/Death/

death and i have a truce.
no more fear/love.
what is there to fear?
/pain/ courses through me every day.
/loss/ encases my heart in scar tissue.
/unknown/ reckonings with the
/eternal/ have already brought me to my
knees.
what is there to love?
/release/ comes with a lover's climax.
/peace/ stills my heart at each sunrise.
/unknown/ joys in the love of the
/eternal/ have already brought me to my
knees.
our score is even, death.
walk with me now as an old friend.

[Insert Police Department]

they baptize the asphalt with
blood,
and wash away their sins with
sprinklers
on the golf course.
holy trinity
bang
        bang
                bang
another pavement christened
sanctimonious black & red.
"justified by faith,"
they say to the jury,
fresh off the
putting green,
and find forgiveness.
"rules are different
for the clergy,"
they tell the mothers.
best start wiping away the
black & red.

Grey Hair

i greet my grey hair with a smile.
finally:
the wisdom
i know
is inside
pokes through my skin,
strong and wiry,
bursting with light.

The Madness Shared By Two

let's fall in love!
the long
      hung
      lover's
      noose
waiting in the darkened s
                                        t
                                          a
                                            i
                                              r
                                                well
the madness shared by two
to see paradise
at the  e   n   d-----of---a-----r  o  p  e.

If a Tree Falls

little do they know
how the heart
behaves
when no one
else
is at home

Sacrum/Profanum

keep your          sex toys    next to your      bible
so you don't      forget
to find the         holy           in the               profane
and the             profane
in the                                                          holy

Ode to the Tomato

The summer sun is red
and ripe for the picking.
Humidity hangs its
veil
between the trees
buzzing with cicadas.
Lush and tumbling,
the garden
spills
from the earth.
Amidst the greens and golds,
the juicy beating heart
of July
hangs from the vine.

Lifeblood of the kitchen,
sacrificed with
seedy grace,
the tomato
blesses our plates.
The summer sun
shines its benevolent
flavor
upon our table laden
with harvest.
Eat, drink, and be merry;
for tomorrow brings
frozen marinara.

Tree of Life

The tree of life
Is in my backyard.
An ancient beech tree;
Silver smooth trunk,
And jagged emerald leaves,
Lit up at dusk
With fireflies in its boughs.
Buddha, with a banjo,
Perhaps,
Reclined beneath it,
Enlightened by the
Buzzing cicadas.
Adam and Eve
Ate of its thorny nuts,
And made themselves
Overalls.
Jesus drew a crowd
Of squirrels and deer,
And taught in its shade.
Woden hung himself
Upon it,
Sweating in the
Humid haze.
The faithful rest on its
Knarled roots,
Sipping on corn whiskey
And praising God's grace.
Indeed:
Humble though
My Yggdrasil,
My Sidrat al-Muntaha,
My Bodhi tree,
My Etz Chaim,
The tree of life
Is in my backyard.

On and On

on and on.


the birds fly past us
never stopping to ponder
the two greying bodies
standing knee deep
in the lake
fishing poles reticent
half eaten apples on the
docks


on and on.


the clouds roll by
but still not a word spoken
only a few more silver streaks
reflected back to us
on the water


on and on.


why do they go past?
why

on and on

without a word?
if they stopped,
what would they say?

speak, mortals:
for silver spent and grey spun
in silence
is wading
knee deep
into death?

or would they say
peace, mortals:
and be still,
for life is


on and on.

Pain

pain is red
hot burning
pulsing throbbing
flashing wave
stabbing tempest
veins exploding
nightmare orgasm
of wounded red

pain is grey
cold stiff
chalky gravel crunches
dry aching dust
brittle tired
nagging the worn out
pallid corners
of scarred grey

Drug Therapy

There are not enough drugs in the world
to make me forget you.
They may make my blood buzz,
and my bones splinter;
They may drown my brain
into soggy muck,
and churn my guts
through a noodle maker.
But all the drugs in the world
cannot make me forget you.
You are in me.
Even in the
buzzingsplinteringdrowningchurning
mess,
you refuse to be flushed out.

Bloodproof

blood is proof
that pain is beautiful;
sorrow a pleasing
aesthetic,
violence a most
elegant color.
every act of life, written in blood;
and death, a fine finale,
worthy of its scarlet pen.

Truth

All lies are someone's truth.

Shatter the Ten Commandments

On your driveway,

And carve your prophecies

On a therapist's couch,

Like everyone else.

Feel the privilege of--

No, entitlement to--

Delusion.

Truth is simply

Sloppy advertising.

You deserve better,

Modernity.

Person Suit II

naked i came from the
(womb)
but since that moment,
i have made +meticulous+ my
skin
into a well-tailored
personsuit.
ironed smooth and stitched
----tight----by----half----truths
impeccable by design
superb reality [tv]
i suppose.
not a day passes when
i do not fill its
comfortable ~folds~

i was tricked once
into taking it off,
thinking myself a lover.
discarded, it lay on
the floor_______of my
bedroom
for a few breathless nights.
but <never> again.
^god^ himself will have to
rip it from me
to get at my
/soul/

strange [drugs]
have taken my lover's
reality.
deep in the brain
they <fester>
//carving out a space//
//bleeding with memories//
//seeping red down the nose ears//
light, a chemical ghost, haunts
the dark--dark complacent
with neuron picture shows
to be high <fiction> and bleeding <fact>
passed out on [life]

Ghost

I am in love with a ghost.
A specter of a man,
lost in shadow.
Breathless, suffocated,
he is but the blue lips of
doubt.
He hovers like dust
in sunlight:
my hand can but stir,
scatter and swirl;
my reaching but a breeze,
motion without touch.
The wistful condensations,
the aimless evaporations
in his clouded mind,
I can only glimpse
in the distant sky
behind his eyes.
He is the thread of smoke
left by incense;
the scent that
clings to me
by accident.

Noise and Clarity

shadows speak to me with

noise and clarity.

in darkness i find the 

articulations

so often confounded

by the mumblings of light.

is death not a lucid verse,

recited in between the 

heartbeats of the night?

a morbid poetry lies in the

void,

with words that falter not

upon the tongue.