You are welcomed.

Photograph from Grandpa's Attic

Head sliced open,
looking for the daffodils
that strangely occupied his brain.
Pushed aside by sewage waters-
distracted by charred torso's wailing.

Daffodils mid-brain held
his lost smile, dumbed down
from insertion of saddened
war bunkers, from snow
that blistered his nose.

From memories of bunkers
daffodils showed, they were
working on the atom-bomb.

Memories of bunkers with
daffodils unblemished from blood
melted from snow.
Secret ingredients, his mind.
Grip on his carbine
like pastel awakenings
from bloomings in sunshine.

They were trying to make the
atom-bomb,
his head stitched back-up,
the mug-shot.
Echos of layered explosions
with all the human sirens,
"can't never forget. Damnit."

~

Rejoin Peace Bizarrely

Little red death induced hood
strolls along the deeper forest,
spider umbrella over her shoulder.
Does she know she fell
into a frothy yellow flower?

Wolves be the owls in oaken tree holes
where owls form the howls of the
the wailing wallowed wolves,
tongue splashing creatures lurk
around the shadowy seems.

Who wanders off
down her curious sense?
Light shines from
her brightest blonde hair.

Wolf who takes a deeper look
into the eyes of hers and
falls in love and gasps
the sudden fresh air

As night morphs to day,
the opened meadow
of passion tipped grass
flows with calm breeze.

~

Poet's Intuition

Asked about my work,
I say, "it is a special
kind of work,
one of interpretations
and strange logics."
I say, "You know how
the sky turns green
before a storm?
Well, have you thought
about the color green
existing as a warning?
Have you seen the
terror'd eyes behind
rain-beaten windows
as that green apocalypse
poses to fall...?

Where mean mushrooms
spread the spores of death,
bazookas leaned
upon their rotten caps..!

And under that green sky
do you imagine
what the radio plays?
"Girl, I'll be coming back home,
Girl, Girl, I'll be coming," and
"Never want to let you go,
Never wanna, never ever,
just keep my heart close.""

Or maybe the one that goes
"Sky's goin to a darker tint,
sky is goin, sky is foggin' and fadin'.
Never wanna see you go but I'm losin' sight,
I'm losin' sight and I'm so confused-
don't let me go."

~

Thoughts on Death

Was chattin' with a friend
and I think we were stoned,
talked about livin' this life,
I said we do it day by day.
I said, it's so monumental,
that when we wake up
and we take our feet
to the ground and walk
those first steps,
we have
made the biggest decision
that we need to make.
Or that we want to make
as prospectful humans.

I thought it was funny
that death is as near as
the choice to never move,
like "Oh, not today."
And all those silent tears
that never see the light of day,
the ones that fall
back into your head and
deliver that final message,
one tear from each eye
for the heart,
for the mind.

But is it really tangible
to admit such impossibility,
I think we as humans
adamantly decline
that we are impossible,
deep down inside,
deep, deep down.
A feeling that we've known
since the initial birth...

~

Intuition of Distant War, Safe at Home

The window rattles near my bed,
what is it? Rumbling thunder
and the rains.
I try to go back to sleep,
but I'm not very tired.

I go out for a smoke and
pace between the cracks of my driveway, kick a puddle
and look by the trees
in the horizon, the sadly tinted
orange clouds.
Lightning flashes far off
and I ponder the war,
a war is going on and
that was the blast
that displaced a few chins,
the last flash of light
a poor soldier saw
sparkled with
diamond blood cells.

A damned war is going on
and that is just what I need,
the distant flash and bangs
to keep me reminded.
I need the smoke in my lungs
so I can exhale with the rest
of the ruined spirits of war,
die a little bit by their side,
send them a "dear friend..."
and write to them
my chilled naievities,
my somehow sympathies.

And I reach for another
in the darkness of the night,
slide the cigarette with the
sound of the beach.
Suddenly there is a soldier's ghost,
and we both exchange this
calm, questioned glance.

I snap out of it and light up.

