a tall one

so my feet
climb icy
concrete
steps

carefully
navigating
around the
treacherous
patches

hidden
carefully
or maybe
haphazardly
under
light
dry
snow

down I go.

answer

call for
expression

worried
excite

every nerve
aquiver

avalanche
inquired

stones
instead

repressed
half closed

unopened
apathy

answers
me

muscle

disturbed
longing

stripped
restrained
blessed

moving
off pressure
fond of it
stolen

seeing the streaks
streaming
across
otherwise
vacant

or seemingly
so

drift
as fantasy
dances
into
oblivion

funeral

bent on oblivion
a streak a stain
permeates the heart muscle
pounding within more abstract contingencies.

abrupt, abrupt...
sensually mesmerized, memorized, memorials decay,
reverberate shape shift
fade to black.

save as draft

I only just
give it
an imaginary
commit

I write
the scathing lines
that bite
and make you bleed

like I bleed
but I never send it
I only save; as draft

very good chili

I'll put some on your little steps.
insuring I wouldn't get bitten
if you want to, throw it out.
just like you did my love.
It doesn't really matter.
so eat it if you want,
or throw it away.
good bye,
I tried.

inside insane

and talking to my napkin
the forks have all left the room
that leaves me, the table cloth, and you.

and some hostess,
who's had a little too much
tipping over on my scrambled.
eggs.

I want to be
the ecstasy that
everybody needs
not an anchor
of emotion

just a wave
upon
your ocean
and deep
a fathom
that doesn't reveal
the pain
I feel.

desert

terrible wind
cast out from a sigh
sand scratching
as it blows by

obscured in brightness
blind and dumb
uttering, muttering
love upon tongue

time grains tangle
twisting to hide
branches of light
stem out from inside

quiet vibration
surfaces tune
oasis uncovered
in the dry dune

high maintenance

uh oh.
is that me?
a high maintenance girl?

check the list...
one through ten
I think I fit eleven

so now I see
simple as it is
now I understand
but how can I clean up
my tangled mind
and stand strong again.

or did I ever.
is that how I got where I am?

push the rubble
up and off
brush the dust away
to try and see myself
the way I am
but more importantly
how I want to be

but I need to get it straight
for whom do I do this --
them or me?

i notice things

i notice things
like
gum under the chair
hair in the food
flies on the window
worms in the rice

i can't forget them
even after their gone
their shadows spook me
make me squirm

i notice things
that aren't even there
like someone's attraction
someone's distraction

then i make bad decisions
about my relationship
to that person

and then i start to notice
even more

i start to notice
that i'm not the only one
they want to talk to

i start to notice
i'm not the only one
they want to see

i even notice
they may not even
want to be near me...

that's when i implode
the little fleshy shell
caves in upon itself

the darkness of the bugs
and the hairs in the drain
come crawling up like
daddy long legs
and centipedes

my nice hot bath
becomes a stewing pot...

i need some more thyme

i'm your man

who cares
a bunch of cells
mechanical

pretending to like each other
hating
every day
they spend
making up this body

i'm trapped
a hostage
of their
attraction

their symbiotic
relationship

pathetic
really

i don't see why
they have to
get me involved

oh shit
now leonard cohen
just came on the stereo
i'm your man

what is that supposed to mean?

just to show me
how much of a cretin
i really am

but now he's broke
his agent
of all people

god, is there any
sanctuary?
is anyone safe
i mean...
if leonard cohen
isn't safe
who is?

wry is rye
fried.

flat. line.

sentient.
being.

asphalt.
roadway.

television.
station.

wealthy.
politician.

adobe.
abode.

abuse

charming smile
comfort ease
compassion display
snag your prey
with bits
of wit
and merit
then systematically
tear her
limb from

monster

.










the ugly truth
stood, staring, glaring
at my cowering fetus
afraid to lose
flawed, painful love

i thought, at first
i was blessed
to see what no one else could
a kitten
there, inside the monster

the monster's skin
spoils if it's touched
his mind is obsessive
he convulses with compulsion

and the monster
will consume me
if i persist in trying
to come too close

the monster
wants my heart
as an entrée
but it is still too sweet
he needs to harden it first
to make it spoil

when he finally gets
that ripened fruit
beaten to a pulp

my bound and gagged
carcass
stripped
and gutted

he will tear it from my rib cage
partaking with such delight

he will swim in my entrails
and skate upon my blood
lapping it all up
consuming me
satisfying his ecstatic perverse desires
.

