We Are Shadows Cast

We are shadows cast
By our souls’ interruption
Of a light unseen,
Of a radiance born inside
The small, tight corners of dimension.

As the wavering dimness
Of my commuter bus’ exhausted vapor
Upon the road in morning sun.

Does the world only reflect
For our eyes to catch.

Can experience be separated
From Being.

Is this why basketball hoops and navels
Are round.

Life is a continuity of Identity.

A careful juggling of what
Has gone before
As evidenced in what is
Seen now and balanced
Against what is expected
To Be.

This is the essence of Human consciousness;
and is the inherent tension of our race.

Identity is found in the lines of your hand,
In your gaze to the horizon.

These are not at all new thoughts,
Only philosophical preambles,
A shuffling of cards in the parlor.

It is only the concentrated shield of our
Ever re-etched pattern of ego,
Highly held against chaos
That keeps us from the Madness of
Unassumed reality.

Also, ice cream.

A Thing Of Dream

A thing of dream
Ripples beneath the waves
A thing maker of what is never to be,
of what must be
Tension of creation
Alchemy in the void
The life from death
The end of a wheel
The flat spot on a perfect globe
Dreams of God,
Unknown to His creator
The darkness in full sunlight,
the beckoning shade in desert
Death as but a thin film perspective,
blurred by surface tension

Tomorrow is past
“Enter on the B side”
That’s why you dream of it tonight
There are no riddles that do not rhyme
Blank in the Fills
Truth is lie
Lies are never knowing
And am not I
Spelling words,
but with images from the back of your skull that
Cannot be woken from
End each moment in life
with preposition I beg you,
of

Simply Separate The Coffee Grounds

And so I again simply separate the coffee grounds from coffee maker.
Days round square meals of insight, inspiration, and beer.
I know the knowledge is less than luck.
I lunch with fate sitting behind me, back to back, our eyes watchful.

The dreams unsettle themselves, and we whisper in the predawn glow.
Stories from the brainstem, from the heart passing blood messages above and below.
The darkness is a drink swallowed and left buried within us.
The day lays flowers before us as stones, marked and self marking.

And what does it mean?

It means you ask such questions.

It means you answer in attempts and flights of folly.

It means we laugh when all else fails.

It means pain and lessons and moresons and fine ways of defining inside and out,
The included and excluded, the food and the excrement,
You, me, other, elsewand.

Let’s mellow with Mars returning direct, and we’ll see if Chuck Woolery can get his mouth fixed.

Straps Follow

So say sin in the thin of things.

Some say sally forth when the rains fall easy.

I heard a man whisper his own name as incantation against the threat of death.

All this has happened before. And I'll tell you this again. Know that we are pillars of our own life, living as the base born and standing through tall to the top end, which is death.

Is that heavy? Shit, gravity's heavy bro.

I'm talking the fourth dimension. I'm talking concerns for you and yours. Yours being anything you lay hands on.

I'm talking to your ears as they've lived through generations of ancestors from single cell to the stars befell. I'm talking a change. Like we've read about, and more like those we haven't. I'm talking graduation from kindergarten. Painful as it is.

And that means what, you ask? Well, figure it out Holmes. Deduce where the fuck your life and the life of this here populace is going. And you'll know. You'll guess. Fuck, you'll even conjecture.

I'm talking the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. Might as well follow suit and have that martini and cigar as breakfast, for D-Day is a coming and you'll know when you're tripping when you see things you haven't seen. When things demand attention by seeing you. When things see.

Believe me, the last thing I want is to sound ,is, redundant. Heck, I confuse too many faces by twisting things they expect to hear from my mouth into things that bend just a little.

I guess I'm saying nothing. Yet (and we should all acknowledge this), it is the saying which is the penultimate expression of our species.

And with that, I bid you a good taco. See you soon, as we descend our accession.

Control The Water, Control The Ways Of Life

Ok, this is just cool.

Once, Four Times

Once, four times
Twice, eight times

The color of the woman’s hair on the bus this morning was the same as the fur collar of her coat.
It made me think of what we are, and what we carry.
What color of light we reflect, and what glow is our own.

I place my bookmark and silence my headphones two blocks before work.
I like to have some moments of transition, from one state to another.
It makes it easier to let go of the dream.

The air of this world has only gotten stranger since I first began breathing it.
The atmosphere, the gaseous continuum, the medium of emotions defined by our island chain of human souls.
This place we find ourselves.
It has changed. It has been a steady change.
Who could expect anything less?

