

bump back into the night

---------------------- - - - - a time to heal --- - ---- - ---- - ---- - --

destruction of body (smooth hip
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - slick lips)

in the back seat of lifted skirts
boi tie leather -- interior
plush and cushion

slink into soft cusp

i forgot
-the use of words -- these marks
thoughts
scratches on a screen -- on old wood

------- - ----- -------- - ----- -- what was i looking for
----------- - ---------- in glass jars
------------- with lids
self contained magic -- caught

- see through your glass

mailbox-- ---- where love letters deliver
----- a soft grimace and pedal longing

to an edgeless limit

a rough sketch--a rhyme of something to come---

will you be my beautiful

fingertips express (words staircase from them
and seldom land to rest

will you be my beautiful

delight in lungs that sing
sigh signature and breath

will you be my beautiful

a signal to our death

something unfulfilled
dream of muscle and wet fields

dream of moon
will you be my beautiful

words left upon the rail
teeter totter sign and sand

i'll leave it there

gripping life

strife standing on a hand

 

letters pressed together

amazing assent
decompress--obsess

interpersonal connect --- we are silkenwoventhread

flattongue running-- self involved effect -sex bends
disarray and all the things we don't say

keeping missions secret -- creeping with heads tucked bent back tongue lolling
flattery in back pocket greetings--a defense of 'youlooknicehow'veyoubeen'
hand outstretched while the other atrophies holding black against the back

keep away from those types
type set a font--undefined where the letters mash together indiscernible

we are not clear text

instead layered letters words pressed together and runningonandonandonandonandon
the pauses broken and in the wrong place
punctuation kept at bay--a trick learned by us who say without saying and do without doing

a getting by ---- a midland cry ----- informal gray
against gray
in the middle and gray

please deviate -- I know i can enunciate iii iii iii iii iii iii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIi iiiiiiiiii ii i i knowiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiknowi iiiiiiiiicancancancancaniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
iiiiiiiiiiknowicaniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiknowicaniieiiiiiiiieeeeeieiieeenunciatiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
iknowicanenunciate

population control

tired by design

running clarity weaves senses-----------------(to/get/her)

broken figurine dancing off kilter

eyes -- inward shine repealing time

love to often becomes a great crime

sin

a three lettered word driven into us (kin

left to our own deep world drownings
too many deaths--and births--------------l e v e l
level will leave earth -- -- a great vexing
a caving in of that everyThing-as-we-know-it syndrome taking plight

alight without sight spiral -- rebound off of cyclical assurance
that She (being what we walk upon) Will
correct our misdoings
one way
or the other

on peopled interactions: dreamt connect

ally in time's scape

------------------------------censored acquaintance ------

------- - -- - - dearth of connect--shun approach with quick furtive glances-

--moderate escape made via separate veins running different bloods


------------ --------------------------- -- - dissect difference

behold similarities dreamt

-------------------------- levied truths stored in distant consorts

--- - --- --- --- bottomed out wisdom with strangers

1979 intoxication

tribute to silence
out final salute to regret (our greatest defeat of)
separate synergies breathing
house
the west coast blues pounding
till the night closes in--
theme signature--style and portrayal

youth is illusion
and perhaps drunk is finalized prostitution (self against self)

the pinnacle--apex
triangle
salute to absolute
the distant sister
black skinned mind dancing
considering
union
sheets and blind eyes

water on fire
sleek expectant faces race
towards finite beauty
caught
in wake
dismantled
on the winds whim
who owes no one
a favor
and keeps secrets
like stone grave blues

chiseled sister

parts of the tree disappear
behind the dew

my stomach lurches for the viable
offerings of her (earth's) dark matter--
secrets buried -- inside bodies wombs evidence and insight

the artifacts of discarded (clothing) skin on the bed
where articles drift - recordings of old doings
going-ons and desperate beginnings - ends

draped over the chair
an old blanket telling stories with scent and collected hair
a cover of night sweats mares--
they say even bad dreams are products of women--
though maybe it is the strength of fear in centuries that bring us discomfort
the quietest moment of dark remembering

sunday afternoon in the garden

withered by wind brittle-bones falling from the trees

cascade your thought down my nape and feel alone

the call of hills settling around us

armories vacant of argument and tears

we are singularity functioning as one sun and moon

unadulterated synergies 

the sizing up of absolutes--where--withered by asphalt and crime

destitute prodigies wear the orgies of beginnings and rise

like shackled maniacs preaching blood stone and bone

deliver sin on a platter with a bucket of gold and say you did wrong

by loving---her

and say you did wrong to leave family peace meals to walk alone--

but death is a cold companion in the garden wet with night and dew

while two selves battle 

one serving bread

the other banshee blows--a promise of light and loose will reclined in propulsion

expulsion from the garden once feared yet overgrown

with comfort -- forgiveness 

 

disenchanted youth! spring up from winter to know love

(it) traces circles around the body 

a warm trail to touch--tattooed on memoryskin 

chanting about made-up saviors and torn pages--

books drop from the bridge to float down stream

a vague understanding of 

currents

sky

and deltas 

bravery mustered for fear of not being--

the biting sound of winter

naked cheek and rosary 

respite

a bit taken from the dream drilled down
(a toast to) the mean marrow of bones
breaking

if consequence is delivered swift--than association and action connect
if slow to years of actions pass--consequence creeps like a steady quiet blood beat--
than what learning takes place?

perhaps reflection
a fixation
black holes roam the universe looking for milky time to stop-
action dropped

continued tear---stretching across---open up almond and slide inside
warm growth hugging my floor

and in the distant is an old sign 'familiar' and 'remember'
'this way to recycled happening'

a really fucking hard day at work

disrupt
blood vessel erupt

the changeling gels into her surroundings
while magic makes a getaway

calm on the crest of hammer swinging seething meeting
(that moment between bursts)
nail(ed to a tree
where a name carved (worn smooth--by weight)
once stood fleshed in silver -- edged and sharp