45*21

I'm a prominent can't
eat and can't find fold 'em out
but no we he he on
and I ask that you people are worried about the burglaries
I like anything and they can't break
the best that we got ahead of Obama, the music
but can you imagine a hundred people called Burma worry
Wanda not a married man
for Chen that is a narrow space
Anna, now I'm going to show you
I'm not buying that at all right
why Obama what can be thrown at that
the of what or Bahrain, the whatever does right
in kind of openly principle
well the the pig but a in this wait
but now I'm going to vote for him of a doubt
but no I don't want you
but the page what with the top
what we don't want of course you know we are airplane wing
the notion back at and the apathy about all
one would think and possibly bribes

45*21

I spread the Parmesan on my right hand
The head is large because then night gets larger
As if you were the project of the painter, an unknown
advertisement that lead to a pain, but the beams
of fur that run together along the joist
are but an effacement to all that knowledge
like the joke about the hand of God
Except we don't get squashed but pampered
or sequestered by our own self portrait
in a convex mirror there may be no barbers cutting hair
a cord of balled wood that was delivered at midnight
to turn and divide the halves into quarters
the mirror was brought to a knave and he was quartered
with great art his leg was sawed like glass
mostly just an image which to make the portrait
in reflection, always removed
the glaze of the sun's embalming
the light that is dense and the day that is time
adhering to the face that keeps the watch
a wave of recurring life
and the arrival of the self as itself

45*21

One
word
line
poems
are
written
when
you
are
tired
and
the
moon
is
a
ripened
cue
ball.
Got
any
ice?

45*21

grasshoppers in single file
not your daily orgy
eyes pimple out
when they do the Raytheon shuffle
behind the lines know nothing
looking for a few no account motherfuckers
to rake the sky
I had a blathering dust ball
made a home in my coat
that coat of seven arms
my! your hair has grown
putting my hands through the fealty truth cloud
only to have it jobbed out to my cousin
now we run for teal jacket wear
well, the grand scale of this all, is honestly,
politeness
I don't know. I get off the phone
My head feels like a blubber tube
waiting for the exhaust to come out
twisted
like the top of your head

45*21

it took but little alacrity
to know the twin meaning
when it all comes down in the shovel
high rise
ok, now I look
what is the meaning of the meaning of
ok, let's get physical plant
because if the adult diaper is my last security
there must be some soil that isn't dirty
it's murder HE town
I sat there just-a trembling
I was mistaken for some dim headed guru
for like a second
then ordering my sandmich
I dove deeper
There were no laws
only what is on the edges
somebody smiling at me
I'm just a baby now
I know nothing
I know everything

45*21

for 4/24/10

wood aplenty, and mice
make their nest in there
go along as you would a truly
under shimmering blade
shake but unshaken shake
with this life
and why can't I make words?
hand is one trembling finger
just gave a stranger a ride
whose name was Gerry and
he spoke of the evils of alcohol
quoting a doctor who headed up
his own clinic. To paraphrase:
Most people drink for the effects
and feel pleasant, but pretty soon
they can't distinguish between that state
and sobriety, O golden sobriety
until you are drunk and everything and nothing
mind is completely muddled
gravy gravel gravy gravel
but stays in the space shuttle

45*21

for 4/23/10

There are no questions
They are all in the answers
& vice versa. Imagine STOP signs
Sometimes it's fight or flight
endomorphisms and wild sea dolphines
the lower back response
now get down and take that long drag
feel reversed and pulled inside out
discover the thisness of that
& the thatness of this
His eyes have no irises
If you look deep enough and see the surrender
time will look just like a billy club
He hit me with a billy club
and it felt like a dream
I return to the hive
the hive is just a dive
The passive mask of nature
divided into as many faces as you wish
it has all the elements of desire
all the ingredients of flame

