April 28, 2010 at 10:55

my will is broken
fritter time away
writing pale words

my will is broken
I am indicted
serving prison-time

through the bars
a hand or two
reach in to touch

my will is broken
will it be 12 years
or far, fourteen?

my will is broken
my love is colder
I freeze, in here

is there an ember,
a fan that allows
my coal to blaze?

my will is broken
night watches
midst stony sighs

my will is broken
who can piece it
together? None.


April 28, 2010 at 9:32

dear lord, why why why do you hate me so?
i lie sleeping less not ever knowing how to
be other than a bowl of dying fragrance,
none partaking of its sense, they go to
and fro, search out other scent- fountains
that more easily fulfill their yearning pining
love, they swing and sway, and their love is
that old black edifice built on fears or rules,
they want to succumb and bury themselves .
i have tried to find you, lord, in the feminine,
i understand why she drinks at many wells
or dips into my secret places to take vials of
potion, balm of comfort, a sheaf of poems
neither you nor she nor anyone reads now.
oh, I’m in deep misfortune for your Name’s
sake, because I read somewhere long long
ago you are that unknown Ancient of Days,
the Love-Lover who deserts leaving traces
i try hard hard harder harder still to find to
cognize hex, signs, runes, spells, symbols
and meanings that always elude. Love-God,
you are like that daemon who wisely tells me
“Just believe” and then i must stand watch
as she wanders away elsewhere, free free
to somewhere lie in the arms of another in
some place where he is near, always found,
i am a twice-born fool seeking her wet musk
and your dry myrrh, lord, I hear you and her
whisper to me out of those terrible absences,
“Just believe in love, love, just be with me”.
now I try believe sans sight, touch, embrace,
wait as a dog looking for shadow-crumbs cast
when either you-she appears suddenly in light
once, twice, thrice, I’ve surrendered my right,
i can’t ask, tell when or why the fish, red wine,
bread, body, womb, can become time-manifest.
i sit sadly wonder at the miracle that gives flesh
to faith, to one who is faithless in love’s meshes.
oh, but I am tormented more than most, Lord, I
suffer long absences, your-her small presences,
they make me forlorn, less, lesser than the least
i am abased, i suffer long, nothing ends in sight
of this travail of love that comes in, goes on on
and flees far away before anything can be said
or done that has height depth, width, breadth,
i take a sip of wine, the silver cup so so so soon
passes to another who has time timely all the time
to drink deep, while I am left with only that rarest
taste, i am forever darkly damned desire, i thirst!


April 25, 2010 at 4:14

So the man comes up to me and says “I like
The T-shirt you have on, I am a fan of Jerry
Garcia.” I say: “This is an original Deadhead,
Fancy meeting you here!” And my T-shirt
Won me laughter and another human being
ONE who knew that Deadheads know each
OTHER, human meets human meets human.


April 25, 2010 at 4:12

Jazz it is, sitting drenched to skin bone breath
Body alive, where are friends, where are we?
You want to hear stories of the penultimatum,
Penury shelterless abandoned castaway crum,
You have it, what the bourgeoisie don’t fathom
symbolized in the whore, the woman up for sale,
Money connects like telephone wires, television,
Internet chat, twitter, social networks, it pays,
Get her in available currencies, I am looking out
rummaging inher bed, the rustic, the untidy tidy,
Take off your clothes, I don’t want to fuck you,
Just want to see cunt nipples pubic hair stomach
Watch observe feel no touch no taste no flavor
This is wisdom that embraces folly, just remember
None of it is ripped stolen filched robbed from me.


April 25, 2010 at 4:10

I am human and I must go out looking for humans
For it’s hard finding them among the others aliens
What do I find, see, understand, look see deeper
Lights on a swirling floor as puddles of pink rain
Feet moving in rhythm, the laugh of the strange
girl who loves a Grateful Dead T-shirt who comes
to me “there goes my reason for living” “let it be”
Can you do the tango, salsa, jive, twist, hip-hop?
No! but we can waltz the old and she whispers:
‘I have only a half-hour, thank you so much much.“
What was she missing that she danced with in me?
Time passes, the crowd is like smoke wings but she
And I are living spin what can only be for only being
One human, the rest are eating, drinking, merry
Illusions on two feet or less, I leave the pink rain is
Always assaulting me, blotting out the undead cry
for it, I have this human touch, adequate, enough,
The beat and the Beats have lived through trough
and peak, fuck the normal, take the road to white,
All the way soaking into the underwear, oh my!
Balls, I have them, does she love them soft round?
I don’t need that which doesn’t fulfill, ride ride rude
Ride ride ride ride ride ride rude rider on the storm
Upbeat, one human discovers another now afresh
For a half hour and then away in haze a daze gaze
Smoke beer song drink watch moves hate wait love
Till I find the bars with the scum that congeals slow
I see them hard-worked, muscled, destroying death
Destroying destroying destroying deathdestrodeath
as living scum, downbeat it is downbeat uphill will be.