~

Upper Class Youth

Oh, what a boring day.
I went to the courtyard
with my bow and arrow, and
I had the stupendous idea
to cock an arrow
and just let myself go,
spun around
to launch that pointed vessel
somewhere...
I couldn't quite get the feeling.

I opened my eyes
as the arrow shot
through a milk cloud.

Well...
I knew I needed
more in my life.

~

Some Acrostic Hell, What Were You Thinking?

An annoying pile of steaming rubble, you
Come into with all your dumb curiosity. Well
Run to escape the falling containers of
Omnipotent Gods who wish to suck you up and
Steal all your bodies jewelry, your
Tits, belly buttons, ears and eyes and
Invert you to the altar of their foolish devil who
Cackling in his sleep, delights that he caught you.

~ Forest Evolves a Magic

Here we go into the woods
with the treetops and the birds
and the oozing purple branches
and the foxes perched by wings,
the moles that fly through holes,
the flies that die but more survive
in swarms of invisible blood clouds.

In the underground swamps
that surge the tangle of veins
that pump the lifelong blood
that share the mantis' dream
of doves whose rustic love
he'll never be the brother of:
the cries of depressed bugs.

In a whirlwind of leaves,
the soil so moist and soft
like love, her flesh perceived
by bones, the roots, the
stable parts of wild visions,
hot breath reflections from
sweet goddess inflections,
leaves us timeless and beautiful.

Deep places where the sun
has the magic to weave
the inner sanctums, to
trust another life with the
rays of warmth nearby.
Here we are
who kiss away
from rigid boundaries.

~

Plucks Us Into Place If We Choose to Face Destiny

Your beauteous face,
I realized is like
a fond disguise,
a liquid mask
I fall right through.

Ethereality
and its
transparency,
that is perfection
in form,
that beauty,
like a trap,
pulls in
the strongest.

~

Good Feedback

I showed a friend my poetry
and she told me it left her
feeling dissatisfied...
I said, "I understand
what you mean,"
and felt a slight thump
at my chest.

~

Captured in Cold

I'm ascending the mountain path, an icy, slippery mountain path, but maybe I'm descending. There is not a long thought where an icicle does not fall and shatter at the frozen turfs of dirt and snow bricks. A fire is surging at the summit, I can see the smoke billow above and blend in with the dark clouds. I think my fingers might fall like the icicles and I will end up in that fire, inside the belly of the beast, listen to the calm bubbling of the working blood. But there are warped trees trapped in absolute zero, twisted branches from a desolate painting, a theme of blue appears from the breath of my nostrils. And I slip and slide down and around the last bend I was intimate with - I am told to revisit the blankets of snow on branches I was stuck on. I revisit the detailed trenches of those frozen barks. I am asked to reimagine for hours...

Am I too, the gradual tree,
slow tree that grows through
Earth's winding turbulence.
Am I too, the warped painting,
the black hole at the center of timbers.

~

Port Town

Golden cities with copper falls.
Those delicate planets at the top of me
pass my brain like headlights
on the long highway home,
falling gently asleep.

A dream and,
different rabbits bounce through
all the green hatched windows
of emotion,
into a dark pool that screams
a sound that no one can hear
but ripples like beauty
of the molting sun,
sheddings of silver
appear and re-appear
in a myrid of cycling mirrors.

I can sleep well if that
invisible equation
don't stop equating
its midnight percussion,
rhythm that leads with
rhyme and truth,
miasmic magmas
thwarted by its
thin blue stream.

Dreaming of traveling
to a port town,
dreaming of a
liquid to boat on,
a gaseous light or
stealing of light,
a glow or inversion of glow
that feeds the larger belt
of cosmic discovery,
and to drift.

~

Every Sunshine Reminds me of Peace

A fine Autumn day,
one identified and catalogued
of the arcehtype of Autumns-
and I'm on the city bus
with my hand blocking sunlight
and a single leaf
soars into my fingers.

I look through Nature's mirror
at the horizon
and see
the multi-faceted reflection,
the twinklings of Summer and Winter,
the fallings of super-designed objects.
Spring is hiding
yet there is the lingering fragrance
of sprouts from the shedding dust
of leaves.

