Approaching Winter Fruits

Upon the gold thread
Of your entrances
Amidst the whispers
Of trees on fire
In the small
Dark tunnel
To your heart-
There are plants
Of resurrection and
Directions determined
To destroy
Their vocabularies
Of disaster
With spark
And steam,
With dreams that
Beat much faster-
In bodies
Filled to spill,
Such seeds
Of him
To match her,
Twisting
Down
Deep
In roots
That build
For rapture.

Repairing The Transformer

With many years alone-
You comb through old and new-
To find where you belong and
To that home stay true.

Plenty the enemies of intimacy-
Turn and kiss their cheek.
That your fistfuls of will
Bring the appropriate fire but
Still let it burn and breathe-
That you touch
The gold light of shadows-
You would dance both
Under and over the clouds
Knowing sky as sky,
Showing your eye its eye.

Bent wrongs and
Well within our rites-
Secret ascension.
My love longs to be
Spent in expression-
A thousand colored lights.

Chime

Winds of change
To rearrange-
Tall rustling bodies of trees
Scattering their debris
For feet to kick,
Slip,
Sift
In the gold
Light drifts-
Bluster gusts
And
Seeds to seek-
Dusk as dream
And
Twilight speech-
Tuck
To
Mend
And
Spin-

Generate a heat within.

One To Pair

1.

The wild card was caged and
He placed bets with the rest
On when it might feed,
Guessed whether it would
Bite the hand and
With what types of teeth.

2.

Time will tell,
Time will heal,
But you can't steal time
And your time is now
Revealing.

Down To Get Up

Play harps on my head tonight.
Little angels
Please spin your web and
Tuck me full of luck.
There's a big pumpkin
Growing inside and
It wants to find its face.

Flammable Vernacular

All the possibility
When you pay attention
To your electricity-
If the power goes out
Ignite the fire within-
Your heart is the pilot
When the light grows dim.

We Each Spin The Wheel For A Chance To Feel

All intimacy sings the gambler's prayer.
I rolled the dice on your eyes
With my hands in your hair.

Transistory Burrow

The moon is harvesting
Fruits unknown,
Some see the disguise
And others love the eyes
While we all wander home.

everyone has a secret pocket

when she didn't kiss goodbye
and wouldn't say hello
is when the river spoke
and the stones began to roll.

Crumpled Growl

I will
Eat you
With the
Mouth of
A paper
Tiger and
Turn you
Origami-
With bursts
Of ink
And thick,
Round pools
To fill
What's tucked
So intimately.
For a page
That's bare
Is eager
To share
Its body
Of infinity.

Turning

The changing of this guard
Comes to part and shake-
As wings of owls
Umbrella-opened
Search the air and break-
With shrill and fluttered shrieks-
These bells to mark the hours
Like white singing flowers of the night.
Again, the guard-
A young woman bare,
Armed with story's telling tongue
And all its secret prayer-
Shifts to lift her body there
Back into the evening's dark.
My pass is the word and
I will be let through
To explore the new world
With my blue-colored throat and
My luminous frayed coat.

Sultry Summer Sulking

Joon,
Jewel-Eye,
A Gust.

Echoes Repeat To Complete

This slipped shift,
Lips lick sudden smoke-
The bittersweet gift of
Becoming the mist of oneself.
He tastes her fingertip
But cannot find her hand-
He is now the earth
But cannot walk the land.
Something silent is
Stringing the wings back together
With roots and vein-
This weather of whispers and the
Changing of names.
Steady breath of the new flesh-
Slow tearing of the nets-
The guess of himself,
The guest of himself-
Pumping the fist-pearled blood of his heart-
Its big gusts and gulps drum beaten,
Feeding in the dark.

Eight Acts In Reverse(or Eye Got Lotsa Shorties)

1.

Jeweled-eye fire
Searching the narrow path,
Burning to learn
New angles of
The Lovers' Math.

2.

Still,
One red blossom
Lingers secretly
Above my garden-
Sits lit
Like a lantern
Slipped
To whisper
Its vesper
Vermilion.

3.

Rooftop
Morning
Smoke
With
Oakland
Crows
After
Sleeping
On the couch
With a pit bull
Named
Cinnamon.

4.

Every
Day
The
Universe
Sends
Messages
And
Signs.
Just open your eyes-
You'll be surprised
To find what
You read
Between
The lines.

5.

