A Thought From My Morning Shower

A Memory of Repetition. 

So much of our lives lays forgotten in our minds.

So much of our lives

is forgotten

that it is a small miracle

we remember

anything

at all.

Child

get hold of

your life

and stop

grasping

at straws.

Tell the Bees

Tessa breathed her last breath.

Her son walked

into the field 

to find the hive

of the honey bees.

He tapped his keys

three times

gently on the outside

and whispered,

Little brownies

Little brownies

you mistress is dead.

The bees buzzed

and he walked away.

I Dentity

Who We Are


&


What We Appear 


To Be.

The End of Memory

How strange

to think of you

in past tense

when my memories

still feel present.

Slipping

Our frailty allows

us to slip too easily

from this world.

It can take

no more

than a breath

to slide

into the embrace

of the eternal

mistress.

Be grateful

for every sunrise.

Memories of the Dead

The Secret Lives of Ghosts

Living in the Modern Jurassic.

The Invention of Memory

Birth

I've spent 


my whole life 


waiting to be born.

Waking (freewrite)

I woke up thinking about I woke up thinking about
I woke up thinking I woke up I woke up I woke
into this world birth rebirth a steady stream of sun
lights the room through slatted windows bossa plays
an easy tropical rhythm the world waits for me or
is it indifferent to the trial of one man alone in his
room I woke up thinking I woke up thinking I
woke up I woke up I woke I woke I am awake

The perfect world will have 


no gods and no martyrs.

down on the street

all dreams and nightmares

drive through the city

sunken hollow eyes

looking for life

waiting to live

ready to explode

creeps into your veins

ready to live again

Metronome Afterhours

You sleep restlessly,

I watch you.

The stillness of the hour

sits heavy

I cannot rest.

Your breath

the rhythm,

a metronome

as lonely as I.

The Great Silence

your tongue grows heavy

with silence

lips pursed tight

only an unspoken 

language

remains between us.

Angel or Saint?

I.
Hurtled into a Heaven


as beautiful as it is cold.



II.
The timbre of the heart.




III.
Secret City

Scarce Comprehension

The question always arises

Is this it? Isn't there more?


I ask myself constantly.

The unknown,

undefinable quantity

or quality,

drives us in ways

we can scarcely

comprehend.

The World Is Bound By Secret Knots

 'All of nature in its awful vastness and incomprehensible complexity is in the end interrelated - worlds within worlds within worlds: the seen and the unseen - the physical and the immaterial are all connected - each exerting influence on the next - bound, as it were, by chains of analogy - magnetic chains. Every decision, every action mirrors, ripples, reflects and echoes throughout the whole of creation. The world is indeed bound with secret knots.'
- Valentine Worth

I Speak In Free Jazz

freewritewritteninamaniaofsoundwaiting

its hard to not thrash about the volume throttling

you back and forth your hair a wild jungle ecstasy

and agony your fists start pounding the walls

turn it louder louder louder a constant eighth 

note pulse pulverizes every grey cell into states

of unrealism you being to paint in colors of fuzz

and distortion sound as meaning meaning as total

sonic annihilation sheer over indulgence this could

be forever this could be perfect we could be perfect

together forever forever or never just keep beating 

those hands against the wall i can't help it i can stop 

its so much too much not enough only enough it we

give up let me hold you closer dancing rag dolls 

jarred to life with a live wire electroshock static we

become electricity no simplicity duplicity is only two

sides of the same face you strobe in the light too afraid

to be anything else but this a dancing death life is in

this place this is all this is everything this is connection

this is disconnect this is bricks and mortar this is timber

and timbre i cant hear you i cant hear myself think I 

cant i will I do I do I do this all everything for you

gut the soul of the sound and keep pouring out vomit

at your feet purge it all away im the same way im just

like you i love you im just like you i love you im just

like you i love you im just like you i love you im just

ready to destroy everything again starting over and it

shows starting over and repeat this repetition cut this

life studio apartment partition compartments of a life 

finding themselves in the same its all the same race

i was once beautiful she said and i couldnt under

stand i could only see what i could see and she was

still bathed in beauty to me a useless romantic this 

conversation has turned pedantic i just feel sick all 

the time of useless starts and starry climes show me

where there is time when there is time is there time

show me where the when is or is the when where

when its not here it is everywhere it is i am to be

je suis yo soy she said she said she said she said 

her hands still clutching a past life memory they 

call it regression uncovering the past searching for

the hidden lives of the ghosts we've always been 

we've been here before but the scenes have all

changed the set dressing never stays static we 

speak in static thats why we cant understand 

anything anymore its a simple reason that has no

reason it is for its own need it breathes its own

breath into the chilly morning its a ghost leaving

the body the body knows the mind knows the

last one to know is always you know this no

to this no no no to everything and yes yes yes

to everyone crawl breath spit speak drain the 

abscess it will drain from you it will sink into

the plumbing it goes somewhere far far away

The Soul of Meaning is in its Search

I watch myself in slow motion,

This is the part where it gets good

says God.

