Ages

Wrinkled pleasure
tissue dry
lunar meadow
tired eye
headless horses
horseless race
silent novel
crawling pace
mountain fancy
sunrise night
forest flatland
skyless flight
shadow beaming
hidden bone
rusty glimmer
water stone
crooked eyelash
smile scar
palm confession
whisper far
table prison
statue pale
bookshelf safety
mantle jail
honest fire
castle cold
halls remember

the king and queen
are old

The Theory

His soul swims in a thimble as
our eyelashes collect dust and
you write the history of God
backwards in a notebook
addressed to
the past, a hotel room
that doesn't yet exist

The moment of conception
was loud and
beautiful

Heavy Tongue Heavy Feeling

Clap the sun to keep secret handshakes hidden deep
Plan perfection in the rundown to the lake
Rivers seep like eyelids at 3 am

Drink blushing honesty like butterscotch schnapps
Wrinkled smiling moments delight
Fingers intertwine like spiderwebs tangle

Puddles of us take form each morning upon waking
I remember my solidity and you never catch the otherwise
Because you were dreaming with me

Days of days within night times of decades
Boxes of time containing nothing but everything
Everything is stardust, even the nothing

Confusion is a game we play
Because knowing becomes tiresome
Our truths need rest

Questions are dialogues with heart shaped rooms
My chest contains a child
My gut its sister

I suppose this is gravity.

Don't worry, I'm not thinking what you're thinking I'm thinking

An open letter to my brothers and sisters,
to my better others and worser lovers,
to those I've scorned and those who born
yesterday
will someday feel my kindness
An open letter to mom
and dad
to the greatest bad that ever could be
waiting, waiting, like a sharp toothed shadow
for me
To every girl I ever kissed, later pissed off
but wished I could fix
And maybe it's too late now,
it is late,
literally

So maybe I should sleep
I should climb deep deep within the sheets
and dream of peace like war has never been
like my heart's never seen
I'll
dream

The only hate I know, is a loving kind of hate
Those who never meant anything
could never bring it out in me

And I wish that for once, finally
they'd get that and
give me
a break

I hate honestly,
frailly
Lovingly

Lash

My mouth is dirty, laugh
Such an angry mob of teeth, a
throbbing muscle ache of
need need need hate hate and
my intentions are literally the
utmost good but
nobody trusts and
nobody knows each other
anymore
right (?) so
I don't want to
I don't want to
Imagine that I'm wrong
I'll just keep singing this
song of stomach hate this
song of clenching fists.

It's time to drop the bombs.

The Heaviest Gut

To convulsing trees, blue wind and

rubber bullet bees

that sting the night and

to the blackened light

all bruised and smiling,

to the baby boy

all bruised and smiling,

to the grass, green and garbage,

to the truth that's bigger than large and

to the lie that's bigger than large and to

my mother mother

mother mother

Dichotomy

I am convinced that I am self aware enough,
see enough of the big picture
to map a complete flow chart of my pathology.
Convinced.

But then a voice speaks with disdain, or maybe
just sobriety,
Pal, the moment of absolute certainty,
is usually the moment that confirms
you've lost reality.

Because Knowing
is usually too good to be true.

Possibility

I fell deep, so
deeply in love
in a Walmart
parking lot.

Life happens everywhere if you let it.

You should have seen the clouds...

Your Anchor, Your Fingers and Toes

On the day you
wake to find
gravity has failed you

You'll panic but
as your feet leave
the ground and
you draw close to
outer space you'll

Find so many hooks
we've put in place
they're running along
the hem of your
dress they're trailing
strings that are
tied to our fingers and
toes

Because we'll never
let you go.

We'd never let
you go.

***

"I'm just a boat on the ocean,
I'm just a ship lost at sea"

Right - And if you are, I understand.

But while the ship rises and falls so violently,
with every crashing wave
its Anchor rests peacefully
beneath..

While on the surface, the ship is in distress,
it must know there is safety in the depths.

And we are the depths.

Sometimes, Often, KNOWING Feels Like Needing To Throw Up

If I have this stomach,
I trust it, sort of,
and I know I'm stubborn and
you want to hit hit kick me hurt me
but I know you feel i KNOW
you feel and
I know how your skin's
electric despite hiding hiding hiding.

So we've come sofar and
maybe we've lostsight of
what it meansyeah maybe it
meansnothing
then fine

So

Meaninglessly I know you.

These words aren't beautiful but
they're my skin's electric.

I just need to do SOMETHING.

Humming

My Everything is humming, skin literally washed in clenched teeth
but I, beneath the skin and bone I see a stone a core

Centered everywhere or pulled in all directions I
with cocked head, curled fingers beating heart
lips half set apart I

Will something to happen

I've written before of the Valley of Hands and I've
told you that I long for a room like a beating heart and
now, now, now

Is everytime, the words I speak everyword,
my message is everything

So my Everything is humming
the vibration of this

I suppose there's nothing left to say.

Universal Position System is my Is

Lay awake in the stomach of this Is,
Let the Universe digest me slow,
So what now?

