Cricket and Bee

The cricket woke me!

As it scurried by, I noticed it was wearing a cloth (as if it were a tail!).

I had no sense of what time it was, but I noticed it was (after all!) about daybreak.

(This was later told to me) that many bats are nocturnal, or else they are so easily startled, they flee to cover their heads and hide.

In their defense, I suppose it may well have been mid-afternoon, for there was a palpable somberness in the air.

But, I felt there was no time to lose. I was to find EROS and leave on my mission.

With some haste, I left the dark streets, and headed south. I walked along a dirt path, although I did not really know where it went or to go.

The area was shrouded in darkness (though there was just enough moonlight to see) and as I walked through a hedge of willows I felt disoriented and was careful to go very, very slowly (if not all in terror, I would surely turn to cactus!).

When I reached a “Road” I noticed it had a layer of pebbles on it, and walked past it, just in case there were some venomous snakes on that road. (At that point it would have been more like trying to get out of a sheet of plywood than to a mat of tinfoil!).

As I walked, it became more and more foggy, and though I could see quite a distance ahead of me, in all other directions it was pitch dark.

When I reached the far side of the light of day, I happened to look ahead of me.

In that brief moment, something fell down in front of me!

I saw it laying there, spread-eagled, but before I could move, it rolled right up onto its feet and began running towards me!

It had been a mosquito — and it had died — just because of me!

I was trapped in a painful searing haze of irritation.

I reached for a pocket knife from my pocket, and slowly began inching backwards.

I must not get trapped by the mosquito (i)n that maze!

I was already avoiding all sorts of vermin (e.g. earthworms, centipedes, snakes, scorpions etc) that night; why did it have to choose me!

So, I crawled backwards, very slowly, back to my camp spot.

I stood up, and in my irritation I drew a cross on my heart.

The mosquito landed on a rock, and I quickly looked around. There was no one around.

Then the mosquito’s wings swept over my head, and it disappeared down into the gloom.

I turned around, and began to head back.

But, as I walked, a dim, red light began to grow larger.

The light grew steadily, until it became a helicopter.

As it hovered in the sky, my exhaustion from the previous night began to grow.

The mosquito had chased me all the way to my spot, and was now guarding it!

And so I did what I had to do: I ran away, in a panic, back to my camp, where I found myself comfor(ing) again with the cricket.

I may have forgotten the sun was up that morning, for I was greatly exhausted.

But it was about that time I began to feel hungry, so I sat down at my cooking fire, and, while I ate, I watched the giant stone (that I had almost stepped on), turn slowly.

Eventually, it disappeared.

I then called out in triumph (albeit slightly in jest)

“It’s gone! I can go home now!

I can go back to sleep for the rest of the day!”

And the cricket replied:

“I’m so glad you could finally see that stone. I’m just happy to be here with you. Be sure you come back again and visit me some time!

(If you should find a bug in your hair, don’t scratch it, it will die! Just take me to its hiding place!).”

It may be hard to believe, but each and every cricket inhabits a different cave; though some are inside of rocks.

Some live in the stream that flows nearby,

and some live inside rocks.

But they all love to hang out together — all the insects in this area!

It’s a great group of friends, we spend all day in the cool of the cave,

and the nights are filled with nature’s best.

(These days the cricket — who I now know to be Augustus Insecta, was the only creature to come to my aid, and stand guard over my hut that night — and many nights thereafter.)

And, while I was happy to leave that place, I still took many souvenirs of it with me.

I used bits of it as walls and ceilings, and anything else I could take, and when I built my home at the foot of that giant stone, I built my roof out of it!

And, to this day, whenever I go up to the “Cockroach Tunnel,”

I still look back, and remember Augustus Insecta, who, I suppose, was the real hero of that place.

I know, I know, there’s a lot more to talk about, but I’ve only scratched the surface.

Those are just some quick observations about that particular cave.

There’s plenty more I could tell you, if you care to know.

But you have to start at the very beginning — where it all began —

and you have to come with me now! I’m happy to say I made it all the way!

That’s right — I can’t believe I’ve made it this far, but here I am.

It was a beautiful morning, and I was ready to escape the heat and sun and I figured I’d just walk around, open the gate, and take a look around.

