A poem for smoke (122006)
the little death that I
exhale's a window
to what has died.
I, thy medium
between . .
Taking away from time
I see who and what's been converted
into light.
I see faces-
ghastly faces
in the night ! !
Minimalization (121906)
i Took my nose to see the sun, today.
how iniquitly frozen, we were . .
. . kneeling in some grass, reading about us.
Melatonin was issued when we caressed
the brain.
Melatonin was secreted at the Ong
and dripped down my two headed spiral.
Electric Eels; the effort to remain peaceful amongst
the icy ghosts that walk, and walk
in punctured circles around the ghettos of Staten.
Who walk to corner chruches and twitcH-
cursing, smoking cigarettes.
Who sit outside those small New York grocery stores
mumbling holy gibberish, shaking cups.
The effort in defeat. My realization.
The effort comes from my thneeds, my anchors, which I am
now throwing overboard, on fire
like shooting stars
to keep warm
tonight.
The repeat button (102706 )
New York City's like America's heart.
Clogged plaque traffic / a representative who just so happens to be
Black and off-beat . .
. . and down south Florida's America's cock
triumphantly limp,
awaiting it's alcohol, it's Viagra,
and the ancient Sea who'll flood and bury
the dead, the dying, those ignorant rebels
and whoever else, like little sperm,
will doggy paddle and sink the boats
which sail to heaven every day
there's something new
which is the same song
on some old galactic radio
looping around one star-
1987-1997-2006 (121806)
the Voice latched on like Dexx
in Daly's mist,
One spring dawn outside of Portland Maine,
The creek of my Papa's attic
latching on to the switch that
Turns on one eye
and opens up the others,
with the window open I
heard a female in his forest
calling me, my ten year old name.
libidoless. paralyzed by
fear, I lay unable
in his attic, which is still there
and I will to build, too . .
She came back and we drove around Mindtown.
She sat me down in front of a giant forest painting.
She administered AyaHooAka, I inhaled
and the forest someone painted
which was I
began to paint
My awareness
on the leaves
and on the logs
and to the dragons
when I tiptoed to the canopy
aswirling.
She, my Emissary.
To dream is to project, subject, and receive.
She is perched on the branches in the fields
of neurons
wearing My crown
(121706)
Telepathy's a word so
obsolete
for something without.Here's my poetry
as I'-
m one partition of networked Possibilities.
psytrance (121406)
come, my higher wall.
a blanket of Hi's comes doppling and surrounds us
as a hole.
climbing thru, our brains are branching fragments of notes
like lasers to the rhythm breathing forth
unto thee, hopping over fences
just to hear,
just to feel "the future"
move the stars
sreyal (121506)
first, a single stiff finger,
then, an entire multiplying fist (!)
rips their way out of a
carousel
of swollen lark cunts
so deep underground,
all those holes that the hooded souls on the surface of Earth never found.
"Freeze it!"
and the symphony of meat-tearing is silenced.
Still.
"Observe the eleventh spawn . . "
We hear
pinny metal
shoe-steps
\\
looking for a certain Lego
which I'd never find
until I stopped looking and just Played.
(65) (121306)
SQUIDS WILL FIND OUR BONES
THAT WE WILL ALL HAND OVER
WHEN THEY WALK
AND DISCOVER THE MOUNTAINS
THAT BORED MEN SHRUGGED BENEATH. .
(PERFECT.)
i MAGINE HOW THEY SLITHER UP HALEAKALA,
AND HOW OCTOPI,
REACT TO THE DESERT SPIRITS.
SOME WILL DIG INTO OUR PSYCHEDELIC MOTHER, FEELING WIND
AND UNVEIL THE RUINS OF NYC.
MAYBE, JUST-
MAYBE THEY'LL BE NEXT
TO FLY INTO OUTER SPACE,
AND EAT MUSHROOMS.
65 MILLION YEARS AGO
THERE WAS A MOMENT WHERE THE DINOSAUR
WAS AN ALIEN
HOWLING AT THE MOON . .
