Invocation

“For when the power of imparting joy

Is equal to the will, the human soul

Requires no other heaven.”

-         Percy Bysshe Shelley; from “Queen Mab” part III

Realizing our Objection

Fortune's Glutton

a glutton
gasping for air in the cool darkness,
brushing loins to the thin-clothed whereabouts
in post-midnight memorandum mirage,
a charged restless dynamism,
that answered at last

a reach
to touch Love's palpable drift
in the body of one Northeastern life
slipping softly from consciousness
into the unending scream of ignorance
as waves of ghosts piercing the cracked, loose air,
and our lonely exit comes to fruition
with busty orgasmic lights
shuddering in awe of the deep waking fortune
that awaits the patient lover and his incendiary pair of eyes
dreaming soundlessly into the never-ending swarm of heart

a lust
torching the bleak smiles of Jewish God Saturday with bottled blackberry wine
and the drizzled avocado page
that sends un-coddled thought onto a turn-style table of a comedic backdrop
sensitivity under the 95 year old skin of true feeling
resonating in the earthy hair of guitar & piano strings, cut
burning in the night's long internal ache,
that fires the ebullient seed in grass-thundered vocalizations
giving melodies to ancestral brother and sisterhoods
calling throughout
the music of surprising beauty

New America, Go Forth!

a picturesque blare

in the growth attack spotlight

owning the North-coast

in a ruckus of jeering talk,

the bloated dish-turning gazes bleed fixedly

into a wide outpouring shore

still towering over an African haze

thawing the greedy

names tearing at the throat from the machete claw

breaking apart the vocal chord forests

dreamt in saw-cleared eyes

during the infamous winter of English settlement

from the prized mouth and stomach of burnt corn

and lacrosse pages, ruffling in the French-Canadian afternoon

who remembers with sterling grace

and an ease unbeknownst in the blank wilderness of Western memory,

the oral grave of intergenerational strife

digging itself extra corpses to save face in the final rain of time,

commanding the blind ruthless execution of the utmost,

the most fine,

coercing the black hawk’s smothered and festooned plate

sealed over the top of the asterisk helmet at noon-time email remorse,

to send negligent hate into the Muslim morning

and take advantage of war

while cursing the émigré poor

who climb the ladder to your third story bedroom

with a sharp quaking mind's eye

peering into the holy unknown,

a clear emotion

offered plainly to the free will of un-survived human freedom

in childless futures,

go forth!

I, Internalize My Body

my stomach,
stained with blood and coffee,
and I drink with a consumptive gaze
greedily at the tip of the root hanging from Earth's core,
the Indian tree,
swelling as it sways
to the rhythmic tuning of the cordial universal spring,
and so the strung chords of the world's birthing are plucked
duly, with grand motion over the starboard ocean rains
tunneling into a thunderous vision,
the pierced hawk
eyeing ground from atop the archaic skies of timeless dream,
the soundless above slips beyond the social canopy,
and Confucius prays for love
in the Taoist grave of Saturn's eyeless pupil
memorizing the pages of our life's trunk become engraved
with a stoned ape's tug,
at the hairless chord,
our once upraised wilderness
now chained
to European drug lust

Assimilating America-Asia

a maimed fork-tongued spine,
billowing in the majestic heat
as a feather in the dim predawn moonlight

choking cry,
the rasping imperfection in ecstatic beauty,
momentous experience beyond human conflict
in the word and sound of a throat-muted music,
the play of life
final and resounding
in a tumult of white haze
around the English nape

croaking in the sharp whispered present,
fuming dry-eyed numberless fingerings
before a trickster’s Goddess tree,
pained to an ink-smeared fire on the blistering urban horizon

sleepless,
gone into aged reason
and the ethos of undreamt madness

teeming over drunk
soups creeping into the mattress womb of a lover's unthinking, catastrophic island
in pursuit of man
and the thankless awe
imprisoned by the fornicating asp, embraced and sure,
calmed by the dragon's unbelieving Asian energy
a toxic gladness in the opiate museum,
struggling to remove the raised animal-child
and her round face

channeling the circle's parallel doom
that puzzles and quickens fate simultaneously
in an overwhelming urge to kill and boast murder
in the gambler's vacation
over failed modernity,
a nightmarish vision of the weak American brain,
coddling electric misdirection
in the worried and unplanned savagery of war story lies
answering in all profundity
questions on the meaning of life
with vindictive cynicism
and a laughable crusade of assimilation’s values

