D R E A M L A N D

“..If you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
.
.
I’m impaling my head harder
in my pillow
To recall, to return, to resume,
to refollow
My meaningful way.
.
.
If I’m failing to trail right back
to night glories,
I’ll hoist this point of view
From this room into new
stories.
I’ve a meaningless way.

CautionYellow Capped Portions

Beyond
being somehow fond
of hoarding half filled
caution yellow capped portions of pills,
the experts stake their careers
that this liar requiring pills
for fucking, pain, and for some fears,
Won’t collect them like coins,
Won’t stage them up bold like frames of old postage stamps.
.
Next they’ll all be featured, way in the future,
I’ll check them all for sure
ok on my computer.

Best not be sure nor positive
On the turning point,
Unless talk show representatives
Have affidavits to fill out
To protect them when they project
Yr. image and yr. imaginative story
From coast to coast, but don’t worry,
Viewers love viewing when things turn around.
You can fudge the exact time
It all went down.

3 More Things I Found While Looking For Something Else

before I’ll
earnestly earn
my cookie smile,
There’s business on the burner.
These semi serious matters
sort of need sorting out.
A lot of it needs looking at,
and some ditched,
not the other way around,
like when sure attic treasure gets pitched down
to the cellar.
.
.
2)
M E R E
.
I think! that there’s a theory in
quantum physics
that holds that
the mere act of observation
changes and shapes events
observed.
The science of truth
isn’t my strong suit.
But I can watch from a garage roof;
take semi evaluative notes,
& make up semi reflective reports,
& fake some
control.
.
.
3)
REFORM DREAM
.
Surfacing from a waterfall bottom’s
Churning pool, into mists,
The tall intense man they call The Baptist
Pulls you up, and through, by your hair.
It all means too much now.
The colors hurt, and light on water
Diamonds up the air.
Though new, non-consise power leadens you,
You rise again to surface
All you

Solid Things

There’s this secret I’ve kept so discreet
From lovers, & brothers, & mothers.
I’ve mis managed to become so mum
It was only clearer to me
After self therapy
The other day, or another.
.
From this encompassing dream,
I finally wanted
All the solid things I was sold to get,
When it’s important to want one.
.
I Get
Silk batik ties, Italian silk shirts,
Mostly-silk jackets,
Dry cleaned, & all in the closet.
.
I Wait For And Get
Too new Peter & P.J., Gabriel and Harvey,
Unheard of, they’re still in their jacket.
Too new Laurie Anderson, Richard Thompson,
Unheard of, they’re still in their jacket.
.
I Waited For & Get
Big Bio book of Elliott
Smith, and the case is still closed
.
I Get
New Yorker’s
Drawings & Captions
All of them (All these years)
Data on disc
unplayed & unsmiled to. (sadly)
I Got
New Yorker’s
Drawings & Captions
The Board Game…
.
..
Why I With-hold
All that pleasure,
I haven’t a clue.
It’s half-like holding love
At arm’s length,
& watching it do
.
.

frail

ately these nights
latestart streeting to work
all bad songs between all red nights
.
some days
frustration rages against some wall
communication too can’t see through
some wall our own wall
Even when we chime just finally
we just disagree
.
our works can grind us down
our words can rhyme us down
.
2
.
spirit suggests, speaks some, to best
try a calm trance
one where the frail can dance on treetops
embarrassed with Joy, emancipated
to Bright red birds, right atop
their deep down a well
their dark as hell
though inconsequential
jungle.
It’s free to pop on it’s treetops
So I understand

2 descriptions of an essential, existential dream I never had

“Solemness”s not the only noun
That best states the state I found
Myself drowning in.
I’m quieter this hour , and long past another
Where I worried, When I wondered
I guess as it goes as a boy in the throes
Of a late night alone, of a faith underdose,
and no mother,
“If I die before I sleep”
‘
“Apprehensive” says it also.
An appreciative hospital with the wherewithal, they’ll
welcome
Me and yescheck my symptoms.
I’ll finally sleep & they keep me for observation.
I’ll finally be on their watch instead of mine.

Feng Shui

Chairs and tables re arrangement
Chances are enable a new look
At hackneyed background scenery
And that seriouser still life like “Life’s Work”,
My wail at a stand stail.
A new look on furniture
For fun will force structure
To manhandle content &
Every one of my captions
Under justnow windows,
As this new sunrise happens, for instance,
And the new prose
It lights on.