O WARM EARTH MUSIC
POUNDING 'GAINST MY CHEST
IS HEARD AGAIN
BY THE YES TREES WHO'VE BLINKED
ABOUT AS MANY TIMES AS MAN DID
IN A VOLCANIC EARTH DAY, SWEATING,
CASTING SHADOWS
LIKE THE MOON DOES, SOMETIMES . .
Sidewalk thoughts
Longer and hollow, wrapped
with emerald resonation . .
anything that comes to
mind
is the poem,
and your shutters are
wide open, fake, and falling
apart.
The paved path (112906)
Seven willows
always plexiglowing
after seen breath
and goading subverted morass.
The music,
suppressed by the synod of compression
(who deployed HIGHER EYES) where this incardanine wem
won't stop shitting people
onto the streets!
(Unless than
It's straight into the canal)
O atrophetic pin balling monkeys unlock
the calm before the storm of shiny winged miracles
riding tandem with the
heavens/inverted.
I can see you heart Malign through a hole in your punctured being . .
Weltering upside down
on Earth resonating life thru pipes
gasping
Votary! Cigarette . .
Your sepulchral-
neuromit.
Seven willows
unstill
eschew the city decadence.
illumed el fantastico
bloomed then
quickly wilted
40,000 blinks
illuminate the
moon and the
other moon
bloomed from
our throat
digging shallow
hella wide where
lips kick the
waves
you see,
I walked
backward
to the oak
croak of a
fermenting
casbah
struck by a
mantra hushed
in reverse
atonement
hushed
I heard Hopi
howling.
Sleepwalk.
The steward
transforms
our trash
into nothingness;
Treasure comes
barking.
Behind my
sack I taped
three and a half
grams of Trainwreck
and behind my
ID 30 hits of
LSD as I waddle
thru airport
security.*
*Don't believe everything you see and hear, Now.
sp;
You said the sky was the limit . .
and I believed you, for a long time
which was a short time
which was the same time over and over-
O but nay! After seven years, all those definitions
split into two, and limit became a threshold . .
feels like a membrane laughing at the knife
that separates.
Whole stanzas from the mist and the ice plant
network.
Staining space, whole stanzas from the mist replenish
gaping throats that seem to sing
with wind, and collections of abstract relationships
shifting about, but mostly
the pulsating mountain,
the whispering fire, and
the ocean wall.
My friend- Another one that walks
and stalks describing a tree before me
as a Refrigerator Tree (I always called a Moon Tree)
breaks in fast-forward and from it's broken amputation
twists a new appendage so it can breathe
and continue doing something
rather than nothing, which is promised
as a song . .
a lifeline threaded through years
as if sung
by every mountain . .
every cloud . .
Look around. Your life
is mine. I love you. Your life is mind.
Take the light into the palms
and compress the feelings
which are atomic and erotic.
Tangled are our legs
which automatically transport
our existence from one vanishing point
to the next-
Rotting, at the end. Well, not if they cremate you . .
eh
Rotting is a beginning and mid-point conversion
is opaque
is giving back.
Earth is a womb
not a tomb.
Earth is a tomb
not a womb,
and I will not stop singing
'cause I've never sang
into the ghost ear of the desert. Spherical,
Reflection, and calypso . .
Some like the smell of Earth's pimples
and climb
chewing cocoa green
and lime-
Passed by one in the mind
and I focused, which is to say
I listened to him hallucinate:
Peel away the xylem.
Dig into the Earth.
Piece together medley's.
Give another birth,
'cause Tomorrow's just a day-
Another place to play
with positive and negative energy
see-sawing through our star-shaped bodies.
Saraswati, find my light.
Every light, and every night
I will not give in
without a fight
and I will not soar
without a dream
and I will not dream
without a body
and I will not be
without a body
and I will not embody
my body for very long-
For, this is eternal, this knowledge
is peaceful and transcendental
from intangible mind
to tangible word.
It is not blind,
it is not heard.
Roll Over
It was high noon when we disengaged the rogue droning telepathy,
which was to call upon the satellites
and point
across The Sky
which was a choice
that no
one
really made.Even cities,
occupied and flooding
to a waddle up the stairs,
are ghastly
when you're solo-I administer interval fluctuations within,
and see the likes of skyscrapers unable
to be cleansed-
So like we bathe
our Earth's ocean'll
eat and
shit.