on white-washed dread
tuning all the fork-tongued & glue-stained hearts with copycat branded smiles
and ear-pinched mamas, craving for a dose of humanity
in the engine of more bloodshed

around the knife-edge corner
that prepares a boiling pot of human waste
for rights

moving the home of family wisdom
into the cinematic backdrop of misinformed god-awful dramascapes
plugged into the cliché ride to the store
of perpetually thawing,

raw

thought

Listen to Your Self

listen to your self...

until the round waterfall empties all Earth,

cleansing the porous beyond

in a fire fight, clambering up broken stone

and rushing past with notes in blue and white,

forming spontaneous lines

that end brush strokes in a black obsidian plush,

creasing against the mountainous fold

with a calligrapher's mind

written in the rocky glove of unsettled wild creative youth,

those two pair,

growing in unseeded soil

as a weed tossed into the vibrant dark matter of infinite bliss

by the great American eagle

flowing into the future of Vietnamese bathroom floors

swept of children and memory

to change the tide in New England Hebrew martyrs of spiritual play

chiding glorious phrasings in the Algonquin high of a green environment

hiding with chilling valor in the mindless now,

awake,

blessing the gaping lung of the Indian tree

with sacred breath

on the poetic tongue of a changeless need

to create from universal love the bedding of an epochal foment

in song

and inflame the passage beyond body

with an unnamed right to live as is

in the crab-scuttled grass sands

itching our newly aged feet

to see past random necessity

with light on the ethnic blood-touched proud

in ancestral family,

the road,

now faded with an overwhelming sense of Love

for all creation,

buried in the mass grave of a secret lunacy

hidden behind the bed-mask of traditional sexuality,

and yet untied

the knot stifles truth and freedom in a frantic pause to strengthen terror's wave

crashing in the lonesome authority with tasteless glamour

reflected off the stretched mirrors of the disadvantaged, ugly, poor,

and our fate, unified into first expression,

to cast away all memory

and become plainly seen in the absolute center,

mind's eye of the Pacific, drenched in wandering,

an unworldly guise,

blended into worthless machine-eaten jungles

fried in the oil of littered rubbish

alongside a fixed marriage highway

to an undreamed following,

a place deeper than hell,

frozen in the backdrop imagining

where the burned order breeds asinine judgment

flowering into bitter hate for the lost

who stare remembering at the speechless knot,

held in minds full with blame and newly felt sorrow

for ancestors mourning what's to become of their kin

tied in fate with breathless teachings

Understanding our Meaning

Sculpting our Music

to empathize with space,

emptied learning

devoid of causality,

to exist in nonsense happily,

with or without means to find the light to continue

and realize that meaning prevails in the ability to emancipate need into desire

and transform desire into being,

to see you,

in the flap of a wave thickening

in a sky filled with stars aglow

in the insect's wing,

eaten then,

raw in the toothless humanity

forming on the tip and base of the tongue

with each word-stopped breath of compassion

stating, 

"subsist without things,

yet do not merge one with sheer being,

there is no escape from right,

take time to see,

play aloud to the soft distance

in each touch

on the eternal book

resting coolly

on the back of every pulse

moving through fingertips pressed over reality."

simply unlearn doing

by giving into the peace already;

know your surroundings,

truth does not move,

yet there is mystery in sound's effortless becoming

around and within the hand that pulls time into the heart

and plays breath

in tune to the sun's round birth canal of thoughtless entry

into an orbital law,

a return to archaic wisdom

in ancient instruments

and the rare music of inward listening

that shares all in the act of creative wondering

to explore the mind without friction

against the beat of our one heart,

drained now by love's unknown pleasures

offered to the inescapable friend,

who appears as death at the beginning of night,

freezing time

for a moment's celebration of temporal freedoms

grinning out of sight

None Superior than No One

a racial pornography
full with brutish lies
that carefully whispers a song of superiority, stigmatized,
and the random tear, breaking at the seam of the color line
brackets, the argumentative congress
in sparked ruthless struggle
to follow the skin as figment of national imaginings,
brought forth out of the soup of paper, signed
and dashed to the brink of monotony
in the white drama
played on the silver screen’s temptress beginnings,
the luck sworn lady,
proud to crave angelic rushes
into the all-evading non-stop traffic of superficiality
raining down mellow unborn savagery
over the traumatized hearth

