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This is my answer
This is the number
        that solves for X
What was the question
I never asked
I know the answer
I know what I mean
I mean what I know
Tattoo it on my arms
Never wish to forget
Unchanging 
Number without mystery
Simple statement of fact
Forty-Seven is only
Forty-Seven
Never more
Never less
Answer unto itself

Changeover

Trembling hands and 
Halting breaths
Voice too weak 
To create words
Eyes speaking 
Clearly and 
With finality. 
Here.
Now.

What Beliefs?

If Jesus never came back from the dead
Where would we be now?

What myths do you believe?
What myths do you call religion?

Do you believe only that 
Which this world can prove to you?

How does Nature learn?

Infatuation and Love

Memories of the first woman I was ever infatuated with
leaves me feeling embarrassed at the thing.
We were barely teenagers
And I can't explain it aside from
My mind and body changing so wildly
And attempting to reorient itself.
She was a sweet girl to have put up with
My adolescent yearnings.
I hope she is well today.

Infatuation is a creature that rears itself
Into our consciousness at the oddest of times
And can disappear with the same speed
With which it appeared.

I remember the first woman I ever loved.
It began as sudden attraction.
At this point I was almost on the cusp
Of age 20 or so.
I can remember the soft warm features of
Her face and the way her smile seemed to be
A source of light unto itself.
Her eyes were joyous with a gleam of mischief.

Timing was never right
Between us but we were friends and
I felt a closeness to her that I have yet
To find matched or replicated.
It is unfair of me to compare
One love to another.
No love deserves that.
It is better to honor and remember
That which was.

Time passed and we had our own partners
In seemingly alternating succession.
The day came that she had to leave
And traverse an ocean to be with the man
She chose to marry.
The last night we had together
We watched the lights of the harbor
From a darkened room.

What can I say of the words exchanged?
Nothing much except
We love each other still
Though our lives have charted
Differing waters.

I feel as though I have learned much
But am still a student humbly
Learning from life.

There is no end to this.
I am thinking of love
And I wish for you to know
That it lives inside you
Even at the point
When everything has broken.

Skin

My skin can barely keep back
                    all these broken pieces
                                        jostling around
                                                           inside me.

Moment of Honesty

How scared of the truth am I?
Am I truly in fear of it?
My vices and shortcomings
       make me feel unworthy.
I drown my fears of lack of control
                                       into hazy stupors
                                              that leave me dazed by dawn.
I look at my reflection and turn away.
I feel shame in this skin.
I feel it's shortcomings acutely
                       and at times
                                  feel unable to change.
I live like this.
                       My confidence feels all too fleeting.
I am writing this because this is the voice of criticism
                                                                  that I live with.
It is the voice telling me I am unloved,
                      telling me I am too fat,
                      telling me I am weak-willed,
                      telling me nothing can change,
                      telling me I am going to die alone,
                      telling me that the art I create is a fool's errand.
I gave it voice today
                                 so I could say this:
You are wrong.

What is my love worth to you?

Acts of Emptines

It was cold in bed
Before you came
And afterwards
I couldn't sleep
You left and
I asked myself
Why I felt such
An emptiness
I know why now
Years have gone
And I remember
This lesson on
Love and acts
of emptiness

If time exists

it is a thing

subject to

die as surely

as any of us

who live.

What kind of eternity do you want?

To Paraphrase Dennis

The best music you feel in 
your head
your heart and
your feet

If you want to change the world
Change your world within

If you want to manifest change
Change your habits

If you want to change establishment order
Foster love and community

The politics of struggle are always relevant.

Friendship in a Time of Revolution

Discontent Politics

American Aristophanes

passage

Every dawn is beautiful
Every day passes into the next
as though 
                it were impossible
for this act
                 to not occur

The Golden Age of Anger

Uncertain Dreamer

Last night I dreamt
but woke up
and couldn't remember
anything.

How often does this
happen? Far more
often than any of us
could know.

I'm awake but unsure
yet I still breathe.
My body keeps me
living still.

Perhaps I should pray
not for me but
for those who have
passed on from here.

I feel sad and uncertain
but I'm trying to
steel my spirit and
prepare for the struggle.

There can be no end
to the fight for progress.
Did I dream of your face?
I can't say for certain.

Stealing Ghosts from the Womb

Electric Alchemy Index 

Creation and Existence

Is your God still breathing 
Or is She still seething
With disappointment 
In her favorite creations?

