Thursday, June 24, 2010

I shall do it and keep my mouth shut.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

A basic Savagery

I once wrote a poem
That I thought was of me
A song of myself
A person to be

But upon further inspection
And deeper reflection
It came to the surface that alone
Is not to be

In fact to find alone is not to be
And not not to be
But not to see
Not to hear not to feel
Not to want
But dark

For to be is the inverse of me
It is, fact, the we

I saw it creeping through the black
Leaving behind a golden track

It still reminds me
From under the rock
From under the shade and
The safety and security and hate and cynicism

Every once in awhile
It comes to the party in a black cocktail dress
Showing just enough leg…

Just enough to wonder what’s beyond
But Christ we all know what’s there
“Why yes I know him
Indeed, the thickest of skins
A real man’s man
Oh What a deer
Vest he is wearing…”

I saw it creeping through the black
Leaving behind a Golden TRACK

A hunter, a gatherer, an assimilator are they
A curdling crisp air built in a flood plaine
THOMAS what a coincidence a derivative
Of the word and of the paine

The inverse of me
Is we
Without we cannot be
The inverse of me

Monday, May 17, 2010


This happens, doesn’t it
Everything has a volume

Not an empty or full volume, no
It’s all empty and full
But a volume

And I am turning them all down
Not consciously
But so consciously that I don’t even

And that’s always been the secret
Hasn’t it?
Live, dead, meaning, not meaning
Bright happy happening fiction

Volumes of knowledge and experience and life
A simple knob creates one from the other
God’s fairest equalizer
5th gear
the fragile

a metaphysical bug zapper
at 1400

headed due southeast
I Saw him

Dressed in denim shovel
In hand the savior had come

He was no diviner
No soothsayer
But a simpleton in

“necessary” garb

for he repaired while we slept
shielded from our cast aversions
he creates lines for us to dwell upon
and within our lives

lines connect
lines divide

that bug zapper, the lines were pulling me in
who is this mystery, such thankless work it is
repairing these lines

thankless for a reason
i’m sure as hell not thankful

Monday, May 3, 2010

a prayer

What, did you see Galileo
When, gazing through your
Glass, eye

Why, did it blind you so
What, was the empirical fool
To, gain from such meta
end, deavours

what, if your eye were diseased
where, did you find hope then
were, you not more lost after seeing
nothing, now seeing nothing but
knowing, and having seen everything
now, nothing

why, should the light blind you so
why, is the light there

Thursday, April 29, 2010


Icarus has come between me and the sun
His void is a wasteland
An ethereal longitude
All things shall pass

At home with the sweat
Drip from his concerned brow
But fearless

It is an opera of hoops and hollers
That keeps Hektor
That nothing is O K
Constant threat and change

That he is constantly inadequate
Constantly at odds
And constantly tested by
The men in white coats and their
Spears and shields

This is peace of mind in war
Fear dwells in the dust
And apathy
So let it not settle

Be not content with the music
Sirens oh the sirens
It is not cute and there is no solace in it
Vapid charybdis hides in these crystalline waters

I can hear their whispers
A temptationless whisper is a howling feral dog
I float above behind my (e)yes

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Never leave home without your hammer, a word with the Orientals

Are such sporadic incantations
Of inebriation

Flares, desperate screams
By some bestial lord jim
Drowning in a sea of


eccentric exo-centric ex-centric

Why’s wise is why is wise why
Is why’s why is why wise wise
Is why why’s why wise


Verdant foliage
chromatic ecstatic

It is bad when one thing becomes two. It is the same for anything that is called a Way. If one understands things in this manner, he should be able to hear about all Ways and be more and more in accord with his own.

