Wednesday, March 30, 2011

My childhood love letter to growing old

I wrote turning dirt roads through
triangular cast-away underbrush
spring green smelling foliage
between suburban sprawl houses
squat and ignorant,
and don't you think that we should have
a baseball field on the back of the quarter?
isn't that America? Lady Babylon smiling
from trimmed bushes and driveway parked cars,
waiting patient, statuesque,
our beautiful apocryphal mother,
lighting fires by night starry sky
suicide squeeze charred baptismal remains,
she kisses my head, tucks me in america,
I close my eyes a century ago
under 1910 wood plank deteriorating ceiling,
the gods found new homes
beyond Jupiter storms and baby storms,
the rivers fell shouting you loved me
churning under blue bridge steps,
calling out through cyclone fences
grayed against calm brick row homes 
pot roast and potato dinners yawning through
chipped plaster, screened windows,
bums walking by on city streets miles north,
a child's fantasy growing old
while I sleep soundly to failed music and ginger charms.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011


I go dizzy all this sudden cgi blue cloudless sky (fuck) wither call me joking
with princess darkness over hanging building (gardens) granary ancient blah
fever nausea glass of milk painted tree limbs leaning stained-glass gentle morning

separate the electric blue paranoia from me sleepless eyes and headache

Monday, March 28, 2011

Orange Peel

still life painting soft sponge
orange peel model, I'm legs extended
toward uneven plate, seeds are quickly dried,

chard chorus wavers moony without my brush,
and they found the wolly mamoth, he smiles
prehistoric love crushed in spring,
the global warming crack of baseball bat beauty,

a stitched ball, majestic, cuts sky and heaven-
blue crisp rising kisses white dot in empty eternity--

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Pewter heaven and kitten

In the after-glimmer
of crazy Wednesday nights
he dons the mask unthinkable
truth, into dark thankless alleys
to wither and ply his trade,
the blacksmith silver soot decadent;
I watch the uncommon release
the energy ululating palpable
I touch, reaching out a finger, hidden
a black mass- a terror ancient dying,
tall figure burning out deep distance
like infinite space between his eyes
blind, what ideology is this? what horror?
what escape? the Dante like hot structured soup
of forget-me-nots, the flower deadly lisp
your kiss, a missile break releasing into tepid waters
deepening trench, the nighttime colors engulf his world
in bitter crisp bliss; it's heavenly by morning sky
and death; slumbering cat naps amongst the stage
nods, rising, content-exhales-

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

take the train from temple; dream

How nigh the gentrification march
shroudy 3 o' clock city star lamp,
manipulate the tune of desolation,
"Oh, terror tap the
tender tomb of gods"
And martyr.

quantum derelict electric train
churning slanted toke-toke-toke
hidden wheels--hidden wheels
liar time leer,

where she's fantastic
jeans painted, tights
high-heeled aching heaven
in my arms

"Conversation metron
mining the world soul
honor roll...
         a berry feast
         for idiots."

My carcass open--
caress tanned
slender hip and
shivering stomach
denied immortality

sensuality in the
afterthought life holly tree, dense
tearing tear at my flesh-
smile for--
Me silhouette lurking somewhere
in the void of the linear
mind-meld ghost plane; loneliness
A dedication to truth,
toll toll tower bells clang-
soft breast of gloomy lust--

Deny me-accept me-devote me-

Traveling world sore
traveling backward-

bury my face, saw palms,
anxiety, peace

your vision creation
not, like enough, doves and--

lines, a temporal vasectomy-erection
furrow shatter bow--

Oh, behold timid instant laughing fate; beat
drums to my wishes burdened
in primordial ears, the meaning of your rested thighs,
the quiet, the silence,
the walls--

Monday, March 21, 2011


Wawa (the corporation) is trying to kill me
I guess
switching up the iced coffee machine,
I'm allergic
mocha mint is lighter than regular
I should'ah known
but 7-11 is trippin' me out,
their french vanilla (all I could get in DC)
is light and mostly-
sugar water high fructose--
I really don't want hives (an 11 year old flashback
curse in the nurses office chocolate milk cyanide)
I'm pretty itchy and sure
some Benadryl-- breathing's okay...
I'll hold my-
breath, clear my throat--
of the paranoia anyways,
to make- 16oz burn way deep,
parked the car too close to curb,
eyed it--- ugh fxxk g-d dammit
(Hemingway wrote it or his editor, and
I'm leaning toward the latter,
he's got less to think about)

