Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Drowsy Divine

Who's been looking for clues of intelligence 
 out in the distant dead light,
We wash ourselves in the song of curiosity 
and ask "Mother, where are my brothers and sisters?"
Why do I paint these things? Why do I dream of three eyes 
and a handful of soil? Why do I hear the prayer that hums?

If this planet spins through the sky outside the sky, 
then I'm a traveller sitting still.  
And I lament my stillness until now, when a voice
told me that I've been hurtling through the sky outside the sky, 
that I've been spinning with God Mother, moving and never moving.

I'm tired and sometimes sick but the gravity of this cosmic love is always. 
I wanted to be always, until now.

When I realized that I was,
that I am.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

My Reason To Wake Up Through All The Bombs

My soul is a message,
my heart is a map, 
my mind is a canvas, 
my hands are the light.

My fingers the compass,
my blood is the voice,
my temples a magnet,
my eyes are a door.

I am, who is the Universe.

Monday, May 18, 2009

2:05 a.m

Yep, I've been talking to Life again.

When I'm Sad, I Sit And Write, or Is There A Recipe For Smiles?

Is there a recipe for smiles?

How about really good sleeps with dreams that I remember
or Navel Oranges
How about tea in the morning, wrapped in a blanket next to someone you love
Sunshine that doesn't burn, a breeze that doesn't chill
A pen-pal
A teacher who knows you
Brave, "ain't afraid of the dark" hand-holding
And clean sheets

Nervous kissing
Long haired love
The language of the soul

Infant smiles, infant hands
Long long long hugs
Longer friendships.


so happy/sad
so bittersweet
tears on upturned lips
ghost of a girl I don't know how to meet

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Laughing With

When you wrote that
you wrote my soul and
you were my heart

When I read that
I loved you and
you didn't know it

You still don't
but you keep writing
and I'll keep loving

Thursday, May 14, 2009


Grey cardigan on the lamp post
White fan on the desk
Teal blue typewriter on top of the dresser
Blankets in the chest

Laundry in the corner
Dust all over the shelf
Dishes collect on the headboard
I'd clean but I've got no help

I miss my momma
I don't wanna grow up
I miss my mother
I don't wanna grow old
I miss my momma
Responsibility's not for me
I miss my mother
Mom, please don't die

Monday, May 11, 2009


My stomach weighs heavy
weighs heavy it
feels like stone in
a ball of tenseness
staring stone
It's heavy

Sunday, May 10, 2009

A Thought?

Contemporary expression 
is looking like a journey into
Meaninglessness and the
no strings attached exploration
of aesthetic dimension.

"If it feels good do it," has become,
"If you can feel it, do it."

Pure, Meaninglessness, 
set to the rhythm and the 
pulse of established beats
and known frameworks.
Unintelligible aesthetics. 

Hipster Scum.
I smile politely.

A Night

Righteous brigand
Vexing gait
Holy octet
Rainbow plait
Wizard fret
Golden bow
Eyes of white
Seeds to sow
Mystic mirror
Mountain pass
Septic whispers
Tongues in brass
Careful prayer
Morning arrow
Thirsty oil
Temple three
Ochre moon song
Dusty chant
Forest sorrow
Pious cant
Driftwood chalice
Crown of light
Welcome Night

Saturday, May 9, 2009

"Cathy" ?

You called me last night
My phone was off, which it never is
Call display doesn't work when the power's down
Strange and bad luck, alas
Your message was nice, but no callback number

Call me back, leave your number, Facebook me

Such is life

Thursday, May 7, 2009


The Android threw it all away
to play show tunes with a Relic...

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Lily White Jiggling Terror

I remember it well because she came down naked from the open porch onto the gravel driveway. It was somewhere around 1:30, pitch dark. As I said, she was naked, endless rolls of fat dancing and jiggling, but somehow, she'd thought to put on her slippers. Pink, the slip on kind with the open ankle. They were sort of fuzzy but worn down - they looked sad.
She waddled through the snow and to the shed door. She fumbled with keys in the lock, and finally managed to open it. She entered.
A scream tore through the silence. She came out the door again, backstepping quickly. Then she fell, tumbling back on her huge bottom. Her cry was pathetic and gut-wrenching. 
A shadow emerged from the shed, huge and- 

And then I left. That's all I remember. 

Saturday, May 2, 2009


I have a pencil and a toothbrush,
a coat hook, a feather

I have everything I need for an alchemist's dream
I have what I need for this night

I have a book and a black pearl,
I have the Christ moth, a crucific
I have a capful of Jack,
A brand from the coals
A coat hook, a feather,
A pencil and a toothbrush

I have everything I need for a Wizard's dream


A therapist? 
Isn't that just a prostitute for the mind?

The Question On My Mind Is:

Who am I to you?

She's Sick # Two (2)/ Perfect

Dead eyed in the blackout they made you
They conspired to kill you
You used to come to bed with
Fevered eyes 
And tell me about Christ
And the Tree
But now you swallow huge yellow seagulls
Loud angry pills
They bring louder silence
Silent sadness
No more singing, or smoking
At the piano on a Sunday morning

You're just a shell now
I loved you more, before the medication

She's Sick/She's Perfect In That Moment

I love you more 
When you stop your medication
I love you more

I see you more clearly
I hear you better
When you stop your medication
I love you more

When you hold your hands just so
You wring your wrists
And curl your toes
And fidget
You're my pretty kitchen sunlight 

And I love you more when you stop those pills
I love you more when you're God or Theresa
I love you more when you're Pearl

I see you more clearly
I hear you better
When you stop your medication
And shimmer glow

So don't go back to bottles of those
Little killers
Up and down killers
Don't go back to those

I love you more 
When you stop your medication
I love you more


A Field Below

Two crescent shapes climb the night
Two stars follow
Our hands join in a field below
We mirror the sky

I've been ready for love
In a field below 

Two crescent shapes ascend your back
Stars follow
The Indigo in your skin
Mirrors the sky

I'm so ready for love
In a field below


The sky is a bruise 
Dear Theresa I am home
My mother made the tea
And I will drink alone
Now she tells a story
Of weeping spiderwebs
Her breeze is just a whisper
Her hair is spun silver
I am just a ribcage 
A skull
And sorrow
Trapped in a bottle