3 more things I found while looking for something else

before I’ll
earnestly earn
my cookie smile,
There’s business on the burner.
These semi serious matters
sort of need sorting out.
A lot of it needs looking at,
and some ditched,
not the other way around,
like when sure attic treasure gets pitched down
to the cellar.
.
.
2)
M E R E
.
I think! that there’s a theory in
quantum physics
that holds that
the mere act of observation
changes and shapes events
observed.
The science of truth
isn’t my strong suit.
But I can watch from a garage roof;
take semi evaluative notes,
& make up semi reflective reports,
& fake some
control.
.
.
3)
REFORM DREAM
.
Surfacing from a waterfall bottom’s
Churning pool, into mists,
The tall intense man they call The Baptist
Pulls you up, and through, by your hair.
It all means too much now.
The colors hurt, and light on water
Diamonds up the air.
Though new, non-consise power leadens you,
You rise again to surface
All you

"Bridge's Out"

“Bridge’s out”
A boy in a blue scarf shouted.
But a girl with high boots and a cape
only whispered “Icy isn’t safe”.
Both their lines seemed to lift steamlike, upwords,
opposing most all downfall white
(On his hair, in her eye lashes).
White lit it all, it meant to mask the night.
.
Ethereal, yet so real, their faces were so pale.
They are, I thought, not far from fainting.
I strained to scout beyond them, they stood out
Stark against wood and trail.
It confused me, admittedly, I might see a painting.
.
“Watch yourself”, their voices, close,
It sounded some like me who
confoundedly joined their chorus.
Starting down to the river,
I shake off a shiver under my clothes.
I take a deep icy breath, then take a step nearer chaos.

2 More Things I Found While I Was Looking For Something Else

Venom is rarely/
Up to any good./
Even more rarely/
Is venom humourous./
Go ahead, try out/
Yr. venom jokes./
See if it kills ‘em/
In theory.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
.
I’ll say,
“A thing I wonder..”
But I know the truth,
“Is whether audio books
Are books at all. “
Isn’t it storytelling
Without the fire
To
Look…

3 Things I Found While I Was Looking For Something Else

Heaven-Sent & Nice Adolescent Advice
.
We all recall how dreamy faraway
Train whistles calling sounded
In bed as kids,
So very near to dreamy nearby
Dreams.
.
Resist running away, way too far away from home.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
MATHERMAL
.
left foot
.
outside a silk sheet
a half hidden balance
is at play tonight
.
cold drapes on one limb
shrimp buried fetal curling
buffering one warmth
- - - - - - - - - - -
I need to knock on a locksmith’s door.
As tries on my entrance
Has me hammering for him,
The man outside, in a stance
On his mat.
My security windows live up to their claim.
Cats perched there can watch me
Calmly curse in the rain,
Calm for keys that Mercy sees
Cure to unlatch me.

L O O K

Hope we’re having a heaven so
I’ll look and
Daddy can call out, (& it won’t hurt)
He’ll look just like he just got home from work,
“There’s my angry young man”.
We’d have it out;
My young man’s misery,
His young man’s mystery.
We’d upheave it out. Heavy inquiry.
If he hadn’t killed himself he might have taught me
“you gotta take the bitter with the cold”
Outside, My Mother softened things when she told me
When I was ready she told me
“I know,
It’s vile.
He was so very sick.
They say you/ Have his look.
It is mostly OK,
You know.
I say you’ll have my smile”.

Far

I sweat my bed.
I do all but dread
The undraped dreamscapes.
I’d replay and replay
Heaven’s elevator tunes on tape.
Is it true I did
Fluid-loss & exhaustion,
All that turning and tossing?
I sweat my bed.
First thing is shower head to head,
It takes cold water to weigh
This old man awake to stay down,
Away from high ground.
.
I’d walked hard
To find my feet,
To find a way
In that far town.

MY MELANCHOLY VAMPIRE

Don’t forget, friend,
You’re so dour
You don’t even laugh at yr own jokes,
Or don’t you get them?
.
When you nightly set out
Under a mighty moon
To brighten and heat
Yr best features,
Yr long face goes on & on
Though the shadows are gone
And it’s distant stare
Doesn’t stop at dead stars
But goes to their backrow bleachers.
.
He’s aroused as the voices
In trees, on the breezes
Distract him post haste w/ poetries,
Extracting his true face, those ghosts in a wind.
Mostly, They’ll lift him,
But their leverage runs thin.