Crucify your faith 
If it isn't strong enough
Live among the godless
If you've had enough

Imperfect world
Infinite being 
Free yourself
From expectation 

New Scars from Old Wounds 

The Answer

Persistent impatience
Tapping foot 
Clammy hand
Gripping knee
Unsteady thoughts
Tension high
Endless wait
Living death
Answer soon
Then what
Then what

Those Who Feast on Flesh

They want you when you are young and beautiful
But will discard you when life has left you wilted
Your beauty is a commodity they wish to possess

To serve their base desires is their only want 
Life is even-handed in it's cruelty 
Even they shall learn this fact

So much love 
     
                  in this world

Pent up

And ready 

to be given

Verdict

Sitting in the jury box
With eleven others
We took two days
of deliberation to decide
upon a verdict
I sat as stoically
as possible while
my sweaty hands
gripped my knees
The judge deferred
to his clerk
He unsealed the
manilla envelope
and read out
guilty of first degree
murder
One by one
the judge asked us
if this was our verdict
Affirmatively we answered
were thanked and dismissed
I could hear crying
and looked ahead
as we walked out

She Is Dead

Do you know of who I speak?
If you do not
It is not necessary for you to know.
All this requires is the facts
that someone once lived.
She was once an infant
and then she became a child.
That child became a teenager
and that teenager budded
into a writer whose words
still haunt. Why am I writing
about her? Why can I not simply
tell you her name. I could
but I won't. I can see her name
resting on a pile of books
sitting on my desk.
She is someone you would
not expect to be a hunter
but she was and remains.
I can see her face from
her youth and know she
still exists even if solely
through her words.

Dedicated to Mary

She makes beauty appear by erasing words from the page

Act of subtraction
                                    Simplification
An existing form

Rendering fat from bones

Innocuous censorship

                                    Such an appalling word

Meaning drawn from mutilation

                                    New life

Requires transformation

Demands S A C R I F I C E

                                    What are you

Willing to give?

Head First Into the Flames

There is no running 
Only flame engulfing
Floors and walls alike
Running down halls
Air turning into noxious poison
How these moments pass
Submit or fight in futility
Die in struggle
Or succumb with no resistance

My uncertain heart continues to beat
An arrangement between us
We press on together

Honest

I never said I was

Brave but I pray 

Every day when

The moment comes

To act I will 

Be by your side

Uncertain Light

I'm writing this for you
because I hope you will
read this some day
and remember when things
were simpler though
you wouldn't have thought
so at the time

Hardship grows and mounts
as we age and awareness
of this world comes to view

Perhaps you'll remember
writing this and addressing
it to yourself while at home
sick on a Saturday night
while deep in the heart
of the city protestors are
roaming the streets

How little there is
that is fixed

These days

These nights

Bathed in uncertain light

Water Moving in Circles

Is history a river
feeding and flowing
into itself
time after time
age after age
repeating events
with new characters?

A person should only ever
Be given as much respect
As they have shown to others.

Hypocrisy
Is by and
Large
The rule of
Human existence

Without Worship

You are the god you have always wished to be
But there is no one praying to you
Asking for favor
Sacrificing animals to you
Tearing at their clothes for you
You are a god without people
You are a god without a religion
If no one is there to believe in you
Do you still exist

Communication

Can you tell me when I can breathe again
I have been doubting my instincts
I feel as a lamb gone astray
Where is my shepherd
Am I the only one
That can guide me across
The fields beneathe Heaven
What dark grip holds me hostage
With no ransom
I am not chiseled from granite
Though even in time
Granite would erode
And be smoothed to nothing
Sleep may be the solace I seek
Though I remain awake
And unable to convey
The way words and thought
Twist and convulse
Unable to find their way
From thought to hands
To find their way to you
To find another soul
That can hear

Weight of Air

Air heavier than the weight of the vast sky
Pushes down on my heart and
Weighs me to the ground
My feet can scarcely 
Move the weight
Of my body

Moving Light

Accelerating through darkness
Lights only illuminate
A few feet in front of me at a time

My foot stays steady on the gas
The fatigue of a late night drive
Begins to burrow into my marrow

Everyone else sleeps through 
Dark and passing miles
A moving point of light aloft

On an endless black sea
I dare not close my eyes
Fifteen more miles 

I know what my demons are
Or at the least
I pretend to know them.

Even the good among us
Live with sin in our hearts. 

Embrace

Clarity of morning 
Unobstructed sky
Brilliant sun
Beckoning calls of birds
Life ready to embrace
If you will only
Put forth your arms

Honesty and Self-Reliance

Where is the honesty you seek?
Are you seeking it within yourself?
If you are seeking it from within
You must allow yourself to believe
The full reality of your being.
We attempt to walk in the light of life
Though this is not always possible.
We give in to vice and overindulgence
Let our minds be fogged by
Thoughts of passing fancy
Honesty of mind and heart
Is more difficult than merely
Writing words down.
Honesty is not action.
Honesty must be taken
And transmuted into acts.
This process is painful
And prolonged.
It is necessary.
No guiding hand
Will be the final answer
Towards that which is sought.
Ultimately the hand that will be held
Are the ones you possess clasping one another

Nights of restlessness
Moon beams brightly down below
Breathe in deep and slow

Choose Light

Choose Life