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down here among the ruined and the rising

I am alien
and the children cannot understand
tears at the comic absurdity of hope

nor the sight of skin thin like paper
covering old peoples' hands folded in prayer

they cannot comprehend
the ferocity of newborn cries

nor the fearful stillness of expectation and Waiting

down here among the glowering bell towers

the silence is apoplec...

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I have pierced the skin of the earth with the spear
and it bleeds beneath my feet

I have honed it on history and fables like fire
and I know the bone-coloured summer moon will not soon heal the wound of my desire

 

My Darling-–the tattoo upon my heart, my memory and silence–-remember me upon the dew in twilight and know that we are there…

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“you got ur mind right, boy?”

 

I got this fast car and the whistling wren

don’t know what to think of me

 

an’ I got a coin in my pocket

lain up toward the day of thunder

 

an’ the wind whispers

the cries of the great raptors

 

come, now, the hour of trembling

 

the mother of my understanding

suffers not to stay her hand

in my hour of need

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turning to the great expanse

back turn to the land

backward from the shifting sand

the sea keeps its secrets

 

the heart like drifting time

leaves the uncertain shoreline

unleashed unto the silence

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"All freedom is relative—you know too well—and sometimes it’s no freedom at all, but simply the cage widening far away from you, the bars abstracted with distance but still there, as when they “free” wild animals into nature preserves only to contain them yet again by larger borders. But I took it anyway, that widening. Because sometimes not seeing the bars is enough."

 

~from On Earth We're...

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show me the place where the fire started

let me touch the black and the damp where you’re buried

 

don’t make me stand on traditiion

I want to make this incision

 

and watch the light pour from you

 

I know you’ll call me lustful and greedy for freeing you from what once was lit

still I’m gonna make a wreck of what’s left and put my name on it

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daytime excursions and factory tours
peacetime incursions and factional wars

ground floor maneuvers and industrialization
backdoor intrusions upon weaponized nations

what the barrel’s bore reveals
the native assembly conceals
through baseline fluctuations
and cryptic enunciations
of what is dead and what is real

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in our hands

the wings of doves

flutter then disappear

 

time moves a muddied river

 

the head packs dense with silt like concrete

 

50’ deep and rising...

 

a hydra hides from swords

of many words and bands

of horses run inside the echo

chamber of the herd

 

my fingertips to eyelids

I press to reach the daylight

behind the wall

 

 

 

...

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the road’s rolling out

in front of me again

showing me the exit

 

say something quick

and make it stick

I’ll soon be gone

 

I’ll set a candle at my back

to light the path I’ve traveled

I’ll burn my skin with the heat of it

with still no movement ahead

I set my sight upon the distance

 

look now into my eyes

like you’d once done

smile and bring the te...

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"murder your darlings.." that Endangered species every addressable last one of them they have never seen the sea smile but once Heard the Sun howl then swallow the Waters so words would not swim away the last Stand is restless in the heat there is no haven no home the dead know more than the living there is no mercy in silence

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one by one

‘tween finger and thumb

 

I pull each light from the sky

 

switch all systems to sound

engage rotors through burial mound

 

and it’s back through the tunnels I go...

 

the weeks from now

will run down to days

and one by one

I’ll erase all the ways that I’ve been

 

and not long from now

not even I will remember

the weave and wend of my p...

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We all must learn the art of rebellion the filmy cover the sheen of sweat borne of the drowning pool of unspeakable dreams spat out like seal pups disoriented and innocent of the cost of new freedom-- All we know is All we see and hope looks just like A lonesome street lamp We never quite reach...

 

--Independence Day, 2020

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v...

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"Look at the sea, how beautiful it is,
it inspires so many emotions,
like you do with the people you look at,
who you make to dream while they are still awake.

Look at this garden
and the scent of these oranges,
such a fine perfume,
it goes straight into your heart,

And you say: "I am leaving, goodbye."
You go away from this heart of mine,
away from this land of love,
And have you t...

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my tippy toes on the tarmac

I'm light as a feather

heaven bless me heaven take me nothing outside the blackbox is real this is the fake me no more bending down to tie my shoes no pulling the draft up to overtake me

 

prologue

scared for the future
pushing through the drag

suture up these wounds
...

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shafts of light like low frequency laser sight highlighting fine rotating specks --all the matter that's escaped the magnetic field of dreams… I greet the morning like a specter and, somewhere beyond my periphery, there is a voice that queries, How Am I? I turn to search the face for eyes to find if I will utter truth or lie and decide summarily "It's still too ea...

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if twilight stir me to reason

and night then move me to passion

 

the daylight burn me to ashes

and darkness come without season

 

then this is the hour of patience

 

–I know morning will not be withheld

either by faith or the faithless

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hands that do the

strangest things

 

wringing life from

resting covers

 

wrapped ‘round ‘ur thin

legs like fatted animal skins

 

the red bells refuse to ring

but don’t think twice my sweet

the landing party’s on the street

 

collect a feather from

the nest of the yellow bird

 

and light a candle

for your timely lover

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stand here now
while I search our common armory
of smiles flipped upside down

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“..the ship is anchored

at its last Harbour,

never more to depart,

 

for no aid is now forthcoming

from either wind or sunlight;

 

Captain Eudemos, taking leave

of the light-bearing dawn,

was buried there

 

and his ship with its lifespan

short as day, like a broken wave.”

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larger-than-life moon fills the sky

 

a band

connecting forefinger and thumb

I can’t miss tonight

 

dew cast from the disappearing sun

coats my lashes

 

touches the round

knoll of my cheekbone

 

conditioned by the wet sensation

to take down the giant

 

I’ll close my eyes

and we’ll both

rest in peace tonight

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I am ghost

staring through the window
to the ground below

to shadows of birds of prey

to hawks at play

in silhouettes deflecting light…

I watch and wonder does the Sun seek
to bind the winged to the past--

does Mother chatter riddles
to capture flying bodies
inside darkened preform casts?

And, do they return
to search over ground they’ve once flown
seeking long-fled shad...

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the black dog

humping my leg

is only a figment

of a dull imagination I say

 

but I can’t get away from it

 

this whole setup is a tease

 

the drone of the TV

the buzz of the fluorescent lights above me

that flicker like frequencies gained and lost

in propagation and interfering...

 

Joe stands at the mouth of the volcano

and the sacrificial buffalo lo

...

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I fiddle with the yellow mug, and stare into the mud of caramel-colored remains of powdered creamer and fine-ground coffee drying at its bottom. I recognize this story. Because I've heard it before. I didn't live it, I'm certain. I hear the faint mixture of hope and condescension in your voice. This is general dinner conversation, but I know it's directed at me. Eventually, you...

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i am the hateful thing

the evil king

who welcomes your fear as my fate

 

because your love is a crutch

that I'll use to crush

the weight of the world's uncertainty

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From thought experiments upon the dunes, the centrifuge is spinning the tunes --political scientists turning the black to draw in the light. From here, controls cannot see the shadows sketched upon the night, but traveling waves know their place upon the plane and dance according to the thrum that’s strung deep within the shrugging vein.

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