in the language of wish

all the doors
and windows are open
today, hobo breeze.
a NeW! global warming winterTM
drifts thru full of old lovers
dressed as dandelion seeds.

naturally progressive spreads

mine a gibbery digeridoo of a moon.
the sun grows dimmer in illuminati.
the tarot explodes.
























































an amalgam blessed by a spell.
why do i always return4er
to symbols? as much as linguists
try to pin them to felt
covered boards, resistance fits

their persistence-- i think
that might be a symple explanation.


there are some who seek this in entheogens.
the god within becoming. the sainted
remembrance beginning


again,religion as opiate where mundane
love fails. you just
gotta find the one that speaks to you
in mysteries clothed as peaks' peeks.
hey , good morning poetry. i kneel
in your church. can you point me to the perks?







































the key of the nile rests
around the throat of venus.
the star shot moment when
death copulates with birth to brew
this stew. is it a new yew?









somehow i doubt it. call me thomas, my son's
middle name. manna is now illegal in twenty states
and growing. when all of us are gods who
will collect pennies from heaven? these and other
questions land heads and tails on the umber field.
the reader directs the prepositional object: grain, love, rain.






































































a field of rain




sky as your eye, partly
filled with color and pattern.
pulling river riding an egocycle
down eternity lane, main drag
nexus of homo erectus.



it took me seeing me
as you might have
to collect like this, in a shallow
gravity well, a particular hell
or heaven if i only will.


or weil. heh. to seek
slavery as release-
i have ridden this beast,

no more gnostic
than holographic.



no less, either. or triad, the math of matter.
numbers as dayglow stripe illuminati, yes, your
body. and mine-not-mine,engaged ,mind engorged
an anvil forged from less than fairy eyes inverted
seek to rise above flesh diverted , perverted chant

which hathor envies, had she pants. heh. the twisted
fall, icarus, of the almost flown.






























































































































excalibur




there have been many of you
trying to get through to me.

phone numbers amass in my toilet stall.
my shadow outlined on yr plexiglass wall. or so
it seems i mean i've called you? and your numbers"
been, like , busy? don't you have
caller id? hmmm.
i think it comes down to a perversion, societys'--
excuze me did you think it mine? and those
not called , it's not been time. i think i'll lose
whatever drag's been keeping me anchored

in the dream state normalcy. well, except for
my son. the bright days of pick up your plates do
your homework. get up early go to work, come home
early dig language earth. tease you slightly, monkey man
why? because you think i can.






















































































despite all this i am not a quick fuck.
u must take time to know me,as i will you.
namelessness belongs to the stars of which
you and i are are/¬. but one night

just might be enough.




(composing a new dating profile
the poet cackles at the booty she will toss
back to the sea. )


the conjunction of mars and venus
occurs in the sky or in your starts.
when playing poker always

keep the king of hearts,
until the hand's to be revealed
then toss or lay it, but keep it real.



(cuts and pastes the eyes of betty paige

to the body of ms boop. )


((she once wanted to explore the tantric. now wonders

if sting is the only man alive to get it. ))




>>uploading a picture to go with your profile increases your chances of response.<<




















br>








A sign for the fourth Olympic spirit in some Cabbalistic mysticist contexts.


wtf? "some cabbalistic mysticist contexts??!!" y so bloody cryptic? br>





oh. heh. Kahballah. kaaaaaaaahhhh bahhhhlaaahhhh







isn't that the jewish gnostic thang that madonna's so fond of?



well, there's a nut for my kronish soul to chew on.
approachment of the embrace to oblivion. add the '
to make it french. but i can't. oh my lack of proper tools
is legendary, legionairey.



like faery's eyes because
the eyebrows make a broken frown, when upside down
and rightside up, mouth makes a cup from which to drink
a kitchen sink of beatitude upon the brink of taken hold
where nothing is what's bought & sold.






























half pitch lower




somewhere between a and b
i sit in the chair you left
when you moved on. it has the
vaseline stains from when you
borrowed it last year, circles on
the blonde arms of some rusty
cds we did together, a vision
of a tattoo in black ink
stains on the seat from
a full moon flow. it's a very
comfortable chair. thank you.