Dream Made Real

From A River To A Robin (Real Reasons On A Cliff)

is there ever any rest?
the target. Does it ever stop moving?
Nothing witty to say.
I want to be here
but I also want to be a thousand miles away.
some other person.
some other place.
a night club or walking in the valley.
its insincere, really.
a new day
robbed of laughter
of its light
how do a million other people see the fade
and not stop to see the
catastrophe?

the 12 inch mix, it goes a lot longer than 7 minutes

get down
boogie oogie oogie
'til you just can't take it anymore.
up on the floor
the ceiling laughs
as it has laughed
many times before
these are the good times
you don't know
you don't recognize
you cannot the fathom
the fathoms
the layers of water
you should have drifted through
in the back seat of that Aerostar van
is it always March?
and the waters always rising
here at the edge of the troubled world
you laugh
I laugh
but the tape comes to an end
your voice and applause trailing off into the hollywood distance.

funny man
funny woman
funny how love is
funny how life is
all new state of mind
the record runs to it's 'out' groove
and time is silent save
'for the crackles that move from the end of time to the gloom

this is fantasy
this is fabulous
this is the moment before the end  of time
where you and I and all that came before
are united in the moment, the minute, the last flapping end of the 8mm reel spinning into
oblivion.

Guide

Ghosts

Waves

light and shade
buried under the weight of
dead ideas
like an iceberg's cascade
sloth-like in visions
seething in seer's sessions
pretentious unmentioned
cord stretched tight
coiling pill clenched mouth
left in perfections,
predictions, predilections
distillery and artillery pointed at the anointed one
before the blue perfumed curtain call
and BLAM.
BLAME.
FAILED.
Flailing.
nails, rakes and rugs
rails, fakes and thugs
trails, lakes and
enough drugs to stay quiet
in the underground
til the plastic flowers come
where the insects sleep
beetles rattle and worms
withdraw winding sheets
care-worn rare room culture statutes
silks sheets beaten heathens
by slow poisons
tin foil hats on
pilloried posts
in the age of jetsons
lost.
No cars fly here
no space shuttled
muzzled
fizzled
dwindling
riddled.

not awake
here
in the room
with cold spirits
laughing gestures dead dancers pirouettes
with street muscle
black eyes sparkle against diamond shoals
layers
pulled back like aristocratic diction
slack-jawed and skull softened in the morning
of the evening
of the last day
of tormented words
flung through the trap door
to freedom.
-----------


"I came to find the last star
   and it was dust."

Light And Shade In The Waning Afternoon

Blue Period (self portraits)

On Fire And Forever (dream stories)

Clouds are mist at a distance
But when you wave your hands around them
they just get wet.

no poetry lately / wrung free from indifference
no words / too busy
looking at bright red coffee machines
I see severed heads
and turmoil
a field of corn here
1000 years previously
a boy leads his horse to drink
at the edge of the magic lake
counting the cracks in the sidewalk
aimlessly I dive into the lake
its made of fire on one side
water on the other

Not in either place
 a small price to pay
watching a white van speed by
windows blacked out
with duct tape mystery

thuggish hieroglyphics
scrawled like manifesto posturing
go by as animated strips
 in an rotoscoped vision of the damned
belies the plumbing parts and old xrays
I want to throw rocks
drown the fire out
but not so much
good happening
here flapping my
invisible hands

Meow Chillin'

Placed As Some (Extravagance)

Unearthed

the most beautiful boy

asleep in the beaming

of a smiling red moon

like a butterfly

come to rest (doesn't need the love of the world)

on a still leaf (doesn't need the twists and turns)

before flying (doesn't need anything a thousandfold)

to the future (just a need a sun that burns)

A bit of my weeping wine

a bit of chatter in the 

noonday sunshine

and some filth and laughter

mad enough still for love

and some strange manner of living

to be the catcher

when you're laughing

when you fall

the punchline

on my sleeve

talks of dreams

in the morning rides

from night to day 

as Sinatra sings

let's get lost

chet is so boss

but due without the

personality

a thousand notes will help 

you see

oh my heart

does it need

some connection

satisfaction

my man in man

zooms in 

to take heed

and smoke

blooms.

Photographing Oranges In The Sun

go out now

and see the sun

and see the clouds

that played before this tune

100 days we walked around the world

a honking horn

a carpark 

and the boy you decided to be

a thousand memories

a millions songs

will they vanish

when I'm not me?

will the tape erase

my face and the songs that I sing

will there be anything

left that's good

when I am

nothing?

is that something?

more than anything

more than all the clouds in my heart

untapped ideas oranges unreeled

birds will run fallow

in their fathoms 

in the sky

witnessing eclipses

whales spray indicates time

where dreams run parallel

to flames that die down

like all things

its a replay

its a small thought

that means everything

but its something at least

today.

Elegy For Bruises And The Moon

out of the fireworks
comes disappointment
out of the fire
we all walk to the aisle
of disillusionment
the old man with the cane
that came
to shop for fruits
and dropped his bag
amongst the flowers
never again to sing
to the moon
another tail in the distance
we'd be remiss to waste
a kiss that will not bloom
a flower that will not consume
and you
broken like waves
on rocks
discounted for predatory flocks
in june
in white veils
that drape contusions
with bruises left over from a dream
a date with destiny
hammered steel,
coal black
blank reflections
in faces of the mill
made real
and hands that came
with secrets to steal
that went off the rails
when we still believed
quality, qualified then quiet
a gift forgiven, some quintessential tragedy
delivered
in an instant
the white flash
and static.

