Composer

a symphony spills from your lips

into avant-gardarrangements.

obtuse and rhombic figures fall

upon the page into patterns of

reason only your dreams ever

understand. treble & bass clefs

are effectively ineffective as new

notes rain upon this page in a

language yet being writ. bestial

waves of sound ring round in ears

hearing imaginations vibrations

before the first note rings out

from the chord. your heaving

chest rises and falls. your breath

brings rest. the sound brings life.

135th & Prairie

I drove by

your old street

and it all came back.

Like you never left,

like you never left.

It all came back.

Meditation On This World

This family

will come together

as one once more.

----------------

A final stray thought:

The steady gaze of loneliness.

Violets

I'm gonna go

where

the violets

grow.

Phaedrus

Twins suns crossing

paths over the horizon,

ascending to the height

of the gods.

Becoming one beacon

their light shines

brightest over

all the land.

BritLit-ism

This tempest temper

does lament the shed

tears of mine hearts

discontent.

Midnight and the Hours Beyond

The rain is always

endless

when you listen

with eyes closed

in the middle of

any dark night.

Past Haunts

Take me

back to

your bed

so I can

forget the

world I

live in.

Spirits

Endless wind.

Rustle grain on quiet plains.

Leaves shudder,

fall,

and dance.

Endless wind,

restless again.

Forest Fire

A forest aflame,

burning bright

through darkest

night. Ashen

smoke weaves

into the darkness.

At the foot of the

mountain it burns

beautifully, encroaching

moment by burning

moment. Unbridled

and beautiful, consuming

everything whole.

Zen

And

if you climb

the mountain,

will you find

everything

you seek?

Substance

The substance of life is not in the

numbers society uses to define us,

but rather in the substance of our

actions.

Consummate Consumption

Mutually shared illusions

rule with unprecedented

power. A new imperialism

dictated by digital coding

of 1's and 0's and an analog

set of printed green that

taints hearts, corrupts souls

& turns us against ourselves.

Roaming beasts, devouring

a world so wholly, that when

it is done, there can only be

one thing left to consume.

Brakes

Broke

Broken

and

Breaking.

Velocity halted by

screeching

rubber

gripping

asphalt.

Then what?

Then what?

Seasons

Leaves flutter down

one by one

scattered by the wind.

Collecting in gutters,

raked in yards,

tossed into dumpsters

and forgotten.

Their season has come

and now

they wander

so far from those

bare branches.

Forgetter

With every step taken

the one behind

is erased.

A perpetual present

absolves

our missteps.

Sera Un Monte de Oro (Pictures, Distance & Proximity)

I fell in love with you

from a close distance

and wish to close the

gap. Will your soul

be willing to corrupt

itself with mine? Will

mine be willing to

purify itself with you?

Dreams

it can fall

without you

ever waking.

through the

window

you find

tears

soaking

the world.

Koan?

How far

from the

path

must we

walk

before we

find our

way back

again?

Breaking Stones

We covet

what

we can't

have.

Life

makes

sinners

of us

all.

Pretty Pretty

I wait patiently.

You sit inside

ready ready ready.

Our minds race,

our bodies still.

The night grows

older with us.

The light goes

dark, the wait

ends. Doors

swing open, the

engine is ready

to roar. Your

shoes click &

clack over the

pavement. The

door swings open

as you slide inside.

One hand gripping

the wheel, the other

draws your face near

to feel that kiss.

Ready ready ready...

This night breathes

deep into us.

Good Friday At Park Pantry

Clinking glass and silverware blends into

the sound of voices chatting about the

normal and mundane. The old women sit

at their table against the window pane,

holding hands briefly in prayer. Their gray

hair radiates against the sunlight, the green

grass just beyond the glass bends gently as

people walk by. Spanish speaking voices

tinged with English emanate forth from the

tongues of servers making their rounds. Dishes

free of red meat are scattered about tables

in observation of ancient rituals. Plates are

set on the table as the world draws away

from me so temporarily.

And

Ounce by ounce,

Pint by Pint

it flows into us

ready to absolve

us of the sins

life has cast

against us.

This darkness

envelopes

so completely,

so wholly

that we could

be lost to the

world

if not for our

voices calling

out across the

void.

Thoughts From Work

(like) Pulling teeth from a crocodiles jaw.

This bliss is marred by an uncommon emptiness.

Reality is the cure for the common dream.

Bound by fate into a world not of our choosing.

There is ALWAYS choice available to us.

A pound of flesh to pay my debt.

An uncommon sense.

Step into the past, the path is obscured.

Lost In The Forest

We disappear

into our selves.

We become what we deserve.

Become your own master.

Circumference & Circumnavigation

Paths like mirrors

reflect our indiscretions

more clearly than

any high definition.

Uneasy stasis bores

through bone

into heart and gray

matter all too immaterial.

The tranquil forest hides

you easily as sun flits through

the leaves as easily as any avian

explorador. Paths run through,

endlessly circumnavigating

the circumference of this blind lust.

A litt

These towers of tuning

are turning towards

time.

