45*21

assoles born everyday
but when they are babies they are heaven
they don't mean to be assholes
then they go skiing and start showing off
like moving fast and we are cross-country skiing
just s'posed to be taken it easy and checking out nature
as we go along looking at beautiful snow hanging
from over taxed pine, but of course there are the babies
they are out there, like me just chugging along
hoping the heart attack will pass
we fall several times, get up, hurt our ankles
get snow bunching up on the bottom of our skis
The Ski Patrol lady skis by and says hi
She sounds Norwegian which is appropriate
since we are Nordic skiing.
It is pretty cool until you run into these sixty-something year old
dudes scoping chicks and you think "pathetic"
Mostly it is only families and the random doctor
who bought his wife and himself some high tech gear
In the parking lot I see a ten year old kid whose mom
is gonna park her car in my space and he never looks up

45*21

little wranglers behind eyes that don't see
into a future that isn't always there
like in clouds, I see your head say "give me money"
a thousand times over
she breathes deep and I think of the ocean
funny how we are cleansed by thought
clenched between ideas and the knot
of some great undoing
the undertaker has a long frock
ye old trip to Jerusalem
where all the bikers shine a light
on castle keep
I say ally-oop and a wat we go
on narrow boat and shoe string knot
how far out in the ocean can you expect to go
never see another person
well the homeless life is this
put out to sea
and when you know sight and sound
comes natural to judge
less you be judged

45*21

Right now I was thinking of something to say
even at this moment, I wish I knew, but
don't think this ship we are on fits in the
diorama
&
Great, just great, have I
really got this right or
eaten the last clue
even though I'm not sure
right now if it is I or we.
Absolutely, that must be true
resisting all that may be false
even in the face of looking silly.
But we are all lost in this crazy charade
righting our own wrongs
of this and every thought
the ideas appear like rain
have a lick
even the eventuality of it on your tongue
reminds you of all the delight of knowing
some things are real.

45*21

no autographs
but you may touch the garment
the twins spin in unison
we are a welcome sign
Sofia
the angel of design
don't get lost in your friend's thoughts
no friend is everything
the delusion will begin in a moment
all children have wonderful nightmares
my uncle wanted to kill me
just out of reach
the African mask lay heavy on the bed
it gave us so much shelter
and when we disappear we reappear
this is very much like the melting of thoughts
when the old codger hates everything new
they dream of honey bees
flick a switch
and it's daytime again
pull a chain
and the castle rises plain

45*21

piles and piles
lies upon lies
images without image
bells without sound
liberty without justice
cake with frosting
vegetables with crunch
restaurants and bathrooms
flies and swatters
buildings are falling
people are screaming
I am hiding
you are smug
dig and find
leave and lose
live and die
eat it all
fuck it all
cry a stream
be a dear
fuck this shit

45*21

we all find our faults in the evening
the fire and that smoke smell
gets under your skin as you sleep
you feel like melting in the soil
and when you sing it is with the soil
with all your split personalities
you grow into one delightful joy
become the life of the party
it doesn't let you down
it doesn't let you go either
you to and fro from the loose tether
& you hope it's not the wolf tree
& you are some nazi kraut with the filth of home
in your mouth
it is another day
and you are the walrus
this is the part where I depart
and my departure will mean everything
and of course nothing
etc. etc. and so it goes
'til we rest with rocks

45*21

elaborate posts in the shadow lands
this is where the cat's hang in meadows stream
we are the yellow cherry girls
we infiltrate your dreams
light our Molotov cocktails and blow up your playground
you are less the Bolshevik poem
you can't argue the spindled stairs
even the Virgin Spring, white horse and dappled gray
we never allow ourselves to wander far from the playground
the shadows become splendid daydreams
in our Gothic hole
you have to leave your shelter and experience the outside
you who is always on the outside
but are you looking in?
these are the questions that spring forth
this is the ball on the Maypole
though cranberries are sour they dress the salty bride
whose hair is seaweed
she is the daughter of Capt. Pride
he's just being silly with his duck calls
everything swims if for a moment when it sinks