Dimensions like pretzels (111506)
The quiet ones can hear Mescalito howling in the valleys of a grain,
nodding off to the Turquoise moss
flourishing on a bush of shadows.
O All is still
besides the heart
of everything
below me
eyes transfixed
on my lunar injection-
The cacti fall within the proximity of
stone mandalas
where I heard of the automatic lung,
and the galaxy,
whose descendents
took flight and
tangled.
Narrates a hollow flaming pumpkin (110406)
. . Months are too chromatic
and Luna never lies.
One full moon cycle after Harvest
falls the purest eve of All Hallows . .
Here and there (110406)
If you are a fleshy conversion system
reading these here words with your eyes
then I've got a little thought
to jingle to
your mind. (Trombone)
If you can multi-task your self
and think about two, three, four things
at once,
then where are you?
Saw enough clouds to fog the windows of your sparkling hatch,
but . . I never saw enough . . and
I lied
with two anacondas who sought refuge 'round my astral spine
Much Later: (110306)
To the borough of infinite never ever kind-of like snake skin pounced on by focus inside the 'ol rib cage of what used to be a cow,fifty Cubensi give us the chance to kick down doors laughing ancient rainbows.
yea-
I've embedded spores
in old flashing
vaults
gurgling the strangest sounds
(in this region)
of this singular universe.A [bridge so small worms it's way to] C,
my medicine,
a pungent weed
controlled by the remnants
of almost ancient greed, here,I know better and
I wish to see your faceschange
near all the last elephants that happened-
Truly Gods are the
extinct,whilst Pan withers.
Clown Fish
THE DANCE
WINDY WAS
THE DANCE !
Focus (An exercise) (102106)
The more Man thought,
the more Man could think.
Consider the metaphor: A Gain knob for your Sensors.
Turn it up. Way up.
All the way, if you can (take it) .
Man, absorb your environment
through your earth tongue
and if you choose to taste it
maybe you will see the taste before you-
After all:
Our orb is alive, I crawl now
amongst us I want to see
the WORLD!
and it sees me, eye lashed.
Let me slip into something a little more. .
wormholeish.
Let my orbit with this nemesis
be an archway crystallized through the dark
spins
planets, whirling-dervishes too-
Dear Gravity,
To whom it may concern:
dreamt you died.
Spider vision,
silk behind.
"Saw" you give up when my energy body
jumped the iron gates of a golden dawn
(cackling).
More-Limbed words/Swaying wisdom; Feelimbo (101806)
tHEY're re(in)stating EYE
. . in precise whi
teofNIGH
T . .that apple, oh that apple in your hand . .-
si
ckas LunA A A
We? .. Oh-
yeahwefeel (then he turns his head around and looks me SO ALIVE TWEEN THE EYES) and jazz is
I can say anything at anytime, {Although,
THIS IS NOT SAY (with one finger pointed near a skin face absorbent and chromatic)
How else are you hearing this inside you ?
like a beat is not harmonic but it's
palpitating;
The skin of a pyramid phasing with the sound(S) of THE SUN; (Secret Weapon Speaker Warfare)
The thought is the eye behind the eye
(which is not an eye, but an ear, a nose and a ________________ __ _ _ __________ _ _ _ _ ________________)The THOUGHT is what this everything-eye focus's on
in this vast unconscious pool which is there
[which might be everywhere]
but . .
It's the water in your D R E A M S
You're always something
Never Nothing
Be it one
Be it many even ALL.foCus on yourveryownvoid
(Write
witH candlelIGHt;
Re[Un] Leas[h-e]e_Days.exe)
This is not adaptation (101306)
To the bloomed:
A forced puzzle awaits you.
If you find way,
You'll find the cheese in the window
at the end of a day.
Some fences have holes
and I crawled
out
into infinite freedom
with no knowledge
of how to survive
without cupboards . .
and a mechanism
designed to burn the wings
thereof the anomaly
upon departure.
