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