Saturday, March 19, 2011


Holy earth breathing Caterpillar writes
end of time sparkling singularity,
water grays to tombs buried
mist-membrane-awake-too-late sadness,
clouds moist lumbering army
sailing cautious, troublesome
wispy skyline storyteller--
where questioning
little children (blank faced)
sit (indian style) & ask politely
our secrets,
the unencumbered God-answer
"twiddley-something or other
at the drugstore"- candy bar in hand
melting noonday sun, virginal
cold n' empty wordless answers

so to speak


Lo' Mary can you listen? en en en
stock pitch & peel
wonder spentttxt
to the bleary bliss doe eyed future
coughing sensual millions legs, tears
like angel's quaking traffic jammed
street festival, vendors carry delicious meat
fragrant and primordial over worn shoulders
their dreams, light going red-yellow-red-black-go-
worldly row-
head pivot squirm-
iris-worm on soft (heaven's) mud pleasure-
off to green sunsets
and masochist dreamy island tangential glacier fantastic-

a tangent coming doom-

and what it means is an allusion sure- an illusion

time raises Michael's sword from dreary prescient drowning seas--

Chapter 3- At Home
Paint the scene-iconic view of bed-less room.

Traveled hat (beloved) lonely turned over grayed
lord of sock pile and soiled clothes
unwashed corduroys, jeans,
worried sun peeks through soft eyes
beyond my hidden window page-
pastel lighted spring taking turns acrobat thru
ruffled maple trees, where--
My coquettish bliss star, my--

woe angel night choosing backward
in tocking time detonation
tick aging linear eye- that eye, mine--
brown in mirror memory,
hollow, reversed ha ha oh ha
empty bottle reflecting light
(but where outside we left)
on window sill limbo forgotten between worlds
where it rots like mountain tavern wood,
beautiful & aged,

fertile-telling thousand foot fall-wingless
scythe in hand terror-

reacts in village stare
to deathly slope abandoned,

we're coming to the end.
the end of thought.

the end of ind- the end
of me-

Great lightening blue peels
the sky back- ruptures the filament
glory heaven skyward toward
silence- godlessness- broadened

machine centipede warped thought
our Caterpillar-life-fantasy
in spinning wheel- devour what's left under
heavy red sun god-
almighty revenge--

The Interlude is:
The caterpillar is:

last statement, final will & testament
betrayed, laugh hoary cocoon ululating madness;
vengeful genetic joke-

I've only million memories to live
not far from titan walked-like godly ground,
unable to taste the sky,
1,000 feet above molten world untended grass-

It's brown-green blankly-
the breeze
a saintly prayer invoking afterlife

I live above earth-
my cataclysm end-

A fissure in the void
exposed emptiness-

dance with me
(feathered) peacefully
love like rain on bird-wing gnarled
entangle in marching band salute-
cracks like Zues across open field-

We've all along
noticed rising seas
in sandy rich doom
sun setting-

and panning back
helicopter shot to
fairy parade near street sign treasure,
automated signal-

how then-

growing old
goading the beast, whisper whisper whisper
mother beginning supper hour
children's voice unseats the dusky pinkness of burning clouds

stairs adorn decent. decent by beyond. table to after. Night. a populous recount.
beer wine story. darkened porch. stagger home. running shower. sleep.

star rain in heavens army, tiny sun youthful at one billion years-

and the dawning Milky Way
dying in white space-time human nothingness admonished,

Butterfly reflect the reincarnation march time of buried dreaming prophesy,
a baptism,
every wandering loss,
sad pull of toddler legs
and wingless--!

the universal birth of man
empty temptation failure--

unfolding conception--

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Nobody Knows

I've written every bleeding novel in my carnival created world
on the shitter with clock rolling down to black zeroes
bell ringing past jumping caffeine hills shaking mad
out into infernal green distances, we can walk--
if you'd like, mist n' rain lay puddles at our feet
in paradise, gentle?

But you couldn't care tickle-tap o/v/r
burning coals heaven spent,

golden lace gleam in sun spot beauty
bloated deep red and swallows the world
a billion years from now cinder cold--

I'll hold you dearly dearest,
parsonne sai

Wednesday, March 9, 2011


1 day ago the words trail away from me sea foam green clouds in song of celebration silverfish a mockery plasma and not enough lines to fill the void day ruby crystal ridge I planted on tomorrow, and ever after after understanding of the death we all bow to like splinters in dry cracked wood tipping out of forest clean american between the alleyways squat houses wilderness--

tranquil muse
on earthly shore
above the sea

when blister angels fall to earth
I'll eat with you-


Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Tired sleeping eyes closed

I can type while the stars falter--
utter (eventual) desolation-mixture,
two men walking solitary
on faded street lit night,
I'm stories above and bodiless-
emptiness leeching from cold bones;
there's a beautiful burst, a terrible
peculiarity by the corner market,
baking bread in spanish hovel 25c-

kiss kiss ambivalent night-time lullaby bliss
tired-world dog on sidewalk sleeping sadness
cradled in flour, butter airy mess

Monday, March 7, 2011

But is this the end?