survival mode

.
we both survive
but I find ways
to adapt.
.

there's damage

.
did it start with a bruise
at some nascent stage?
perhaps an incision
a fever

or a father
handing down
the fine art
of abuse

wounded womb
uncalibrated doom

safety inside a pustule
swimming in canker and ooze

sweetness in poison
love in hate
there's damage
there's damage
there's damage
.

only

.


i called out
but nothing moved

no sound
just silence screaming
as if i had become
ice

my tears were
flashes of light
fire flies
dripping green
from my miserable eyes

there some latent fungus
sprung to life
from the dampness
of my sorrow

still mostly frozen
i can't feel
all the stabs
of frigid indifference

i only find
an appropriate pose
and let the frost
encase me

i watch
like an icicle
patiently dripping
firmly affixed
on a frozen edge



.

to live inside a cloud

angle
to view
the angels
wings white
unmarred

envy
the innocence
uncorrupted
uninterrupted
eternity

infinite
variables
puzzle heart
blind eye

sensations
repeated
another
response

opal jets
phantasm
mix mists
amethyst
wind broken
scattered

patchouli cloud
coaxes memory shiver
plunge softly
edges off

shifting
shape

beckoning

laughing

a sneeze

fire

my flame,
extinguished
by a whisper

a flutter
a whimper
cold

I'm left
hollow
burned
from the
inside out

nothing
stones
washed
smooth
alongside
a long
and winding
river

shadows
dance
in the
deeper parts
hard to see
me
cool and dark
an eddy
a vortex
for love

momento mori

my mother
compulsively
retained certain
bars of soap
wrapped in
paper bearing
the names of
hotels/motels
where she'd stayed
over many years
traveling
north to south
south to north.

I found them
when she died
and I've now
stacked them
balanced like
prayer stone
sentries
guarding
my bath

signal

faint beacon
endless fog
tiny blip
heard soft

familiar interpose
surrender time
promise drift
precious tide

.
(image from Viking of fog on Mars)

twat

two at
anywhere
and not knowing
only imagining
and laying on the
floor mat
feeling like a door mat
but soon to lie prostrate
solitary repose
snooze.
love
ooze
and you
give me
the jis
for just
the right fizzzzzzzz

high summer garden

blast of sun
upon vine
violet eyes
waver and blink
they climb
and strive

toes in soil
harvest soul
golden buds
ripe red spheres
quiver

fans of green
rise up
and wave
at the sun
and the breeze
and the bees

scarlet shoots
belie swelling heart
below the surface
of our garden

cicada
serenades
the Robin
she sings
a love song
back to him

circle arguments

People tend to get caught up in blame, spinning around pointlessly. One such argument I read on line went back and forth, name calling and deriding the others about who killed more people on earth, religious people or atheists. Anyway, here is my response to that mind-numbing exchange:

Religious zealots, one could argue, are responsible for many deaths, whether it is more or less than atheistic regimes doesn't really matter, does it? You could site the Spanish Inquisition, ALL the colonization of countries in the name of God and the King/Queen (Africa, India, South America...), The slave trade, The wiping out of all indigenous tribes who remain uncounted in the Americas before, during, and after the wave of "civilization" to hit the continent. Zionist Christians and Jews are responsible for countless Arab deaths throughout the Middle East.

To quibble about who killed more people on earth in wars and such is like two toads trying to decide who has the most warts! It doesn't matter! You're a toad!

Isn't the point that the policies generated under a belief system that promotes the annihilation of one group of people over another, or that one group is better than another, or they deserve a certain part of the world over others is fatally flawed?

We live on a planet that deserves our unrestrained awe. The more science reveals about the nature of the universe that we are privileged to be a part of for such a brief time, the more it is obvious we cannot assume any one religion is more "real" than another. Most religions teach to revere life, and human life above all. But unfortunately, most believers in these religions haven't enough faith to follow through with the "love your enemies" aspect of the lessons. Forgiveness and Sharing are forgotten to the fear of "being had" or not having enough.