45*21

for 4/22/10

I was just falling trees
My heart always thumping
And I think of your disappointment
the gravel truck along the gardened streets
little trees break through the pavement
They are just breaks in the clouds
My life just interrupted
I landed in the middle of it
All snake bite and busted been there
A witness to that something
Just looks like anything
So just home is where I sleep
Slate of cake white dreams
A checkbook in flames
Something is slowing
a fat chaga on a skinny tree
It is Spring and people inside divide
Some of them are looking in
and fantastic day, but for me
that what holds all is telling
the dark stranger to remain anonymous

45*21

for 4/21/10

Six months in and things get strange
I suppose, but what of the perfumed
The unconsumed death
What the grave beckons
That big fat black crow at this our disposed fate
that pecks out the rest of our eyes
& my gray mane lay like the snow melting on Easter
over a gravel path
O! and the Buddha's bus stop
Now I'm alone
Nothing is really wrong
Everything is strong poison
It will take me down
And when I fall it will be light
Taking out that cornice
Black night Kansas City at 15
I knew all the graves inside
And no love yet did I know
Not any LOVE, really
My spirit was but a bucket
The gold like pewter ore

45*21

for 4/20/10

The winds have come
banish all the faces of terror
There is no room for a belly in here
the earth turns and you can hear wheels
That sound represents the burning trees
along the gnome steps against the pond
When the light comes it is time to dine
The neon sign flashes this in our mirror
I can not think of a line
so then a circle is formed
the vinegary taste of a putrid soul
as he's carried down the rock ledge
all beings of existences have a purpose
but hell if I know where to find one
The burning of hopes is just a state of mind
or a rope ladder to climb the tower
If you fall off there will be a shower
of stars flaking from the midnight sky
Are hopes just a state of mind?
or are they the climb
round and round goes the carousel

with ECK

45*21

they mistrust the government
and yell racist epithets
want to kill Muslims
not all but radical
may be radical Christians
might ride a bike
kill or be killed
you can't sweep your initiatives
if you are the President, make a lot of money
remove your head and replace it with another body
there is no source of light
unless you are lit from within
don't let them kill you with rhetoric
be as passive as a shadow
time will bring the tide
and the two dollar broom
the vast vault will be swept clean
by night's grand manure
now take the mushroom
and radiate with in
you are green vibrant Spring

45*21

I quit and what does it mean
I quit but time doesn't stand still
some will say I'm not a quitter
but hell, why not quit
time does not stand still
what is time?
what is your game & how do you win
not by quitting my friend
but by really quitting
giving it up to seek the light
when darkness holds the only power
for I need sunshine
I'm not alone in this but the shadow
it holds so much desire
and when you sink it is deep
finger clenching the wet soil
and there's mother
you're a big boy, you can get out yourself
but somehow the well gets deeper
and you have a picture of the entire universe
and it looks somewhat like your thumb

45*21

The Master is in the wind
he sleeps little
The Master dreams of sleep
in daytime hours
The Mistress is the muse
but not at all common
The Mistress is not the concubine
but the siren song
A measure of everyone's life
slips away with slither
We hold our breath tightly
to keep the wind
Side way glances aside
they always melt
And who is the muse when
when all is disaster
Inside and out, all the same
turmoil, disease and death
The poison pen know no poison
The drinker of absinthe with hoary cold (fingers)
the wind blows down shuttered alley way

45*21

the coals are viper holes
my eyes and ears aware
but what has happened
this Venus has taken more than I knew
I watch those who are virtuous
but without an ounce of humility
maybe the ears are pinned back
we have got that cross
and no one knows who
or what is scribbled on the base
now I'm another alone
with his fixation
got to get to the place
again where I'm ok
standing where I am
and absent of questions
but when you don't do it enough
that is where it ends up
two dark shadows
with little light in between
and the garden hoe