I’d noticed some new flowers in the past days and wanted to see if there was anything interesting around the creek.

I headed up to the rutabagas, and there was something very strange about one that had suddenly bloomed, while I was gone.

I was flabbergasted by it!

Then, I heard a strange sound. It was coming from the pines!

I was so shocked, I forgot what I was looking for — and, it was too late to go back, so I went to see what I had found. I found it quickly, and it was indeed a bee.

But I could tell it was not a normal one. It was not fat, and there was no veil in its wings — I was amazed by its size! It was no bigger than the tip of my finger, but it seemed much, much taller. And, it looked almost as if it might fly away, but it sat on a leaf near the creek’s edge.

It sat there patiently, and then, it began to walk down the side of the hill, as if it was walking to meet me.

“Hi! Hi! I’m the Bee,” he said!

“I know you, I know you!” he said.

“I’ll tell you what I am — I am the longest living creature

who will ever exist. We share this earth with the other

creatures, but, only in relative terms, we have a lot more in common,

and they’re quite nice and useful.

// eprobles.com //


Engraver of My Soul

From as far away as she can see, let it come to her as a hand’s span of her whiteness. Even so is she without color and not wholly white— everywhere, without color at all. when she lifts her veil she sees— let it come to her as a hand’s span of her whiteness. The third definition, one almost completely made up of related but incompatible concepts, has also inspired a certain amount of speculation, from thousands of artists over the centuries. Of course, the representation of all of these concepts (white, black, pale, dark) would be exceedingly difficult, though the distinction between “polished” and “lame” façades seems particularly interesting to me.

Who is the Malay in the sky? …it is not he who remains seated. The one who sits there is the wind; It does not recognize this? It will not recognize. He is the Great Ocean! She is the loyal girl of a house on a plane; the goddess is the daughter of a King— She is the goddess of luck!

The one who sits there is the Star! She has no name for this! No Name! The name of the one who Might be a dragon-god is a brown stick with ink stains and scratches, which she gives to her faithful. When the maid ’s back begins to move, a sleeping; when the hands of the god begin to move, the Girl of Flowers, many-faced, comes into his possession and is made his wife.

How much noise there will be with what she will say! How much nonsense — If the moment comes when they cannot shout a thousand echoes of this shall roll up into, a hall of destruction! It is not he who remains seated— the sky is the dragon! For the god, if it does not recognize his Self, for the mysterious parent, and for the spirit of the mother’s the deity will manifest as a day.

The rule is to have a day?

A day, he will say, the gods create when you look into my sky—I frayed by the water of my heart I am and even if you build me a heaven, are scattered to and fro, which I must If any returns to this world to say that the earth is firm in this, what do you In spirit declare? Or what do you say? If anyone says that the heaven is firm, the earth is like its “skeleton,”

What do you say?

No—it is very clearly this:

When it is the Earth’s sky or any sun which he has made solid, it is like a day to the god of night; when the sun is at its zenith it is no longer a day to the god of the night. But once there is a day for him he tells, when he sets the “sky” against the “earth,” as it were “like a hole on the back of my head,”
It is like a day to the god of night. Or he breaks the body of his father’s house—
“It is not as you imagine!” he says/ And once, as when someone, for whom we are paying in advance, tells us to go/

“How much he owes me!”—he stresses that much.

If the day which does not recognize him is like “a child’s drawing” the night— from as far away as she can see let it come to her as a hand’s span of her whiteness.

And if she lifts her veil she sees— let it come to her as a hand’s span of her whiteness. Is there a gesture or a facial expression? There will be, shall there not? What can be a look? Her head will shake for a moment—she can neither speak nor breathe as all her ears hear.
She runs, has no way of knowing how ro bow down and be moved by the peace. With what language can she come to you? If it is not through you and through your ears? You desire to hear her dream, the storm not come—let not the rain, the lightning, the storm, or the wind: will come to you, and should you hear the shrill sounds of the night-jungle and so strange

The dragon that has risen from the soot, you would not want to go back into the Earth and not the old Earth.
THE WOMAN’S SPIRIT /// in the beginning, after the virgin egg was laid the Mother of Paris took hold of the fertilized egg and, suckling it, held it in the darkness between her thighs. when the egg was filled she laid it before her Sucking and smiling and laving She called it as it was coming to life:

“Morning Star!” “Great Fable!” she sang.