P L A Y

Gather around, all you clowns
Crouch down with me in the florida room
It's way before four
The moon wouldn't never
give us up, It's not yet up over
Us, It's way before four
We'll call her cell
When she starts into work in the dark
The thing will ring
before she points that key ring thing,
What a shock!
It's her 1st birthday call.
Raise Your Glasses!
We'll sing her praises
Work can go jump tonight
It's a day that this Play
Has costume changes galore
And more
What's more
There's more

IT AMAZES ME HOW I HEART THE HAZY ART

tried to maintain straightfacedness
“Photography..
Is taking paintings’ places
At our public art palaces.”
Said a sad man in line, up ahead,
.
“Imaginably..
Detail has its beauty..but the thing
Is..A twin image is less interesting.”
This made me mention McLuhan,
Not the man, but the manuscripts I read.
.
It amazes me how I heart the hazy art,
The work we co-create;
The “unfinished” poem we read our way
Then we’re on our way to one ending,
I know this exquisite piano piece
Close yr eyes, you visit new skies, and no ending,
The abstract film, the blurry print..
All a happy accident..that hits you.
.
Oh we went on and on,
This man in line and me,
“The Wisdom of Impressionism”
We agreed it would indeed
Go on and on and on.
It’s intentionally
Ill defined.
A painter puts on a mark
Three steps back
Have a looksee
Advance three steps
Add some more to see
Three steps back
P.O.V.
One two and one dip and dab
one two one three
Stand back and see

"We'll Make it Right?"

Canvassing the neighborhood
Nearest The Trestle,
Our task was
To “Survey The Masses”
Sure, it was late, Ok, But by asking
The populace before they could wash their faces
Stressed that mostly, the utmost importance of..
Our goal was the very latest polling
Of very timely matters. Most of us
Took our glasses with us, I think,
We just couldn’t leave them
To be spilled in the sink.

It's the same thing

C'est la meme chose
Children fall down &
too quickly look for help,and pan-ache.
and men fall &
look to see that no one's seen
then too quietly ache for help,
quiet a noise as they can make

"Current Events"

In good faith, in fifth grade,
We were made to
Face up & interpret & comment
on “Current Events”
.
.
At work there was a meeting
Where the boss was reading
All the numbers to call in we’d be needing
When a national emergency or storm
Comes and falls hard upon our homes.
.
I had to add
“What about when
I’m just sick an’
I’m shovellin’
Manatees
Into oily holes
In my oily..
In my own
Backyard?”


South West Florida/May 4,2o10

A Single Signalling

I and It may not be monstertruck obvious
But like a catspurr can spur you through a thunderstorm
Or a night, Or origami maybe might
Amaze you in new ways for focus, and sight–
.
A single signalling;
A child of eleven
On a church swing
Offers “You’re funny”,
I’ll take it as honey
On manna from heaven.
.
The world’s love’s not worth leaving, all in all.
Mine’s a frontline free for all an’
It’s Mercy itself inside all this breathing.
An air strike has been called in
And tear gas’ got me weeping.
.
Same as a mammoth
Dropping to his knees
(I’ve seen it from my cave),
Or, a sweet whale sweating and letting go
Off the side of his seas,
Too far off from saving wave,
Or, one wheelchair child really feeling
Enough in him, not his flesh,
To reach especially hard
To a high gardenia.

Adaption

Ink can slip onto and stain a page
I think it can permeate a world around
it that can see it then re-see it new
and adapt it to the stage.
The symbals clash, the lights rush up. Both astound
A staring crowd. So start up yr. casual
stroll from the wings, not forgetting yr. casual
role

shackled in full moon's shadows

if my bloody feet
work the way
up my path as they
might, come day,
.
these falls, this stumbling,
All before my Moonlight
would be humbling
with goodly reason.

One Warning

It’s not only at night
One ought to be quiet
So as not to .startle
A sleepwalking man
.
So you stay still
Mostly I still do
I wouldn’t awaken
A sleepwalking man
.
He’s steering past scenery
He’s deaf to the dreadful din
It’s as if imbedded in him
An old ghost holes up
And mostly he still goes
All lost.
He’s explosive
World wrecking
But mostly he’s expecting
All lost.