This leads to the "othering" of evil. "It's not me that's evil, it's the other guy!" That way you can justify you malevolence and rationalize your greed. Then you just get this big "piling on" of evil deeds. Really Old Testament stuff; eye for and eye, etc.

What really should be addressed here is not which group has done the most damage to the world to date, but which group is going to lead the way in changing the cycle of murder and destruction. Which group will lead the way in making the fact available to everyone's conscious and subconscious mind, that this world (earth) is finite, this world is a home that we share, and how are we going to exploit its gifts without destroying it and exploiting a large percentage of its inhabitants, human, plant, and animal?

Who will lead the way? Will it be atheists? Will it be Muslims, Jews, Christians, Wiccans? How about a group that encompasses all these and more? A group motivated by and based on knowledge of a finite biosphere and an understanding of the need to conserve the resources that we exploit and destroy in that biosphere.

Really, what does it matter who killed more people? Both sides are guilty. There is no "degree" to sin; sin is sin, a murderer is a murderer. A shot at redemption may be our only hope in this dismal life. That redemption lies in the promise we bring individually to be better human beings everyday. Better to our planet home, better to our fellow humans who share the planet, better to our families who share our DNA, better to our children and spouses.

zero-sum gain

.





what's the point?





.

sometimes

sometimes
it is torture
to love
another

sometimes
it is inconvenient
to be
a friend

sometimes
it is impractical
to help
someone else

sometimes
it is painful
to be
in love.

it's worth it

to feel
that swell
of peace
that rushes
between
us

to see
that smile
emerge
from
your lips

to hear
you say
I love you
and know
its scope

to smell
your hair
behind
your ear

to taste
the breath
that is
yours alone

it's worth it
to stagger
in the confusion
and derision
that cripples
the moment...
now and then

to understand
the path
taken
and the passion
stated
to see you
move
within it
away from
or toward
me

it's worth it.

not worth it

this is not
worth it

how does
one determine
what it
is worth?

how does
one place
a value
on another's
love

loving you
isn't worth it
I'm not getting
enough
from it
what were you
expecting?

You're giving
me everything
but it's just
not worth it
for me
because
I can't
give enough
back

because I'm
bankrupt
and
bruised
morally
financially
literally
figuratively
and
perpetually.

mislabeled.

just because
you put
the label
love
on your
letters
doesn't
make
it so.

You can
label
Poison
as a health
food
and
it will
still
kill you.

so
don't
mislabel
your
vitriol
as
love,
because
it is
killing
me.

ginger beer

found
a
bottle cap
from
his drink

consumed
months ago
in the sun
with a smile

bitterness
was only
in the
beverage
then

sour
flavor
spread
from
the drink

under the
sun umbrella
like
poison

falling

blessed are the peacemakers.

improvisational
beat
melodic
temptations
embrace
a fractured
feeling
of fear
that
tears
the
tears
from
a
sandy
eye

sought
to see
a fragrant
abyss
dreamed
of falling
inside
and
never hitting
bottom

falling
forever
not floating
falling

like sinking
in the water
when you
are no longer
buoyant

but breathing
the brine
salt of the earth

wither

he's there
with her
now

unreal
deep sea
scene
octopi float
sea star sits

formless sound
mute muffled
cadence
from afar

he's there
with her
they are
doing
what they do
all I can do
is wait

there is a bondage
in the temperance
it is painful
not sublime
terrible
inside

he's with
her there
as I wither
here




.

static

embed the throat
with tiny diamonds
so when the mouth
opens up to sing
it sparkles
as the notes
come out

prickle
with the pickled
glaze
that attaches
to your retina

as volumes
pour
from your mind's
eye
you never even blink

sour gas
of jealousy
can curdle
freshest
blood


.

love,
Robin



.

it hurts

to be ignored,
to be shelved,
put on the back burner,
not responded to.
especially there
when they are there
and you can see they are there
but they don't respond
so now you just want to crawl in a hole
because you've just given up everything for them
and you found out they are soulless
and don't really care

bike ride to work this morning

the painted over the stenciled carp "graffiti" from last year. I don't think it is an improvement, do you? the older version is below.