Then, when she’d stopped her work, it was deep-Came out of the ground, and as it appeared It was
looking down at her with opening Smile, and the sound of it, and the light: The clear breath—he said, “It is Morningstar!”

The World’s Greatest kiss- no :://}|| THE NOBLE WIFE AND THE NOBLE GIRL — “He is someone who is beautiful—one is surrounded by someone. For him the truth exists, when it does not belong to his will. When his the warm breath of him is flowing. He puts everything else aside and The word “beautiful” no longer pleases him.
‘And I shall not agree to serve you, dear wife, B ut I shall be your servant, woman.” As long as I am the bearer of your children, I shall suffer the scorn of others. I will not stop long in my calling: ‘Those who despise me are the ones to envy; Those who praise me are the ones to fear; All the difference, if I am honored, Struggles not to get at me. Of all the groans that cause me pain, the least is enough to make me rejoice. If I am the bearer of your children, I shall suffer the scorn of others.’

Is there an idea there that needs breaking through, something that should be beaten down with nails,
A thing that would last and give strength to your will and make you see with your whole being that it is true? The man’s wife: nothing is the sum of itself, what he thinks of her has nothing to do with her,
Her mind is something in itself that’s ever here in the seat of his thoughts.
So you should believe in her—speak her name like the apostles of Christ; you should shout it, like the Jews in the desert; you should think of her, like the French, the day after a liberation; you should admire the last flowering of the human species. When they approach a woman; when the head of the table is lifted to receive the cup of life, when the name of a woman is humbled by her history, when all the chains of the past are broken and thrown aside. So you should love her, so that your heart and mind are awakened by the beauty of her existence and show her the warm smile of it.
THE TOYGYST

“I can keep time; I can wear everything.
“I’ve learned how to hold something up and it goes in a circle. I can come to each house in the town and if they are a poor family. We can eat for less than the cost of a meal. If they have dirty clothes or not, or they have to walk— We’ll do it in a half-hour.”

“I will wander through the forest, thinking of the empty street, where there is nothing; will come to a corner and there will be a lady and her children.”
KONNICHI (FILICOW)

“I got a big experience when I was studying

In a medical school.

“I couldn’t go. So the universe died.”

:: 10.16.2020 ::


Racing the Hesitating Sun

They leave it in the dust when i am a dirty lost boy. Uprising cumulonimbus towers
Clearly indicating showers to drown all the growing flowers and flood the ground
with their power winds blowing from the east

Cold and warm air mingling Like ghosts dueling with the living the air feels fuzzy
and strange Something evil is coming

Curling leaves and swelling wood ..The trees can feel it too \It’s in their roots
and in my blood Quickly pushing its way through This is not good

A storm is beginning to stew Rain announces its arrival

On pitter patter stomp stomp feet Whispering gently from the sky

Before knocking loudly at the window

Begging to come in, OH WON’T YOU LET ME IN

Flooding my doorstep with darkness Eyes open

Lightning volleys down from the sky Searing my eyes with its image
It scrapes its long fingers down my window What is light and what is dark?
My lungs are being crushed from the inside I am falling I am falling
Let the currents take me Eyes shut Silence
Beautiful unknowing No harsh flashing
The clouds are receding trees not reaching for me
No more water between my fingertips
No more wondering what I might lose
Welcoming the cool shiver and soft echoing ripples
I drift back into dreamland into darkness into night Sweet peace.
Gates of Eden