broken fire
bursting reckless
in the shaking grave of early centuries,
where settling became a full moon practice
by dim ugly war signs
embraced on African shores
and in the deepest south of colonial homes
filling beds with elevated mores
seething at the brim of an enraged foment
between men and women
in the racial pang of color and word
touching on the endless cry
that festers as a boil into the unpronounced identity of comparative modern division,
a social history, mismatched at the raped womb,
that turned aside
and hid its darkest pull into all blackness

at the tip and infinite corner of universal brilliance,
a feature in the personality of a momentary god
breathing in the light proverbial wisdom of dream talk
from ancient suffering,
an eloquent sleep, reading into the deep listening core
from wild earth and her still shore,
reflecting the inmost forbearance of her lore
as a secret in conflict with the perfectly reflective mirror
in nature's great gaze of mind
as equal in time and space with all creation
in a flash of spontaneous appearance
that glows in a taught nudge

forsaken as murder into the fated night,
a cold lonely break between choice,
indecision,
and patient intuition

in the one voice of our common human home
as purposeful presence
pregnant with the meaning of art

in our head and eye
who self-formed, began as a creative laboring
in the strong brush with a peculiar kind of will
that worshipped a diverse issuing of the ten-thousand tongued iris
performing for the blessed worldly guest
as a vaginal cavity pulsing to a white noise
flecked with the opaque snow of a newfound conceptual electricity
melting at once in the off switch unction towards a motionless upbringing

growing up in the solitary profundity of man, alone with nature,
wherein lies our humane passage
through social obstacles
in desire and the restrictive curse
in fear for the child
and her sanctified birth

Drugged Love, Seated Life

drugged love,
timed passion,
and the remorse found

in a quick resourcefulness in arms,
the distributed poverty sickens the dirt
into our net worth enslaved

in the ruddy mirth,
a deportation masked

in the swallowed fruition of the blossomed nun
and her Buddhist sisters
who betray their folk chiming

in the shamanic din of civilized inclinations
to become the oldest persona of grace, emergent
of land intoxicated by the avian lords
who roam tearfully in landless bush
above the streaming Pacific's current
fanning to seed
 atop island exotics
and breach the blind exploration
from nothing

