symbol

do you like money? i mean the paperness of it, the color, smell, the way it folds and bends and creases. if money couldn't get you anything , if it existed say like a ruby, on its own physical plane, alone , with no other meaning attatched to it, would you like it as much?

what you prolly like are the things you can acquire with it.



so, money as symbol for wealth, or ease, or dream fulfillment. but what if your dream is true love? i don't think money can help you there. heh, what am i saying? this is 21st century USA. you can buy the semblance of true love, a virtual love if you will. the effect would be the same as if you had a lcd panel mounted into your wall, with hi def recordings of the moon in all its phases, unmarred or effected by the weather, so that you could view this perfect representation of the moon without ever having to go out into the weather.

i can't think of any entity less suited to commodity than love. isn't it odd then that so much of human ritual re this emotion revolves around commerce? i'm not going to place blame here on any particular gender. i think both are guilty of perpetuating this type of symbolic substitute for the real thing.

thus there are rules of engagement and interaction, tokens dispersed and collected, drinks bought or accepted. and in the midst of these rituals, somehow the lcd is supposed to morph into a realistic hologram, then into the very moon itself, shining like the goddess of love on common endeavor, full and silvery and sweet, like falling into a warm endless spring.



friend of mine pointed out that true love is not something you fall into, it's something you make. and that's where my own hope finds its home.

bario and the mescaline sisters

there's magical matematics
in the soft air tonight. thunder
tenses some other part
of the sky, away from this
mist, cusping skin, good
wines, food to share.

the laugher falls , imbricated
across petals of small flame, conversing
with yesterdays and d left
hand palms. life is bizarre
in small increments, like she wraps


a headscarf around her head,
becomes the party's gypsy
goes home with an earring
in her right ear. the earring is turquois
and silver. she uses it when the magic
needs turning, sacred stones dispelling
myth. she loses it when the wild gets a ride
to the head zone. pacing doesn't help.

later he puts louis armstrong
on the ipod, she's all like i love
this music, her smile's from a smokey
nightclub, he says i put it on
so we could dance. she's all like
who leads,but they manage to figure
it out, and her capris turn into a silk sheath
his shorts into dark blue linen trousers
closed eyes in the off broadway club
where glasses clink, ten patrons
remaining in the club converse
with the horn, and the horn weeps black and white
notes into tomorrow, where they hold
each other like strangers learning to dance

hiding for sport

on humid streets, signs bounce
in nickleodeon tremors. mai wei gardens
arbys, hank's drive thru oil change. the hog
wears the voice of god comfortably dusting
the nearly empty streets with low gear rumbling
.
slice of moon on the ocean tips and drips marekesh
yodels from a satelite beam into uncovered
heads. there are stars, staring with cop colors
on an undermanned bridge. monday just got better.

let's not discuss the finer points of tragedy via text messaging
after all, you have a nice place, a kick ass mode of transportation,
and all the liquor we could want. i'll bring the weed.

it's a good night to be cruising in paradise, letting
the magic happen. hair flyin in the wind. arms wrapped
around whatever's closest to hold. . whoever. what EVEr.
about the time you wish for a falling star, a piece of space trash
arcs across a misty sky. about the time you wish for a kiss
on the neck, a mouth on discovery's risk

gloxinia


--and then we find out
we are the gods


i was pulling the pumpkin vine
from around the hibiscus, it's grown
quite rapidly in the rainy months.
some people consider it a weed
but i like it.just not where it is now.
trying to get it to grow on the side
of the house that butts up to neighbor's
front door. some pretty
green veiling , climbing
up the plastic trellis. even tho
the place has been empty , victim
to the mortgage crisis, for almost a year
i still want privacy, such as it is,
here in the trailer park.