A Brief Repose

The setting sun a contrast
To the spring of our lives
Final stop of our day

Approach the base of the temple
Take off your shoes the children are watching
Start circling, stalking your prey

First flight of stairs
and my cold feet are browned
a smiling priest excuses us
I had a fear of heights

Second flight of stairs
The incense are burning like
The breath of great Achilles
A funeral pyre of cowardice and foolishness
Clouding the sky
Emanates from the center

Third flight of stairs
Out of breath but how many
A six armed shiva in this lonely place

Arrive at the top
Wind between our hair
The pinnacle of an empty lighthouse
First time in the center, there is less
At the peak than at the bottom

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Advice for circumnavigation
Leaves much to be desired
And little to the imagination

Such talk leaves me feeling uninspired
Subject only to objectification

And as we sat in the café on searing
Bright days my thoughts drift back
To the mountains

Those rubber claws failed in my
Descent from the heavens
A fall, staring and grasping for the
Surface as it slips away
Like any other day

The snow gentle pats my
Broken back I lie staring
Upward feeling peaceful but
Not safe

“Your check when you’re ready”
the quiet walk home
amongst all the leaves
is too quiet

Monday, April 5, 2010

Breath of a Dying dream
your sanguine tunic
is not welcome here

your buddy is waiting outside
your platitudes and attitude
are a plague upon this house

You once flowed with honesty
nervous, maybe, not
But this Icarus has found his
home outside the extinguished flames

such a dilapidated place it is
with termitic Victorian paneling
creaking floors Sirens cry
when the rocks were falling where
was your Sistine Chapel
When in the summer of our youths
you unhorsed our grace

What have you become
What have you made us

Five fingers penetrate the blissful air
Dagny Dagny Dagny
fledgling whispers are no match
for the ethereal symphonies

and there was no hope in this bottom
less pittances, and this womb has
become crowded and perspiring
Throbbing hoping to be called upon

Those satisfactions minutiae for
glass jawed students of Tiresias

Thursday, April 1, 2010

A palate

A serious of sweeps
A series of dents
A traditional buttress
A screeching anarchy
A fist fight

The rush
The catharsis
The release
The refraction


Impotent in the hands of a young
but intent
One plucked from the sky by
an arbitrary wisp
a fate

Sun must’ve been in the eyes
A leather seeing glass fails
but perchance it is not over...

Will there be another
Will the next buck
Remember the cruel visage
of a dying child

How many will die
on the hells of the next incarnation

Tuesday, March 23, 2010


my jaw cracks
in brimstonish schism
this forest is too small
to be shared by such brutish hunters

cast off into obscurity
by a false necromancer
a singer of charms
she sits among millions
but so deafeningly alone

taunting solipsism
shameless mule
you are no martyr
no honest man
every line ever met
has been a liar

I stand here now
a collection
of these mischievous lines

for lines are little
more than shadows
and what is what but
a collection of shadows

i cast my own lines
here and there
struggling to keep them disciplined
but just as the ones i take
they are not to be tamed by
one man
or any men

symbols, chemicals, equations
ideas, emotions, perceptions
there is no form in creation
but in manipulation and summation

Monday, March 22, 2010

under reconstruction

currently a work in progress

Sunday, March 21, 2010

What would it be
if everything were singular

one meaning

would the world be happier?
or would it be a computer
a wasteland of simple things
and peaceful

would the artist exist
would we dance
or have anything to dance about

do we divorce this idea from our psyches
is this what we seek
Fuck peace
Fuck kind words and fuck agreement
everything in life is fighting for

Saturday, March 20, 2010








Friday, March 19, 2010

the trees must be giggling
while we smile with shattered hearts
and mended teeth
for wisps of breeze and rustle of leaves

the trees must be giggling
at hissy fits and hamlet's wit
and passing cars

Thursday, March 18, 2010

this wasn't inevitably going to happen


each rock of the boat upsets my guts

We embarked early in the morning, full of zest, without apprehension. As we progressed we grew hungrier…I would’ve expected satisfaction but quite the opposite. There will come a point when we are too weak to speak. when truth is untruth, then we will arrive.

stale bread broken head

solipsist whispers

accosting glares

denizens salivate

stear down

sirens why?

horizons and more lines

tangential inebriation DECEIT

Tie me down boys, we’re going!

A lion’s roar cauchemar is only beginning

here and now

I asked my computer what he thought today

He had so many opinions he didn’t think anything

He knew even less

He wasn’t oddly polite…