Saturday, March 14, 2009
going dutch
the longbook of your body
has published a new windmill to
lash the tendons of country breezes
circulating across our skin
as we share a bed& sort of
ecosystem of dreampeaces
only broken by relevant longings
which top the spillways
to join us side by side in blustery winds
of harmony, sunlight
digressing in octaves
in our whirling soul scooping limbs
swale canyon, washington 1997
the great thaw
when'll she crest
take rest
flunk flood's test
quit being a pest to us critters
gotta hike to the shitter
rain or snow
when'll she cease to grow i dunno
but the pipes have thawed
i'm overawed
as the dishes cleanse
at the blush of a trickle
swale canyon, klickitat washington, 1996
heroic to ignore
mazda clan transportation unit
no make it up to haleakala crater, so back
down thru the cloudroof
past downhill biketour hang-gliders
perched to coast when stop
suddenly happens
amidst sunday droves lapping
at sun commodity it in turn taking a lap
around the parking area bejeweled
with beachglass, left from
years of guzzling apes, swirled
and pounded against tidepool's womb
they hit the shore much
as newborn turtles scuttling to avoid
gull swoop, or stagnant comforts of
hometown momentumlessness
insulated buzz cycles obviously
heroic to ignore
maui 1993
Saturday, March 7, 2009
wobbly in the spin
with strength bent by watered sunlight
the heaviness lakes leave.
in their stead, remains persuade.
integral harmonies extrapolate upon immediate patterns
corresponding with spanish guitar.
ocean eats land to lose itself by winning over the opposition
bedrock. win over the cosmic bang while yer at it!
time molds and decays seasoned edges ripe
for return; slime begins soil of heaven's design.
plants emanate from the banks,
animals in their secret realms unharried by humans
create bluefoot prints, writing starry oaths
within each tread. a bath in heated stone
traced to the mantle of the magma opus
central to the spin
the dalles, 2006
mineral men
i feel like a sack of shit slung to plug a levee
(emotions ain't real but they sure are heavy)
boil us down to carbon zinc iron copper
world market rates dollar eighty scooped from a hopper
in a warehouse built of fractals by god
illusions determine our form of sod
unplowed due to steep rocky terrain
fortify with obstacles the living brain
make thyself undigestible, monkey wrench
the stench associated with the bench
marks proving where turds skidded logs to float
milljobs to japan in islandsized boats
count yer blessings by the ounce and the gram
mineral vegetable mre spam
the dalles, spring 2006
a clean break of it
love sappy cello sonata erupts
thru briar redtape confetti prenups
to carpet the aisles where once we kissed
with wildmint moonlight threading the mists
sky lined with airplanes arriving to land
'tween mountains, rivers, oceans of sand
yer trailer above the city below
(whitecollar roses pruned in a row)
off to my land you fled ole' artschool
ditching one skin, bask naked creek pools,
kindle the flames 'neath the tub in awhile
not done being dirty, not by a mile
washing the diapers by hand in the sun
with taters a'cookin' and tesla a'run
Friday, March 6, 2009
carlos carlos carlos
if you have to tell me, william,
bring a sharp bow
and a boingy arrow, william,
armed with what you have, to tell me,
william, for i have balanced thine
eye on my mind, william,
pray tell, aim, william on me
not thyself, tell truth to no god
but the target, william, if you have
truth, william, shoot it
true and miss your worser self
or i send bill.
the bill.
saving face book, dogearred style (2008)
you don't play with legends *, you get fucked by them.
the map extreme is in braille, made of creation.
not only does the path cut both ways, it
dissects up and down until sleep
when mind squanders itself on thinking.
at least i have facebook, and a bunch of dogearred friends
look at posted pasts made anew. no problem! twister is my fav bored game!
i jest in my sequestered leisure of four twenty a.m.
trying to unfold the thing while driving is madness. trying to be funny about
getting lost is sad. finding a gas station
allow substances to imitate life i say. this will lead to poetry.
i realized that i was trapped into a material mindset
when i first decided to be a parent. you gotta feed the squirt or it will be an unsquirt!
playing ketchup is no good for a roadmap to sustainability.
not even with a bib the size of texas gerrymandered into alaska.
sure, life is a trail of tears. and missyoutissues at five cents a pop.
stores of convenience will assuage your human needs, and wipe off the
blurts. out of myth we devolve into substrata of living.
messes are edited not by the fender but by the asphalt layers behind one.
my exhaust is rapid and non pernicious, you may agree on schedule.
instead of eating biodiesel that smells like frenchfries:
try tasking freedom.
task it until it dies of life.
the map extreme is in braille, made of creation.
not only does the path cut both ways, it
dissects up and down until sleep
is a token under the urinal too precious to deny.
such are the footsteps away from a warm bed
such are the footsteps away from a warm bed
when mind squanders itself on thinking.
at least i have facebook, and a bunch of dogearred friends
from former
loud volumes
loud volumes
they lull and mesmerize in a sort of ballyhoo way.
don't look at the ledge of your reddened embankment!
don't look at the ledge of your reddened embankment!
look at posted pasts made anew. no problem! twister is my fav bored game!
i jest in my sequestered leisure of four twenty a.m.
trying to unfold the thing while driving is madness. trying to be funny about
getting lost is sad. finding a gas station
that has just been
struck by impotent lightning
struck by impotent lightning
is my station in the night, where hopper paints
with his emaciated fingers of money.
with his emaciated fingers of money.
instead of being productive,
allow substances to imitate life i say. this will lead to poetry.
i realized that i was trapped into a material mindset
when i first decided to be a parent. you gotta feed the squirt or it will be an unsquirt!
playing ketchup is no good for a roadmap to sustainability.
not even with a bib the size of texas gerrymandered into alaska.
sure, life is a trail of tears. and missyoutissues at five cents a pop.
stores of convenience will assuage your human needs, and wipe off the
blurts. out of myth we devolve into substrata of living.
messes are edited not by the fender but by the asphalt layers behind one.
my exhaust is rapid and non pernicious, you may agree on schedule.
instead of eating biodiesel that smells like frenchfries:
try tasking freedom.
task it until it dies of life.
*the wording on a map or diagram explaining the symbols used.
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