April 25, 2010 at 4:08

Everyone is excluded, you are excluded
Death is inevitable love cannot flourish
Everything works against what is true
Or turns into a picture here, there, now
You can touch the shades, lick the point.
Do you want to approach? I am thorns
I hurt, I hurt other lives mutual like soap
There are strings unbidden, they will be cut
There are unsaid things, they will be silent,
Because they weigh love as gold and silver
Obligations, expectations, demands, hope
They do not move like the breezes , leaves
If it does one tremors, fears, pulls back back
Put spaces in between, burn the memories
I was never thus nor can be so I can sing signs
You are there and you are not and I must be
Singing singing singing signing signing signing
Watch me die, watch me die, i for love will die.


April 25, 2010 at 4:06

I pass the farm Thoma is there but where is he or is he at all there?
Sleeping smiling tossing turning visioning smoking schizoid like me?
Lonely? I can’t and I can tell you my secrets they swim as eels circling
Solitude, there is a key, more likely a lie that I see cloudily through
It is what those who know can mean and it is yet without meaning,
Speak of it! Who knows what anything means? I am travelling far
And wide and deep and journeying, there is none with me, all busy
You’re not going to come with me, no, brother sister lover mother
Who speaks with the tree, who laughs with the clouds, bark sighs
Cold skies, bleak asphalt, lights that pass you by, Father, you made
Me a spirit, I will not exchange freedom for automaton body bodies
I meet unsoiled, the half-souled, unschooled unsaid dead rot meat!


April 25, 2010 at 4:02

I am sitting awash drenched saturated under a shadow tree
The road is silent like me the invisible stretches speak to me
A headlight stares only for a moment, it cannot disturb still
It seeks to possess me like apprehensive clouds, slain trees
This pulsing one knows me, she has waited has been waiting
I touch her trunk to know her to caress her to get to her hands
I have to climb her I don’t dare she may throw me hurt me she
Is like a helping hand a branch of a tree I can burn, she can hit
Me, she is up above not below, a thought a watery strong bough
There’s no real help though, only a thought and many many many
For all the hands have been cut off and yet I dream-use my limbs
To move to feel to touch what may or may not respond, stay alive.



April 24, 2010 at 18:38

this room the box the rectangle the squarish
the circles of the sun, the dead moon turning
in time, the world traipsing along gay dancing
with the one whose smile revives, sigh sighing
a time-lapse woman-shot flickers in a toy brain
the television image disrupted by lightning rain
makes an unclear hallucination of her hair wet
lashes, black-metal whip-ends on a brown back
she is turning and gyrating somewhere where
as the furrows bite tear gnaw the lines roiling,
the sea turns grey, I am pummeled by catfish.


April 22, 2010 at 9:37

i cut through
to get her
to give
to love.

last night
at my forlorn
tears upon
an unknown
watched me




so I have time
she has none
no-one stirs
the still air
I return
to my
lie in state
no mourners
no mate.

no whisper
no smile
no heat
no laugh
no kiss
no eyes
no mouth
no nose
no navel
no lotus
still, no

in between
in between
in between
in between
in between.


April 20, 2010 at 23:28

Everyone has photos of the ones they love,
They look at them and they think love lives,
I’ve only touch to go by, distances between.
Everyone wants paper memories dissolving
I’ve mind-etchings, rusting into nothingness.
Sundial moments slip away, nether feelings
exit with her body as steamy mists receding.
Everyone has something, kept for keeps sake
I have a painting to drown in her surreal hues.
Everyone has black pages in albums to peruse
I turn the pages of days gone by, it’s twilight,
The sun is setting, the moon will not be rising
Here, in the pool of my heart, reflections drop
In, a ripple, a zephyr, a tremor, a thimble full.


April 20, 2010 at 21:30

“I could not travel both and be one traveler”
said one, a long time ago, and he was right
perhaps perhaps perhaps perhaps perhaps
but I have traveled low roads and highways
surprised to see them converge, right-hand
paths and behold! left-hand paths too, now
I understand nothing and no one and no one
and nothing misunderstands me, they stand
where one last stood and looked down both
and they’ve taken the one or the other, fair
enough, it works better thus, not this way or
that, see how I can dance as two and as one
splintered disrobed fractured disfigured dried.


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