Sometimes I Feel Waves From A Distance

they wrapped whatever
they could find
around your neck
wished you could
turn to clouds
and fly away.
pretended to have a different name
be someone else
just to adopt some faceless pose

you needed them more
than they needed you but
the sea rose and swallowed them
all
we
could all
float away on the seas of hands holding
us down
what would I have done
without you
if I had pretended
to be someone
else?

the lights fade
vans recede
reckless retunes returning
on some alien landscape
the streetlights empty
and dim
unseen,
running for the last
circle reducing its circumference
emitting interference
cut to some
analysis in the future will tackle
by mirroring or meaning
its some miracle
we find an occasional kind touch
a gentle word
the little things people stop to do that we
do for one another
that its always, always, always
nothing, even stardust will
separate this.
we are not separate.
we are.
us.
<3 p="">

Others That Do / Ancient Mariners Sing

would it hurt
you to riddle my
imagination.
sustained but not in pain
this draize trains runs aground again
blind, I might be
but

there are eyes
there are glances
there are imperfect promises
I made to no one
thank you merlin
lead the dragons to the slaughter
for the sins
of all your daughters
fathers
cast to slithering snakes
and doused with gasoline
saxophones and liberty hitting middle C
in the brief moment between death
distraction and promise
in my hand I carry change
lye crystals lay on my hand
burning like lonely boy
held down in the deep end
will the circuit ever make
a connection
or will the bed
just sit there
and burn


dream big
guitars and
boys screaming in imprecise
decibels
sun shines, park lines drawn
in the difference between presets and
what you get to match seasons
treason beckons for whiskey tango fuck the noise
wavelengths disappear in cardio dawn drenched
arpeggios sustained dreams ethering
dithering with hercules
arms wrapped
old films acting as arms
in a mirrored glass reflection

Judo Dancing Polo Agorophonia

Two Views On The Street Where You Live Carravaggio / Electrilinaria

Tiptoe (In A Quiet City)

the creaking floor
unbrushed dust under husks
of dead bugs in the window sills glistening
wind blows, quiet / mercy / set for sailing days
little boy dreams if freedom
instilled with science
sirens, always sirens
in the dark hours
the bodies fall
like clock points
like victimless heroes
laid out to be weathered by the caustic rains

peaches gleam
in the repetition of harvest
captured in this painting
creatures scurry by in the measured hush
of the silos
the pomegranates crushed under
hooves of horses marching in random figures
ghosts of cowboys
riding leather and burlap carpets
dancing in the sky
in ethereal antiquity
riding into silence
sun forgotten trees.

autumn early
here now to earth
any one thing
kept in stasis
too long
left for
forgetting
laughter
running
jumping
standing
barely
quiet
eventually. /

Searched Ebony Extinction Immortal (before "You Were As A Criminal, Kid")

it all came on like a slow rush
a steady pulsing star from
far away
over hills to the sea
from halfway through this story
light laid out but taking years to reach us

was I blind before
at a distance
you there in my blue shadow
walking over black street charms and disarmed doorways
drunk in the thrall of finding some arms
attached to a lover

searched for you
a catch for a trip diverted
hands ripe like thunder in similar but not
same steps

try pull on masks
try to take others off
look for your face
on whoever walks through the door
and fool with disappointment
but it was not you who finally destroyed the illusions
I stopped looking for due to clouds
but found in blue skies inside
you; no longer longing through long nights
lost in dreams of ghost locusts
dream nets to cast and catch
and dismiss
but never room enough to capture
how big this all is
sit inside it
weather storms
astride it
sail off on our dreams tonight
we'll create the photographs
even if life drifts somewhere cruel
or disastrous

America / Scotland / Therapy?

We Can Always Meet Again In Dreams

Fog City Blues

Harry's Early Summer Soliloquy

just a few hundred meters from the sea
what haunts the cliffs of eden
the footsteps that depress the grass are erased in seconds
by the sun and what could have been

a million people
and then a a million people more
and all their ancestors
awash on these shores
all the neophytes and acolytes
and jacobites
looking for redemption
and the light
but they're gone
like fading laughter
echoing in the darkest reaches
of love

but I
never saw
the edges to find out
if they were parallel
if they were gorgeous
or just a hollowed out shell
that the sea washes through
in the hands of
children wishing for mermaids
with flowing hair
and songs of doom
they let their locks down
in this seaside town

the birds fly by
where once lizards escaped from the drag of time
to grow wings, what other creatures were here
when eons tortured this mountain
once at the bottom of the ocean
where you cannot see
all the things your cells
were once supposed to be
faint creatures made out of nothingness
going to nothingness
being as nothing is
feigning importance
of existence
solitary clings to you like rust
gathers in the cracks of the clocks
stranded in back rooms tackled via gold
where you forget to dust

(unfinished)

Blow by Blow

Finally a posting on my art blog.

