Above visibility, stars nova bright blaze through nascent galaxies.
Move inward
as Sunlight descends.
Cob-webbed lantern, too weak to flame,
forgotten among rusted childhood trains, stranded tinsel,
abandoned hero’s fantasies.
Sharp cries, wilderness passing.
What is not foreseen, not written or named
if encouraged to trust may reveal
unclaimed aspiration,
dilating horizons.
Chatty stream of energy emits
breaking news, ideations, elegant discourse formations.
Tip of the lip to the ear. Endear or outrage.
Mages, seers ripen to season, gaggle
in choral rehearsal, dervish celebration.
Pleasing balm, sweep of calm meditation.
Vibrant inebriation of oxygen; enlivening
wind brings shivers, awe to
on wings of whistling
intentions set wild.
Restorative love doesn’t involve
seamless melding
perfection to perfection,
but all those cracks, crags, crevices
hoping (aching) to be filled.

Momentary Rhapsody

What could be wrong with wanting to feel
without effort?
Of course I know that’s not likely to be
the case most days.
Nagging obligations, issues with relations,
distracting irritation
fill the larger part of the plot we play.
Still, why not admit, hitch to the Protestant
Ethic is no answer to genuine silent prayers?
Our highest aspiration, truth be told, is not
a hoard of gold, or even boldness to face
off oppressive law.
Eminent desire resides in pleasure, the dappled call
of leisure, joyful ride of sybaritic bliss.
Lost from fear, from future’s whip, dear moment —
let it linger


Flashes of acrobatics, mirrors catch
gnarled blue finger phantoms, hold, entwine;
trauma, like treacle pulls down.  Drown in
struggle so futile. Brutal prison
afflicts, never releases.
I fall
Sci-fi horror fantasy more real than brass smiles,
cold acceptance, helpless spin into far star light.
Terrorists every darkening day snarl joker style,
hand off severed legs, frozen eyes, bleeding mouths
and I
will do anything to hide, to blow up anxious bubbles,
circumscribe with sound, raw screech, Broadway baubles,
cautionary tragedies.
Suck drunken demon sweat, guilt and lye.
Never die, just severed scarring unto scores of ages.
Dried, disheveled stitching; buboes explode with rage.
Seeping, seething, grip any ship to escape.
Widening space, quiet contemplation
lit by manic flashes.

Giving Thanks

Thank you all for being
— as another year unwinds
All the hearing, voicing, seeking
Your shared caring and desires
All the fear, sickness and heartache
All the joy, infectious smiles
Arts in which your visions partake
displaying all your various styles
Dear wishes for a future where
convivial peace abides
Merry welcome, all you beings
in my life.


Synapses fire.
Burned into my essence,
honored ghostly presence,
songs that guided like stars,
surprise me, out of time.
Stories told in childhood,
filed scraps like photographs
return to older eyes.
So close I didn’t see then.
Now brings appreciation, great waking
sadness, ironic laughter.
Scars are evidence of active life.
What once embarrassed
matures as humility, pride without hubris
for acquittal with civility
past exuberances, youthful folly.
Critical ignorance
only long rumination can absolve.
Crying seems clichéd,
out of place.
I feel charge to ignite new emotion,
arts of expression,
obviate scars’ stagnation.

In Fraud We Trust

How discover trust?
All lie, even without meaning
and most certainly
when convenient
to forget any equation beyond
immediate advantage.
“Keep ‘em guessing about reality,
running a loop, too confused to 
think through better strategy.”
And then, with fake aplomb make demands,
as if merely standing on bare claimed world
implies owed compensation
for sustenance and everlasting soul.
Some social contract long ago
signed in perpetuity.
Jungle law tweaked to modern code.
Eat or get eaten; do or die.
Do jungle kin lie slyly
amongst their brethren?
Do they ruinously scar little children,
raise them tame and scared?
Is there no culture of happy home
where trust is valued
enough to build familial lore
that favors open sharing?
Who would travel there
if it meant
forsaking the comfort
of lies?

collective consciousness released to expanding space

Zest for jest unbound.
Highness vigorously reconfigures silence,
doom, gloom,
consecrated violence.
Sorcery She exhumes
with such glee
to trigger astounded revelation.
At Her pinnacle, pride falls.
All those stationary stones
of faith
What luck!
No burden left to tether,
to weigh down.
Shifting ground,
biology’s tedious dependence,
materiality’s limits,
delineate this physical plane.
Fervent leap:
outside explanation
eternal expanse
gravity’s claim.


Getting to the source.
Pumping the prime.
Apprehending “Of course!”
Forays outside named time.
Exploring inner realms sublime
beyond question or balance.
Fearing I have become up to
Truth’s challenge.
I may take this leap,
wake from my sleep,
break from faith’s gilded glass cage.
The excuse of my age
no longer staunch enough
to make me behave
as a self-shackled slave.

Phoenix Flame

A ball of fire in my palm
behind my eyes
consumes all flesh.
Engulfed in crackling frame-dissolving
flame, hot bed of sparkling embers
destroys soft hair and lashes.
Yet out of ash always renewed
ready to burn ever more, feed eternal combustion.
I can’t sleep beneath the flash and noise,
find respite from immolation.
Atom by atom rent, then realigned
to play again at disintegration.
Towers fall through blood
and sinew stripped from form. 
You are of me.
You are one of me.
You see what I see.
You fear as I decree.
You do what I command.
I’ve got you in my hand.
I’ve got you underhand.
Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.
You are far away.
You are very far away.
You don’t do what I say.
You don’t hear what I pray.
I’m screaming “go away”
Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away.
I’m sitting in my room.
I’ve seduced you to my room.
I feel you in my womb.
You got away too soon.
You haven’t got a chance.
No, not a bloody chance.
I circle in my dance.
I’ve trapped you in my dance.
In a trance, in a trance, in a trance, in a trance
Come on — DANCE!
Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.
Quietly, quickly, deathly grace
annihilates without a trace.
Stealthily, silently my poison kills,
to cleanse this land of a people’s ills.
The key’s been cast, so lock the door
on lies and poverty; greed and war.
Purify in red soaked fire.
Deify the symbol of desire.
And when all desire’s turned to dust,
etch in fire: “IN GOD WE TRUST.”
A sacred trust.
Sound the bell.
Sound the bell.
Sound the bell slowly
o’er all we’ve made holy.
Ring bright pure-toned peals
o’er gold flaming fields.
In music now seal’d
the end of our fate.
Sound the bell.
Sound the bell.
And now I sail from the sea of Lethe.
Phoenix, risen from my death
to journey on through time and space.
Progenitor to the human race.


Spirit bound and masked,
unacquainted with freedom.
Self assured, in name only – more beggar
than lord.
More child in the corner silently singing
to hold tears, tongue, repent, recoil.
Singing of laughing eyes a’float in kindness —
happy fantasy to pretend to remember.
Run through streetlit puddles,
anonymous legs, trousers, stockings, galoshes, heels.
Stuck in frantic motion.
Shadowlike, insubstantial.
Damp debris smudges ink into ideograms.
Remnants, matted hair and rags
carelessly sewn together.
Feel their tug before
deception’s push catches from behind.
Frozen not in time, but emotion.
Fear of love, thrall of vengeance,
shame of this child in the mirror
lost, cold, defiantly alone.
self is no illusion, no burden, no preordained expression.
self is the I who may act, may decide, may love.
self is the idea, the bed of thought, the hope and aspiration.
self is the resource, raw material from which all blessings bloom.
Free-born to spinning Earth,
curious child of raveling universe
intimately bespeaks destiny.