You're Chemistry

The chemists in my mouth tell me that they miss you.

Raw, Tired, Written

How raw am I?

Open like a mouth,

open like the palm,

open like the Christ cave,

open on the floor. 

Read all the words,

and read them backwards, 

cry, fall down, laugh

write your letters, tell your 

friends you miss them.

How raw am I?

Only as much as I am tired.

My food expires,

I wake too late. 

Our apartment collects

dust and empty dishes, 

I sleep on the floor.

Six Shooter Love

Lone cowboy, standing like a cactus moon

Six shooter love, put a bullet in my hand,

A horseshoe in my heart

For good luck, for every injun

Put sand in my boot

A feather in my pocket. 

Low Low Low

I Hate Love Stories but I do not hate Love; it's so much deeper. 

Sink through the waves with me and I'll tell you the story.

Promised Potential, Painfully Unrealized

"When they find a way to link my brain to a paintbrush, a pencil, a black Bic, a typewriter, Six (6) types of video and still camera, musical instruments, sound and video production software, and the entire line of Adobe products, I will make the Universe implode. Until then, things will get lost in translation......"

-Patrick

The Inability To Express

"If only I could draw,"

 or "If I could only sing."

"If I could build something beautiful."

Because that is the nature of my desire;

there's a long soreness in my heart.

I see works of art and I hear the songs 

of geniuses and I know that I could do it too.

The pictures are in my head. The songs are written

somewhere.

"If only I could draw",

 or "if I could only sing".

Greedy, Enthralled

My hands are strong,

the night is red,

I taste water in this room.

My hands are strong, but they tremble

with the crackle and the glow of electricity.

There's more than water here.

I smell sandalwood burning, and paint,

and I smell your sweat mingled with Karma.

Something from the stereo pulses with

Eastern sex and secrets from the deepest space.

Something from the speakers under the bed 

invites me to stay and watch.

I want to witness the Process.

When You've Got Nothing

It's sad that I am jealous to the point of tears, 

with an aching gut, jealous of the love that

two heroin addicts share.

The love that they endure,

as they float and fall,

hook and fight,

see the blackest holes.

It's my heart in a brick of coal.

It's emotional rock bottom.

It's so sad that I'm jealous...

The Wild

The Great White North sings, a song for all the trees

and all the crystal rivers, for the breath of the Earth itself,

for balance. 

I want to get Lost in it.

Go To Bed

233 am am

   233 jagging diagonally

to the left and hovering 

above the carpet

I took too much

   I took

Air into my lungs I'm

fit to burst

am am 236

3 minutes pass in antistillness

I have stomach 

and truth

I lack discipline at 237

I'm a wreck

The Saddest Things Are Beautiful

I fall asleep,

I drift away,

I am caught in soundmotionbliss

eternal mother's embrace -

I'll always be a child.

We don't grow up, we grow out. 

you

I don't think a day goes by that I don't wish you'd call me.

I want you back into my life.

Everything is very different now. I know I've lost my place, 

but I love you [still]/I hate you.

Goodnight

And every night, before bed

he took a fresh piece of paper

from the notepad, and he wrote,

"Goodnight, I love you all."

He signed and dated.

He did this because he knew 

that someday,

he would die in his sleep.

Nightmare About A Bomb

How the world ended, it went a little something like

"My fellow Americans," and then the television

cut out; China came calling with Burger Boy

and Big Oil.

China came calling as we sat down for supper.

Chronic

So sick of feeling sick

How The World Ended

And we hugged the hubcaps that

hung from the windows,

And we took six foot neckties to bed.

***

This is your atomic bad dream,

these are mushroom clouds for real

The horizon is black at a thousand feet per second

The radio screams the end.

Sleep now

Sleep

The movement was too much

The cries too loud

The hunger too fierce

The eyes too blind

The minds too trapped 

Too Soon....

I'll collect tears from the microphone and

kick your shoes through the dream,

I'll kiss the breeze on my tongue, taste the air,

feeling a little less than fine

but totally complete with the piano backbone...

I'm damned, so damned with your sad sad eyes on me

and I'm damned; I'll try I'll try with fortune in my pocket,

So catch my heart, my hands... don't gamble me away,

Don't go away

I'll pray and pray and read my bible 'till it's tired 

and then I'll write and drink,

I'll smoke and think and

I'll howl with the wind at the moon

and at the friends who leave too soon...

I'll howl at my icy chest....

I'll howl....

A Book For You

I'll write a book between the blankets for you,

2 a.m between the blankets for you 

and I sit, I squirm beneath the blankets for you,

write my soul beneath the blankets for you.....