(This,) An emblem of peace
is throned upon the air,
wild beams of copper and gold
shoot from her majesty's orb,
Earth as we know her
is not likely to stopping
her heart,
my gratitude
where I breathe
her smiling.

~

Different Threat

There is this sanctuary of bad circuitry
that houses all these jolting rats:
rats who halt power at their step,
see past the halos of death.

Infestations of rodents
cause fires and I've seen
whole villages burn't to crisps.
I had a dream of smarter rats
passing wine between their lips
and watched the liquor
breaking down their veins...

Heard of times
when their colonies collapsed,
were overrode, oversurged,
but more news of razings...
I can hear them
buzzing teeth at young code,
taming red oceans
and pulsing out their message
like a fleet of double shotguns.

I don't know about Hope, or God,
but the chronology of
destruction is like this long
fireworks display - apparitions
float up from the ruins,
I've grown hard.

~

A Firm Biology

Breathing from this divine balcony of life,
the city is grown into the distance,
a city of structures but pulsing organs,
the various clockworks maintaining red juice.

(Inspired by Ted Kooser's "Snow Fence")

~

Untitled

Time takes its natural order
in a positive flow
or ye be from the negative
then time flows the negative.

I am in a positive slide
as my thoughts wrap around
this poem as I'm
wrapped around a bed
in warm sensual ways
that relax my muscles
and has me calm my
animal to dreams.

Time flows in the positive
'cause my thoughts ha'nt
left me yet,
desserted my set,

Well, time before bed,
all well and said,
trust this poem-
I'm not dead.

~

Overgrowth Brushed Aside

I check my writing journal
for a door I have opened,
but I haven't
written for a while,
haven't opened many doors.

As a writer, I guess I expect
to open up my notebook
to something I had
forgot about writing.

But I haven't
written for a while,
there are no doors
to the other me
left open.

It makes me sad.

Like the
tombstone
with its
overgrowth,
left alone
for too long.

Should brush aside
to learn the years,
learn thy name.

~

Her Blood Resonates When I'm Nearbr>
It's Late Autumn
and some sort of liquid snow
fills the goblet in premonition
of fierce Winter gusts.

Her blood is also poured into the goblets
where the snow flakes are sharper
like snake fangs, they cut her flesh a little.
Droplets drip with droplets
and dance the double helix,
the ambrosia'd red flow,
I think it's magic.

I'm not properly dressed-
out for a quick smoke,
but that lonesome goblet
does the lovings of warmth
on tempting my throat.

Drink from her visceral petals?

Blood and snow,
the new drink I'm first trying.
It's cold and it's warm,
It's the blood of hers
trapped in her,
with so many magnets
pulling me to roses.

~

Preparing for Winter

Encased in ice
listening to the:
glup glup and the
ice modules
shed sparks down
the labyrinth corridors,
to the moss in its shriveling mode
preparing to hibernate, fizzling, hissing,
irradiating music within its fractioned dots,
lighting up small spots like a cancer,
like an environmental hazard,
to the melting embers burning in vain
at the pit of the icy catacombs,
crackle crackles and hums.

Cannot show you what is listened,
lest you hear what is written,
for on heiruglyphs glisten
advice from wisdom'd kittens.

Ah, the crispened leaves,
we're entering blizzard's vein.

Mom says
get all your things packed
before you get to bed.
We've got a big day ahead of us,
and the moon watches curiously
from the kitchen door's window.
Mom says put on your coat.

~

Saging Poet

My neighbors and
their garage next door,
their volume and their space
the spectral staircase
of coiling music.
And there may be
the stair-flight streams
of rushing red teems*
* and teams of guppies
through the seams.)

I say
it caught me, and well,
bear with me -
I'm trying to explain the moment,
I'm stoned, I'm tonic'd-
I'm a lit cigarette
and a bit chatty!

Basically, a grizzly bear
was sprinting to a
bass drum
repeating thumping hearts...
among other things...
and the rhythm changed,
and there I was
in their deep well
with a few small flames,
havin' a grand ole time.