Rosemary was resting quietly in her bed when she was awakened by the most wonderful sound she could ever imagine, her mother’s laughter.
The sound cut through the night like a ray of sunlight, bathing everything in radiant warmth.
Her eyes sprung open and she turned to look at her mother as she bustled around the room.
She was giggling and bouncing her hips as she prepared breakfast for the family.
“I’m fixing sausage gravy and biscuits, Mom!
Is there anything else you need?”
Rosemary rubbed her eyes and yawned.
She wondered what could have possibly woken her so early.
She had only opened her eyes an instant before.
“Actually, there is.” Her mom replied and then popped a piece of sausage in her mouth.
“We have company.” She winked at Rosemary and continued, “They’re coming right now.”
Rosemary slowly sat up in bed.
Her heart was beating rapidly, almost out of control, but she tried to remain calm.
“Is everything okay?” She asked, her voice beginning to rise in panic.
“I hope so.
I hope so.” Her mom responded as she brought the frying pan of sausage gravy and biscuits over to the table and set it down.
“Pour me a cup of coffee, will ya?”
Rosemary quickly found the coffee can and poured her mom a cup before bringing the pot back to her.
“Here ya go, Ma.
Drink up.
I hope you have a wonderful time.”
“Oh, Rosemary, I’m so excited.
I haven’t seen her in so long!” She said as she sipped on her coffee.
Rosemary’s heart felt like it was going to break out of her chest.
She was jumping around, unable to hold her tears in.
She could not believe her mom’s reaction.
She was jumping and wiggling and squealing and hugging her mother.
“Mom, she said her name was Rosemary.” She sobbed and clung to her mom for dear life.
Her mom looked at her in confusion.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” She said softly.
Rosemary looked into her mother’s eyes, the tears still flowing down her cheeks.
“Do you remember my friend?
She used to live here?”
Her mother reached across the table and took her daughter’s hands in hers.
“Yes, Rosemary, I remember her very well.
We’ve been friends a long time.
What is this all about?
Is she OK?”
Rosemary nodded her head.
“I’m sure she is.
She was here the day your daddy and I got married, you know.
She came to the church.
She said she wanted to come and meet the young man I was going to marry.
Isn’t that strange?”
“That she would remember that far back and the fact that she came to meet him, well, that’s something else all together.” She agreed.
Rosemary let go of her mother’s hands and began walking back and forth in front of the kitchen table.
She began to wiggle her hips and bounce her shoulders.
“She was here, Mom.
Her name was Rosemary.
She and I used to play together. Remember?”

“Yes, I remember.
She has been living with her Aunt and Uncle.
They moved to Louisiana a few years back.
She had no one here, so we thought it best for her to come and stay with us.
It was so sad to see her so upset.
She has a beautiful red wagon that your daddy made for her.
You loved that wagon, didn’t you Rosemary?”
“We used to have so much fun playing on it.
We used to pretend we were in an old western movie.
We would sit on it and have tea parties.

You’d bring us cake and cookies and we’d just pretend.
Remember, Mom?”
“I can’t believe you remembered.
I’ve tried to forget.”
“Well, I know you have, but I remember.
I remember all the fun we had.” Rosemary’s face was bright red from embarrassment.

“But, she was here, Ma, I know she was.
I saw her.
She was in the garden, Mama, and she looked just like me.”
Her mother closed her eyes, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Rosemary, honey, she’s gone.
You know she is.”

“Oh, she’s dead, isn’t she?
Just like Pa, she died in the war,” Rosemary said, chocking back a sob.
“I’m so sorry, honey.” She sat down and put her arm around Rosemary and held her for several minutes.
Finally she pulled her daughter close to her and held her tightly.

“Rosemary, we need to tell you about this.

Now, I want you to put your arms around your daddy and tell him all this.”
Rosemary began to sob as she hugged her daddy.
Her mother turned her head and kissed him on the cheek.
“I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you, Daddy.
I know this must be very difficult for you to share with our Rosemary.”
“Rosemary, listen to me, you must remember what this wonderful woman looked like.
Can you remember?”
“She was old, Mama, very old.
I was sad to see her go, but I know she is at peace now.”
“It is very hard for a child to understand that, but I think she was able to die with as much peace as you could wish for.
She died the same way as your Pa, without any pain.”
“No, not like Pa. He was in pain and he died with some of that pain.”

“Daddy, she wasn’t sick.
She was just old.
She was the grandother I’ve always loved.”
“What is your Grandma Rosemary’s name?”
“My grandmother?
My mother’s mother?
Rosemary Johnson is her name.”
“Yes, that’s it, but what is her real name?”
“Her name was Lydia.
I guess I forgot.
You know Grandma Rosemary never told us, but Lydia never told us, either.”