45*21

to take tumble
it is our equilibrium
as time goes on
the dreams that plague us
whether we know it or not
Hollywood ideal is funny shatter
it makes reality polish itself
& we dig it
not in every era
that's the point
there are those who make it real
and most don't
then outside the trade
who have made it very real and beyond
we feature ourselves in archetype
very hard to avoid
the storm comes
and it is an alley
unavoidable by the mirror
and doubt sit right there
among the shadows
and when it is time

45*21

when switching places with this vast store of knowledge
the absolute and conditioned together
make that two headed dog that runs all institutions
we can create nothing that is not GOD
the floor show was wonderful with it's spinning universe
this is the Holy Hexagram, my dear
little children, love one another
the face of the mask is the same as the mask on the face
you are calling us and we call you back
Some of us look into our minds
to watch the memories on a spindle
which one set is absurdity, the other, truism
it clouds up when we shop
but shop we do, with abandon and no need
the clown puppet of our dogma
again it spins, again it stops spinning
the garden grows and out of control
this is the middle, the beginning and always near end
give us your underwear, we are your aliens
there is only one gGOD in the sense there is only one shoulder
when you lean, lean on the hand of god.

45*21

for Conrad
thanks for loaning me the book
of the order of Stella
on the Apex is the word
the number of the pentagram
thanks Conrad
for me
serves as the basis for construction
the wheel, the lion, the eagle
the book for loaning
the divine and angelic names
before the face of the gods
begotten
her simple red tunic reaches to the feet
I wish I knew Latin
before all things are the chaos and the darkness
I lay in satin darkness
Heavens, his hands and his eyes
buckle into one another
until the absence is the better
better the ruler than the ruler adjunct

45*21

Randy Bo Bandy
Fandy Mo Mandy
Candy O' Landy
Franny O'Sandy
L Ron Candy
Bo Bandy
Fo Fandy
Mr. Leahy drunk as Fuck again
sipping the hard stuff in paradise
Randy gone back to street hookerin
Bubbles says it's all fucky
Ricky wrestles a cop for a puff of his cigarette
Julien is in love with Mr. Leahy
only to get him not to jump off the ledge
J. Rock gonna punch Julien because his DJ's in jail
Bubbles cat's are in the cat poky
put your hands up you fuck nuts
after all, they're just going through phrases
while Bo Bandy's moon gut struts
time for some smokes
give me some smokes

45*21

I don't know if it is enough just to know
in fact, I know it is not
an anniversary
this one special
as they are all supposed to be
does this mean I'm less insane
or am I just sane enough
life quickens and slows
we sleep much of it
but in hours that we live
we must live enough
that is, we must work at enjoying it
though it is not always possible
shit gets built up
it brings you down
the torpedo hits your ship
and does damage
still on the high seas
but without a place to dock and get repairs
life can be a never ending zombie movie
with memories sustaining

45*21

cat's sniffin
the top of my head
I'm so tired I'm flaking
Conrad was in a shit mood
spaghetti dinner was awkward
but good
the cat purrs and farts
both equally stimulating
to the cat
wow
meow
we go to heaven
heaving on dry chunks
Mark was sicker than shit
it was a mind blowing Jascapades
it blew the house off the roof
we had to call in the vomit inspectors
the vile was palpable
it made a noose
and with our tiny necks
we blanched
and kindness never comes to those who shift

45*21

I've been in the right mind
but the trees have adjusted
to think about the loss of something worthwhile
and realize that the alternatives dies
like sound deadened but not in step
with something
the cloud mirror
the disappearing frame
let's think about the raga
just kidding
I put my own self on there
om
we want to just travel
but our hearts need to know we've been
another joke
lights out
and it could be a permanent state
a cloud
it wants to hang
and removed from it all
no exterior

45*21

I can say anything I want
no one will read this
but even if they do what is the difference
if you do not think you are subservient to a ruling class
then you are a monkey's uncle
there has always been the dominant and the weak
it does not make sense to allow everyone privilege
that would be sacrilege
therefore you will be logged into the system
as am I as is any diplomat or world dignitary
the game is played by allowing the fate of some
be bargaining chips for the order of the day
pick any race or creed at this point
even a white guy at gun point
because their necks are under the same guillotine
and let the sacrifice begin
but remember to turn a blind eye
you may do this in a number of ways
but you will do it like it was something you had to do
and it might be true you had to
the world will never know