so i pull the vines from the ground
and damn if i don't see that plant he gave me
when we were first dating, the one he had hidden
behind his back, the one he picked up from
home depot on the way to my house --
that first time he ran a bit late,how it frightened me
this uncharacteristic tardiness because he could be
dead for all i knew, for all i knew he could have
simply changed his mind, but more like he could be dead
and how would i ever know cuz if he was running late
he would have called, he wouldn't worry me but if he'd been
in accident i wouldn't be on his contact list, we were too new
for emergencies but before i could get very scared
there he was, knocking with one hand, a silly smirk
on his face his other arm behind his back so we
couldn't properly hug but i hello kissed him right before
he brought it out, the broad leafed plant with
three red and white bell shaped flowers, the plant
that bloomed for a few months in my bathroom
reminding me of hearts and song and how it felt
to have him holdling me ,i'd look inside
the vermillion cups , into pristine white insides
like a valentine gift wrapped the moon
and wonder how long the thing would live
with the soil and water and sunlight.

later , during the many breakups
and reconciliations the glox put out
some flowers now and then. when they'd
begin to come out, i anticipated a reunion.
sometimes there was a call, a meeting
an understanding reached. more often
there was not. but i kept watering it
and pinched the leaves and pulled the shriveled
flowers from the stems so more could grow.
it was a beautiful flower, but eventually
i forgot to water it and it grew sickly looking

so i put it out into the front yard
under the oak, in the shade of the hibiscus
last november. said let it grow or die.
and here it is august again, after the winter
and drought and spring storms
pumpkin vine shadow, and grass encroachment
weedwhacker close calls alive
broadleaved and wanting to flower
like some kind of hope inside
an openmouthed bell jar

looking out to see in

so they've measured heat
about what four billion light years
away, looking into the past
to see the face of the beginning
crawling out of the womb or sprung
athena from out a male head.

athena , booty call. the hunt. since
the three great themes of LITrature are
wait for it
sex death love
not in that order
sometimes.


well it's not wonder i keep coming back
to the one that's most alive, layered w/
6 kinds of ayahuscas and four brands of tea
and lord only know how many volcano
eruptus and sinkhole finishing touches
because we stopped taking those applications
when it became clear they were no longer
looking for work. work work work.
four times and it lasts well into next week.
also sanitized for your convenience.

so drink up me heartys. i began this missive with
the cast of blast dipping into snuff

way down under, but i'll end it on a more positive
particle acceleration, to wit

when we finally see the face
i think it won't resemble human, animal or
large giures as seen by
telescops on the earth.

sigh says lizzie b. no one ever listens to me. m

well well well

hello you
i just don't get it
but whatever.

maybe i don't wanna get it.


but at any rate, i'm done with hope.
stupid spider. go weave your web
somewhere else.

i need

comet and lye today.
it looks like the grand canyon is out of range
jake's sick with something, who knows what
no fever just nausea. is he too high or not high enough

cold turkey on the weed is tuff
when yr gods love the taste
of broken plans

just as a change of pace
from broken hearts. besides
mine's been spit out too many times
to have much flavor left."

the incorrigible nature of the so called

it was late sunday way after
we were sposed
to be already moved but being bj's
birthday n him the one with
the truck we just cooled our heels till we figgered we
could be doing the month's
worth of clothes my brother
stuffed into one big
garbage bag on friday
when it looked like we might
be moving then, but bj said
monday since monday's the day
the landlord's gonna hafta
call the cops or maybe
give a bad rental referral ,so
monday , fine, i told tony
i've got enough cash seeing as how
your boss [n now our new
landlord,bj, the guy
with truck] won't
make us pay rent until
the place is fixed up [we don't
have to pay anything bj agrees ]
cuz it's gonna be tony,
his thirteen year
old son, the four
dogs--chubs, chico, aramatu, bruno--all
males, two
cats--chilo, scarlet-- the kittens
we haven't named yet plus
me and my named but unborn
baby [83 percent certain it's a girl] who's
gonna be here soon
enough and it's not like i'm not alREADY
scared to death of the whole
situation but he's TRYing so
we get the laundry
loaded in the car praying
for the big machines to be free
and god loves us
cuz the laundrymat's pretty much empty
except for this one latino
woman who keeps struttin round tony
who's trying to watch the jessee james special
cuz we ain't had
tv since the feds went digital
so i KNOW he
prolly WAS watching tv
when he said BAD ass
not FAT ass
but the bitch tells me to get my man
under control and i maybe
was a bit harsh
saying what are you doin
watchin her ass but he
goes inside n says in that antagonistic
tone he has lady i was not watchin your ass
n she does the head bob o yes
you were
n i'm callin my man down here
right now so we grab the clothes
cuz they're dry and stuff em
into the garbage bags fuck
folding them , throw them
into the car meanwhile the nutcase
cuz she pulls her car up beHIND us and godDAMMIT
why didn't you bring
the cell phone i can't
believe this bitch we need
a cop right now, we're
yellin at each other and she's yellin
back n along about then
a truck pulls up and seven
guys jump out,
grab tony, beat him
down onto the pavement , i'm
crying, tony jr's
cowering in the back
seat, one of they guys jumps up
on the hood and smashes
the windshield so bad i can
barely see to drive
when they finally do
leave and let me n tony jr
wrestle tony into the car
so we can get home and call the cops and maybe an ambulance
cuz tony looks pretty bad, his head's
swelling up his left
eye's punched closed and did you get
a license plate the cops
wanna know but we
didn't cuz it was waaaaay too scarey
my god there were SEVEN
of them and i'm PREGnant but the cop
wants to know how it is tony gets
himself into these situations and i tell em
i dunno they seem to follow
him around like lightning seeking ground
and that's when tony tells them how
indeed lightning hit him not
once but twice n the cop just shakes
his head then tony's hand n i can't shake
the irony when he says yeah you're lucky
to be alive bro n tony agrees.