to an essence of discovery
in the learned,
seated life

To There…a single step

to the core,

the middle,

the center,

the point,

the crux,

the meat, bone and heart of the matter,

to spend aimless time

gazing at monetary colors

in the upturned sky

blank with a serious face

to guidance,

expressed

in a selfless haze of red and green,

light with an intimacy for a sun ray's touch

in the atmospheric jazz cool

inside family exercise

toward introspective hallucinations

in the communal stroke of luck

with a faceless ordeal

met only in traveling

and going beyond the space of rhythmic stress

coursing through the married rings of male-female becoming

like an ageless fight

against the cruel daze

with monotony and clever denial

bequeathed to the jealous children of war

boiling over the holy boom pot of re-created American cookery,

to flash discolored eyes

suddenly into the empty well-cast light

and sense a bravura of internal awakening without respite,

that judgment, cleansed from humanity, will see its day reborn

on the naked steps of Greek antiquity

coming to life in the nude breath

heating the strong will to escape,

to flee from earth's modern gravity,

and quake the rules of science

in an act of preposterous impertinence

with reality in a sand-fired glass shore

sinking into the elegant lunar tide,

of eastern sorrow in music

written with voice to bespeak the voiceless friend

who plays spontaneity in the formless kiss with human wishes,

at home in the awake blood of non-political growth outside skin

and the rusty match,

raised to presidential beginnings

at the final tuning

beyond a slow curve of national despair,

and the answerless dread, washing over the religiously tired

whose mouths sink into the sea

and blame the faithful for their troubling sense of diversity,

whose risen heart failed to beat upon hearing

her single step

Morning Dew

your eyes crack open

with subtle wanting

in the cold

drop

mourning

filling your smile

with dawn's twilit dew

in the rush and pour of warming lust

to be near and speak loving endlessness

into your responsive tongue

that clings eagerly

to the rolling birth of tragedy

in my arms

pulsing with exotic love

to cool the diligent reckoning

with the unforgiving pull,

a soft whirr from the sky's clear vacuum

exhaling

the rusty kisses of lips gone stale

with a life

lived too long

Confronting our Passed

Along My Own Shore

Buttressed against the sign,

The medieval wave foams over the cup of a lovely breastfed nose

Exhaling the Jewish nostalgia of mournful local upbringings

In the reared tragedy of common history

Gone from the Irish shores that reach into the heart of a small mayflower

Lore teaching the youth and middle-aged men of their rights

            And losing fate in the unreasonable song

To play out our entrenched groove that rides into spherical motion,

A dreamless awe maintaining the earthy power to cool enraged throats

                        And impress a soft layer of peace on the back

            An all-escaping flesh

                                    Of our siblings who praise the sun

                                                And its ever-flowing majesty

As we drink clean the greatest bled bowel, stirring all life

            Into a swarm of negligent dearth

            Strengthened by the mother mage

                        Feeding her feminine premonitions

As vulnerable as a dragonfly bubble collecting under glass-blown facades

            Over childhood ignorance

                        Now translated into memory and anger

For the righteous who sweat uneasy in the rain of God’s unwavering brow,

            Quenching the sweet lust of a tongue touching air

                       

Breaking out over the raspy law

            Stressing oral vernaculars in this southerly pressure

On the winded tune

            Calling lonely flints to breaking stone in the fireless birth of electric streets

Cowering in the name and number of a modern fear

            As troubling and apparent as the street’s end in wilderness

Post-office calling on locally made children,

            Whose strength lowered into oceanic depths

At this point, along my own shore

Borrowed from the Ancients

An unseemly drink

Borrowed from the ancients,

My uncouth vocation

Feeding its own pride in a mundane host

Now calling

Sure in the wild dirt

Following the wave’s break

Chilling the surf in its open, living mind

Shedding tears

Upside into the sky’s unbroken cavity

When fish jump

And break surface of mental clarity with life’s untamed spontaneity,

When life emerges

And takes of its observant few what prophecies are foretold by nature

And her swan glazes over

On the picture board

Hot with fangs of ice and a sudden peering

Into human evil

As a featureless rock

Craving a home in the swallowing dirt,

A ruthless desire

To unite with physical being

In the cavernous play

Amid the muck and cry

Fraying at the end of a lost piece

Strung around the backbone of a house emptied by work

And the second family, recalling memory from grandparents gone

Into the naked beyond,

Whose swaying grieved for the longing that rustled sheepishly

In the bed of an unmanly heart

And drank from the undone wilderness

As a bush of masculine hair stroked in brevity

Upon the ash tray mug of plain sex

And the attracted flower of gender

Flipping across duality’s lofty existence

In our upraised addictions

Failing our deepest intuitions

With personified haste

To die the impatient death of youth

And brush past the envisioned self

Struggling to go together with soul

To the summit of human glory

From Behaved Freedom to Absolute Nonsense

I go from a behaved freedom to absolute nonsense

            Without friends yet steeped in family love,

I publicly play and proclaim the monetary divide

            In my rich eyes which disguise the poverty
            line’s frozen glare

In Canadian expatriate stench, painstaking

            To be fugitive without mind 
            to the loosed volley

Cracking against the one shield fortress of Mattapoisett

            One place of rest made into settlement with guns
            and stolen disaster

Ripped from the bosom of Europe’s scheming
                      English name

            Now massacring the playful
            artistry of our own inborn life

On this impossible continent

            Freely taken from a gamble and faith

In blond-headed angels

            Whose divinity was parted
            by the bald imprisoned hallucinations

Driving out demons with Masonic symbology

            Over the infinite sands of civilization,
            breathed and created out of time

In the sun’s ravishing corner of a universe,
            un-tempted and forever at a loss

                     Between the child’s two eyes
                     closing

On death and the holocaust of our forsaken government

            Laughing at the trees’ roots

When stretched to the bottom of India’s or Africa’s wells

            Ousting up the belief in life as a drunken tragedy

                                    Yet, be not humorless
                                    nor without comic sophistry