Been in the storm n'
rain n' crowns,
Jesters golden restin',
worn, down by,
pH levels spiked acid
faces barely recognizable
in soft featureless morbid
smooth eye socket wth/out
wrinkles and thought...

hock hock tock
the rambling incoherent clock-

I've got the time/place too
juicebox (hawaiian punch)
somewhere's toppled, crunched
or is it- Hi-C- yea
with slimer orange yellow box
flapless, why not green? eh,
it's anyone's guess on rocking boat
in formless ethereally eternal seas-

fear, I haven't written alot about fear
the sun coming down firey red and tired
flaming sparks on that long wrong road
between here and there, stretching off
into childish unclear horizon ancient painting
in ancient lands newly settled legend American coastline,
my coast line from Philly to DC,
where I've lived my life rolling,

But is this the end? huh? Seems like it's
some end, so like clear night sky
I close my eyes and dream-
of pasts and futures and where I'm dreaming
in the present, there it all merges under the ghastly
pleasant filiment streaked pink and blue
falling behind picket fences and cat cries.

Friday, March 4, 2011


Oh, sweet crying frogs of saturday night,
bending will like stringy glowing golden bows
from the forest mother-umbrella,
green and dark and fragrant kiss
and life, sing lullaby to my love
and heart, solemn face in grand emptiness
swells sadness of death with immortal earthly stare,
and foamy caress and foamy kiss romances
ocean waves in long gone-memory song
sparkler fish tetra glaze, the universe blinks out
huddled over turning worlds bleary globe blue

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Maroon Tiles

Deep voice and velvet tomato coat,
face screwed up to pastel crystal light
of early morning cool sun
glint off cars waiting to pass in Marriott
-please for taxi's only cul-de-sac-
blister glitter off street sign corner
'round building squat,
Alright, alright, alright, move it on,-

the car chugs infuriated
rolling brake stop engine whine
haven't quite woken up murmur--

hotel attendent waving him through
to guests, become passengers,
onward airplane miles cloudless-

tell me--

invented dream morning dove-

held in shaking hands-

blueberry fantastic sky-

who cradles falling baby stars, in the know-nothingness
of thursday morning eternity?

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

I'm Waiting

Landscape awakens in
big brawling Cezanne canvas
french countryside in Spring,
brush strokes imagined,
so you almost feel you can touch the wind,
it's tangible color laden wind
twists through your hair impatient
and like blue Easter egg time machine
you go backward through mossy green meadow grasses,
dandelions sensing warm rain and lazy cloud sky wisp,
till we're left standing under some neo-classical
suburban mall ruins (ivory carefully planned) reliefs,
your high heeled shoes click-clacking
forward by pedestrian crossings and changing
spring styles, (it's getting to be there's a new
ancient scent of flowers free of dirt hibernation)
life is crossing some time-dilation
without us, living linear in the dark matter of space
where you're always standing just out of sight
and laughter carries over paved pavillion roads

Tuesday, March 1, 2011


25 days from 27
years, with children looking
up to daddy, job, meatloaf tuesdays
playground afterschool hurry home
from work, spring flowers in the air
hugging mommy,
and I'm so... much older than
I should be when fathers will die after me
in the cold empty sad world of early mondays
coffee ford Taurus roaring like kittens
in the window as I leave, placing my foot
firmly between the door creaking shut
and outside--

I can't remember my fathers face when I was young
and he was towering above purple sky,
atheletic, throwing baseball back and forth
with old softball mit legendary,
I'd run my hands through it,
wonder at how it never missed,
he never missed,
holding his hand along mountain roads-

grass brushing cars silently,
I scraped my knee, blood and bruise
so we sat on old forgotten dug out bench,
grass above my waist,
watching the old ball game roll along
where my father was the hero
at 3rd and short,
bugs screeched loudly in the root jungle
cheering, in the hollow pocono heat

we've got miles back to walk
on the oh long ago road of childhood
and fatherhood,
where I forget to grow old
catching pop-ups
dad fires
higher than the sun