It's embarrassing

watching myself make

the same mistakes

over and over.

There is a reason

to this slideshow

of the inevitable.

Perhaps,

nothing is as hopeless

as we think it to be.

You are a glistening rose

in the midnight hour.

How To Live (Draft 1. After Charles Webb)

Turn the volume of the car stereo

all the way up, listen to your favorite

song. Ignore the stare of other drivers.

Take a day off, drive down to the beach.

Eat your lunch on the pier. Turn off

your computer, write everything down

by hand. Pick a piece of fruit from a tree,

bite into it. Drive aimlessly time-to-time,

remember the journey is what counts most.

Look at childhood pictures of your family.

Don’t be afraid to cry. Remind loved ones

of their importance. Get drunk with friends

once in a while. Speak when necessary,

always listen. Try putting hot sauce

on your eggs for breakfast. Travel.

Read books. Sing off key. Dance as the moment

moves you. Don’t be afraid to be silly. Don’t

always act your age. Tell your parents they were

right. Have kids, or don’t. Talk to the old timer

at the bar. Have a favorite jazz musician.

Become a regular at a business. Visit

the grave of a favorite writer, have a picnic.

Take a road-trip with friends while you can.

Love wisely, love deeply. Never let bitterness

take root. Remember to breathe.

Be responsible. Visit your grandparents.

Look up when it rains, watch. Stay out late.

Laugh as often as possible. Don’t be afraid

to disagree. Learn to speak another language.

Mend fences, both literal and figurative.

Fireproof

Your tongue thunders through my lips

Trust the fire
                      inhale smoke
                                            spit flame

Lesser passions are self-extinguishing

Great passions know no water

Skin turns ashen as we writhe in soot

Words are hindsight         experience

is everything

                     Flames simmer
                   
                                              await

the next blaze

Caging the Sky.

Self-Portrait as Hawthorne (draft 3)

This heaven gives me migraine - Gang of Four

Helicopter blades whir and cut the air
over the city of good neighbors. The mall
sits empty between the catholic church
and the police station. The suspect is on
foot through the neighborhood.

Kids at the library after school, the computer
at home doesn't work. Cops station themselves
by the high school every day after class.
"Be true to your school," was written in
a different time, a different world.

Discount stores choke the boulevard
where families flocked to after Sunday
services. A plane takes off from the runway
of the municipal airport. It gains altitude,
flies over the city and towards the sea.

Don't Forget!

"Life is a state of mind." 


- from the film "Being There."

News Report

There was a report in the news


today that said there is a shortage


of rope that tends to occur 


coinciding with Valentines 


Day. Can't imagine why.

Hand in Glove

Stifled soul is a feeling

you know well. It wears you

like gloves that are never removed.

Contour to its shape, assume

a new form.

Mansion of the Mind.

The sky is breathing through the trees.

Hope and Disappointment

Disappointment waits for Hope.
Hope is always tardy.
When Hope shows up
its too late in the evening
to go anywhere.
Disappointment sighs.
They fight and agree
to stay at his apartment
and watch a movie.

Springtime in the Abyss.

Dream Weaver at the Fun Factory.


Some days are more predictable than
others. It's safe to say that on New 
Years and Valentine's Day there 
will be an upsurge in engagements.

Grief is the prism that breaks pain
into the physical spectrum.

Self-Portrait as Hawthorne (draft 2)

                        This heaven gives me migraine.

                                                - Gang of Four

           

            Faint sounds of bygone summers

            linger through suburban avenues. Hotrods

            cruised on Friday nights full of kids

            looking for something to do. Football games,

            dances & hamburger stands would often suffice.

            Brian found his voice here. Marilyn,

            another starstruck girl in the city light’s

            shadow, was called Norma then.

            Memory, a misty mizzle, evaporating

            under the warmth of the sun.

            Discount stores choke the boulevard

            where families flocked to after Sunday

            services. A plane takes off from the runway

            of the municipal airport. It gains altitude,

            flies over the city and towards the sea.

            

Self-Portrait as Hawthorne

                         This heaven gives me migraine.

                                                - Gang of Four

           

            Faint sounds of bygone summers linger

            Through suburban avenues. Hotrods cruised

            On Friday nights full of kids looking for

            Something to do. Football games, dances &

            Hamburger stands would often suffice.

            Brian found his voice here. Marilyn was

            Another star struck girl in the shadow of

            City lights. They called her Norma then.

            Memory becomes a misty mizzle evaporating

            Under the warmth of the sun.

            At 3701 W. 119^th Street a young boy choked

            Back tears as he stared into the scarred

            Socket where his father’s eye had been.

            He could never let his sons forget

            The sacrifice he made.

            

The Artist ( Part II)

I hold your book like a totem

built of hard earned lessons.

Its cover smooth against my palm

Pain subsides,

there is only this.

