Immaterial – formless;
the imbued by Spirit
and body is more!
That patterns determine
rain, snail and flower
and more by zero
but most by Soul!
And innumerable
Infinities that come
and go!
:: 08-17-2017 ::
FORMLESS SOMETHING
BORN AN OLD AGE
Born of an old age
with much to unlearn
the summers heat,
such cold breeze:
a palace
the walls
A moat that swallows
the glee, screams
and all
And into that ire
upon a flava low
Burning memories go
I know I know now
what youth means;
the long gestation
until we’re born
And be!
:: 08-13-2017 ::
WORSE THAN ANY DISEASE
|| 2 feet from the mud
on 6 inch heels breathing
difficult words while screaming
it’s all for real
like kissing touching
the weeping burning sun
hugging frail entrails
–while shivering like
bleeding soldiers and
we’re all within a living
hell /together my billion
soul brothers and sisters\
there are some remedies
worse than any disease
my withering hands hold
your face as i offer
an invitation for
memory loss ;
you receive ||
:: 07/30/2017 ::
GOD’S TEETH
THAT we did nothing but unravel
The end of all things
And how surely devoid of feeling
The fleeting thought of finality
Not a tear nor a whimper;
Into the void of inevitability!
And the heart is a given nail
The brain a hammer and thoughts —
The infamous tempest!
:: 07-30-2017 ::
MOUTHS ARE DEEP RIVERS
[Mine] mouths are deep rivers as cold
As the dead that love the living
As alder blight can strike
The love of youth
The unholy woolly wilting
Unlike aching souls for
Golden beasts
When feared
We pray
When comforted
We play
When crushed
We die
In bits & pieces
Like twigs and leaf
That twists and floats
Down a raging river
We go.
:: 07-28-2017 ::
10:10
I hear they dug up Dali and I’m sure
awaiting in this fact there’s a
hidden joke — but it’s so surreal!
:: 07-22-2017 ::
ANACOLUTHON KNIGHTS
i can never tell you how displeased readers
are by that position the singular
moment when nothing makes any fucking sense
to them at all but only to a few brilliant pebbles
that soar across the night canvas unknown
to the dullards of academia
it is the ONLY reason i write; to express
self to those very few who HEAR ME.
the rest are noise and there is no time
for wasting one’s artistry on rigid brains
and stiff necked human-geese.
Then again, my imagination never demands
an audience of understanding but more
of an emotional receptivity.
A slumbering shadowy cloud-vignette
seeping from a tormented mind onto
freshly sliced paper cuts. This is the
color red screaming in a dying ink stroke.
:: 07-21-2017 ::
THE NIGHT’S PURSE
The last of a songbird’s notes have fallen into the night’s purse,
and you have known my dances are behind shadows where some of
me has hidden to heal or die.
It seems there are no truths but only dirt and tears and at last
the only remaining mouth that spills songs into hearts
and tender arms is yours my love.
Where we exist there are no stationary objects but a wide orbit
that entertains the unknowable; to feel the butterfly awaken
is an infinite joy stooped upon the vast spirals of our Cathedral.
This love, our love, is universal and eternal.
Forever yours!
:: 07-12-2017 ::
WELCOME MY GHOSTS
THAT I have tried and succeeded is only in great measure
That you have been there with all my fears and displeasure.
Holding my cramped heart and swollen hands is how you have
Saved both my mind and spirit – the soul; still intact down
By the emptying rivers that lead to unexpected consequences.
And to weep while watching the death of a perfect day and to
Realize that birth was only half that day ago is sobering:
We watch each other’s eyes while laying on our sides and
Breathing in cadence I tell you that I am a fortunate peasant
And you the Queen who has welcomed by Ghosts.
:: 07-12-2017 ::
SOFT BREEZE SUMMERS
MOSTLY, as soft breeze summers
dance is when the world spins
for me, it is you that i
marvel; my most passionate
pasttime being with you
AND holding the hands that my
heart craves is like beautiful
flowers that dance in splendid
golden light my love!
:: 07-12-2017 ::
(c) 2017
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