green

alien headboard

vintage range

our double oven
blisters flesh
baking unleavened
pans of history

timer broken
once raw
and cornered
bound upon steel rack

peeking through
caramel streaked window
white bulb shines
as we watch
it all rise

it's all we two
-- our recipe
-- our kneads
thermostats simpatico

insulated
and bound
around the elements
broil glowing
searing
hot as hell.

cela

I fall down
in your breath
it stings
my heart
my ears ring
like air horns
pain penetrates
tomorrow
can never come
if you
are gone

garden gala

past pleasant

what do you do
when he changes
like a sunset
bright and glowing
dark and ominous

does he even like me?
I wonder.

like you

I have nothing to say to you,
and if I did,
I'd have no desire to say it.
Thanks!

a fool's paradise

on the sandy shore of your lovely jaw
wading into the pools of your mysterious brown eyes
floating on the waves of your voice

wrapped up in your arms
and the lovely soft
of your touch

I found
paradise

love

all the falls
in the world
are not as bad
as this one

in the pain
of falling out
the falling in
is not so bad

anger scars,
breaks the bone
of every heart beat
etched in stone

then its gone
and there's a hole
that aches
and festers
and oozes

its so unbearable
one resorts
to the contemplation
of clouds
and all the loft
lying there in

stones
piled up
in prayer
leave their
solace there

the image
pentimento
showing up
outstaying
its welcome
like some
homeless relative.

Thanks!

he always writes
a sanctimonious
rebuttal with
an exclamation
point

a sardonic
and melodramatic
platitude
encased
in its
little
monosyllabic
cant

listen to me

everyone wants me to listen to them
listen to their problems,
listen to what they think I should do.
but no one wants to listen to me
no one wants to hear what I think

last night I imagined slitting my wrist
and letting the blood pour out
holding it above my face and
letting it become my last bitter drink

but I was afraid
it would harm
my little son
to find me in such a state

my belly full
of my own blood
and a smile upon my face

no body wants to listen
no body wants to hear
no body wants to care
it's like I'm not even here

plant

as far as
the eye can see
plant

till the soil
erupts
in green
tendrils
and fruiting
bodies

you till
my soil
as if it were
flesh

rip me
in two
tear out the
entrails
and make
sausage

then you plant
your seed
in my fine
and faulty
flesh

it may or may not
bestow
a progeny

but it
always
begets
a sweat

bittersweet
the desire
for companion

at times
such a violent
and hurtful dance

but the fruit
so sweet
and succulent

the farrow
doesn't mind
the weed.

don't

touch me
come near me
speak to me

middle

what do I look like?
the day they smashed my Halloween pumpkin all over the street
the day my brother used a drawing my friend gave me for dart practice
the time they took me and abused me in the field across from the house
the day they took the swing set and told me it was being repaired
the times my sister cried because she was always fat
the time she gave me alcohol to amuse her friends
the time he beat me up and left me for dead
and then blamed me for it.
and still blames me for it.
and he still wants to beat me.
any way he can.
what do I look like?

door mat

stepped on
over, and over.
unable to move
out of the way.
just sitting there
taking it.
it's attention
after all.

sanitize

respect
is given
and repeated
with love
and tolerance

disrespect
is given
and repeated
with hate
and violence

feel the burn

I thought
it was there
but now it is gone
and I can't
and I won't
let you hurt me
like you like to
and you say
you don't
but you do
you like to hurt me
you'd like to kill me.

feature

abuse
has many forms
and I have
no voice

if I try
to speak
I am dismissed

invalidated
tossed aside

imperfection

blank
empty
perfection
nothing
is perfect

no one
is perfect

examine
me.

my flaws
slough
from my flesh
dead
cleaving
sins

affliction
predilection
gaping
maw.

my imperfection
like infection
septic
overall

but all me.

breath

under tarp
of bedsheets
shelter
unmatched
a single
presence
no separate
form

focus
on touch
of lips
words
spoken
between
as alone
becomes
undone

wrapped
around
eternities
between
tidal
courses
churning
silent
song

tiller

you took an interest
in my garden

you planted tiny seeds
transplanted tiny plants

you came and tilled the bed
made it ready for planting

you comment on the birds
the wonder of the trees

you see the power of the mystery
of a universe so vast

you see the beauty of the mystery
of the tiniest bug

you see the relationships
between them all

you see them as a whole
as a cosmos

you still come and till
my garden, my soil,

you plant your seeds
you turn my compost

you till my soil
you break it open

you make the mundane resplendent
you make it fresh

you make me dream
take those dreams
and make them flesh


http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/tiller

execution

delivered
fate

end state
inclusive

called
the cell

spoke
some words

truly
said
and
truly
did

began
to beg

restarted
aligned

completely
hid

momento morté

earth is my home Robin

and that is the extent
of a verb and a possessive pronoun
and a proper noun and another noun and another noun
now
on
from
now
on

done with it all

done.

or just beginning?

that makes me laugh
inside
whatever that's called.