I'm Going On No Moon

I’m going on no moon. And no one
Made me any offers. Tell Tale signs stay silent.
It’s gonna simply empty out,
This night, right to its residue.
It’s gonna spill out again as fountains do.
But wishing wells replenish
W/shiny pennies/ Pitched prayers cheap,
Bright as church bought candles.
.
Night wants a way with you.
It stews, but
I do see hidden handles.
You gotta know when to get out,
You go inside and light lanterns.
You gotta know which trail to see clear
To see clearer
Nocturnal patterns.
.
(lit lanterns surely must lure lost angels
it matters to turn first to conference then
all our eyes on the one sunrise)

There was this swift swirl of street leaves
That left him lifting his head, just a moment.
He witnessed nothing that would stand
As an assessment of all this movement.
.
All that’s just dust
Against the Presence
Of swirls of uncertainty.
ever-present whirls of worry work to sort it out.
He’ll re-address the best intent,
Just muster efforts to sort it out.
.
.
.
“CANCER(June 22-Aug. 22)
Aspire to achieve great focus
and concentration. Do this not
because it proves what a power-
ful person you are, but because
staying involved in your projects
and endeavors is better than
spinning out into worlds of
worry.”
THIS MORNINGS HOROSCOPE

Sam Shepard/ Patti Smith Books Report

If you do like me and you sometimes see that you’re waistdeep immersed in a coupla books simultaneously
I’ll recommend two (2) that in some way complement each other. On some level they work, next door, for me.
Artist/performer Patti Smith’s “Just Kids” is a sweet memoir and a tribute, I think, to her soul partner, the late Robert Mapplethorpe. I say sweet because Patti’s voice is soft & clear throughout, its tenderness pervades her storytelling and her passions for things spiritual (Art, Music, God). Her courage to leave her loving family home without nearly enough money to go to NYC and to brave the obvious challenges for a new start there. Her quest to make it as an artist and the creative heights it may lead her to, will demand much for her climb.
She’s resilient, courageous, passionately faith-filled, and tender. You root for her, and Robert.
.
Another approach..not defined enough to root for..another journey is artist/performer Sam Shepard’s “Day Out Of Days”. Sam’s voice undercurrents his prosaic tales as he wanders America’s not-so-well-known highways, 2 lane blacktops, less beaten paths. The characters that use them, like the author himself, are characters indeed.
Instead of Patti’s exalted & reverential renderings of a majestic world where young artist gods stumble into a future where something/anything can happen…Sam is one hardened cynic, one stoic watcher of human folly and devastation around him (including the guy in the mirror). He eloquently tells his short troubled tales (nightmares almost) with too few words that expand & expound on too much. His dismal, beautiful glimpses raise many questions, while raising consciousness.
One book is fueled by a cool hope, another by a warm hopelessness. These two authors, in another world, another time…fiction & non-fiction, primal female & male spirit, just might had found their opponents attractive, as I have.

gethsemane

There ought better be a beacon
on a cliff in California could be
where hope’s light works with a sea horn
where a night light works with a warning
forces & forges the blackest fog & forests

There can be a candle
in a window with enough heat
to fire the hearth
to light the lone solitary stone room

st. pattys

To you and yours ,then



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTxfiSwdIH8&feature=PlayList&p=76FEEA6D3531D10B&index=8
loud & proud as you go

Fire dance

“A man can bare himself before others only out of a particular kind of love.
A love which acknowledges, as it were,
that we are all wicked children”
— Ludwig Wittgenstein
‘
‘
Savagely,
I can dance around a fire.
If the spirits take notice,
If they’re drawn by this sight,
As we might be
lured by the light
of dead stars, already,
If the spirits take notice of
Me at the blaze
My body and face,
(Not at all faking
What I choose to let loose)
Shiny, and shaking away my disease,
Let said spirits kindly
sign off on release.

Tapping On The Glass

Anthill anticipations lead
Us to curious needs,
Deep, burrowing mines.
.
Take catholic school kids,
Breaking their lines,
To tap on the glass,
There, at some aquarium.

On Sudden Death

This feeling blessed
to naturally possess
a great grandmother,
or some other, who passed
to you, a telling and precious
tale taught/told to you, or sung, accompanied by
a locket of gold.
‘
to hold it tightly
rubbing it, and hiding it nightly.
It ought to go to the thought-out
safe secret spot.
.
Years do veer you away from…
Years do lessen the lesson of
the veneer of preciousness.
And the old gold locket gets lost.
One goneness devastates us.
We’ve forgotten to wait. And expect this.
.
This feeling blessed
To naturally possess
Sure treasure, Sure loss.