Untitled # 781

wagon
around the tree
birch rings in autumn
and no birds sing
to the vapors
ancestors
visitors
remade
veiled
curtailed
pictures in rafters
remembered
hereafters
out of sequence
delinquent
unmailed
recipients
*(unfinished)
--------

Hold The Old Dreams / Warm / Serene / Nothing to hide

after perdition
rendition
after the railways
had taken us away
after a hundred marilyns had
blown us a kiss
to say no more sighs
no more bloodshed
no more goodbyes
shower us with this
love that last
we are open now
to your brown eyes
we'll not love less
we'll not say yes
to your blasted bloody goodbyes
that shows us in stars
in broken glass
we are open
into the open ended
this is life's surprise

will you put your arms before me in
the air
will you hold your arms in the way
of the human dare
in the open swarm
when bullets sing
and warm air parts to let the screaming
start
here its chaos
I had put a bead on
just for us and
the name of silence
on the surface of the moon
its a jubilee watched
for care's cream soaked images
the tender years
its youth is mine
the darkness soaks its rage
to slag the merriment and the downy warmth
like flightless brides
in cages
where we can watch
your family circle
and
come back
to fire
where we talked so much
about infatuation
and come back on the heel of the moon
on the heel of the moon
on the skin on the moon
on this cave on the moon
on this cave on the sun\we're burning out
before we've
begun.

Conversation On Western Plains (for the Western Black Rhino)

under the Boabbab tree
a black rhino's ghost
waits for me
talk all day long why does
a man need help all along
and why, oh why
did it take me
to recoil in splendor
recline in revolving doors
tipped into meet men
powdered up
to engage in sin?

were you only to know
of the rape our harvest sews
in gallant nights
where bedsit fights
leave some scarring in
the afterglow
of ancient rites
to be buried in the snow

dashed in payment
wiped in semen
so majesty could banished be
by another failed
blood prophecy
but you
backed in
to this dead end door
of absolution
a trap door heaving wide
in false dream evolution
survival of the fittest
means men who fill with pain
and spittle drizzled swords and
spears and greed and tears
and diamonds raped
with speed and fear
what more to conquer?

in some kind of animal splendor
a creature that lived
and died
for your sins
and fake lust
you will not remember?

its tall proud shadow
the years of grass
in the endless meadow
too summarized and edited
for dimwits pleasure
and suffering
now dies in the heather...

we are a disease with shoes
an endless song that
plays the blues
we wipe every thing free of the beauty
while damning ourselves
with faint praise and duty
in the long grass
there are no more
hooves
no more earth pressed-weight
antagonism
we stripped you away
in absence of any danger
for black rhino's ghost singing
to be heard in the final hour
with its languor
would I lay down
wind down
so our songs would be be quiet
in some form of splendor
lost in gone waves
unending
surrender?

-----

p.s. - the human race is a pox on this world

From October to Afternoon / 145 Seconds / The Light Pours Out of me

They Really ARE All Against You / Ho-Mo-Phobia / Sing It With me Now!!

 the weight of our history is built up from tiny bits of memory.

What good is conspiracy when they are actually conspiring against you?

I could have made a better family out of wet paper towels and popsicle sticks.

The Needless And The Damage Done / Heiresy

boundless streams
of the same old story
retold an infinitum
muscles contract
old trees split
for the hollow absence
to take shape
as bikes pedal themselves
clocks unwind
descend and prattle
out of time
in halos.

his face was
wet leaves lashed over
like appliques
anointed teardrops
for the unholy
trinity
friends, family
failures fractured
like antique vases
dropped by careless
derelicts into
the sea.

of soapbox derby
plaid shirts and dustbowl
smiles filled with razors
paradoxically family infirmary infinity
insanity irritability
measured by proximity
forged in the outer limits
like lovers in the Boar's war
desiring nothingness
in the absence
of uncertainty curtailed
to a snail's pace
and sleep.

--------

You hate me
then you complain when I'm not around
You refuse to get to know me
then claim you don't understand
You put endless hurdles in my way of staying close to you
then complain I am distant
You wish I was around more
then create opportunities that don't include me-on purpose.
Seriously, fuck off.
No wonder dealing with family makes me feel like I am crazy.
hey if the straight jacket fits?
Enough!
I'm not going out of my way anymore.
you want help? help yourself.
I'm not a punching bag here to squeeze good intentions out of when it serves
your purposes.
I don't want to know.
I don't care anymore.
you can't complain about the distance
when its YOUR fucking arm in between that's holding us apart.
one would think you would care more, give a shit, make an effort at least based on previous
grievances. Now you can take all those excuses and reasons and blow them out of your box. take your game of smoke and mirrors and go play with someone who gives a fuck.

Divine Things (knowing you are in this world)

how
was it?
everything
was silent
quiet.

then you
fell off that
cloud
there was a loud
"thump"
when you
hit the ground.

so we'll play
on some place
reserved for
the divine
a song
inside a
song
to repeat
and refine.

so we'll clutch blankets
against the chill
walk up to the top
to watch the moon
over the hill
where once the fiery
sky
passed into the deep sea of memory
like water
air
like earth colored
eyes that link
us.

the fire in your eyes
sets into the evening moon
you couldn't describe
or like the first time
you remembered my name
in sleep as I dreamed
you remembered my name
losing track of
all space
and time.

Flying Fishing

traipsed over faultlines
savage ignorance
ignored stains on
rainy days
not every droplet
contains
a miracle
or will live again
not every thread
is sewn
into memory
pushed down into
agendas like
a falling Wallenda
on the circus floor
everyone cries and stare
but one by one
they go home
the corpse and the family
are left alone
as the pipe organ plays