a deadlock promise indifferent

a deadlock promise indifferent

to what it takes to fulfill--lisa gordon


you tell me one face, lead the wavering chase

into the next. your voice sounds of underwater digital

cameras. your hair smells of tomorrow.


what we promised grew exponents ever on the right side

of the point. change was in the trees throwing light

to the ground, wasted & waffling in the space allowed.

photosynthesizing, exchanging our waste

for theirs. we didn't have to use words


still, i carved your initials in the rough

bark, connected them to mine with a heart.
you cut it down so you could write

on the pulp and burn it

all over again.

3 dates

gen x date

(08/25/


good conversation is better than bad sex
but it's still a one night stand.

i lost my pipe. you're all about coke
but i'm not into the addiction dance.
except my meds. accept my meds.

the halo of missing hair
skin dimpled dryly into post bimbo.

as a member of the russian mafia
you ran packages of great worth
to men of huge stature
inside cloistered circles.
they dealt in weaponry, cars and drugs.
you wanted all of it. your aryan hair
your bottled eyes your willow leaf arms.

suddenly you find yourself in a low rent mexican joint
drinking tequilla, thinking of nice, how close it is to milan
where your wine orgasm waits, the virginity of the taste
akin to the escargot before my divorce.

we've decided, on seperate occasions, that what happens
tonite stays here. words bounce off the screen
rumble in the air, are picked up by the television,
disappeared like a hooker into a red taurus holding
a bald man with a twenty. he asks for change.

out in the parking lot your poetry is electronic.
i critique it. you say you vomit the stuff, it means
nothing. i get the sense you want some meaning somewhere
and when you get it, you'll dismiss it immediately
tho god lingers somewhere beyond chemicals
you can't see it, and thinking about it hurts your head.
i'm on some spiritual journey with a fedora, a tie
and hard shoes, all in black.


you like the music i made.
you say. hunched on haunches outside the car door
smoking a bummed cigarette.

























boomer date #2 [-]

(08/25/07 10:51:46)



you are a gentleman, i can tell
but your soon to be ex can't.
thirty years in a toxic relationship
and she's the one with the problem
i can relate to being mentally exhausted
i was there, only the gender's reversed.

so you did the dancing thing too? all those fresh
faces mumbling behind their hands at least
you had the courage to confront the laughter
dance on dancer. me, i go where the cost is least
sink or swim and they don't even see how i don't belong
after the alcoholic haze. don't tell you how i used
to try to sneak my underage bf a gin & tonic
as you begin to outline the benefits of networking
and myspacey agey. i checked out your site beforehand
and yeah, i've been there, differently. can 't seem
to be impressed. that you were at woodstock
only annoys me. but you're still into peace i gotta admit
that's better than the last guy who took me to sushi
also a boomer, but enmeshed in the MIC. i relate
that experience to you so that you, like me, know
our conspriacy theories are anything but paranoid.
peaceniks gotta have our validations.
i get in your car, risky? naw, you merely want to show me
where you dance. fifteen dollah cover and the line's out
the door, you assure me, tho tonite, in the rain, on a tuesday
it looks as desperate as you or i.