In the dance and song

            Come alive by the sexual majesty

                                    In theatre’s delicate ways,

To present the creative being
as one with truth’s bold and upheld music

            Reflecting back in the caged mirror

                                    A creator anew

With Still Unborn Eyes

A presence belied in the soft air aglow with diligent drizzle

            From this, our American lighthouse heaven,

                        Alit with dream
                        in stories told by great-grandmother’s   

                                    Life lived outside the pages of the “true”

                                                And into the truly earth-quaking
                                                of dream,

A silent praise now unforgiving in this one unkempt death

            Blowing past the burly crevasse of a listless youth

                        Climbing up past the gold icon in Biblical temptations

                                    To screw women into their darkest pain

                                                In a house filled
                                                with the semen of timeless wandering

Men whose throats burn with the soil of their unloved mother

            Croaking up agro-fossil drains

Reaching from modern skylines to prehistory,
issuing from our Christ-death

In the end of an age

            As inevitable as the reptilian fate in the everyday brain

Expanding with the feared herbs growing
like weeds in our Western mythology

Built in smoke
and the knowledge of Earth’s ever-forgiving
blessings

                                                Bringing America’s children reason
                                                to explore mind

                                                            In the socio-pathic
                                                            lie of success and money

As we corner the livid
daze of the booming war

                                                                                    Fertilized wombs
                                                                                    manifest

                                                                                                As 
                                                                                                westward
                                                                                                suburbia

In the housed mystery of our yet undiscovered world

            Beneath each colonial home

                        Shot out of the ugly worldview

                                    Misplaced over the moral genealogy

                                               

In an ecological philosophy

            To dry the eyes of our spectral hosts

                        Who watch and wonder

                                    With still unborn eyes

Preparing our Action

Improvisational Brevity in the Public Eye

What shared outpouring wore down the iris and pupil
of the already blind

            And cut out of the legs from the paralyzed
            street of ghost walkers

                        Who hang onto passerby cars
                        with historical envy and thick desire

                                    In the burning legs
                                    that carry our men and women home

                                                From the taxes of war

                                                In terrorist fires

                                                            Exploding
                                                            across the Fourth of July
                                                           
                                                            skies

                                                           
                                                            Crying for Chinese tears
                                                            to put out the flame

                                                                        With workhorse hands

                                                                        Bleeding
                                                                        over the Maoist grave

                                                                                    A permanent red

To divulge in a communal sense of suffering

            With the Islamic world

                        Now enmeshed in divided hatred
                        with their Asian brothers,

An incantation’s break

            In the collective hymn learned in distant rally keeps

                        Among the exotic foreign faces blurring

                                    As the weak perceive undead minds
                                    clinging to a cold unknown,

                                                An as yet unseen possibility

                                               

To come near to the landless hole

            In our improvisational brevity in the public eye

                        Through an unlearning in the exotic pull

                                    That fired the imagination

                                                With natural fuel
                                                from the hand of a single lawless tome

                                                            Sung breathless from memory

Behind the sanctified veil of a deserted humanity

            At Earth’s surfaced core,

                                    The central heat of language,

                                                As the untold mystic
                                                sweats over the reeds       

To make permanent her words

            Impressed against the chest of Earth’s skin

                        Where beauty’s seed first sprung

                                    From the mouth of an unformed animal

Desiring to be part of the universal
wave of continuous expression

Toward unified presence
with astonished deathly bliss

                                                                        And awe 

Holy Rope

Holy rope glean

            Setting off the executioner’s raffle

                        In a dream state turning the mind

                                    To a pentatonic, indigenous scale

                                    To the antique buzz in our lonely natural surroundings

                                                That prepares a decadent life

Amidst the misty hilltop laughter

                                                            That echoes in the contemplative breath on high

Interludes via Freedom

A Dark Glory

There is a dark glory in the aftermath of a life lived for the mundane,

            Powerless quickening to family’s ghosts,

Pursuant unto human failure

            So astounding as to thicken the blood with grave’s seeding,

A morbid host flaunts my presence on this night,

            A fortune’s boast ruins the ego-driven trivialities of white-milk mentalities

Breathing in the hoarse visions,

            To announce:

“Wisdom is dead, yet why do you flee to such eternal misery?”

“Where in your graceless fornication with speed did you create to destroy and listen only to silence?”