~

Sister Test

Sister sister did I forget to tell you about the time I surf'd the grass and swam through the soil towards the ocean? About all those seashells that got caught in the windshield of my eyes, sister, it stang, but I was in such a bliss you wouldn't believe. The roots and the nutrients fed into the liquid of my eyes and my nostrils too were entered by the groundwaters and I felt like I was dreaming about Dad, I was with him on an island on the sun enjoying the yellowness of it all with two watermelons and a coconut. I also felt like I was dreaming about you, existing to taste the juice of the fruits we shared. The citrus sparkled over your forehead and I thought a safe stranger was blessing you, the safe stranger with pudgy hands and brown skin, his white teeth sparkling behind his lips. At this point the sun was morphing into it's third phase and the ether'd ocean of yellow turned a mild green, and then I could see my reflection and then I also had my toes wet, like so hot it feels cold, you know, sister sister?
I'd like to tell you about these times, sister, I write this letter to you and send it to some make believe address, and I even write your own response, I write for you, 'cause I know you exist somewhere as much as I want to know you, I'll be doing a justice to feeling with your advice flowing through my palm. The rainbows will arc when we meet or as I emerge from arctic and the sun is smiling and I take you of a snowball from snow gathered from an iceberg and say, my love-ed sister, I can hear you, and then take you down and make you ice and show you a strange creature I met where the crust of the earth meets the ocean. His name is something that rhymes like a lullaby, the ballad of ice crystals in the sky of the crib, he told me the story of his life by reshaping his body and oh, I never knew that spots could change to dots and dots could flicker the bluer knowledge of un-sought artists but he showed me and told me and morphed and dwarfed and all these delightful shapes he formed, even once I saw the tip of the universe and it made me feel good, the feeling of never-ending conquest, it tingled in my fingertips, sister... sister.

Gweggled goggles the spongles of sponges
soaked the cloaks of many sought dungeons
though dipped the cloaked and fires yet stoked,
you can hear me, sister,
can you understand what it is
I am saying?

~

Interstellar Love, Somehow and Not Quite

You take from me my metal armors
so that you can build a sturdy mirror
to reflect the sun and reflect all of light.
I think you're from a different planet
and I think you are a little out of place.
I wonder how you loved me
with that ring of mercury
corroding your heart.

If I was anything more than a human
you took it from me,
well, I guess that's what I deserve,
the way I went to the top of space.
I discovered how big the room was
and felt the shapes of new colors,
my heart struggled to be ready,
and I think it was you
that helped me pull through,
afterall.

I remember when Pluto and Mars
were aligned as we gazed into
eachothers eyes. I remember the
silt of the wind that whispered
with your voice and with all of nature,
you introduced me to my cells.
What an interesting focus,
biology's song in my heart
and the question of life
"who's knocking on our door,"
I told them it was okay
for you.

But I'm still alive,
and at that I'm glad,
not all my light has vanished.
And for you, we balance
between this dimension now.
'Cause if it were otherwise,
one of us'd be dead.
I think now that I love you,
and I feel good now that I love you,
that kind of satisfaction,
I might miss you.

~

Untitled

Sleep comes like a spiraling rapture,
like death's long flapping cape,
shutting out light for a new brand of lights,
dreams: the heavy bruises of notion,
dreams: the face behind a curtain
that tempts you into troubled waters,
the vein pumped colors of drowning
or the hand pressed eyelids
of that pop-up bits n pieces
of broken star realities
but silence

unconscious closes in,
ideas of escapism,
sleep wins the bet
in warmth of a house,
it's winter and
sleep wins the bet
in warmth of a house,
lay down and sleep
untill things decay
and you are shown
the way out, a worried man
cries a bottle of tears,
departing gifts,
sunshine and stubble,
fiery grass, lay down
and decay, the soil,
downwards, the earth
and layers of, the crust
your bones, the crust,
layers of the earth,
shown the way in
by your worried mother
dressed in white,
is it hell,
is it hell,
sleep comes,
dreams fade in
like sunshine of a new day,
plenty of places to lay.