But does it not feel yet closer?
The air closer as in a cave, as in a small room when the door closes.

There is a change in pressure.
The bare moment when the door is pushing the air from around the last inch of frame.
A slight push before equalization.

Where are we.
Does anyone think these things.
Is this soul crazy.


I am abandoning question marks.

The questions are themselves.
They don’t need a tail flicking about like a cat’s.


There is a pull upon the ropes of heaven.
A tensioning of metaphoric orbital tether.
As above, so below.
Where are we going.
Do we know.

What story to be sold, bright, fangled and gold.
What lives to behold.
Her eyes, betty boop in the mornings.

There isn’t a definite way.
This isn’t a tv standing serving tray.
This is just today, again.
Another chance to turn at the bend.

And we’ve all changed, have we not.
More chunks chipped and flicked away
from our perfect corpse,
stated and statuesque, for death’s first day.

So ride and smile, it’ll be a while, or too soon to know.
I’ll pull that rope and you the other,
and we’ll sail without wind or bother.


Jacketeering jackets, layers, sneers, and Bill.
They jokey and jostle, pushing and pairing.
They thrum and ferry, passing the gated fray.

More terrible than the zombie scourge,
They’re smart, thumbed and hungry.
They’re in there dizzy, spinning with your laundry.

They’re staring through the frosted windows of the grocer’s frozen section,
Cooking dinner with foggy breath.
Would you like cold peas or cold ham, with a threat of rack of lamb.

They’re in suits and they deny
They’re just as worried as you and I.
They wonder how they’ll this time steal,
your life, liberty, and last meal.

I’m not saying nothing untoward,
nothing seditious, confederate, or forward.
Nothing knows us by name.
Nothing is the single rule of this single game.

We’re in the mob, but ain’t Italian.
We’re capable, too quick, and fearing sick.
We are the parts played as the script’s yet laid.

Action!
Qua Est Deus.


Give me your hands dear.
Lay your tears upon my wrist.
Beat upon this, my pulse’s thinnest skin.

Let's Walk A While

Let’s walk a while

How are you doing?
Things at home ok?
What is your opinion of current events?
Do you get the newspaper anymore?

Do you see shadows in the lighted halls?
See strangers standing in the hats?
Have we thought too litte? too much?
Can you taste the spike in the punch?

Look about and see,
There’s a strange breathing sound outside.
Something is huffing and puffing,
and I think it’s great.

What we’ve been waiting for is in flight.
Hiding by day, traveling by night.

Long ago I speculated that wicked things
Always fly straight.
But what’s flying toward us now I think is more like light,
Both particle and wave, both solid and serene.

Do you know what I mean?
Have you guessed such odd questions
In the private corners of your brain?

Have you caught unknown eyes on the train?

Which stop do we get off on today?

The usual?
Or the one where tomorrow is today.

Shade Of A Tree

See sideways settle down
See holes find purchase in your eyes
See happenstance decide

Perforated lines crisscross the planet
Bent to and fro
Moments from letting go

It will finally come

And though too many hear but the sound of the Drum
Remember those of us with ears for a Flute
Don’t pull back but twice shoot

Definitions tired and falsified will breakaway
Fewer tomorrows lost to today
There will be wholesome smiles, uplifted again

We all could stand to lose the weight
Sitting has danced its last with fate
Evil shall no longer pinch us twist chalk and slate

So continue your harvest as always
What will, will be
We know why, the shade of a tree

Always Forward

If the days measure fitful, you need first master the chaos inside.

If the days prove the depth of challenge, useful is that cool core within, as the marbled pillar of the temple.

It is your eyes that dance the line between the world’s pain and your own, as sacred stained glass buffeted by winds from far away lands and from the torments churning deep in your soul’s cave.

Your pain is your beauty.

It is not a cause of despair, but of delight.

Your triumph takes the breath from crowds, makes people fear their own paler skin, this I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with what has fallen.

Fruit of the Garden, stars from Heaven, leaves from the olive Tree.

The is no faith to be lost in the future.

Turns of the prayer Wheel, followers of the Hundred, sanity finding Sense.

Be not bedazzled by the flashing ripples of the water’s surface.

Know Blind,

but know the flowing flower form of the swirling fluidic expanse touching everything, as your oars work and push this row boat of your life Forward, though we are fated to only face behind us, to stare but at the past.

We are Always forward. We are the Shore.