layersrainlayersblackvelvet

it is that i feel somewhat lost and

i care not


sailing smooth

onward

pushing through

uncertainty

jump into the unknown

leave your dreams behind...

she does not own you

you are in a mist

she does not need you

captain

tails

and swagger

she is alone without you

let her be alone

she is your mother

you do not owe her blood

if when you are here

you turn to glue
concrete
and fowl smelling ways
or
you turn into yourself
and diverge like bud
roses

but then
who cares

you are everywhere

she does not own you
she cannot disown you

if love has the wings
(for yourself)
then why not take the risk to be the sun's friend
no where is sunny all the time
and sometimes the best places are sunny almost none of the time

if you are lonely

go walk in the rain

turn around turn your head
look down
and cry
the rain and you will make love to the ground

and beauty will follow you for the rest of your days

deep time

this might be about that.

deep time
is underneath
when she takes her underwear off alone
with space

in between spaces, expanding space
between her and the nearest other
"deep time, how far or fast?"
wildly spin, is the iris of our eyeballs, a thousand eyelashes,
and the spider who spun the silk they're surely made of
of orchestrating cuneiform(s) of patterns
one by one placing then down
each pattern placed, eventually conjoined
makes cycles of pitterpatterning
all domination transient
what stays is passing
in this placement
one can star at their hands
and find a line... (the finer the line the finer the find)
now color deludes fades to gray / back again / lights come on
deep colored time patterning
distorted recorded reflections of recorded recordings
repetition
of that one time
when,
she laid down beside a dead fawn
she and jack found in the woods, away from the people
and opened her mouth against the dust, in agony, to perform the suffering
of its death-before realizing the deer was covered in maggots
spinning flesh slowly determined in small pieces
before dropping her shorts
and removing her underwear
before
burrowing into that dim tunnel
cavernous archaeology of
thrust
or touch
with tips of fingers, uncovering material history
light like fingers, the friction
telling distance orientation and spin
before
opening her eyes to each new
sun
and seeing real people pass by like an onslaught of never-ending waves of viruses
before, pointing to the place
"where it hurts mommy."
and almost falling down (but gracefully)
backwards in time (space) time
almost spending too long in the dirt
before
being ready
before
cloaking one's self
before
reaching for top shelf shit
climbing up / jumping down / grabbing corners kitchen cabinet skills
like a lynx

in deep time, deep rainbow'ed time
splits / fractures / splits off
that prismic jello
that
fractal hero/heroine

before, getting back up again
wiping the fine sand off her butt and looking below at the imprint of her silhouette
alone, with spaciousness of space compounded, between her and her
moment.
when she took off her underwear, for no reason but to bare it
not really alone, could see herself in her self(body / river /map / guide)
and all the playful mandalas
of her childhood
running outside to pee on the dirt
deep in deep time

This is No Creation Story.

This is about a point of OMitance. This is the conjunction of animals. This is the endless flux of ending but not quite really ending, and beginning but not quite really leaving the beginning and the non-cycles or vacillation.

The ones we witness in the dark when we are tired and wake up not to a new day, but the SAME day, in all it's pieces now. We wake up, we pick up the pieces, we put ourselves back together. We are eyes, legs, mouths,  knobby knees, shins, bone, flesh, pointy fingers. We are hair, nails, eyelashes, whiskers, gnarly tongues. We are teeth so sharp and bloody. We are the tips of the newly formed buds in Spring and the dirt floor reaches its tiny tendrils of moss up our toes. We are ground, sky, lifting, shaking, dying on the ground, prostrate in the sun .. kinda children.

space aged

this space agey new bullshit themed lifestyle
minus the bullshit
new age are just really vague words
what they actually refer to are
new feelings
that came from older traditions
wrapped in bougie suburban heebee geebee

BUT

what they really are
is the freedom to create your own religion not based in a singular practice or religion

what the fuck is wrong with that?


new age music
is a theme
 and yes the music sucks


but the words : new.
age.

are really not "new age"y at all.

they are kinda nice words

i look past culture sometimes.

jesus was an anarchist.


*****************

this poem these poems this lines these lines
sweat centuries of word-age dribble
the fallen asleep cat on the lap
in ecstasy drules


now we can form lang wage without the sin or death
of grabbing fingers

lines and cut throat style
foundation
and traditions we cannot ever escape

we are free in the way the caged bird is free
the one who sings
you remember?
you see these loosa acce;lerated assoications offer drem time beneath the word-lines

typos.

don't ,matter.
 when meaning which was once flat
is even flatter

it doth not matter
to be understood

maybe it's just cool to sound good

the pattern smy breain follows ans wallows like robbons of blood organs that feed me
I want to eat
with adoration to the me
inside the me
inside the me inside the me

a fractal.


i spy a robot with a ribbon.


i spy a space ship.


i spy no one looking

face world is in the background.
phone cannot ring.


no one is around


new alone the real thing


now.... another...