45*21

science versus religion
we are all completely susceptible to our genetic make-up
we have myths that are guidelines for better human behavior
he says there are no myths without the genetic make-up
I say, ok, fine, but without rite of reasoning it doesn't matter
he says, ok, but without the genetic make-up it doesn't matter
I say, great, but genes are a made up term by modern science
yes, he says, but it solves it all. It is reasoned out that that's what matters.
It is also reasoned that with the mythos we are given to reason
He says, yes, but this does not allow consciousness to play a role
Consciousness is the state of being and all else is choice
I say, there are levels of consciousness, levels of being awake
that is, if we are human beings then we have levels of consciousness.
Consciousness then is a religious term.
Yes, maybe, but I mean how to transfer ideas that then become knowledge
and that this possibly is a basis for mythos generated through artifact
It lives without our physical nature.
I hear what you say, but without the origin of a genetic code
it doesn't come to exist.
This may be true, but without consciousness it doesn't transfer.
High five!

45*21

the world is plateaued
it goes without saying
there was a time and there will be
when language grows from itself
out of itself
there is a time
when language without its usage
grows more cannibalistic
and people will think this is good
what are your crimes
the sweat of billions falls
on the awning of one
you bicycle around with your smile
pretend to know all
the Cabal and its lesions of unknown
faces grow from melted candle wax
this artificial light
it is another 50 grand
to turn it all on again
and you will pay gladly again and again
like the song says

45*21

I was Jesus for a moment
but couldn't sleep
so I killed the thing I loved
it was more potent
than any childhood dream
I awoke believing I was an alien
or at least there were aliens in my head
screaming the blinds open
I caught a cat's glance in the mirror
it felt like time had slipped away
and there was no other
no atom mother
I wonder how my good friend is
behind this mirror
my mind is hinged on the door of existence
you can not re-enter and take back the moment
it is a flake you brush off a black sleeve
we live again a thousand times
and whenever we are Jesus
we are free of all other past experience
but what doubts doubts all

45*21

making art and sharing art
being the artist
being the spectator
digging it and needing it
rejecting it
what a piece of shit
I need that shit
that shit rules
I don't understand it
it freaks me out
It's so beautiful
it's ugly
That artist is a fuckin asshole
I love what they do
not very well known
went and saw them
they sounded great
totally wasn't expecting it
it blew my mind
I was so broke
then I made it
the art

45*21

sometimes you have to give up on what you love
because of the totalitarian who thinks they're right
and would plunder all for their point of view
instead of being the one who relaxes their will
for second to understand the total good
actually, we are all guilty as hell of this
and the chambers of the revolver
and the revolver rests against the head
you got what you want Jim
I'm out of there
you may say you don't want that
to facilitate the devil
but you are no different than a CIA
supporting its Contras to keep a status-quo
Your sense of music cripples me
it can be great, but it come from a stalled mind
too bad. We probably will get through it in the end
but all magic is gone
Magic is that which makes it happen easy
struggle is there but it needs to be easy
like donning a wig that never looks natural
I'm not your minister
and you've turned out a not very good ally

45*21

skulls in red sand
I think the captain in insane
the black cat against a red sky
he brandishes a large knife
far away places where two candles lit
rise from a shallow horizon
yes, I have the same dream
you are the daughter of the fiend
just less then a century for ancient times
oh no kind sir we will snap our heads off
the relative polish of our silver is true
the mask is removed by a single hand
it embraces only a cheek
he is on the bed post with one bound
she is the lady in waiting
the cat appears behind the man
what is yourself if not human
a stray cat that can't find it's human body again
the back door is locked and there is no way back in
to this world we've all known
when we sleep behind this glass

45*21

so everywhere you write your journal
cote of arms cote of arms
for every single ringing note
cote du rhone cote rhone
for every candle extinguished host
hold the phone hold the phone
for dropping dead along the road
I'm mortified I'm mortified
for every time you ever lied
a breath gone by a breath gone by
the time is now and never know
simplify don't simplify
you will be lost in an oily mote
cote of arms no cote of arms
pushing notes along your throat
fireflies and dragonflies
to never give that lasting smote
the lasting arms of garden's hope
the danger lies within your mouth
don't clarify unless you know
the truth with which we all denote
is not a lie is not a lie