“Are you sure she never told you?

Perhaps it’s something you wish to remember.”

“I just thought she told us because we are named after her.

She never really told us anything.

We never really knew her.

It was always just about my mother.

She talked all the time about Grandma Rosemary and how much she loved her and all.”

“You know, Lydia could be right.

You should be able to remember more about her.

You need to know what kind of woman she was.

Do you remember any stories about her?”

Rosemary’s face turned red and she buried her head in her daddy’s chest.

“No, I don’t remember any stories.”

“Well, remember she had a rose garden in her back yard.

We lived on a farm and had several gardens.

It was her flowers she loved.”

“Yes, I remember the roses.

She always had beautiful roses.”

“That’s because she loved you very much.

She was a wonderful person and I’m so sorry she died.”

“It’s hard to forget how much she loved me.”

“Lydia was a special woman and she loved you very much, Rosemary.

She would be so proud to know you remember her


Hollywood Zombie

Jason had this penthouse apartment that was centrally located in Beverly Hills.

He was incredibly clean, but in an overwhelming kind of way.
The carpet and stuff were spotless, the cabinets were plastic, and the paint was not chipping. I felt like I was in a Doctor’s office waiting room.

He was snoring loudly, and just at the right moment he opened his eyes.
“Ha! You are dead! This is a dream, right?”

I felt a bit offended, as I was obviously the one snoring.
“No, no!” He pointed at the clock. “It’s 4AM!” (Lucky number 8!).

“You’re a zombie! You’re dead and you’re dreaming!”

“I’m a zombie, alright!” I yawned and started to hack up zombie gore.
“Watch out!” He screamed and jumped out of the bed.
“All right, you monster! I’m dead and I’m dreaming! I’m dead and I’m dreaming!”

He chased me around the room.

“You’re not dead, you’re a zombie! You’re a zombie, that’s just what you are, a zombie, so it’s a dream!” He threw up his hands. “You can’t win!”

“I can’t win, yeah? That’s right, I can’t win. That’s my luck, ha-ha!”
I hope you like midnight horror flicks.” His face crinkled with confusion; the zombies smile that I was always afraid of flashing on.

“Well I didn’t say I was a horror movie person. Oh, that’s right, but you said, I’m dead and I’m dreaming, so that’s a horror movie, right?”

I thought about it.

“Okay, I guess it’s more like…like if a zombie comes to my door…”

“…and it’s not a horror movie?”
“Yeah. It’s just a regular knock at my door.”
“OK, I guess it is a horror movie.”
“Yup.”

“So are you telling me, I’m dreaming?”

“I’m telling you, it’s just a regular knock at your door.”

He hugged me and ran away from the door.

“Oh, no! Zombies are at the door, oh no!”

I joined him and kept chasing the zombie until Jason growled in my ear, “Cristina, I’m the last of my family! I have to protect my kingdom! This is my job! You, you are not my wife! That’s over and done! All that you are, is a woman! You are not a child! I don’t know where you come from, but I’m not marrying you!
I don’t know who you are!”

“Jason, you can’t be an emperor! You’re a zombie, not an emperor. You’re dead and you’re dreaming! This is a dream! Wake up!”

“This is not a dream, this is real life. And you’re not my wife! You’re just a woman!”

“Are you threatening to kill me? If you do I am going to-“

“Cristina, you’re not my wife!”

“No! Stop it, stop it!” I ran back to the bed and crawled under the covers. Jason stood in the doorway of the bedroom with his back to the door, and looked down at me. He was clenching his fists.

“Don’t you dare.”

His back was turned to me, but I could hear him as I lay there.

“If I did, what would happen to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You would be in the woods. You would be alone, never to find another person.”

“Maybe.”

“No, you wouldn’t be alone. You would have someone.”

“No.”

“Don’t you want someone, Cristina?”

“I’m not a zombie! I can’t just turn into a zombie! You know, don’t you, that a zombie’s life is like a terrible TV soap opera? We’re all dead and we have to live through some very horrible circumstances in order to get back to our old life. That’s what a zombie is.”