90 days ago was my last post. 3 months. no art for three months. 3 fucking months.

Enjoy that cruise. Really. Enjoy it.

But you know what? It may have slowed my output, but it didn't stop it.

You're not that powerful or able. not in a 100 years.

My brain kicked back and right on track: More art.

Its been a rare experience in my life not to make any new work for such a long period. there are no words, just raw anger. And your unbridled selfishness? I made it into beauty. You were an unscrupulous, unprofessional boss, a inconsiderate slob and liar as a roommate and a terribly emotionally abusive/emotionally distant partner not to mention a self absorbed and self interested friend. Any redeeming qualities as a human are all down to being nothing more than a trash receptacle for cum. Good luck with that - now that you've blown all your good fortune.

Begone bad spirits. Begone!

Feline Photomontage

He Knows, He Knows, He Knows...

even the darkness is the back of sunlight / rain makes the beautiful flowers

Rant In Angst Minor / elluvial absolutical

what a week! what a weak! what a wreck!

holy shitballs batman! seriously, who the fuck found the rug that was underneath me and pulled hard?

The walls and sea of cardboard continue to rise and slosh before me.
The place is in turmoil, impossible to clean or to straighten.
there is no place to put my feet where boxes or wrapped packages or cats
do not suddenly appear.
I am the ballet dancer in a minefield.
I dancing-yes, as fast as I can!
someone puts a record on.
someone else puts a record on.
the radio, toaster, alarm clock, cat, refrigerator,
downstairs washing machine,
crazy neighbors, banging doors, showering tricks upstairs
through it all I crawl
around things, over boxes to get to other boxes
looking for the box I put so and so inside
so I wouldn't, uh, forget...uh...what were we talking about?

Peter Murphy, a hero, brought down. Someone I respected. admired.
Michelle Shocked, someone who I thought talented, now strung out, homophobic and lunatic.
Morrissey, my teenage father figure and reason for being, sickened with middle age maladies.
a long term friend, her nearly 20 year relationship over...so much sadness
people I haven't heard from in years
wanting answers
wanting something they don't need
wanting something they don't want
so much change.
so much chaos...that I can't change
so much rage I can't put any place
except inside somewhere
in the hollow caverns carved out in childhood.

I'm doubting myself, surely-but I am not out.
one thing I learned from my mistakes: voice it.
holding it inside forever(as opposed to temporary storage which is a-okay in Imperfect-Land)
never helps anything.
everything is changing
change is the nature of everything.

Old photos of San Francisco, my home
unfamiliar places and people now only a memory
and somewhere in there is me
my shadowy black and white memories
my birth
my rebirth.
my cocooning
hiding from the sun
not sure If I am the butterfly dreaming he is still a caterpillar
or the caterpillar dreaming he is the butterfly
or both.
a baby is born
and a women is stabbed
somewhere people are suffering far more than I
and another shapeless formless night
passes underneath the streets
when the tears come.


Thank goodness I have you.

Confidential To The Boy Who Hugs Teddy Bears

a
butterfly
floats by
in a cathedral
the walls
are there
unsupported
confidential
going ever onwards
up to the
sky
where
dreams rain
down in time
to diamonds do
you stay there
to catch
them
do you
dare.


some great
unsecret
whispered
in an
outspoken
moment.
don't worry
its confidential
Teddy knows...

Tides Over Ides

what color will
they make the leaves be
in the new spring
what color will they invent
this year and
call it green
the fingerlings will grow
through whatever
directing the earth helps
it see
but we don't know
what of it?
and we don't know
the unknown
for sure.

Let's Go / It Begins / !!! / Time for a Re-Invention

here's a story, no
it goes like this:

every star
is exploding
and imploding
at the same time
we are its instant
the rush of wind that sucks in
before the backdraft burns like the sun
that black space
that immeasurable distance
we can't map or create
lost signals
go into nowhere
but out here
you see the distance
its a hindrance
spaceships only last for so long
your bones grow thin
oxygen renewal grows dim
better to find a safe place to calm down

on a hill
maybe 100 years ago it was high
lonely hill
calling out to birds
and bees
and daffodils
we are here together
we have always been here before
we were grass before this
before the birds,
the lizards
the eggs, mammals
and the secrets of the bottom
of the seas
see?