Go where you are received,
Go where you are believed,
Go where the Ace of Spades
Is the heart worn up your sleeve-
With all its illustrations,
With all its steady beats-
It takes a certain sail
To carry you
Through these seas.

6.

We are the same-
The Sun
And I-
Constantly
We meet.
I, a son
Born flamed
As well,
And in us both
Desires
Swell
To
Search
You
Through
With
Heat.

7.

A hunger for disappearance,
My little universe tantrum,
My ego interference,
Dig my pocket for a lantern
In the shadows of my grievance.
Under half-moon.
Having slept in death's orgy,
I wander in my bloody uniform-
A dancing detective story
Full of forgetting and remembering.
With each itch and scratch,
I'm leaning into everything.

8.

Last lunar cycle's new room:
It's the snake dance to shed old skin,
Being tailored for the new definition's dream coat-
A letting go,
A surrender
To remember.
Meeting with the shadows,
Wrestling with reflections,
Secret singing,
Desire's deep blue fires
Bringing-
Molten wings
Feathers molting-
This prickly nest
Filled
With golden guessing,
A gambler undressing
In the dark
Betting on sparks of Yes,
Travels through the underworld
With fists uncurled-
Divinity's advance placement test
Then returned as guest.

Hecate Sends A Postcard

When
Every flower
Feels
As pulled
And
Rolled
In your mouth
With salt,
Put your hand
Deep
Into the earth,
Past the fault line,
Further still
Until you
Touch
The fire,
Knowing
That
The core,
As yours,
Is where
All
The
Doors
Conspire.

Three Shades Of Simmer

On clavicle,
In cavity,
The weight
Of
This

brevity!

I go
Ghosting
The days
Of summer
In

Bright
FLaShEs!

and

Long,
Hot
Drawls.

Under pressure
Of
Reflection,

I follow

Gravity's

di
re
ct
io
n

Slipped
Circadian

Buzzing
In
The
Centrifuge.

I've become
The
Keeper
Of kisses in my pockets,

Alluded to in the

Tufts
And
Tucks
Of

Smuggled embers

And
The
S l o w
r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r-i-n-g
Of my

!!!&$@
WILDNESS*
@$&!!!

There is a
Wellspring
Knocking
at the door
In the floor-

Kept
To its
Meddling
In the
Cellar,
It
Is
YELLING

Now!

It
Wants
To
Fountain,
Rain,
And
Pour.

It
Wants
To
Polish,
Swirl,
And
River.

It wants to give itself away.

It
Wants
More.

He Smiles While Picking Glass From His Hand

Who are these gleaners
Of our secrets and detritus?
Castaway dreamers that slink
Cycling through what might just
Be the containers that hide us-
In the same way I seek,
Lifting night's lids,
Poking and peeking about
The discards of our days
Redeemed in waves of light.

Independent Works Of Fire

Last night,
Under the swelling moon,
Wrestling for sweet dreams
In a tomb of desire and
Restless fires consuming-
My unseen body's transmutation
Held by golden threads
Through the loops of all its dueling.

Anointed in my sleep
As I was driven to the depth
To speak with all the dead and
The secrets that they keep.

Through the tunnel shaft,
A tight,
Dark
Hollow,
I was following
A little living puzzle
And filled with
A peculiar light laughter.

Finding,
In my waking after,
That such breaths of mysteries
Were designed to bring in plenty
Jewelry made of keys.

My heart
Like a hare
Tall-eared,
And
Listening,
Went
Wandering
In the prayer
Of a freshly-mined ruby.

In Song Of Suffocation

My evil is pretend
That my love might bend
Much brighter,
These shadow masks and
Onyx links
That lend
Igniting fire.

If you want to play that game,
I'll design to play it harder-
It is in my nature able
To make my knives much sharper.

Buried to my neck
In a forest full of birds
To learn of forces dark
And illuminate my nerves.
I play my heart as drum,
All the skin pulled tight.
Incessant fluttered wings
Stirring through the night.

When the other creatures come
Prowling to sniff my face,
The Lover,
Hidden,
Springs forth
To guard
And howl
And chase.

As A Child Sweeping Cielings

I sweetly scrapped and grappled
As a tender sleepless shoot,
At rest only
When the silver bullet dreams
Would catch upon a tooth.
I would chew right through to bone
Lapping at the marrow-
Alone with my fists of fire and
All my golden arrows.

To wear the wolves
In whispered dawn
With wisdom from
The dark ride long.
I went to hide with dancing swords,
My hands at play with song.