***

I'll write a book between the blankets, oh

A book between the blankets for you and

I'll write a book between the blankets

Let's just live between the blankets

And the mattress, Angel

Lay Myself At Your Feet For The Moon

With a full moon in the sky,

I've stopped, drunk with liquor and

drunk in the moment,

IN the moment, I've stopped

And I've pointed and said

LOOK! Look at the Moon and

Look at the sky and LOOK at the truth

and now I'm here writing the truth and

Telling you, Woman, I am 

all that I can be

For you.

Long, Longer, I Miss You Friend

And the things that I have loved,

you have loved too

And everything that's left,

We played charades and we

danced and played, silly on the floor

And when I fell, I fell hard

on hardwood but you kept laughing

Because the Universe is still turning

You told me you wouldn't stop,

you wouldn't give up while

the Universe was still turning

or growing or ex-

panding; you didn't know the words to describe it.

But the things that we have loved stay the same

and even though I can't remember

all that star sign shit, 

it doesn't matter because you do, and

we embrace our differences and we

stay friends, and we stay close

and I keep you in the back of my mind

all of the time, all day, 

each month and every hour

and I hope you do too when you're painting

abstracts, shapes that maybe remind you of me.

"Oh yes, this square is his hunger in a box, yes!"

.... Oh yes it is.

And how I miss you each and every day....

I Promise You It Exists

What about 

Happy suicide?

Pisces II

I'll make you my blood to keep you close,

My sister, my greatest influence, 

When we're brother and sister,

We'll remain

Connected.

History

You never really knew me that well

i was always quiet

thinking of something better to say

Survivor

Let's steel ourselves to the pain and heartache 

of the world around

And then, under blankets on sofas

we'll watch hospital dramas and cry

to prove to ourselves that we can 

still feel.

Makes a Ghost

He lifts a hammer to her head, a wielding weight

to kill, or snuff out loud ghosts

But it's not murder, it's only fantasy

a dream 

He continues his painting,

an incredible collection

Murder

Murder on the streets

Murder makes a ghost

Wade Davis

When we climbed the ghost trees

and fell on our heads

it was a good year for panic

Yes it was

How did we get off the ground then?

Yes, I remember; we fell on our heads

It was a good year for unknowns

Really

So when the crow falls in the winter months

when the old spirits leave Tree Mother for

the next place

when tear drops and rain fall from the same sky

the old growth forest on your tongue will fall silent.

Then, a bitter sleep.

The Most Important

Am I a Circle or a Square

or a Line

am I a Wave

am I a Cone

or a Cloud

or a Dream or a Network

am I Quantum

am I a Function Of Time

am I Dimension

am I Space

am I a Sound, or maybe

a Frequency

a Vibration

am I?

Spun

I'd lick the sleep from your eyes

and roll out of our bed

say hello to the dog

piss and make you breakfast

and then I'd work for you

and I'd labour oh how I'd work

for you

Asleep at the button again

I wrote all night the melody 

of my heart when it talks to 

my eyes

I'd wakewalk through the days

for you finding myself dream speaking

to the grass or spinning in the car

in the driveway in the same

old shirt as yesterday...

This is an intoxicating thing...

I hope you don't mind

There's A Time And Place For Daemons

Do I need to write another neurotic poem?

Do I need to type, fevered fast

To exorcise this stuckness?

I heard a story recently,

My dear friend Mr. Waits,

Driving down the freeway

Looked up, up in the air,

To that nothingness where potential resides

And he told his Genius to beat it for a while.

I need to turn off for just a few hours rest.

I'd like the pressure to stop.

Passion Barfs A Few Words

It is

Hard to believe

Long moments hardly gone

But still I can't retrieve 

The smells the air the electricity

Of our hands touching and

Our tongues spelling out words

For ghosts

Ghosts of shed inhibition and

The phantom shyness

The sky is the limit to

Where we'll go when

Blood mingles with skin, the

Drawing in of breath and misty

'I love you's

In in in

We pull and spiral

And I know that in a moment

I'll be totally lost

Inside of you.

Mandelbrot's Ouroboros

I'm not alone in the universe

not a lone set of eyes 

in the uni

verse

I'm not alone with my hands

but I create with God himself

or rather, I am the creation

creating within my line 

of influence.

...

That Feeling

Writing is flying

and I don't

want to fall.

His Genius Is A Housepet

Allah, the great voice speaks

the listener like a vessel receives

words, his genius, everything he needs

to light up the world.

He who undressed from the quiet

who dances into the sounds of creation

whose body is a battery

he with delicate hands takes of the world

and gives light to the hungry and the blind.

....More later

Tu Me Manque

Oui, c'est vrai.