It's Delicate Business

It’s a damned near full moon
It’s clear, a bracing
evening. I’ll exhale out
to trace the treeline off
to a nothing northern florida town.
She sat at a flea market
where tons of townies in camouflage jackets
pressed past her at her table and chair.
Her pronounced pretty eyes
were the ideal quirk for gypsy fortune tell work.
Green, like beach glass.
How might they see me?
How can she be expected to espouse
All Ahead for me there?
At that table & chair there, exposed
to that flea market crowd?
Men, off to gun tables.
Women, drawn up the way
where puppies are given away
(hunting dogs no doubt)
How Soul-intimate can my gypsy and I get?
Can she pull out
All that’s in
In all of this dumbed down din?
It’s delicate business…
There’s this inarticulate air here
Against which…without a hitch..
.I want to wonder over every word..
I want to wonder for every prophetic word.
How can we do this with clothes on? Absurd.
.
I can see, by the chance
of this damned near full moon,
I’ll watch the line of my breath dance
just off the distant treeline,
Off to tomorrow’s full sun soon.

1st Draft Frippery

This man risked squandering 2 quarters,
Despite the nights rain,
He’d fight to stay the payphone,
Risked squandering 2 quarters,
Meant to be spent on a quart when the day was done.
So he’d hang up quick as Go
So she’d ring back
If she was in a curious mood.
It wasn’t too late
(But maybe that’d help)
.
He’d be ready, with his 1st draft.
Damn, ink already ran onto his icy hand,
Trailed off his folded page
Of falderal, frippery, & doggerel.
Worthy words to win some time.
He’d force his forte’ over the phone
If she called back
If any would entertain
A curious mood
This time
Of night.

Yes, The Sequences Go

Yes, the sequences go, this sets pro-
gressing. We stand in our streams,
Study up storm weather
We’re all under the weather.
Yes, The compass is no good.
Guessing; Push the river?
Willfully take steps?
Or wade on down downflow?
Resplendent.
.
Rest on it.
It will come

She's Readying Our Bed

We’ll be signalled by the sound of the sheets
And come running in a beeline
More like felines;
Harrison, Kayryan, then there’s Carl.
We’ll wind our way
Towards sheer clouds and sure play;
I’d guess less Hide than Seek.
I’d bet about No “A-Boo”,
It’s more all Go for “Peek, Peek, Peek”.
Us cats & kitties will fly in from nearby cities.
Boy, We’ll bound up there…
No, we’ll feel free and go
Unbound
Up upon there.

Annual Renewal From An Ancient Porch

Winter winds could
only find us cold
on our old
and ancient porch
perched high here in our new air
searching here through our new words
The latest launch on,
off this roof porch in
an old haunt,
this chilly sleepy village,
Off this nest
.
‘
.
thanx Cedar Key

another scan

it starts up, ^ I stare up
at lit charts unclear to clear up
for me mystery this ghostly machine
Immense science I’m mostly wrapped in
Examined for finds in
a mans heart.
not fresh poetry
scientific not beautyfic
principle not miracle
guts by glove/ not guts for love

the hat on a scarecrow

“”Nobody to talk to. Nothing to do. When one has nothing to do, then is the time to correspond with one”s friends.
You perceive, then, why it is that I write you this letter—it is on account of my ennui and your sins.”
from “Mellonta Tauta”, Edgar Allen Poe
—————————————————————————————————–
I’m all for the metaphors that pinpoint elusive love.
I’ve a butterfly that lights right upon you like
A wild bird will dance onto a tame wire.
Random (?) and skittish, lovely luck of above.
Odd that the hat on a scarecrow
Has enough shine to ensure a lure enough
to bug and bird alike,
To draw, and not repel them,
Their wings aim down to light.
———————————————————————————–
“She’s gone, he’s gone too, and in the darkness; heaven and earth hold hands, the hands that loosened for a moment.”
from “The Piano Teacher’, Elfriede Jelinek

Tribute

It’s likely/ It could be
That when Leonard Bernstein,
At his piano bench,
It was very late when he…
In a creative trance,
Had opened an envelope
From Stephen Sondheim,
And started to work on
A musical phrasing for
“There’s a place for us”,
He eyedropped a gold teardrop
into a test tube, & heaven reacted,

& now can make me ache
20,000 late nights after