What carriage!
What roads!
We rosebud children,
We shining ghosts
Know better of
The end's reflection
For we were sent
To hold it close
With mirrors of affection.

Holding Long The Summer Night

The soft blue lights are breaking as
I am with the last few stars of morning waking.
To slip into some tiny dream which
Whispers with the flowing stream and
Tells the walnut hearts that every branch is shaking.

Slipped in Midnight

Those who go hunting
For their happiness in night,
Drawn through each desire
Like the sharpening of knives.
The echoes in the streets and
Youth with all its teeth,
Silently above-
A white owl flies.

Late In Twilights Loosing

Summer is putting on its
Warm fire of a dress,
Pulling me from the rich deep earth
Where I've been searched in prayer and
Tucked as guest.

All this secret heat revealing
Comes to meet
My songs with dreaming-
I am golds and silvers
Ushered to the furnace,
Brushed with white-winged creatures and
A flaming copper surface.
Trust me to purchase grace
For grace is all ways free-
As long as you look in the mirror and
Love the faces that you see.

Summer is coming softly,
Dressed to bare and bring.
No more space for running-
It's best you bless these sundogs
With all the days you sing.

After Yeats And Lightning Bugged

Dragons dance the sky tonight
In silver flashes winged delight.
Such tremors in the evening's ways,
With breath of wind how thunder plays.
As echo of some long lost sight
Calls to keep hearts from their graves.

Heavens now in growling waves with
Diamonds prowled in shrouded rays.
Flashes drum electric pulse,
Night convulsed in laughter.
Tears from these ethereal eyes
Send my dreams beat faster.

If I could climb this chaos,
Lost, then found in trust.
To crawl inside the tiger's mouth
And flower from the dust.
As vastness comes in form
To report eternal depth,
To be free in the unknown
In the mystery of your breath.
This storm that is your doing
Will also bring you rest
For all that comes
To shake and shimmer
Glimmers with the blessed.

Anonymously Curious

This constant want
for unbuttoning,
a loose-buckle heat
makes my teeth lean toward
big green trees
with bursting fruit

and every morning
i look up
at invisible mountains,
wandering,
great mineral crowns on my head.

the shortest walks often take me
strolling through echoes of foreign tongue and
i long to get lost in
the most revealing ways.

creatures come and go
helping slow these eyes
to see with all of my self-
fox trot silhouette,
skittish possum paused,
woodpecker drumming hard bark with its beak,
sneaking beer traps in the garden
to drown an army of earwigs.

A student of the body
looks with the pupil of the heart and
I know my mother is well because
when we speak she interrupts
to describe every new bird,
"Oh there's the wren. I'm sure that's the one I saved."

When the world becomes too known,
it's good to leave the house.
That's when I'm hungriest for clouds
and cutting cords to rusty anchors.

That rising heat is
how the
fire inside
speaks out,
whispers
in cedar smoke,
wants to
strip me bare,
rubbed in ashes,
then rolled
in rain
and rivers.

Most birds
first discover
their flights
in falling
and lately,
every little breeze
or rustling
comes
with some
strange calling,
makes me
want to
dive or die
crystalled in
my reflection,
every moment
meant for
swallowing.

Gamblers Wait On Turns

Who will keep the wheel turning
in this burning heart?
There is me of course-
the brightest light in my own dark sweeps
and yet i bet to seek the spark
over and over
in the cycling eyes
and the lives that part.

Hear little deaths calling-
it always sounds like falling,
torn dresses, purple crowns,
golden thorns, and
wedding gowns.

There's caresses on the way down
and strong hands to pull you back up.

There is your face constantly polished
in new mirrors.

There is the resurrected discovery of love
in peeling
and every shift that strips
to bring you new with spelling lips.

Some days i go slow
as mists
and fog
and smoke,
thick with cloud and drift,
picking at the shadows in my teeth
from chewing all these reflections
gathered in my sleep
and little notes
from tucks and folds,
hidden pockets deep:

"In anticipation
brought through doors
for more kissing with the keys-
my feet are bells upon the floor."

or

"Egyptian Book Of The Dead."

or

jit·ney1. A small motor vehicle, such as a bus or van, that transports passengers on a route for a small fare.
2. Archaic A nickel.

[Origin unknown.]