whenever it's full




then go. after what
is the sink in your heat.

trialogic parsecs blinded by.
currents and the next dose of hormones.

tomorrow i'll wake with lower expectations
than today. but that's just the morning talking.

by midday the melanin kicks in and i'm all
damn these lines are etched. smile woman.

outside it's suck on a smoke
with the woman deciding divorce or counseling.

i offer tobacco and an ear. wonder what she
uses on her face. another day is another day.

i''m grieving it's true. not like you but i'm getting
closer. last fall i saw leaves burned with internal sugars.

this one, i'll be lucky to sing happy birthday.
the one who became the flesh bullet wonders

how long to go on before throwing the towel
into the mildewed spa. traipsing past a lost wallet

with hells too high to wear as a belt. understands
that a taxi ride takes a lot out of a minimum wage wallet.

so i drive. the sky is not as black
as what i'm moving toward.

sky concert at the sky

Sky concert at the sky
Lead [-]

(08/13/07 15:13:39)

ezOP

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you were never more with me
than when i saw the snow on the distant
mountain and heard her sing fuck you

for that i blame myself
now these rolling hiways
will always be the seperation
i traveled

but i won't be here
and that seems just about right.

tarot of the past/presented

he Cross and Triangle spread is a powerful means of understanding complex situations, developed by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. This spread is rich in occult and mystical symbolism






my significator is the ace of swords


the seed of victory is the prime energy manifest in my life. how do you win over love /why
would you even want to?

a challenge to be met with force! wtf. how do you force love?
again why would you want to. maybe it's telling me i'll overcome the need to think in these terms of me n anyone me n anything. or maybe it means to say
you think he's your last, but just stay positive
steady my little sailboat,
the waves haven't swamped you yet. here
take this sword and cut it up, cut it out already.

btw, i read that book. it was really little to do with love.
it was journey, a finding out the stuff he was made of.









































The second card, placed above the significator, represents Air. It describes your spirit, process of thought, and the influence of reason.


while i ponder how my swift reasoning will enhance
this victory , let me have a cuppa. the wondrous coffee wands
eight of them

turn the java into water from the fountain
of tartuffe, an misanthropic voyage into all the luvtunnels
i've travelled and all that present themselves before me.
i'm with alceste when he admits that love doesn't listen
to reason. so far , this reading seems bogus. unless
i want to take the tack of how i need to overcome the need
with reason. as if. uh huh. doesn't this thing realize i'm
a disciple of cioran who wrote 'every thought is thwarted sensation'. still i write. still i think.where's the sense in that?

































page of pentacles for my fire. motivation ,passion for what?
earth, mountains, getting the work done, cuz that's
what i'm training for, movement into the pragmatic. oh
i am not liking this at all, it keeps telling me to focus
focus on some kind of ....product? a book a child a way to be
less fucked up? well whatev, i'm sposed to be surprised by it
so i won't let on you told me.

you want embraces? embrace hard work and studiousness

bitch.























































ahhhh cool cool water. the essence of emotion, the beacon
of love, mine's become all misty. kings envy the moor
i inhabit caught in this sky between one thing and another
forming and reforming on the cusp between pure water
and pure air.


the wonder bra and my breasts make a rewarding
partnership, i love the way it leads
eyes to what's left of my youth
introduces the power of the universe into everyday
conversation, the fuel of the world going round
and me in my cups, a bit tipsy yet what with the stilletto
bargaining i've done on the side.

i'm putting on the mountain mask, extra hold
for endless patience and maturity. the aarp membership
is in the mail. i'll reward your partnership and raise you a leader.
in fact, you be the decider. or wait a minute
you be the decider.





