A great tormented void rings over the binding salt of my sleepless thoughts        

            Called forth into being by the bone-skinned drum of life’s flow,

A drawing

            from

            the

            well,

A sacred heat

            Below the eardrum’s fall to a coarse truth;

                        “We all feel undone by shameful tragedy.”

A distinct forging into the now dizzy percepts of a lingering eye

            Finding beyond the brush stroke predawn –

The blinking heart of the drum impresses the joy of the animal womb,

To dream anew

A Joke Downstairs

Downstairs there is a joke

            That emanates as a vile curse

Into the cellar’s lair,

           

A gourd filled with smoke speaks in a voice,

           

Human,

A mindless bowl

of mirth

 inflamed

glasses grow cold in the unheated concrete glue,

            a fixture of the dead past,

a golden consumer begs with a throat full of tears

in front of speakers

            throbbing with broken-hearted names

            burning up in a heat of worldly instrumentation,

transcending this same-self curse

            with a storied high

                                    of nameless voice

carrying through the skin of animals,

trees

            and the fibers of mountains’

                       

                        sacred

                        internal

                        beat

flipping up to atmospheric light

in a shrouded daze

            of infinite flame

                                    rising

                        to universal stature

            beyond the mold of unbroken life

                       

turning the heart of man into the cold dead stone of ethereal triumph,

a spiritual womb formed

                                    at the fingertips of an artist healer

                                                                        pursuing the groove of an epoch

                                                                        stolen from the mind

of silent law

in a world’s motionless yearning

                                                                                    from afar

in the dark

fearless

night

America! America!

America! America!

America! Why have you buried your deepest, darkest secrets in whispers unheard? Yours is a truth disguised in a white blur as brilliant as the green-footed greed of mad industry. Why do you never step lightly off the strength of Europe's forests, onto world mystery reduced to cartography?

What is your name? And since when have you dreamed so shamelessly without thought to the diligent right to be in peace on Earth? Where is your life, if not in the decadent splendor of your shared riches? Why have you become poor with anger, and offered only suicide to your stout-hearted mob?

I have been known to conceive a country out from the spotless lie of hidden wonder, yet I cruelly disembark from the gross unlearning of my future's childless offspring. I cook for days over the melting pot. While my stove is cast aflame, I remain transfixed by the looming sky, eclipsed under a bloody moon - The Springs foretold.

Belly Up

A thinking man came to pass rule. He blew his own on savagery - staggered in mocking local camaraderie.
His failings show like diamonds in the lacerated hand of a slave.

Bonds and kinship here have no name.
The human is a black being, cold with impotent arousal.

Our modern lives run clean through this cursed river
Our blood dirties, streaming from the porous core
These are wounded oceans.
We sink, while the light of the world floats amiably to the surface
Belly up.

Feel Old, Death?

I can feel old death rising,

My pulse sears with an internal flare,

The spit cackle drying across the elderly facial tissue,

A green-throated hollowing,

Readied by a sun-made gesture,

To recognize the north and its slovenly border enclosing the volatile station of enmity between the once revolutionary slaves and the Queen’s vile whores

Witnessing the continuance of an apocalyptic crusade on these modern shores

Breaking open the earth-less ocean unto the final turning of Europe’s last romantic page,

Closure to the novel convulsions of a people well-practiced in ethnic cleansing and rife with general ethno-cultural frights,

A personification of madness in a room filled with the posthumous ghouls plugging away at their savage spoils like follicles bending to old age in a mindless instant,

Only to wonder about the eternal forms of a blessed imagination,

To obscure shadows with neglect and endure the ritual heights prescribed in local law on this night

Gazing at Love's Face

A hotel muse glimmers off the unwritten pages of mind's pen -
Gazing at my Love's face, I see through the apparent reality to a frameless art. A sacred geometry in the flesh. A timeless elision, going beyond spent energy.

To consume a day; imagining with laughter in the midst of family. A painstaking curse of matrimony. I confront a diabolical trance. The infamous quicksand of Divorce - This is her land. She rules. Matriarchy's divide and conquer seed has fertilized my hungering artistry - To create connection, a primal state of need, growing beyond cultivated dependency, to a meaningful joke, heard within as your inner smile. A sinful poetry of the wandering eye. While hers remains ever-closing to the dry, modern outside. I contemplate the fate of words frothing at the lip of internal expression in a surge of self Love.