45*21

so some lazy paradise
we are at the gate of winter fire
spring to life
are flowing all around you if you stay
crocus almagest of temples to unknown
the rock ledge and the face
the rot gate opens and it is your face
I've known it all my life
you are green life itself
springing from water's edge
I push my collar up to the wind
and these words don't take lightly
for in this grey woolen curse
which only a thousand fires can warm
I see the picture of her form
all that brought us to life
but there is no way I can see it
I jest
but this laugh is not on me
the glass with which we toast
carries the flame within it

45*21

I'm feeling metal urbain
my teeth hurt when you try and suicide
me by the seaside
there are lights and there is air
there is the wispy air of odd paint
a Norwegian gnome
the fish swim around
there is no post inspirationists
I gladly hope for nothing
you say nothingness
It doesn't help
the alphabet gets heavy
and we fall through skies of dreams
until we are whole again
matters little if we know it
the ship has sailed
the buildings might collapse
it doesn't matter what surrounds
but what falls from the sky
like confetti
it's time to take a breath

45*21

what a privilege it is to be positive
always the positive sort
always thinking positive up in your tree
looking down on all the misery
trying to make its way up
happy to be in the top looking down
biting your nails
it's a long way up but you won't fall
if you keep thinking positive
the negative mind weighs you down
you can't get up with a negative mind
nothing tastes right with the negative mind
so here you are up in your positive tree
while all of them are down there working
with a negative mind
and you are fortunate 'cause that negativity is not
going to get you down from your positive tree
you'll come down when you know the coast is clear
but until then you hope the branch doesn't give
you can't really fly but it would be a good thing
especially when this branch breaks
and it is cracking from your weight

45*21

these hours dark
darkest before the tide
tidal moon of earth
earthly hash house
housecoat of painters in 50's movies
movie of transparency
transparent to some
something to others behind the screen
screening in the summer insects
insectivorous movie houses
household screen test
testy tasters of Conradism
Conrad called said them was atmospheric
atmosphere but good
goodness is not a trait we all have
haven't we all experienced this sometime?
sometimes I creep
creepy as a soulless jailer
jailing all that cause a mind to wander
wandering through these movie lots
lot of time to think

45*21

I have to deal with the fact that I
have the me fact store in my bank
that my bank is a store and not a bank
that I am not a human but a robot
A robot that will live long enough to peel your apple
the cat watches me in the mirror
I stand for ruth
and Mr. T stands for T
the ever lasting images of falsehoods daunt our mirrors
we are the new Goldie Hauns
behind a government of lies
pop another nuke pill
you have been jilted
by the twelve foot country singin lizard
that pisses on trees
I'm the dilapidated building at the end of your block
it has become a cathedral
and no one is religious
thank god
and save the animals
there's disaster in the sky
praise Alah!

45*21

I travel these troubles daily
your actions tell me how
or was it my actions
spinning in out of control circles
there is a tinkling on the glass
you'll never see how I want to be
denigrated to some lower species
dropped from the cards of mystics
a simple nature sound
unidentifiable by any others
get robbed and get pay back
the out of control nature of this species
you need a good battery for that diesel
it runs on mind control
the ever disappearing and reappearing card
of nature's last miracle
you wouldn't know how
we build them & you destroy them
the dice is all on their side
and we're out of cups
and you're all out of wands

45*21

lazy temples
in unread sun dials
little nuns
on scooters
spewing pure acid
dig my wheels
if you will
the dog's barked
out in the rain
poop scooters
in evil heaven
we don't arrange these parties
you do
so watch out
the mind is slick
and a sad clown dies
in clothes of berry color
now you friend
of negative sentiment
don't answer the phone
unless it's time

45*21

he met her at the boarding house
she had a mouth like a chihuahua
he had a sudden urge to kiss her
she pulled a gun and smiled like a ape
he hit her hard across the jaw
she fell into an ocean of salty dreams
he lit her cigarette and gave her a drink
she hit him with a red hot poker
he threw the black ace onto the bed
she knew she was as dead as coat hanger
he rang for room service but regretted it immediately
she had the child tied up in the other room
she hit him hard from behind with a bed knob
he melted some butter on the inside of his eyelids
she called downstairs for the rich lady in furs
he woke from a heavy horn sound into rage
she kissed him hard between the eyes
he went cross-eyed and wished he was born again
she lifted the bible from the night stand
he took it from her and he gave her a soft blow
she felt the tickle on her ass and they both laughed