Is it worth it? we wonder.

Time and time

again the question arises.

The answer

Always Yes.

I woke up hungover and the first thing I did was...

It must be a passion verging
on madness. It must
consume. It must enflame.
It must cleanse through
the practice of it. It must
be constant. There can be
no moment that it does not
touch. It can be without
question and cause itself to
be questioned. It is an
endless paradox.

Dedicated To

In the darkness


we shine


most bright.

Cartography of the Soul

The Only New Regions For 

Cartographers To Map Are

The Inner Landscapes.

Walking on the bottom of the ocean.

There is only silence here.

losing count of nights spent

searching for her

listening for her

voice in the darkness

only to hear the moon

finally the desired sound

as it all goes away

closing time

it slows to a crawl,

the river dry's up, 

the doors close,

the windows are shut,

but the lids have 

the hardest time 

closing.

She Wears The Night Well

It was hard for her to feel beautiful after that

break-up. She hid easily behind sunglasses that

were too big for her face. Every word from her

lips was clothed in the smell of cigarettes. She

didn't want to be alone, she wanted to be with

him- but things had changed. It couldn't be

helped. You could see the roots coming through

her dyed brown hair. Fingers held those burning

sticks like the lungs of someone drowning who

is gasping for air, large gulps choking air down.

I couldn't look at her without wondering how

many women like her there are in the world.

On Lineation

Consider the line and where

it breaks across the 

page. 

Searching For The Wolf (Tradition:draft 2)

Ma soeur was never sure where the 

Lumiere went when it was dark.

"Is it magique?" she would ask me.

"Je ne sais." I would say to her.

"Le Loup swallows the sun every night,"

grandma would say. 'How macabre' I'd think

to myself. "The machoire of Le Loup

can also swallow Le Lune" she said.

Our eyes became Louche watching the heavens

over many nights. It was magnifique

searching for Le Loup every evening.

We are older, yet we look restlessly.

Through my Lunettes I now watch

as my daughter combs the sky.

tradition

Ma soeur was never sure where the
Lumiere went when it was dark.
"Is it magique?" she would ask me.
"Je ne sais." I would say to her.

"Le Loup swallows the sun every night,"
grandma would say. 'How macabre' I'd think
to myself. "The machoire of Le Loup
can also swallow Le Lune" she said.

Our eyes became Louche staring at the sky
over many night. It was magnifique
to search for Le Loup in the sky each night.
We are older, yet we still search the sky.

Through my Lunettes I know watch
as my daughter combs the sky.

You are your mothers daughter.
I can see it in your smile
as you turn to face the camera.
How sweet a girl you must truly be.

Disorder, Trouble & Reason

disorder loves to find itself in your home when its not

busy driving around town looking for trouble its cousin

trouble likes to hang out and steal some nips from its 

flask as they cruise around looking for people to hassle 

too often they find themselves ploughing through the

boulevard drunk out of their minds and not having a 

single care about any damn thing at all they're like that

quite often sometimes reason glares at them as they pass

by reason has never gotten along with either of them 

even though they grew up together in the same neighbor

hood they've never seen eye to eye reason glares but 

says nothing and stews quietly to himself disorder and 

trouble have never bothered trying to change they've 

always embraced their flaws wholesale one day they'll 

get theirs everyone says behind their backs reason 

would love to be there that day to say I told you do.

Grow Up Already

I'm not here to make anyone worry.
Lines must be drawn
and held to.
Believe in betterment.
Lose faith in the passing airs
of intoxication.
Believe in betterment.
Believe in yourself.

Responsibility is equal parts


Action,


Choice,


Duty.

Embody the best characteristics


of yourself,


not the worst.

Divisions

Be the Former

/

Not The Latter. 

Summer Graves

Mending the broken fence


one slat at a time.

Mouse Rodesty

Western Rituals

Senses come to life in early morning,

Sunlight streams through open windows.

Dreams dissipate with our opening eyes.


Do we struggle to our waking?

Does the day take us into its embrace?

So many varied paths await.


Slowly the mirror looks back into us.

Shaving hand rests against the flesh.

Drags the razor across, removes the stubble.


Dump the coffee into the cup.

Don't be lazy, get your body moving.

Starting yet another morning.

Things To Keep In Mind

Have proactive measures of creation.

Refuse to give in to stagnation.

Challenge your capabilities.

It's easier than you think.

Seek out other like minds.

Don't give in to fear.

Search for yourself.

Don't forget...

Always

Be.

Call Me!

Not easy
to
remember your phone number on the spot.
Who calls themselves, right?
Just don't mix it up with your work one.
I have had that happen once before.
That was a very awkward message
I
Left.
That won't be the last time either.

Remember
when
we used to memorize all phone numbers?
Hopefully you do.
Everyone had chunky beige phones then.
It had only one type of ring.
Dulcitone of a bell being rung.
Ring.
Ring.
I don't want to hear your ringtone.