before I saw your face
on the stairs
I saw your face in the stars
in the dew on the window
on some sleepless morning
I saw your face in air
condensing
as I had expected it to be
life has a way of reminding me
every so often, to just 'give up'
only control, wanting too much
complicates,
entropy is honesty
There is no mystery
death is not scary, really.
life is far more a thrill
but some parasites attach themselves
to your kite
when the flame of your dreams
ignites
always (Solutions / working in place / current block to ecstasy)

this wouldn't be here without you - you know that, right?

some fucking seriously bullshit people from the past
like run off  cliff stupid - we're trying harder - than their whole lives
ungrateful relations not relative to our lives - we outstrip them.
just bad dreams ebbing ever onward into dust
buried in amber for the next pack of idiots
to get caught up in daydreams
I found a dragon who could fly
lets fly away from
this dog and pony show
slough off these cobwebs,
blow this popsicle stand
and go baby, go.

On-fucking-Wards

Hanging On The Outside Of Open Lights / Some Freedom

no crazies left alive
neural pathways
checked for confidence
and then bullets fly
nothing left to hear but guns
nothing left to fear but guns
where will all the bodies fall
when our kingdom rises
you want to tear thru it
taken to extremes slave to lace made of
barbed wire rusted through
the hereafter
its a cancer
you have to traVEL THRough
its an orgy
that fucks your senses like a bad cold
tired of the tedium of the meaningless
whimsical  +/= miscalculated release
the future; unclaimed that voices fear preachers in the ether
the flames that meant to
save you
your saviour
humiliate your self reputation
no limitations
they might as well
have set you on fire
like every despot who ruled
you will pay the price
it will be too high
it will burn as high
as the fire that eats you
that cooks you
here to strip you
send you to unruly infirmary, obscene
what horrors could have been
had I means of accessing
the plate glass
breaks glissando echoes PASS
ever fiber of canvas unremembered will haunt you,
if not the you You
the half life
your pretend to live in sleep.
ever pound that is hard to lift
every extra roll roll of situation lost in the
chins of your face
every memory you can't unsift
like ghosts
like pains in your side that role you over
in sleep
sickly sheep
you kept the promise
mother took to the deep
where the punishment continues in judgment
outside the honor of the hour her ghost continues to push
no need to cast cement but rather dead flowers BURN THIS ABSTRACT ? SMILE AND OBEY
you are not yourself you are the real self others make you
this is destiny
not escaping it
this is what angels pretend to be in projection
just musty panes of glass under thought lakes
silverized to indicate value but really empty moneyless glamourourness taste just like sand
you don't even know how to care about because you are SLOWING down into now...

your memory fears
unkept
unexamined
axe glamour wiped
hemoglobin free
pollution of time marred history shifts to mutiny
unseen \/ spaces leaving smudges
erased faces wiped clean
after you light this
bath of choices
in the midnight
fire.

Lucre is the Large Infection / Its Time For Your Injection

move into
a small space
under a blanket of snow
fear under the stars
they all crash into the tundra
and cast all that is seen into darkness

its okay
sit here and we'll play
turn down the lights games
read labels and forget names
count the flakes
from underneath
invisible
no one can see us
no one can hear us
no one can hurt us
when we're invisible

crazy promise
that love is
a hundred thousand daggers
and a voice screamed hoarse in ecstasy
in between each set of eyes
truths are exchanged
and we're chased by swans
around the lake ignored manly mornings
each wrapper is pulled away
and tossed aside
pain is your just reward
slow pollution of the derelict insides
rotten from reproduction and fallow
damaged schoolgirl dreams
facetious raping reality's injection with liquidity
like the poison of the vampire's
kiss.

crawling

from an old ruin
to an abandoned building
the place where I laid
my head
was full of scars
silent battle trumpets
empty battlefields
hope creeps along
at a snail's pace
as repeating shadows
wag like talkless tongues
laughing mouths
lidless eyes
that see inside
........

somebody please, something, anything.

5th Degree Bleeding Prehistronic Skies

how did we
get to this space
this placeless
destination
this over grown abandoned
patch of dismay
spineless conflagration
another story
or a myth
a lie that gets distracted and
takes the fifth
fading with the light
trading in for a night
only fire will make it right
amongst the bits of dried blood and broken glass

lower the curtain
the masquerade is over
 the party is gone
the building is burning
what kind of dream lingers
in ash all alone?

bring all the bile you want
pour if off
the edge of the cliff with the memory
hesitate before all the glitter and gall that lashed out like
enemies frozen in the bloodied snow.

no one will find them
no one will know the lake of fire
no naked bodies dancing
entranced lanterns watch
until their end of time.
read through the fine print
lost in a dash.