~~FlowingOm~~

I discovered early
I was allergic to clowns; as they were
larger than the TV images
of childhood;
on the back of a horse
amazing feats of freedom
salve of my childhood;
I discovered too late -
after I had traded
the race through the trees
to the serene fields
of apples and books
for the phosphorescent
rebirths in back seats
of cars; the torn dress
never quite
the woundless drumfire
of blatting winged hooves
on soil
oblique disciple of steeds
I discovered too late
I was allergic to clowns



photo credit: www.tomchambersphoto.com

isotropic nematic

echoing
from the center
liquid
crystal spheres
span distance
equilateral concentric
into space
substrata platitudes
spiraling
within nebulous matter
layers
inverse ambigrams
echoing

disconnected I flee
mundane torpedoes of sound
piercing fragility’s snake
winding itself through and through
my breath
trapped I am
this illusory throat

disconnected I am
this cacophony
of daily mechanisms
of barking dogs
screaming thoughts
at small innocents

disconnected I confess
mercurial seasons
a knot in the circadian rhythm
a small death with
disintegrating auditors
clamorously self indulgent

and this
now that the sounds have passed
means little
in the dance of wassailing silence

one last blackout for the day...


fecundity

life
composed

from dreams
unconscious

connections

woven
as they are

we see
a world
we make

life
expands

each friend
a possibility

throw dreams
into space

bring back
a new life
to love

everything
born
is planted in her

more blackout poetry……


blood fingered
branches anticipating
subtle vibratory substratum

everything we experience
energy

not simple expression
of the divine
but power

reality is dance
takes form as
body
thoughts
perceptions

the world
the idea
that absolute formless
also manifests
entities

sources of everything

understood personifications

our consciousness contemplating
vast impersonal paradox

born of archetypal energies
we all share

a murder of crows
behind my eyes

these dreams
take time
are deafening

cowed by
metaspheres
of emptiness

this implosion of screaming
artificial

flocks of procrastination
racing under head
and longing

Horizon
– Blackout Poetry

restless spirit
upon you
this warning

open your spheres

the sheer scope
may confound time

look upon these
as energized chance

immerse yourself

change

feel more

understand

avenues of Knowing
capable of aspiration

we choose
the horizon
we see

the infinite array

an open mind

empowered

to disappear
into the numerous before

Daft Jewels


No waiting
No separate muse

bending I am
stretching I am
expanding I am
contracting I am

My breath
out
in
Infinite regress

Inkless inspiration

Daft jewels
In the heat of darkness

I imagine her
Waiting with supine undulations
In the soft folds of horizon

I reach between the vertebrae
And she slips under
My vision

No I
No my

And yet
She is

waiting for me
With out waiting

for Rachel, on the edge of 17




Am I defective?
she asks
seriously

and I answer that -
perception may not be reality

and then
I wonder
am I defective?
imperfect?
Faulty?
Archaic?

perhaps.
Thankfully.

but never
lacking, deficient
not out of order (I dance for chaos like some sing for supper)
occasionally offensive, a spelling error
the awkward metaphor

but not unsound
not broken

maybe wanting

something other
than what is
is still what is
in the moment

supplicant labyrinth
offering the sacred

and she is so far away

I reach to you offering
my eyes
as an embrace

my perception
an innumerable
feathered
quilt

it is ok
you are ok
even on your bed of nails

don't confuse the storm at sea
with the solidness of the ground you stand on

we are all red under the skin
even when we are blue

and no one knows intimacy like the spoon in your mouth

what difference does it make
if your moment rattles the glass?

chew gently
your heap of bones and flesh
the only home you have

and if dreams were more than dreams -
how would you decorate your self?

and if your thoughts are citizens -
must you listen to them all?
befriend each one?
believe each honest?

even I once lied compulsively
on a bed of what I thought they wanted to hear

can we choose our thoughts like we choose our friends;
learning from experience?

and just for one radical moment
imagine
being
what ever you are
with out judgment

they never tell you this
but it is okay to hum with happiness
in the midst of the storm
when the tree roots scratch your throat
when the hallway of locked doors seems unending -
the insomniac's party

so no my dear,
you are not defective
even when ineffective

how else would you learn
to know the stars?

the angst of your creation myth
will be the song of your strength

it's ebullient resilience
the soul's best kept forgetting -
reversed recoiling

and darling,
the ever complex
is the tree that bears fruit
and stands through the seasons
even the strike of lightening
not burning the roots

simple to say

but take care the rooms you lock yourself into
and ask of who's own choosing
this resident paranoia

in the land of make believe
the cruelest of cynics are easily terrorized

and this too is like moments


is but a dream
one peel of the onion
the untouched jewel at the center of your earth
remains
waiting

and if in the eye of the unseen breeze
my jesters seem to spout
platitudes
in self indulgent silks

I reach out with heartfelt ablutions
this belief in your ultimate ability
to navigate
psyche's tangled tresses

as you look again, again, and again
in new ways
with today's eyes

I want to say
I care about you

August 2008

ophthalmologism


ophthalmologism

distant and untouchable
the blanket of safety
exposes

hungry ghosts -
offering solutions
like familiar props

poisonous habits of thought
scary marionettes
swaying in the cool breeze

do we ever outgrow the conditioning of our youth?
not the breakfast cereal,
but the hidden ingredients -
their names unspeakable

the space between
the Saturday morning cartoon and the commercial

the dearest friend
is a mirror
forcing the vampire's reflection -
the past sucks itself dry

this too is illusion

so, how old does one have to be
to be new?

torpid goddess
the atheist balloon
athirst

unnerving stranger
fragile and transient
we are

silent
hidden
screaming
do you see me?

contemptible gifts glitter in the dawn
when the world looks new

can you see the humanity
inherent contradiction
platypus platitudes
filling every moment
connecting the dots

the insufferable fury of shoulds
saying
it should be simple
as simple as new love
as easy as remembering
at the cellular level

as clean as the changing seasons
are taken for granted

the recreation of creation
with no sidelines

it should be simple
to float when stuffed with sand -
savory and sweet

perhaps I need my I-s checked

August 2008