This is not adaptation.
double you (101206)
"I've been waiting for you, Morning."
Clicked the beetle
to the mist,
with it's back arched like Aria,
gobbling bubbles,
'Long Legs hissed
when a boy dressed in stripes
went out back to magnify
the sun
on life.
Son of magnification;
The repetition covers
half his legs with blue,
then stuffs his smooth sensors
through the sock and in his shoe
tied to
The eyes of strings are
the eyes of things
are everywhere is everything
is watching
the eyes of strings are
the eyes of things sprouting
everywhere is everything
is watching you.
A nipple in space-time where the Milky Way leaked,
We stand feeling
amongst division.
*reprise
What would it be like to surface foggy Lake Lucidia
like a drenched princess
diving into the river toad?
Pitch and tension. Abrasion
and wind
detaches the ear that hears
the atmosphere
react like waters' leers.
Sail it kite-like . .
Impulsive bursts of lightning
in the brain* without a face;
Divine.
all ways, seeking guides
in every eyes.
New Movie (101106)
everything is inward infinite
and learning how to break dance
to pieces
sweating
in the warm palm
of everything is this cohesive glue:
Life
rips itself a part
in the new movie of life-
a billion times before . . ya
I'm sure you all
bloomed out of the womb
with the indensity of
brain after brain, my friends-
Look around
at all the sound . .
my twilight fish
in chronological order
docks with moonlight,
somewhere.
mud mouth exhales(100806)
dangling a system of warm organics
with a face (upside down)
on a belt between its' toes two pillar windy amphitheater.
OVER TIME'S A BRIDGE
I LOST THINGS UNBELOW
AND I QUOTE:
"That is a vital partition of the physical aspects of the experiment"
come now, join us for the great lunar swallow.
www.vibrato.throat.temporary.pulse
vision of the churches thinning out
in California.
So
Solo (10506)
when all the glasses have been snuffed-
and their bowels of wine, depleted:
my grass no longer grows
in glass-blown-bowls.
replaced.
Yalp (10406)
to all the mirages dancing
to the seizure of days:
we may bloom increments
behind petrified foliage
rounding off midnight
with a slur..
winter kills the judiciary branch
spit from a hair sprouting from
god's new forehead is a subway
train. screeching.
to the inside of the day dream
who peels away the rind
shedding seedlings
over ice, behind the mirror
shedding seeds
way points are clearer
when you step inside this
glass box
nature's reserved for the word
passed down through
cybernetic hallways.
And all I need's a cauldron, tonight.
You wear your skin
like Gein,
nailing vaginas to planks of wood.
tying bows.
the animals, they must know
Lord knows things I do knot.
kicking up oxygen dust all alone,
(I don't count tarantulas) darkless
blessed with ears
tied to a mind
The difference between
I am you:
we will never sleep
again.
uninvented,
unnourished by TV
hurry up
uninvented were the caves
in which man dwells
on sidewalks walking
like a fool,
uninvented are the things I live four
quadrants
Allow me to divide, I will
for you, near a bus I'll
decode what they taught me to speak
'till I learned what's behind the beak.
A throne to mouth on
A bone to douse in blood
hurry up
surround me, muscles
surround me, nerves
surround me, crows, vultures
TIGERS!@
sword fish . .
surround me sitars (O menacing heart beat)
surround me night.
surround me selves
(like little elves)
with big 'ol eyes
If only we could all beware
if only we could all remember
There'd be clouds
so annoyed
sifting consciousness
sneezing heterophenomenological lightning
I ZAP, too
every so often something drives me into
corners
and I ZAP !
Don't turn back;
rewind.
this was just a song
I wrote after being denied
drinks down the street.
An ode to the mirage of age
come dance, or sleep dance
I refuse-
No night like twonite's
swallow orchid's
elbow moon.
the abstract lingered but at first
the abstract taunted with it's crooked
lines, I followed
Totally, otally
blowing, GOING, UP!
King cup-
It's like a bike.