My Love's gaze goes unseen. Thoughts drool onto the unanswered bed sheets, a drivel of gladness mixes with an urge to speak in visual humanity. I can't stop.

I Have Fallen

Breathe with deviltry’s whore.
A ruinous attraction, scapegoat of lifeless furor.
Rumors of famine, gross suffering and the pantomime of foreign judgment.
Where am I falling?
Who do I call?
I have fallen, I am getting small.

My name

Where does the apple fall?
From a rootless tree?
A groundless source?

A calling to nothingness - Transitional misdirection in a voice devout with vagrant travesty.

This is my name.

The Pleasant Man

The pleasant man across from us hears us mumbling softly and responds, a time passes in brief interspersed conversing, his thick Francophone accent emerges, with the name "Montreal" - jazz in my headphones - his mom lives an hour above this still as yet unknown Québécois cultural Mecca. My wife stuns in gorgeous Laotian black and gold, her fabric and complexion conjures ice storms and the frozen rain - memories, images and impressions of the old country in the North. Moment's seasonal greeting, here in Virginia the human weather anticipates unprecedented climactic shift. We are aware, N. Americans, ready? He closes, "I'll be home for Christmas."

De-constructing our Up-pressing

Lugubrious Background Nearing an Electromagnetic Haze

A paradigmatic focus

            Careening into the absolute beyond

                        Across a Zuni passageway to the pueblo god,

A local currency in stonework and mud-laden factories of 4 and 7

            Meandering into the nervous plug of human fire

                        Uncreated instantaneously

In the muddled birdcage wandering off a steaming factory

            Unplanned off the aspiring edge of small town fame

                        Glowering in the lugubrious background of a juvenile

Staved off in matter’s roving blockhead gourd body

            Plunging its eyes into acid water full with psychedelic vibrations

                        Nearing an electromagnetic haze

In wonderment by lost forsaken pride

            Seated behind piano benches creaking

As Monk sways to the jazz tonality in the bridge beyond NYC night divide,

The lightless ruins, now golden by African wives

            Challenging the gunshot parade of men with sex slaves and witch doctor friends

                        Making films and records without shoes

On the medieval sands of the Islamic family and the eternal human tradition of bondage

            Throughout the sanctified fields of one human home

                        Lived to the final digression into creative madness and the right to be

As connected as all beings

            With electric happiness

                        Outside

Daily Bread: Drug of the Illiterate

We drank in the rains

            Big drops that fell like ignorance
            over the spout-stopped Manhattan rubber

                        Atop the fashioned grave, splitting at the seams

                                    To unravel the blistering mummified dives

                                                In the panegyric future
                                                of the African ankh

Performing enchained

            The loosed rope, taught between the urban lyre

                        Craving divorce
                        from this our brandished sky

                                    Merged by Brooklyn Bridge
                                    & Hudson tides

                                                Splashing with lusty galoshes

In the breastfed porridge soup American city,

            Our children bred to be poor

                        After the Baby’s boom
                        turns to the Baby-bust generation

                                    Busted all in green Muslim chains

                                                From atop terrorist minarets,
                                                looking for a spouse

To return from the global American war

            Sucking dry the work-a-day pockets

                        Kneaded into Italian dough

As the Russified Jew speaks
greedily over the loudspeaker society

In esoteric Egyptian and Greek architecture,

            An eternal light carries a brilliant meaning

                        In the purpose-woven building,

                                    A monument in memory

To the silent soldiers of youthful mind,

            Acting on subtle principle
            against the machinated heads of the ruthless, glowing

                        Into the veteran
                        white-witnessed drug of the illiterate

                                    And the populace, suddenly aloud
                                    to all storming Egyptian heights

In the modern soundscape

In our brutal love enslaved

            By the oceanic war of historic time,

                        A personified treasure keep

                                    Wherein our grandchildren lie

                                                Sleeping off the perplexed philosophy
                                                in street gore

                                                            And racial poverty

Breathing up the neck
of white niggers in Quebec

Engraving graffiti on the politician’s neck

            Whose lysergic stirrings crept back

                        Into a nailed beauty, waking from orgasmic thighs

                                    In the homeless bed stoop,
                                    grabbing at foreheads

