Tidal Pool

So much more ferocious than panthers in a cage
the ghost eyes of ancient thought shot off by nestled cannons
with bone faces of a cool-rayed moon, six embryos embrace
their bodies float wily-nilly cast a jeweled light in the yellow sea

With eyes like beads of mercury they, submerged in the deep green sea,
some wear the preservation of life even in their death, their last breath
in notation they float above the heart abrasion, brothers and sisters
of an ancient order, disguised by many known by few

Bicycle Centurian

1

O wooden head on a bike
they're down on their knees
again

fracking behind the lids
they'll never
find a poem
in there

Just what
are they looking for?

"no one wants to help"

then again
who can trust
in God we trust

2

These spokes
with no center
they speak

and somehow to believe
in it all

perhaps chance

when we see you next
no arms
no legs

a fury bandage on the brain

those repeated images

kidneys out of the head
kidneys out of the head

3

We know you've seen it all
through the smoke

The mirror
turned in
on itself

The leather
embraces

The museum
with the peep hole

This is history

as hokey as you
may dream

and be a goner
for it

4

I can see
the lights

burning up

mauve night

as suggested.

Your guess as
good as any

to yell
into

the shelter

of another's

knowing

What else is there

I suggest

The blackest
of shadows

run along the roads

of an island

I've never
been

but calling

You say

okay...

Forever Again

this day like yesterday
gray and cold
must have a different taste

I drank the oak last night
and it tasted like forever
in a script I could not read

Everybody's having fun, but me
at 49, just searching inside the mask
for the eye holes and a place to breathe

then it feels like tomorrow
I guess I know what that is
I'll look for it in my haste

Blasting

Everywhere there is a pattern
It is not unknown to us
Still, it is not known at any known moment

What is it like to be knowable
it goes beyond

Why waste time on the unknowable
black marble vessel beyond this

someone whispers
it is your turn

It is my turn?
The milkman spinning in eternity

Blasting forever
into a vastness that has no name

Rattlesnake land
that is not to be tamed
even by the bomb shelter dweller

even by the smoke
between two veils

where songs meet the mind

She Knows

She

Like the moon

pissed or acting so


Yellow moon


coming up over the hedges


Mohawk shadows
from basement stairs

Painted blue

sidewalks
walking

downtown


I fell into bushes

and swam out drunk

in a lake of stars

avoiding cadences

Cover for all that is never done

and so knowing so

Pantoom for Alta

Today I got gonged by life
And it never feels good to get gonged
Even if the gonging can't be helped
I would like to think it would never happen

And it never feels good to get gonged
By the one you care about deeply
I would like to think it would never happen
Then it does and crushes your spirit

By the one you care about deeply
Who has lost the pulse of the moment
Then it does and crushes your spirit
And somehow you must regain a happy life

Who has lost the pulse of the moment
Replace this feeling with love and confidence
And somehow you must regain a happy life
The new world is always being born

Replace this feeling with love and confidence
To walk through life again with ease
The new world is always being born
A new child is always coming through

To walk through life again with ease
Then know a smile when it returns
A new child is always coming through
The voice of reason is always in replacement

Then know a smile when it returns
A shock like thunder from inside
The voice of reason is always in replacement
Help is always available to those asking

A shock like thunder from inside
All this abundance of confidence and love
Help is always available to those asking
Today I got gonged by life

Pentecost

I was not alone when I awoke
and it was not just my conscious mind
my emotions wondering out there somewhere

We have this spirit to create
and it tackles us in the night
pulls us from the ground, we are earthworms

I had this conversation with a friend
that consciousness is only when we wake up from a nap
and then we are conscious then until we die
There is no potential for spirit

Trying endlessly, so I think, to awaken from a dream
to spirit that is divine
to try and resurrect myself from my sleep
the pillow that smothers me in its automatic embrace

It is all we can do, then, for a moment
to know it is possible
for in the moment to awaken
and look at one's self
before the moment is gone
not to be resurrected