Highway 9
foolish as it was,
I rose before the Sun, and
already blinked my goodbye's
whether or not I spoke
they saw the tilt in my eyes-
and yeah, I made it to the clouds
up highway 9 I drove to that curving
white floor I wish to fall right through,
but, I'm a bit skeptical this is even
happening-
the transmission is pheromonal, almost
unheard if you aren't accustomed to the wing scent of whispers
and I thank her, kneeling with all the fallen
redwoods, all the broken moon-trees
pivot on a new axis, and twist like wet skin.
(the bodies on the inside, the souls on the out-
in the morning of mandalas I knew what this was all about.
so I hummed along the path to Maxis in the dark.
Saw every star and planet that my gates let pass- )
To my Suns and Oughters
withdraw the sun, draw the dotted outlines
of night
peel apart the chests and devour
the inward light
Solo- with each word withdraws the soul
resonation we are scanning to take flight.
(so)
disavow a moon erase the insides
of day
carefully bind the backs to keck
a humming darkness
without will or word rescinds the old
body we believe beneath
Piss-Shiver
inhaling nebulas
through my cybernetic lips
glitch, twitched moments
while two brains
assemble legs
and walk up-right
to the ocean
After Nirvana,
a 52 card pick-up
in everybody else's palms
I swear,
As if it were a moon tree
I spin around the axis
of a street-sign-
my eyes, she's
seeking poison
divided into two
holes.
After Nirvana,
the reflections in the glass . .
everywhere I sank and
never let them know
I washed up ashore in each
and every
blink
and when I did . .
uhghghhgHhhhHgg
Verizon
I'm security,
as he fingers his suit on the corner of 5th
can't you tell by my suit
I'm the manager, too?
Eye always imagine certain folks transforming into viscous hawks
like genitalic talons and
razor wires spill out the steaming ears
like spider silk, and rusted wings . .
I'm polite, though.
in between the lines
thunder rolls off your tongue sometimes . .
here we are singing far too loud.
my silence moans like feather walls-
I scan for those who've lost teeth biting clocks,
I scan for loud flowers
and ancient tick-tocks of pinwheels in the static
of hesitant time,
where I can rhyme
and remind some of their beating heart dynamic.
So aware, I'm barely
there
which is nowhere, clinging to make-believe dollars
spent on a satchel
to steal poetry and wine.
Silver Subway Blues (for no one)
First verse
my Oolong spurs . .
rattles like a warm wind
behind my outlaw Partition,
though I've done nothing
but yell, and gaze into
mirrors
moving;
graffiti,
no nails.
graffiti Chanoodle.
One,
just One.
quietly One
thinks he's One,
mumbling One
behind me's the
mumbler
who has no absolutely no idea his lone wail was documented
be it pen,
be it memory.
Third verse
What a long day
since morning
birth
I've been
again
and
again
"It's an outlet"
N train
to the heart
where I'll rise
where I'll fart
Chorus
all the milk-men
sold out.
Second verse
Where they now, eh?
of half a day spent
flying and chatting
with the
self
who's all anything
eye want
a focus unbalanced
a piano rain
and Clydesdale-
who I've never ever
really met
just like the name . .
Bridge
--From what perspective?
back corner of a silver
subway car
barely silent glides
these sausage fingers 'gainst
paper
Chorus
the 'ol bone
a fragrance of cataracts
ascending the light
two steps
of every single
"first" church
Fourth Verse
Man,
I've got nothin'
to say
as much as I've got the whole curve of
Earth to bend
like a hollow note
backwards
"Just go smoke a joint
and shut the fuck up
'til you got something
good to say."
---Oh but good is subjective
to
the observer!
Fifth Verse
When will that big
wave occur out of
nowhere
and wipe our asses
with muddy fire
wind and
water?
Combined
you've got
the next step in Evolution:
After analog
there was
Digital.
After digital
what will there be?
What is to come
of this spined game of
dominoes?
Bridge
surfing Life
my board
my brain
wipes OUT-
Coda (into infinite)
Dear God,
Our cities, they're drunk
'neath twilight
sorcery,
within
I've found the
Atomic Truth . .
where dragons
soar,
where floor's
no more
eat beets