trying stryrofoam wings
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
each nite i wait, hope
heavy as bone, that you
will decide for me.

movement over the interlapping
pool triangles carries into a future.

this is peopled by some resemblance
to the last time you and i made love.

when that happens- as it does
each time i close my eyes
and see what i found ,
chrysalis stamped in silk-
i use the yellow marker to fill
the blank white
circle in the middle
and watch you flitter away.


tarottt



3 tymes the boi
reads the auspices 3
and still he denies them
he'z not buying by
the way. but he's into
polygamy not
monogamy and i it appears
want to own.
what do your own cards tell you?

tachyonic byronic epiphanies
bombarded by neutrinos, zipping pasts
beyond the energy grid
what makes us bid? cake crumbs
making snacks while perpetually replenishing an
emptying linearity of its logic

i hate how time begins
to exist all at once

go with it. "it". yknow zennit
craving for cheese whiz
the places it takes you.
announcements on the half hour.
will you be staying on this trip?

leaps of faith being bad
choices, playing safety over
and over on the cd, this can all
only end in silence. must life be linear?

choices. do we have them?
is that the whole illusion?
if u bat 700 in the choice game-
what's the complaint. some you win.
sometimes the bear is your dance partner.

making a choice
i begin to leave you

this day was written before
you knew you were in the grocery store
looking at the rolaids in the middle
of all those sparkling yellows and aluminums
grab a colgate and a toothbrush
a small pack of trojans
pocket the change



handprint sworn to secrecy
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at the edge of the vast darkness
where han shan lives with a candle stick
and the image of a pebble in his mouth
i shine a torch. as if i lived in england
and we had a history to evolve.
there's no sense looking for irony or hidden
meanings. they passed those up
to the front of the room eons ago.

i feel the bat emerge. the sucking sound of language
through a straw. i once knew which lines
were mind and which were mine. now they jumble
like fidelity in a broom. short straw wins.
last one makes a long journey to the camel's back.
all this is spray painted on the first curve
i trace it with the beam, and shadows loom and crackle.

a voice accompanies me. it might be li po
or a tea ceremony flitting in the roil or simple
darkness caressing a flickery candle flame
it speaks intimately, as it takes me
from behind where eyes are free


who am i to believe what love should be?
what 'it' will become? here, gone, the lonely cum
dried as neverwas on a small rock
in the furthest back corner. when you don't cling
how can you desire? if the nerve
doesn't exist, how can it fire?

spent too many befores waiting for the after
and it comes in this call. you'll walk
to the other side of the cave. there seems to be a wall.
walk through it.