*
Whether fair or cheat,
Where such prayers and feats take us
We will go this bardo with five-sense elements
Touching in the omnibus.
Eye invite you to teach and tease me-
Together we might please infinity
*

Dusk Busking

Sometimes
there's a desperation to live,
give myself over to breath
because death is so close-
it's the ghost in the mirror
and every prayer
makes it clearer,
hair will grow silver
and i will
be a sliver
star-splintered
so now i come summered
with every second summoned,
this hungry tongue electric
tested against the proofs
of such mercurial truths,
guessed with blessings
slipped in twists and kisses,
grace and bits of
colored whispers,
same way snakes
and tape reels
loop with hisses held so holy
in this music looped
medicine business.

Little Songs Search

♫ i will grow old
and swallowed
for this life is
only borrowed
but right now
let me disappear
without fear
into here
laid in
my lovers arms
out of harms way
learning new words
with which to pray
through the lost
and
harder
parts of day.

Little Voyagers With The Universe's Sound Mirror

Laughter is soul medicine
Meaning
I leaned into my own cure
This evening.
My fellow travelers
Loosed with
Diamonds in their skies,
We passed by in cycles
Searched through soundtracks
Of Saturn and space waves.
We went lightless but bright
Soft and quiet
Except for the
Bumps in the road and
The lumps in my throat
Which turned into us four
Perched on the old branch
Smoking in the tree,
Straddling gaggled and giddy,
Hidden in our play.

There was a binary star
And my face in all the flowers.
Following my desire,
In the arts of so many shadows,
Slightly drunk on jasmine
And pollen showers-
I found my eyes
Like kissing hawks
Awakened with the owls.
All became my lover's body,
Prowled with possibility.
I pressed my hands
Against the earth,
This night caressed in mirth.
Then called back to winding path
Through the rosemary tunnel,
Into the darker little forests
Perfectly restless
In such communion
With union as its aftermath.

Lover Leans The Bringing

in the mastery of my love
i first slaved to such desire
this fire caught in hidden shadow
curling up to leap through throat
this heavy coat of constant want
a muse of the most holy haunt.

secret daimon undressing me
a diamond mirror made infinity
so inclined i climbed so desperately
scratching at the heart
hungry for the spark.

a blue flamed tongue
sun learned
and loosed in lunar pulse
at times i felt the transformation
my body would convulse.

they came
these dancers
named by chances

maybe even fate

all unseen kisses in
perpetual twists
with dreams and smoke
and wild fits

always laid in wait.

errors are the arrows and
terrors can show the way,
to a heart in constant motion
through the miracles of the day-

and what if i were to tell you
this is how i pray?
when i do the dress rehearsal
as if it were the play.

In Longing Leaps This Language

how long a
multiplicitous metamorphosis,
this liquid chrysalis.
not to dismiss death but to find it
in the breath becoming
each new stillness or step.
all desire drifts you,
this shifting trail of tales.
all story makes glory possible
even in peril
often only dance allows the chance
for pure state whether
dance of the soul's weather
or how the body relates without hesitation
or needing to understand it,
seems simultaneously open to everything,
one true song singing through you in
each moment plucked from infinity
by this mutable reflection,
anima and animus in each direction.
my dreaming daimon,
eschatological staccato,
beings with bravado
on the ceilings of tomorrow.
does memory borrow self
or self borrow memory?
these evolving maps of history,
your body being such a map
snapped to animal attention-
which animal?
animal witch,
unstitched time space fabric
elastic force without futility,
a harmony in humility.
all this, your own
inner investigation to
get to everyone
if i am you and you are me
and such all some light of sun.
music is your medicine,
laughter is your rhythm,
a currency relieving the captivity
of your own heart held in dark hostage
for daily random ransoms.
i know one one thing,
i am no thing.

surge reverie

this soft sketch of skeleton,
then placed along the tendon
in drift and full abandon.
something to be said
for how you reattach the head,
held along the perfect tension
in constant calling to attention.
such surfaces your mirrors,
each movement brings reflection.

April 2, 2004 In Response...