“That’s not you, that’s just a movie! You are a real person. And you’re very scared.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Of zombies? Of living alone, of the world going to hell in a hand basket? Of waking up dead and never having a normal day, ever? Of living in a world of nasty zombies?”

“Yes.”

“No you’re not. You’re scared. You’re a person, and you’re scared. You have nothing to be scared of.”

“But you have plenty to be scared of!”
“And I’m scared too.”
“Yes. But the situation is different than yours.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. But I know what I saw. I saw your face. You know that? When I turned around and saw you lying there, and the light from the candle was shining on you. I saw your face.”
“You saw what?”
“I saw the fear in your eyes, Cristina. I saw the fear. I saw the fear that a person feels when he looks at the face of someone who could have just turned into a zombie. And I also saw the fear that a person feels when he’s about to be killed by a zombie.”
Jason pointed at the door. “Cristina, I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you. I want to fix all of this. I am the one that can fix it. Please, come out and help me. Let’s stop this!”
“That’s why I’m under the covers, you maniac.”
“I know.”
“I’d come out for you if I could.”
Jason laughed.
“Maybe next time.”
“One time won’t do any good.”
“I just need a minute, and then we can fix this.”
“What can we do?”
“I don’t know.”
I felt Jason standing in front of the door, looking at me. He was gripping the door frame with both hands and leaning over it.
“How much do you want this, huh?”
“I don’t want this.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“I don’t know!”
“If you don’t want this, you don’t want anything.”
“You’re just a crazy guy!”
“Maybe I am. I don’t know what to do.”

“You should just go away.”

“How could I do that?”

“Go to bed.”

“I can’t sleep without you.”

“What do you want from me? What’s in it for me?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Just tell me what you want. Tell me, because you can’t hide anything from me, because I already know everything.”

“I don’t know. Something. I just want you. I want to be with you. I want to be your man. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Why won’t you come out, man? I can’t sleep, I need your help.”

“Help me?”

“Help me.”

“You are mad.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You want me to help you kill yourself.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not blind. You want me to kill you, Cristina. You want me to feed you my human flesh.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you last night. You wanted me to feed you my human flesh.”

“You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just tired of seeing you in your pajamas.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m not crazy.”

“Oh, I know you are. I know you are.”

“I am not!”

“You are. You are totally crazy.”

“I am not crazy.”

“I know you are, Cristina. You are crazy.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not. You are.”
“I am not crazy!”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I can hear you breathing in your sleep.”
“I am not sleeping! You’re crazy!”
“You’re totally crazy.”
“What are you doing, here? You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are, Cristina. You’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy!”
“You are, Cristina. You’re crazy. You’re crazy.”


I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. They were slowly and carefully walking down the stairs. They were at least 6 feet tall, if not more.


There was a creaking sound as they approached the door. I didn’t have to open the door to know who it was. I looked down at the floor and then back up. It was Jason. He had changed his clothes and put on a black tee shirt with a skull and crossbones on it and a pair of camo shorts. He was still wearing his tactical pants and boots, with two nightsticks that matched the tee shirt. He was still holding a small dagger, one of the weapons that he had brought with him. He had the rope in his hand, too. He didn’t look happy at all.


I opened the door and Jason stepped in.
“You did this.”


“What are you talking about?”


“I know everything. I saw you. I watched you. I watched you feed her your human flesh. I saw the look on her face. She was disgusted, but she liked it. I watched you fuck her, twice. You came twice in her. Then she woke up. She opened her eyes, and smiled at you. She looked you straight in the eye and said, ‘I liked it.’ You can’t deny it. She is mad.”


“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not crazy.”


“You are. You’re totally crazy.”


“I’m not crazy.”


“You are, Cristina. You’re crazy. You’re crazy.”


I backed up against the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


:: 01.27.2021 ::


A Fraction of Theology

(Those who have followed my poetry know there are certain things I have changed. I am devastated by the realization that my understanding has done nothing wrong! The words come. In day as i am awake, in night as I sleep. The poems always flowing. I rarely change anything and especially will NEVER change my mistakes. As I see my own life as a very large mistake; a boy who should never have survived much less been born to deep poverty of intellect).

If this whole affair shall do in my attachment
to family I easily release it only because
my heart is within splendid love.