Is this a dream already,
is the dream just ending,
or am I wide awake
and full of myself,
just sleep, sleep,
just go to sleep
lest you dream
to have darkness' wing
for unaware warmth,
blue rivers,
dark blue rivers.

~

Talk Show Host, His Modern Guest

Hey man, your soul looks
like that cut-out whore
we found in our cereal box.

You're gross, how you pine
over youth, you hold their eyes
in your sweaty palm and giggle,
and you giggle about the weirdest things,
I heard last night it was
the way she crossed her legs
and the smiling shadows
beneath her shins told you
about how hot the sun was:
four hundred million degrees
gets you cutting yourself in half
by the local park handrails.

Man, you're a bonafied top-class drifter,
your shades are on backwards
and we don't give a shit.
You know man 'cause
we drink pints like we crush 'em,
put those memories down the flush
and watch 'em cycle down our tubes,
get compressed is the magic,
pay a dime to get repressed,
all the roadie ways to impress,
dress and get set for the losings-
laughs and nights and broken flights,
blight in getting smite just right,
call it right here baby.
Call it right in my sweat and dog tags,
you're fucking a war veteran,
wet of lores from the cyber world
who knows more,
calling it right here, folks.

We like your style,
back-driftin' on the bark
of pine trees, tongue left out
to collect the sap
and coil down your new syrup.
You're fuckin' selfish.

We'd love to have you on
next week when we take on
the dude with spikes on his back,
got 'em surgically in, and he's
a fucking whore, too.

Ya don't leave empty-minded,
we give the finest in riddles
and pleasant tales, and here's my
latest, direct feed from my diary,
the drool speaks from my lust
I can't speak it, and here it comes
on the screen, Ohhhh!

Death in stereo, the homicidal lipstick,
speak me your tears, leap from the mirror,
your my darling, dropping all the time.
Your mine through my spine,
you drop electric my time.

~

Future Things, Wonder's still Around

Hey, it's snowing, it's raining,
I think I can feel the depth
of a new puddle in the street.
The one that goes,
"Look at me and
look through me,
dare ya to know me
at my steepness."

A light green cloud stumbles
from his hover path and falls.
His puffy face soaked in mud,
I give him my hand and he
gives me his tail and
I throw him
back into the sky.

All the multicolored city signs and lights
are competing with their dirtied fists,
there is a war between these skies
but all that's seen are beauteous stars
that form at the various precipice:
look, there is my father who
died in the last war, and she says
there is my father too,
the blueish green orb by
"Killer Tattoos," and "Ringing Cosmetics."
She whispers to me "Let's go to the basement,
or the outer wall and spy the forests."
I cannot agree more
and we wave our war fathers goodbye.

One part of me meets with her
and another stays with the puddle,
oh, deepest puddle of new days,
I can't ignore you so my hand explores you,
sunken ships and old scarred lips,
old handguns and old pen tips,
oil and gunk and bacteria
but at the ends of my fingers
I feel a purity, a bubble of soap
or light that asks for removal.
But I can't reach you,
you're too far gone.

So I dream, I dream, I dream.
And kiss my sweetheart
at the city seams.
The forests are still outside.

~

Double Stepping Imagination, Getting Captured

Have you felt inside
of a space fighter ship,
sat inside of a space fighter ship?

Have you read a blustering book of winter
in its blistering gusts and
breathed that icy air
and kept strength in mind
to visit that whole other world?
(real coldness, you should have felt it...)

These kind of cooling paradoxes
put me into a different orbit,

Into spacelessness,
but a green star on my head *
pulls everything together
for a lick of eternity,
do you wake up?

And if, yeah, when-you, always
could take a dive
into that leisure'd lunar pool,
come out soaked and dripping,
say "yes" to me?
(the yellow star on yours,)
I wish you were in my bed.

Do we love this bewildered chasm
that we fade into
every now and then,
or don't we wish we could always
just be gone,
collecting fire
with our eyes.

~

Informal Address to Dead Kings, It's Still Happening

What kind of pill to take up those stairs,
to forget about every cold and lonely care,

Empty room but you feel tired
and there's your favorite bed,
wind from one opened window,
overcast april memories of lullabies.