In Response To His Eternal Sunshine Of The Active Mind

activated eternal sunshine
illuminates interior design.
gear shift and lever,
clever as this year's monkey.
we hold the secret turn-key,
released from traps to discover
the definition of free:

the ability to wander in the wonder
to make the fear a thunder fuel,
to know that to become wise,
one must also embrace the fool.

in this school, the scholar and the skeptic
meet in a hectic bar for a beer or two,
loosening up their language, hoping for a clue.
amidst this great to-do, a translator enters,
orders a tall glass of water, room temperature,
makes the conversation new with the knowledge
of ghost scribbles and ancient song-
there's still debate over write and wrong
but suddenly the soundtrack soothes the late night long,
words giving way to movement
(dance can be an improvement on dead language).
limbs manage to loosen by the light of eternal sunshine,
over time the damage dusts to death and
the whole room inhales the blooming breath.

the conversation now a conversion,
not one of coercion, but rather immersion
in the holy hopes of hallelujah,
a gutteral roar of praise for the personification of peace,
a deep release of rhythm facilitating the sacred prism.

The world now speaks with intuition,
we peruse its paragraphs and find
that soft inside the eternal sunshine of the active mind
its much easier to listen.

Who Made Up This Game?

It's sobering how oh so brave you are,
How you came out with a beautiful scar.

That heavy load that made you go,
Go show the shadows all your might.

White feathers felt your spine,
Opened up your body like a book,

Your heart so strong divine
Aligned to look through time

New with clues to shine its opening,
It's sobering how oh so brave you are

Having born from seed of star,
Maddened from such travels far.

This delicate situation sparked,
Having come from sun to make your mark,

It's sobering how oh so brave you are.

Fire-Works-in-Progress

where did you hide?
where did you go?
with your eventide fire,
with your eventide flow.

scratched by the matches for
the body set ablaze,
embers you remembered for
the torch within the maze.

the terrors of our mistakes,
the errors of our ways,
now all kind and kindling
to keep dark nights filled brave.

where do you hide?
where do you go?
with your eventide fire,
with your eventide flow.

Veil Breaking

That fear would not be the motivating factor for my faith
in this slow process of being erased
to chase the alpha,
that original state.

bringing your body brightly to break entrapment
with enchantment,
stripped of this straitjacket
and all its paralytic habits.

in the attempt to repent,
becoming the bullet spent,
Yeats mentioned everything whole
must first be rent.

thus the rhymer resides in the rhyme,
just as rhizomes root for trees to climb,
these angels in the words and
in between the lines.

Notes From The Observation Deck

Where are these thoughts coming from?
Perhaps you don't need to know.
Just see the thoughts,
Don't be the thoughts,
Then your mind can let them go.

In Acts Of Dark Repose

Keep your shadows close.
Devils in their birthday suits
Refuse any other clothes.
Dress them up in shiny boots,
They'll dance atop your head.
Rough heels writing prose
And tapping under beds.
A closet full of veiled ghosts
Could trade for vice instead.
So keep your shadows close,
Make sure to keep them fed.

faceshooked

we are the catalyst converters
ego murderers
dying to self
then phoenix rebirthers,

earth holds us dear
the more our eyes become clear
saying yes to the bless
building friend ships out of fear -
recycling old lies into new lightning
keeps such ties igniting...
turning over becomes
(r)evolution grower

breathing deep
so the heart beats slower
meditative grace to hold it in place

*we are the amazing hue men
being chased by the love of stars
in universal states*

Open Sesame Seeds

Tendrils lasso nonlinear logistics
With Holy Ghost Logos
Along the ever-present penultimate.

Medusa tricks and lips on toes
Kissing the cloud ground
Upside down or rightside up
Inside out and all around.
Climbing the dancing rope,
Held taut by silent sound.

In vapors, puffed and past.
Living gift-tense,
On backward bringing beginning.
Time being nonsense,
Such intimate shifting
Makes the clock clap hands
And all numbers now for singing
This life a great expanse.

Cores Can Be Cures

Contact the context
to keep this body blessed
in chaos, conundrums,
heart drums, and the Great Guess.

Sometimes it's about being the mess,
refusing to resist the worst in order to find your best-
choosing to twist amidst what curse and what bless,
tension on tension smoothed out with yes*

Resolutionaries

eating the precarious leftovers of you
there in the mirror.
sussed out for thrush wings
and singing to bring it clearer.
a big fat sun prowls beyond the clouds
while this little beak breaks open the feeder.
even crumbs can hum along to spell,
a tiny seed the wisest teacher.

knew days approached

Riding the cyclone going home,
the earth a bed of fog and we so full of god
having burned down the clocktower
bathed in spark showers
unpeeled through the year
in discovery of our powers.

On the approach of morning light
the grackles grounded flight
conquers the crossroads with
a blanket of little shadows.
Possum in the middle
with my foot upon the pedal.
This world a constant riddle
in which we test our mettle.