 To find happiness in Life
to find love in living
i surrender my Life for Love
if loving is the greatest cost
of the tears i spill in Life

How I walk the seashore  hand-in-hand
talking.  

“How to make you happy in life
without any object in life?”

Well, eventually your strenth will
tell me an impossibility.

“Ask of me.  I only wish a woman to love.”

Well, then.  While the ocean breaks the
shores and the skies move clouds
they watch us — what they say of us?

“They say, we are in deep love my dear.  
The world is in love with a fallen angel
whom loves poetry.”

:: 0.30.2022 ::


DO WE EVEN CARE?

I cried blood and tears
from across the room she held my eyes
with the same grip  tomorrow while i saw
tomorrow’s feelings–  with her mask of fake
feelings / angels and demons smelling her

Disarrayed — feeling the skin of her neck
like a strawberry and shape of the marks
of her soul i touched — and now the dogs
found her, to find her.  I dug the fiction
deep in prose-mud || yeah ||
  I am ashame to confess —
darkness touched my breasts like i do during
female masturbation (and the weather) inside
the disarray i colate emotion and animal feeling
  TOMORROW i count down to Mars and dance in
my soul test driving strong attraction for
love and science _ the spaceship thrust
it’s rockets making my nipples hard and aroused /
Where is the smell of lost ancient thoughts — to
find it — to find it “I said, I will not put on
my mask”heroically to the Starbucks employee like
Rosa Parks.

:: 06.30.2022 ::


My Better Half

LOVE is a taste of Fear
when you don’t move

An Empty canvas of Art

Well, allow me to explain
how you forgot me:

Oh, well, vibrant touch
is what you said years
later when your life
took a turn. And all
I taught you was everything.

Oh how I bleed my heart
then you died, so far away
like a high cloud in skies.

I took a walk outside
surrounded by beating hearts
of insects and humans.

Oh i am twisted around my
head spinning as the sun
falling down — it’s my better
spirit for the Everything
of Lovely World I See —
all that I could be.

The Soul I loved Once.

:: 05.5.2022 ::


Into the Forever

i

EYES tongue speak a reality
seeing and speaking objects & words,
And, when sleeping within the valley
of Life, you feel;
how the curvature of the world
encases your flesh, nubile and ripe
with all blood;
i communicate with spirit, rising
as the Soul; a woman who died
many previous life’s to be born a man;
all within rimbaud’s eyes lost under blue
how it all grows.

ii

How the days of youthful living were so
atrocious but we now remember fine
for wanton satyrs and beastly fauns,
as one wrangles myth the other science
of both mind and universal growth;
the long lost days wish to find me
when trees received their green
and women their breasts.

As when the ground sprang its water
and Noah closed the doors of the ark
the last man and woman called to no one
as the world sapped its flow.

iii

Insanity! For now there is one who
says, “I know everything.” And some:
‘we believe you, we believe you!’
Many run from the wars of man —
they are the invisible.
Rising roses from the salty oceans
from a vast brightness of blue
waves — are the coming righteous ones.

IV

From the most concerning CERN they
wish for lost time to return!
–the ancient Ones of reknown men.
In perfect storms not even God
remembers. White coats with goggles
revives them; free from humanity’s
God.

V

And the skies came down
the sun when up
and the night rolled down
humans looked skyward —
searching skies!

:: 12.08.2020 ::


Heart or Tongue

AS my soul performs in front of LIFE itself!

Roses of you, so worn upon
my own mind. Never quitting
within unkind.

Stopping the world within its
track — as dawn: a muscle amorous.

contending with human artifacts:
as limbs, head, heart and tongue.

I licked the sun and it gave me power.

   when i think of you i LIVE.

smiling as I know the night cannot
grieve, for love is stronger than
physical things.

:: 12.18.2020 ::


The Cave of Mystery


THE mouth of the cave gave mysteries
as butterflies spewed from it’s dark mouth.

The jack rabbit loped away toward the crested
ocean’s shoreline.  The moon stared.  Brilliant
silvery light upon the grounds around the dream
of the poet.  

And words formed into dreams he could not write
until he slept / away from life \ toward the truth
of all that is real.

:: 06.23.2022 ::