45*21

great gads sure sound nice
the chirps of villains
my paint is almost dry
green as embers dying
now there's a sound to think
he in his sandals thinks he's so wise
saying what he knows
saying how he knows
does his trumpet tune?
Greenfield is the Bushwick of Mass
paint it dark gray and it illuminates many colors
my stomach hurts from beer
we sleep in combs
remember the embers
railroad tracks
orgasms along the berry fields
it's not worth noting
I'm hunger for sky sometimes
late at night when I take my piss
in the driveway and then it's silence
almost

45*21

once, you were a smile
a gesture of good will
fed on the grass of your father's labor
and trellis of your mother's wisdom
then, someone loafed
broke the link of drips
and night became black as tar
you nearly fall off the roof looking for stars
the tears drip into the solitary can
you wake up hung over from what you eat
disappear in the folds of comfort
the only part that exists sometimes is outburst
I sympathize
the harsh reality that everyone faces is unavoidable
by how to avoid it
the human trick
I walk among the hummocks
on a deserted midnight
home, I'm not sure
I look up, no stars
only the sky, black as tar

45*21

tonight was Krefting's movie night
he let Dread Foole curate this month
so it was "Pow Wow Highway"
with Gary Farmer as Philbert
a sort of novice Cheyenne Indian shaman
trying to become a warrior
he's searching for his Indian name
I want to say it is Windy Dream Searcher
but I know that is wrong
he searches for good medicine
and enjoys pow wows
his friend Red Bone is not a believer
he does not dance
he was in Nam
he tries only to eat health foods
he berates Philbert
about his eating habits
Philbert just smiles
because food only means filling the stomach
and may be good medicine after all
and the wind is one's greatest friend

45*21

what if you were the one
the immaculate conceived
you went through the mirror of time
the challenge of all thought
is finding that which seems true
that which casts doubt aside
but doubt rides you
it sits next to you
your brother that is no longer your brother
your sister image
then walk out into the bright hot sun
it is that kind of day
it gives you that feeling
you are alive
it is crazy
another day with that globe of imagination
on your neck
you stretch your limbs
and bow to the graces
build up some steam
and walk on

45*21

I will never understand exclusivity
no matter how many back roads you go down
to explain it
most people just need to breathe
the world as I see it
has been hyper real more lately
than even the remote past
nothing makes sense
but that which you laugh at
this is ancient wisdom
it is like a cloud program
we need to get connected
to solve problems
I remember going up in an elevator
and you had to choose an A or B side
either way it brought you to the same floor
but one was slightly elevated from the other
and I thought, why would some one design this
and that was when it occurred to me that whim
grows and this is humor
breaking the mold

45*21

tonight the sailor unlflapped his wings
in a circle there was a triangle
and together they make a face
oh? how are you dooing
or how are yyou doing
the mind loves the wander
some people live 3 weeks in one day
they cart me off
right now, the tricycle knows more
glad to have been of some comfort
for the hell of
these rooms
are invented
by the mind
I gave way to notions of grandeur
the push and pull
of the tug you know
in given time we believe
in what we don't want to admit
we believe in everything
or absolutely nothing

45*21

some are like chained notes
a dithering semblance of truth
the old raccoon shimmies back and forth
through a field hens and chicks
this is my vision
simple, not so sheik
no where to go out in the night anymore
the vampire undresses the night with it's eyes
Max Schreck then became the vampire
which is the ideal for all vampires
of village night
the breaking open of tombs
Emannualle house of Iowa City
with it's fire pit
and what was the story
the raising of upheaval
in a time lost not long ago
can you find the clues
forever in gaslight
and stagecoach hotel
of ghost-like activity