in the land of high times

thunder rolled through here, and fire
on the point of a thicket. over there a muse
blasted the past on stereo, perused
a chocolate covered ire

see? when i go into rhyme it bombs.

 up on loon mountain, rivers in their angry middlescence
just before the freeze tore bridges, rended south
bound lanes, knocked out electricity for weeks,all over
new england. just to slap you into the now.
dayum your gods are powerful. or are they so weak
they cannot get to you without violence?
by the time you get reconnected your perspective
changes dramatically. deprivatoin and trying times
gone through together, as family, cements the bond.
hurricanes as blessing.


meanshile chile my brain deteriroates at breakneck speed.
what is the word for "trying times". adversity. ho w could that
be on the back of my tongue stuggling to emerge?
instead of the finger, the moon .


i am always using that metaphor. weak . but i
suppose i want it to become a cliche in all circles?
like one hand clapping. the forest with no 'one'

still like that one a lot. "if no one is there"...
who would be asking the question? if the tree falls
someone is there. but it's not, like god heard it or anything.
not a his, not a thing. the thing as isness. the thing of itself.

if one is not into the riding of train
then do not board it. leave off the weed.





*(&







i hear a garbage truck.
that means it's thursday.
  the ground is flooded
and i am water in stasis. need the moon
rid my stagnant.

motion. the elipse of the planets
the atomic dance. moon sky spinning.
wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

makes me dizzy.
even with my eyes closed.