What kind of pill to take up those stairs,
to forget about every cold and lonely care,

I wonder what's asunder,
what causes such great thunder.

I wonder about the magical forest that you in frost
have cast and made and gave great grade!
   What's so precious as life
      as your forest's coiling nook, -
         you whisk the ocean shore
         for nothing more and more.

Lords of the night,
I wonder what's asunder,
what causes great thunder.
~

What Men Find

Lightning up the horizon, little buried flower,
you heartbeating life-er of spectral waves.

I was walking in peaceful serene and your sprout
caused my heart to be alert, up pushed my hands you grew

your stalken spine of courage pine
to black heavens wish for water grow

down the valleys of unquenchable lust
to fill fruitfully the brim a slow time grow,

and forgetting Rome with such a wash
for instead some nourishing flowers grow

that a bad dream is thorns and my hand
in a basket of them, but fjording reality otherwise

at higher, smoother frequencies, what it was,
loving you as a human, to grow that grow.

~

Time for Me to Leave

Because I'd end up steamed and bereaved,
'cause it ain't worth it to me, sweet thing.
Whatever we do we we always close the window,
but I'm sure that I'll miss you.

The smell of pine trees in our sleaves,
and in our quiet leave:
goodbye at the depot and
I've only got nickels left.

Ole steed, everything is fine.
Keep the steady gallop
and keep courageous with red berrys,
you know I eat the blue ones.

Silver in the air,
silver in the wake of sunshine messages:
forested horizon, the buddied paths of
flowers and thorns, the side story lake.

Because the oil is common here
and I'm scratchin' for a new smoke.
'Cause it ain't worth it to me, sweet thing.
Whatever we do we always close the window,
but I'm sure that I'll miss you.

~

World Diving with You

I'm nightcrawling through the labrynths of this prism,
this crystal prism we call Earth and I breathe a network of diamond air,
icy and satisfying, a cool and refreshing alcoholic drink.
I'm parallel intoxicated with a million other souls
floating through this emerald space.
I'm feeling pretty good.

I'm reaching around some corner for a color of light,
a new color that breaches a few of my senses,
and my senses are up 'cause the stars I've slept,
the miracles I've wept.
But I'm feeling pretty good
all in spirit and mind.

Not now, but soon there is us
running in some glaring field,
with berry'd venom daisies,
snakes who think we're crazy,
just running to explore.

Not now, but there is us
leaving digital to Greensleaves
in love-
regular lives and smiling.
What about the war,
we're just in love.

The King's fanfare from the marching band:
"It's a long and snowy terrain,
our boots are always warm!
We go to war,
we miss our girls!"

~

Untitled

It makes me feel real
good the moist layer
within your face
that breathes in flesh
and warmth and lays
of waves in magnets
paves
through mine
a course
divine,
red fruit on your tongue,
red fruit of your eyes
in all my lives,
that have you a let
my veins, i thank you.

~

Nocturne

Machinery resounds
in the background of the sky,
I blink as if a dream,
wake from a comatose state.

Hedge maze of twin floors
at the tip of her crystal nails,
gyrating leaves in whirling sprees,
green as her ripening beams.

Machinery resounds
of a city in the sky,
I blink as if a dream,
wake from a comatose state.

The demons, the angels,
the chimaera's guarding glass doors,
the lores of relic'd selling stores-
potion's cooling down my throat-
relished spell of healing over me,
the cities in my veins
generate and expand.

Power holders, you sphere enhancers
or candle wielders of rawest scents,
see you lightning casting
from your castle'd magic tents.
Life, life, and that is life.
Can we even count the steps?

I open my eyes again,
was I asleep?
I remember the soft floor
of premature youth
and my firmness taking truth.
Yes, it remains true,
This wickedness in hue.
Power holders, you sphere enhancers
or candle wielders of rawest scents,
machinery resounds of a city in the sky,
I blink as if a dream,
I wake from comatose state.

The current at my knees
with a handful of species,
the clouds are lookin' dark
and my arms have got the mark.

Where do I go from here?