Back To The Fork

Winding back through the path,

the fork appears once more.

We waste no time in our haste

as our feet trod upon the path

we should have taken all along.

The Poet Tree

Fruit withers

on the vine

without

a hand

to

harvest.

Seasons Change But The Words Still Remain

Hello Dearest _ ,

I've missed you my friend.

It's good to catch up from time to time

as the days blur the lines of weeks

and months before we forget about

the years. You were amazing the

last time I saw you. I hope it's

continued for you. I've been well

and busy. That does explain my

recent lack of communication.

We may see each other infrequently

but your friendship is not taken

for granted.

Be Well _ .

Love

_

Finding Us?

This old bear misses you.

You find yourself missing me.

We found each other again

at just the right time.

The Real World

Flesh feeding on flesh.

Teeth bared,

canines tear

through meat

as the face is

painted red.

A primal

directive thats

been subdued

rears itself

snarling, back

into view.

A thinly veiled

civility keeps

us at bay.

Seething below

our skin, our

fists always

at the ready to

rip apart the

pretense we

subject the

beast to.

L to R

This left and right

are switching hands.

Your smile hides

a truth inside.

Turn this expectation

into frustration again.

Your eyes tell a lie

long enough to be fact.

Where does it end?

Endless and senseless.

Sarah Sera

this

pendulum swings

between

empty

s p a c e .

Fascinated ,

we

watch

& wonder.

It bridges

the

gap

we've

made.

Four Lines For Naught

This rain is endless.

Our tongues speak a language we have long forgot.

Making amends to the past.

We live on the precipice ready to gain and lose life if need be.

Community

The room boils over

with grooves running through

& in between

bodies caught in

in smoke & drink.

Voices raise over

one another

in an attempt

for clarity.

Bleary eyed friends

and strangers

commune

as one body,

the clock strikes

midnight

as we disappear

back into

the

darkness.

2 Pieces

What you cannot find

you'll see inside.

What you cannot hear

the wind will whisper.

What you cannot taste

your hands will touch.

======================

Red giant,

juggernaut waiting.

you will be an end.

One

Sometimes

you only

fail

your self.

Little Lamb

The Bad Things Good Men Do.

The Good Things Bad Men Do.

A Different Kind Of Green.

Little Lamb

Oh little lamb,

where did your shepherd go?

Do you weep silently

against the pasture?

Does the moon fail

to comfort you?

Oh little lamb

shedding tears,

where did your shepherd go?

1/2 an attempt

We swam downstream

gazing towards the heavens.

A corporeal existence

defied through willful action.

An analogy that is analogous

to this present tense.

Toss these words into the river,

forever swimming downstream.

E.T.C....

Sun won't you run

to those whose hours

are not yet come?

This night comes

through the late flight.

This treasons binds

itself in covert reason.

You glass skin

reaches within.

This diamond you can't rely on.

Words turned to dust from shredded pages past.

History Lessons

reading the cliffside

like a book,

revealing stories

of endless

ground and rock

told through

igneous formations.

our own histories

pale

against

the cliffs

of these

shores.

Goodbye By Way Of Attrition

I let you fall away

because

we had

nothing

left

to say.

Where.

This motivation pours itself

into the pen

scrawling across

the empty page.

Other concerns

are

set aside

until they can

no longer hold.

The page quickly

fills,

you wonder

where I've been.

Have you found

your answer?

Is this the fear that drives me?

hello, how are you?

this fear of being what they are:
dead.

at least they are not out on the street, they
are careful to stay indoors, those
pasty mad who sit alone before their tv sets,
their lives full of canned, mutilated laughter.

their ideal neighborhood
of parked cars
of little green lawns
of little homes
the little doors that open and close
as their relatives visit
throughout the holidays
the doors closing
behind the dying who die so slowly
behind the dead who are still alive
in your quiet average neighborhood
of winding streets
of agony
of confusion
of horror
of fear
of ignorance.

a dog standing behind a fence.

a man silent at the window.

- Charles Bukowski

And Then There Was None...

Senseless Flesh

What good are we if we hold the past so tenderly

that we push away the advances of the future?

Will you let this anxiety consume you?

Solitude & Silence embrace all too often when life comes calling.

We are capable of everything we envision ourselves to be.

Do we fear inner space?

Do I wonder? I do wonder...

A Reminder To Myself

Life is a process of constant renewal.

With this constant renewal comes a

sense of loss at what has passed. What

must not be forgotten is not what is

merely behind us, but what yet lays

ahead.

An Illusion

like a cheetah in mid-sprint,

it blurs

together

and

before you

know it

it's

passed

you by.

Life

Pumping faster and faster,

this pace will not relent.

Temples pounding,

hands quivering,

sweat breaks

then beads

down your

face.

Pumping,

pounding,

breathing

harder

and more

sweetly

than you

hoped.

Give it

every

thing.

Modern Love

Let's not make this

com pli cat ed.

It's easier to say

we aren't

when our bodies

speak a different

truth.

It's always so

com pli cat ed

no matter what

we say.