• Ego deaf

    I have collected my poems in fascicles
    when they do not 
    a unit 
    form

    I think I will need to find
    a new pair of arms
    to carry this world in my mind

    seconds of life
    herringboned together 
    with thoughts for sand 

    perhaps a new set of hands
    to shape this world into mine 

    into mind I am

    I am stumbling over a truth 
    and I dissolve –

    doubt is my faith

    and I reform: 
    the most devout skepticist
    and disciple of 

    The Order of Sardonic Nomads

    - am I high and dry
    or is this the next montane desert

    in the diaspora of the self? 

    walk where you will

    we dance like bees
    (it's all talk)
    , , , , ,

  • my mind, a town

    a cloud of hope
    atop my 
    brick  clad
     coffee  brain 

    unctious and whispered
    black  bear 
                 paw  talk

    the cycles demand us 
    from us 
        though 
      we never see their face --  
     
    I drift up and on

  • the Ubiquiters

    Hello Hemingway
    (a hello nod to all)
    I resurface clutching
    my drink and my pen

    I am not on the edge of where I should be -- 
    rather I am slicing silver thin along
                 the edge of my every thought

    living in each shallow breath of the day
    so deeply
    I don't know how the time remains to think
    about each and every one of us

                 and yet I do

    I suppose I create 
    Time in my own hands

    in which I catch every drop of human being

    and in this world
    my self dissolves
    (a farewell cheers to me)

  • unsurfacing

    I am walking weightless on
    the spontaneous lightness of being

    I know well it is ephemeral
    but onward anyway
            I swim

  • introtorsion

    so sweet is
the Idea of people
collective words in our mouths
the warmth of Thought

so acrid the truth of being
my loss of breath
the Death of hope

you next to me
so
     so far 

-- fire in my mind
take me Home
the world has chilled my valor

my spoken legs
stand no more

i am the ghost of a shadow

  • synaptome

    homing fingers
stab into earth 
starved for chemical talk

bleeding from the signal     
                  
                  cut

trapped screams are mass effect -- 
free the silenced spleen 
        and breathe -- 

through fog and murk
chemical friends swim their way

fingers motile through media swamp --
your mind scatters as you concentrate 
but you are no island

fingers talk and interlock: 
we are a galaxy of nervous thoughts --
our minds a creature that dances to be free