A Promise of Failings

I bring the slaughter to the lamb 

I delivered prayer to folded hands 

I carried paper to the tree

But I can't bring you back to me

I brought the candle to the flame

I guide the angry mob to blame

I show the ocean to the sea

But I can't bring you home to me

I brought the chapel to the bride

I shared the truth with all the lies

I taught the poor of poverty 

But I still can't bring you home

to me

Songs For Laughter

I know you are a woman grown

I've heard you on the telephone

but you're the one

who scarred my hands with laughter

I took your word, I didn't tell

the priest when I was scared of Hell

Instead I watched

the sun bleed for an hour

And now I sit with photographs

I listen and I don't talk back

they tell me of the sea

and of the sailors 

They tell me of the sea

and of the sailors

And now I sit with photographs

we took them on the mountain paths

they tell me of the sea

and of the sailors sailing endlessly

I want to know 

the ending of the story.

Oh finally the call would come

I would not fall I would not run

I'd remember how

you scarred my hands with laughter

Our children dreaming in the yard

of Pisces swimming in the stars

They're ours because

you scarred my hands with laughter

.... to be continued

This Is Our Gratitude

Oh, welcome trees

welcome garden grown

Oh, how stillness seeps in

my arms asleep, at peace

Oh, look, the roof of stars it spins

while I root with the grass

Oh, God, HOW?

To be amazed

Oh, to be intoxicated

by the smell of Now

the taste of it

the feeling of Real Time on my palms

the sounds and sights of the Only Moment

Oh, to be

The Sentence

Boxed meaning

Neat, tidy, with a bow

and beautifully gift-wrapped

for you to enjoy

The language of thought

traveling at the speed of mind

and born of the heart;

The package is

a three word galaxy

the one that reads:

I love you

Huxley's Gilded Cages

A truth and perhaps a smile 

and then a cup of tea.

Pisces One

For the Italian girl wandering,

who can't stay long,

who flees when the trees come alive.

For the painter and the poet, 

and the dark haired hippy,

whose G's sometimes come out like K's.

Who knows things,

those secret things,

things that light up the shadowy nooks and crannies

of mind.

Who explains to me so well.

For She,

in infinite star-sign enchantment,

She in stillness, impossibly in motion

which is to say, the source of some beautiful slow vibration,

that One which stands out to dance against all other vibrations of this universe;

that One possessed by few.

For the Italian girl wandering,

Pisces One.

Hunger; For Joy

What stuckness! 

What longing!

Such an urge, from my gut

and from each part of my body

to write, to spill.

And where and how?

Why?

For art or self, 

or love or ego?

What veiled satisfaction is it

that I crave?

Again, I ask,

for love?

Is it love of art,

the art of self, 

or is it some tangled self love,

some ego-sexual act;

the ejaculation of words 

and imagined facets of I am this,

know me.

I project deepness when in truth

I am a seeker.

I am a small child.

I have such a hunger,

and such a ways to go.

Dean Kamen

"The world will not be saved by the internet."

Maybe I'll come back to this. Holy shit....

Heartbreak: TED

The beauty of it all is

the most saddening 

sensations, emotions, feelings

I can't evolve

Into The Valley of Hands

I fell into the ether of doubt

but I found your sparkling eyes

smiles to warm, kisses to wake

a touch to take me further down 

into the valley of hands.

America

America, because of you I have snakes and bullets in my wallet

broken teeth and bad dreams

a handful of blood

America, because of you I have pain in my eyes

a blistering tongue

sadness in every vein

America, because of you my wife is dead

she couldn't bear the guilt

she crumbled to dust

America, you stole everything from the soil

to grow the tree

An Angry Mouth Not Understood

The miracle worker, sometimes hated or feared is not understood 

because his magic brings silence to reason

I am paralyzed with question mark tattoos

a thirst for answers and patience

But I have no patience to be patient

I am only a clenched fist now

a winding cable, their grinding teeth

The masses hiss like the clustered eye

the thousand locust cloud

Something must come

The messiah feels it in his bones

a black confusion sound

a jet clap, a bag, a bottle, a broken staff

So the white wizard, the ashen witch

the spellsingers brood

The miracle worker, hated or feared

is never understood.

101

What will a woman do for a man?

What will a woman do for love?

Passing Unseen

***

I came home to WWIII so I went to the attic and wrote

In Progress

I'll be with her

as the night starts to thin

and the milk dawn pulls

like sheets from your bed

Vacation

So who are the beautiful people

and where is the island?

I've waited long, a long time

for sand, sun and a sorting out

of ghosts

I hoped the light, the breeze through everything

would send away the voices but instead

they intensified, fed

on the fuel of sand and sun,

water everywhere,

music and dancing nakedness, women,

paid attractions and I

drink something milky

from a coconut 

and I walk past my wife, 

past the liquor huts and the dancers,

I find my quiet hotel room

and I draw longs lines across my slender wrists

in the bathtub.