*************

who to cuddle with:


who to cuddle with
my room is so dirty
inspeckled
mountain of hope
i grow more open
filling entirre spaces with this smile
and with this smile i hug each and every blood absorbed mouth

andrew wk night
replaces
zombie themed party


i have this heart that sings
deeply woven string

for who?
for who?
for who?

because once in my bed/dirt
we will see our fate/face

it will be a mess.

but i will be patient

non e the  le ss

trigger warnings

I CANNOT watch the news
i do all my work at night
the moon light offers perfect shading

all this work in spite with
eyes blinded ears muffled and screams once incited
covered
in blankets of security
blankets from'd of stars

fuck yer television.

the lens shines on the
do what thou wilt
and not the
reality absolute truth 24/7
rhythm

i don't want to know
i got all the protection i need

with this blood shield
and the turning away

enough gray skies

to know

a hope can breathe

medicinal poetry

trikatu

long peper (pippali)
black pepper
ginger

circulation medicine candy balls

turmeric
tahini
raw honey

equal parts


that's a poem.

three hearts apart and counting

it must be
at three
cowering in love
wallowing in spritely noise
opening in flower
early


voice of a pretty pheasant caw
voice in shades red mauve pink green
voice in silence wave


at three
in the morning
my bled blessed lips
at the harbor
of the opening
space
clears
space.


mouth breathes in new
wind from above



shadows hide behind
in depths of release
comforts settles finally into the heart all the hard parts
mass of angels
that like dirt get in the way
fall down
and left liquid

a spilling that can settle one's

toe crunching
good time

there is no more to research but
to dream in silence
let this brain talk sense into ya

a force unimaginable approaches up ahead
and  with one eye looks out of the water
and with one mouth breathes or sings through the water
and forms sound all encompassing
sound
ALL ENCOMPASSING MAGNIFICENT

SOUND.

i've cried so many times
out of reverence for this body
for this ship
for this ground
for this sun
for this pale blue ocean
wrapped in scarves
for the touch through my fingertips
the electric moon
torch
river
shedding its
how do you say...?

dope shit.


mmmmmm.
it's as if
lub dub
lub dub
i can't breathe anymore
because this air now is too good
if i can sleep, i can dream, if i can dream,
i can wait

i could wait
an eternity
for these shades
filters
of rainbow
grace
so much grace
and begging the sun to slow down
such silliness
because i asked for it


well actually seems
quite right
pace



lengths
i can feel tug not as strings
as clouds
as soft gentle
motion
making it so i can't move


unbreathable air
because it's so good

unshakable mind
so focused on such light
that mesmerizes me
shakes my finger nails knobby knees to the ground


i cant but help to be
grateful
mouth full of dirt grateful

in these dream times
when hands so soft still seek earth
thought tendrils of imagination build endlessly

i love thee
love
thee
these paintings of arid happenings

and was told
it was enough, when i could bear,
just to breathe thee-ease unthinkable dreams
the ones that with a calm heart
make me breathe like a child again

Hey you. what we' re gonna do

You're gonna do some exercise use before bed


Yr gonna a do work from early in the morning


And yr gonna be hopeful goddamnit

the siphon post

sever that siphon
put it in my mouth dear creature
on the rims the molecules must be dancing from the friction


in this gawdd awful status clingawd wonderful designer jeans follow me

genes
like
genus

oh family
oh favorite tree river

so beautiful i shiver
while my laundry is delivered
by the turning mechanical
sun

steps

step one: go in the kitchen and get a cup of coffee
710pm

step two: sip on coffee

step three: while sipping on coffee imagine that from your heart/chest you are releasing everything bad that has ever happened to you

step four: free write


even as i stand in my lair . wet and full of equipment.
i hold one sword above my head with both hands waiting to swipe and pound down on anytone who comes down the steps
this in not okay. upsatirs there are many ladies there . ladies in waiting . waiting to be taken to the dungeon. waiting for me. waiting for me to slay them.
it's not fair.
they don't really know.
i told them it was all care bears and gummy clouds.

they are children.
theya re waiitng.
fro the death
and
death seemed like so much fun.

a hope and a bead.
of sweat,
wraps slithers down around my waist, leg, ankle, inbetween my toes
hits the ground
turns the ground into ice
i freeze
hold still
arsm still raised and under arms bare to be seen
up the steps freezes

and around the corner slams the door shut with a cold whip of frost

the children. the ladies. watch silently, as a blood thirsty chill rise up in them.
they run away.
it is daylight now.
it is warm enough to walk outside and they run to the fields and lay ont he ground and embrace the sun and smush their faces in the dirty dusty dirt

never looking back
now able to see how good it feels to be lit up by this celestial fire.

and ravage the earth therafter, free.

if i died they'd be dead, if i lived, they'd be dead.

so i lay in out of motion dressed in isa


my gourd my gorge
my LORD
where
in this abyssmal celbritude do i lay?
where is my picture?
is this the kind of freedome i wanted always to staring at myself in insecurity?
or is this massive security enough to breathe?
no, i dont think i can when i'm this cold when my lungs are no longer wet but our solid


in the future, i imagine,
I imagine
beautiful flowers and children and I am one of them. we wear glossy flowers on our heads that fall off and become stickered to the floor and the sun eevry now and then bends down to kiss our foreheads
at night the grass wraps our arms around each other



my only lover might be earth
my only mother might be sun
my only brother might be water
my only self might be the sky
the sssss
kkkkkk
eyyeeeee

damn breath.