                                                Wondering and bleeding into the rain

A daily bread, for they

            Who are in the New World

                        Led

Creating our Truths

Impassioned Road to Being

Dance, simply to dance to the dream

            And drink in old memory

From a song in tune with the starless beyond,

            A song to enlighten the ghosts who pass by mind

With a being so heavy as to weigh down their piece of the heavens

            Down onto earth for another eternity

In the lifeless trap of dream

            Yet to dance, and eat words meant only in songs of steam,

A dripping hunger instills those following to go beyond sleep and be

            In conscious wonderment, in the living dance

Dream today in a new and timeless breath,

            To stave off the mindless, parasitic asp

Climbing inside mind through dreamless eye-shutters

            Blocked by old-fashioned stone, brick and wooden carved hands

Holding my dancer, lover and beauty

            To the song of my dreams

Woman of my life

            Who holds no passion in sleep, and dreams awake

The intoxicated & impassioned road to being,

            One being, in a dance together

Raised to the motion of an all living heaven

            Where no ghost calls home

And only the living wake each day

            To dance outside a dreamless state

Where the green play of God’s earth heightens the key and swing

            Bringing each disaster to shame and criminal to speak

On the pedestal of a forlorn warning

            That no shore is safe in this dreamless state without dance,

Yet to sing and become a new dance and dream anew

            Before naked freedom announces song’s ending

Ancient Soundscapes, Scholarly Jazzdoms

Drift of a fist to the sky

In the activist’s pause

Before standing unannounced

At the gates of eternal misery

Where strife finds embittered ground

And the inglorious suffering breeds childless offspring

Mourning for ancestral greed

Sprouting from a native gourd

With cracked shell

Lying abandoned and weakened at the skin

With taught shell-string clacking

With fortune’s boisterous western noise

Shrinking into the mist

Without echo

From musician’s deep sleep

Over the ancient soundscapes passing

Through electric wilderness

To heart

Where the slow & quiet grasp effectively

And mix with outstretched hands

Molding their pots, bold in the mud of a sacred womb

Shaving off the tasteless surroundings

In scholarly jazzdoms

Peaked by suburban afternoons

Where business as usual survives ‘til end of time

In a hypnotic state

Casting generations in a mold of marijuana magic

To break free and stash the Graecian pride

Animating our first 20 years with a stamina to behold

By the psychedelic pop folk music

Frozen as beer in winter’s unforgiving kiss with sanity

As the stone cold sobering recedes into marriage with money and preconceptions

In the angelic snowball, carving into the strike zone of a forsaken American childhood

Uncovered now

So timely 

Blind Daemon

“Answer to me blind daemon!

            In a song that corresponds to the unanswered spring,

                        A ruthless account beyond seasons,

                        Dazzled in blue drink,”

Aloud, the angered temptress with lonely hands,

            Rumbles in the soundless maw
            of an un-beholden future,

The western pathway to slavery lies feebly
over the chasm

            As a vile whore reminds us
            to put grace before prayer

In motionless wonder,
personifying the lush diligence of an ancient society

            Dismembered at the plan of a cursed monotony

                        To stare into the black façade
                        and feel dreams slip through sleep,

                                    In and out,

                                                As the rousing
                                                conscious blare

Golden unknowns
through the pockmarked
adolescent streets,

                                                            And my dearest love
                                                            damages her home

In the slightest wavering
over forlorn hypnosis
with me

As we ride
aimlessly
into the pond’s silhouettes

                                                                        Breaking borders
                                                                        and walls

                                                                                    With one
                                                                                    anxious crush
                                                                                    with failure,

            To round the painless bend and see cold ruins
            burned to ashen faces

                        Breathing in the dust-felt stone
                        of our sculpted female icons,

                                    The paralyzed Earth

                                                Battered from pieces into an Act

                                                            For the intuitive goal,

To reach beyond sanity
into a realm of threes,

                                                                                    Where complex
                                                                                    nature thrives

                                                                                    And the dual
                                                                                    spring subsides

                                                                                                Into
                                                                                                a heart
                                                                                                forged
                                                                                             
                                                                                                summer

                                                                                                         
                                                                                                  swelling

                                                                                                         
                                                                                                  Ever-
                                                                                                  expanding

To the beat
of one verse

                                                                                                                                                                                          Unifying all