zo yeah i'm all excited about this leader thing. bring me
my two wands zelda so i don't have to ever be stickless--
this victory coming, this material world now that i'm
changing into a material girl. oh . yeah, oops that's right.
i keep wanting dinner. this reading is my comuppance
reminding me of that scene i've been playing
where she stands in the kitchen at the sink. he
is behind her, trying to hug her but she's all pissed
that he ate the leftover steak from which today's lunch
was to be obtained. she can't stop ranting. she's
afraid of giving becz she knows he'll just keep taking, mewling
like a kitten and just as innocent. look at those lashes.
he bites her shoulder she turns and pushes him
away , makes him look into her eyes says 'do you realize
the things i'm giving up for you? and he's all like but
i'm giving things up too, there's just as much chance you'll
die as me leaving you. she stops , does the math. wrong
and on top of that when we're split you
will be able to love again. and he doesn't say anything
so as not to hasten this end. but it doesn't work.
next day, next week, next month next year
she's kicking him out.
thorns always hurt when they embed themselves.
she may never again pluck a rose.
















and now we form the triangle.
the menage a trois of lines
balanced upon each other
the opposing forces of bouyancy and drown
an equilateral velocity with distance
measured in millimeters from the sit on it and rotate
solvent molecules waving hare krishna from stateside.



like this






vs











i can be water like fire. a river rushing thru it
snow melted and engorged on my way to the sea
or i can be justice, swift, merciless, with my own
def of right and wrong delivered with
apparently some of those swords and staves i got.
beat luv into submission
o yeh.

omg.

or was that beat it out and don't submit?












always the procrastinator i fall asleep
and complete this in the morning.
meantime my dreams show me faces i reject
situations i passed by























i can reconcile these forces if i
meditate on the world. if i luv the world
in place of one







or











i can keep goin this way, surrounded by all this beauty
luxury & luv but ignore\wallow in what's absent.

o the void.






































lol






































ok tyme for a new reading, it's a new day

everywhere is actually nowhere

no space to write in
except a big blank plank
white, boundary less
actual specific delineation
some myth you were taught
as a child and now cling
broken angled and partisan felted
feted and fated to be .

you told me how language is arrested
development, how we need to eviscerate
its construct and begin again
in order to exist other than how we do.
i didn't understand. i ply my ignorance

into forgetting to remember. word loss,
the scratching of emblems on the pavement,
standing rock riddled with graffiti & the outpost
named afterward, across the way.

if i were a miner, i'd look for amethyst, toss
the gold back into the river for someone else to find.
instead, old growth burl becomes a hiding puzzle.
i fold myself wrong and nestle inside.

the most ferocious animal in the cookie box

we make a pit, dig it deep
put spikes in the bottom
then cover it with branches and leaves.
some one must go to the river
to tease and lure it this way

a dangerous job, for its
is a terrible beauty, fearsomely sharp
from a distance. up close
the razor cuts without pain.
but nearsighted. very nearly
blind. the one who goes to the river
runs crashing just far enough ahead
to avoid the crush. we hunt them

for the horn. it fetches food & weapons.
we take the feet, the toenails, the ears, the lips.









***








when i grew up, animal crackers
didn't have a prize inside . they had a shoestring
handle . you could carry pebbles, insects
pennies in the empty box/ garishly painted
with bars and wild teeth. . we play zoo
keeper, ringmaster tasting the glimmer of obeisance
and the snap of invisible whip

became the torturous deity, biting off hooves
and rhino horns. long
giraffe necks if we can
find any that aren't
already broken like hearts
at the bottom of the box.













()


there is a full moon in the sky tonight
the river glows like it holds the milky way
or the inside of a lover's smile. the one
who goes to the river must not have fear
for fear makes mistakes , misses.
when dawn comes
the whorls retract into ears
the ears become music, the music begets
a quick burst of quasar, the way love leads
the hunt away from the pit. the one at the river
slips from the bank, into the water, onto the back
of the ferocious and grotesque beauty
settles in , ready to swim.

positive thinking

i say one shouldn't fuck with the gods
that rule them too awful much. there's already enough
positive people. i have positive thoughts too--
that things will go negatively.
if i don't think this way, things will go
negatively. if i do think this way, matters
often turn out for the better.
twisted ironies amuse the fuck out of my gods.

what sux is