45*21

I am the one who did it
dad did it too
even eventual cognoscente understanding
at and Alaskan we know it, I
weave it into a slow latitude shift
in my knock knock a leeche hair
to understands it for all
have and have a nothing
notch to push the ring
O ring for the not gathering
the sea salt is just an otter
half friendly may come up
in an appreciation of air
nothing keeping them from the top
gallon & it smiles
to the unknowing eye
over the rolling wave
it still lingers on
toward the end of time
no time to look
or be looked at now

45*21

life sets you up for the many misery
& you take it like a soft blow
that disappears you from your tentative self
that same self that is the fire
unfreezing you from yourself
these chambers of hell are better in some ways
or most ways from that protestant sense of heaven
which no one but pussy pie eaters want to go
all mortgages cleared
ha! if that is the subterfuge you want to mess in
well, fuck yah!
we all lose in the end
the rope is cut and forever gone
life is a bowl of cherries
let 'em sit too long or just long enough
& you'll see the stain
& if you like them cherries you'll like the stain
oh what a masquerade
but at least it's yours
so call the shots
I'd like to say that's what they say

45*21

oof! the dogs are partying pool side
cranberry sauce and lemony souflet
I had my head shot retaken for it is
and I am not always a measure of a
a quiet sound behind velvet lightly
dangled in front of my brain hurts
real bad pour that Gator Aid on me
man bind and quarter us like pygmy
warriors out for a good time after a
lengthy conversation with the devil
behind the detail trains get derailed
a temple to keep the brain from all
out wandering. Wouldn't want the
dogs getting on you for the wrong
word or backstroke of hand baby a
roll around this planet with you is
all that the master painted it to be
along these roads we go unfazed by
our own handwriting how fast it all
goes down into a history of no digit
to punch along your lasting similes

45*21

truth isn't true
and some will put it on religions to decide
or political babel forked up in a manure of reality
it all depends
on how you feel
I mean as they go, not making you
out as a perfect ass, but maybe a longing
Don't break that door
the one that keeps you pondering
that fever of life.
Don't lose that key
it's shaped in 6 the every man's puzzle piece
there are no end roads
release the red rabbit
all undone deeds come to a yellow moon
where you will be howling
don't murder me
the last thing anyone considers
until it all adds up
and the dead doesn't know, sorry
this lake of consciousness is almost dry

45*21

this is how you create your own nightmare
by doing things you know are not becoming
more than slumming in your environment
but deepening the wound by hiding it
because knowing is sometimes dangerous
the plane crashes in the deepest water
but the body gets hung up on the reef
you know you are responsible for the skull in the deep
then you drift into a shallow sleep
breathing and not breathing
the strangling sound of a distant clarinet
the face of a baby clown
hi buddy been waiting for you all your life
he's grilling hotdogs outside the automatic doors
inside, the smell of air conditioning and meat.
high school sweat, the grief and guilt of masturbation
Mike the manager's a real asshole
to the bathroom to read the news & locate the two-wheeler
for the beer heist later on
when it's time to roll Kurt Needle's jeep
out at the lagoon

45*21

you a hostile cliche?
what-a-ya call it
That's differnt
and now ladies and gentlemen the hungry eye
next to Iowa
she pushes her hair up into a pineapple
where you at now
before I dig a brick wall
come on, let's get an egghead
there is no homecoming
That's differnt
I appeared in The Reporter
and skins both knees
Oh yes! Omaha!
daddy's in the car with a frozen turkey
I said it
a college girl in a bible pose
and the carved head of Chief Keokuk
where you at now?
and fry ourselves into a sack race
this was the movie banned in all states of disbelief

45*21

and now ladies and gentlemen the hungry eye
before I dig a brick wall
there is no homecoming
daddy's in the car with a frozen turkey
and the carved head of Chief Keokuk
That's differnt
where you at now?
she pushes her hair up into a pineapple
and skins both knees
this was the movie banned in all states of disbelief
I appeared in The Reporter
a college girl in a bible pose
I said it
come on, let's get an egghead
and fry ourselves into a sack race
what-a-ya call it
Oh yes! Omaha!
next to Iowa
That's differnt
where you at now
you a hostile cliche?