I'll be fine, and I'm being fine,
I've got this new promise around my wrist,
I gave it to myself so
Digest me slow

Maybe THIS is Chaos.

Sleep,
cocoon warmth and comfort deep
tight dreaming creep to
bliss and everlasting blue
to kiss and kiss the
everlasting truth
to sleep
to sleep
to see the beat of
heart mind

To know

Words of mother
Rock
Earth
Sphere of
Cyclical story

We're spinning something
we don't even understand.

Maybe that's what's beautiful.

You Need To Live

Turn up,
sit back, breathe,
look deeply into your
self.

You're pulsing, so tell the truth,
you're on the cusp now, definitely,
change is coming, you feel electric,
so tell the truth.

You want to shake. Yes. Convulse with something
powerful.

You want to grasp, hold it so tight...
explode.

Crescendo.

Move on my man. Be happy again, and live.

Forgive yourself.

Words To Live By? These aren't them. Are they?

22 years, and I ask, what thing have I learned that I can say, "This is the truth"? Maybe there's a few, but it feels that each demands that I stand behind some 'ism', or that I choose to 'see' some cosmic pattern... or perhaps a human pattern.... right now, all I know is now....

My Dream

It is my dream
to have a space, a huge room with bare white walls,
and large windows,
a bright space to work,
with a desk as big as god, a typewriter on it,
paper everywhere, pens nearby,
a never ending bottle of scotch,
and a woman, who comes and goes
but always comes home to sleep

she always comes home to me

Release

Your nose burns before you cry,
then you take a deep breath,
exhale, and an ocean of you
flows away.

I'm begging you to help me,
I know this is the path to
rightness.

My one path.

It's Over

Put on some Elliot Smith, and set myself on fire
Goodnight, it's over, so sleeps a liar.

This is becoming too personal...

What can I say, for fiction and non fiction blur and I'll tell anything just to tell.....

anything.

We're still spinning around something though;

so I can't deny the possibility that someone is watching over "us" and keeping "things "

afloat.

I can't deny that perhaps some[thing/one] sympathizes and ponders the idea of "action".

Does anyone DO anything for anyone else anymore?

Does this happen? I'm no authority; although I will perhaps attempt to instigate.

Fuck

That Bitch

Though.

See how complicated it becomes.

And so easily.

Title of sorts....

Okay, so.

From the mouth of Him/ It.

He says, "This is where we've come."

That's all so far. Really. Success is measured in toothpicks, success is dollars saved.

Success is you not questioning all the things I've raved and when I spill a secret, you not mentioning the black.

I've seen, I've heard of all the cock I can hear about and see, the begging sex that's simply too much to satisfy... too much. This city is a box, so find the corners, see if you fill them, and if not, give up.

Give up Daniel Black. It's not yours to say.

It's is a drum line, a pulsing beat, a drunken female with an agenda - not yours.

That film we sat through made no sense in the end. It had some aesthetic appeal throughout but in the end, it was a seductive journey through nothing.

Through nothing.

What did I learn.

I learned nothing.

I learned so much on my own though.

I learned to put a metal spike through a man's neck,

to get what I want, to get what we all want; sometimes,

in some extreme circumstance,

it is necessary.

So says "the way".

So says....

Nothing at all.

An exercise in

saying nothing at all.

Us & Them

Greedy pig-bastards.

Freak

That seedy freak, he took his hands and he squirmed and fidgeted and I knew something was foul, the way he kept looking at his watch and then the door. I could taste his anxiety.

Sales

He shook my hand and took my fingers

Heart Conditions

I'm pretty sure a bad heart is gonna do me in.... I'll be alone.

I'll try not to despair.

A Return: 2

...and the glass is empty, and it's time to decide,

"sleep, or one-hundred-miles-an-hour living in my deskchair".

This moment, and everything lately, is one breathtaking, eye fucking

string of platitudes.

(Questioning or calling out those weak attempts at deepness, as pretentious is another story. Don't ask questions)

Soul seducing, trust inducing, my ears are literally screaming at my mouth

to "take it take it take it!" and my IS is ready to BE in love with everything.....

My love is a dog with a cocked head and a full bladder.

Its tail is all

over

the fucking

room.

If you could hear the bass drum and the muted snare going wild in my chest,

you'd be close to understanding the seizure I'm having right now.....

Repeat repeat repeat,

revel revel revel.

This is Life!

A Return

Oh yes, a return, signaled by a mighty silence,

a white noise and a wholly unremarkable, quiet breathing.

I've come back to say a few things. Tonight I pan fried my steak

and I burnt the blue fuck out of it. I listened to this album thirty

something times over and then I masturbated chronically,

wishing that John Holmes were still "doing it his way".

It's so seedy. I feel like an animal. But my soul is clenching.

It feels so fucking good.

Maybe I'll drink myself to death.

Okay, so I cracked a window, the smoke cleared, I did the dishes, I sat at my computer and contemplated success. I wrote emails and kissed a lot of ass, and then I wrote more emails.

It was nice to be home; I've been in that huge city for weeks.

I absolutely, love