I want to be done.

nothing's ever

always part way

when I die
there'll be some
leftovers.

I remember my work
it was something
wonderful
at least to me
it informed
my being
my beginning

no longer

I'm done.

cooked on both sides
ready to take off the grill

a little scorched on the outside

but still pink in the middle.

dead bunny, dead bird

after rain
poor little bird
drown
washed through
downspout
laid
at end
tangled
with debris

still bunny
small and stiff
lay mid jump
like cardboard cut-out
with glued on fur
nails
eyes

shovel dips
into wet sod
then blackest dirt

there rests
bunny and bird
feather on fur
bone on bone

parking garage

.

so neutral
no meaning

concrete echos
weird atmosphere
painted antique white

aluminum foil
insulated duct work
tucked above

pallets tilted
spools of wire
in courses

dust
stacks of bike racks
leaning

a few cars parked
but mostly
empty
underground

.

hurt

so easily
seems like
anything
but mostly
nothing
can set it off

that numbing pain
makes me drop
before a blade of grass
and ask
for something
something
to forgive
me

for the hurt
that bends
images
and light
and sound

distorting
disproportionate

don't touch me yet.

fears

hey, I was hoping for an email or a call.
I like to hear your voice before I go to bed...

Don't you like to hear mine? (maybe not) oh well.
Oh, you probably were talking to somebody else,
Nothing left for me.
No, you and they are the real match.
Awful sorry they're playing so hard to get.

maybe someday it will happen.
and hopefully, I'll be
dead.

word

a word
torn from
forgotten pages
floats
with the breeze
landing near
my tennie
it flirts
around
my toes
until
I bend
and reach for it

it plays
hard-to-get
still dancing
on the air
alit aloft aflit

but then
it lets me
grab it.
i hold it
in my hand
flatten the wrinkles
to read

a word

poet's garden

mulch
compost

soil
raked up
wild

settled into rows

planted
with seeds

to germinate
and grow

growing
long enough

to produce
edible fruit

wilder still
into the fall
and chill

tangled
dry
crust

self esteem

to be inside
this blank
adolescence
this labyrinth
of intense
insecurity
is like
disrobing
in front
of every one
of the
captors

raptors
with claws
and wide open jaws

placing
a toe
in confidence
to
always
be
scolded
scalded
by
the
authors
of
authority
that
settles
like a fog
over life
in a cube

thunder

crunching
electric
tumbling
yawns

across
gray
heavy
scudding

another

is it another
addiction?
something
that takes
you away
from real
reality?

is it another
form of self-medication?
masturbation?

do you rely
on the reply
to get you by?

can you leave it?
like an episode of Oprah?
can you let it lay
or do you just
have to play?

the hours
melt away
into days
okay.

commenteer

it's an echo chamber
a mirror in a mirror in a mirror
not your dogma
you're not a demagogue
try, try, try.

burden
embarked
Sisyphean

it'll be all right
just spend
the rest of your life
fighting among
all the commenteers

blazing
flaming
bright as truth
they can't look away!
they'll have to listen
to what you say!

push send

push send
again, and again.
logging
trunks
and volumes
blogging

trying to stop
a machine
run amok
find the nerve
and end it

from without
or within
undaunted
proselytize
with no end

proselytize

sound off
against a wall
that absorbs
every wave

a dark
abstraction
binary
infractions

railing against
a system
that hasn't
got the ears
to listen

energy spent
intellect charged
examined
from your heart

understanding

obviously
I've
completely
missed
the
point
along
the
way
somewhere,
and
I
can
say
with
complete
sureness
that
I
still
don't
get
it.

formerly

wasn't there
a reason
when it came
to a head
that lead
us to
manage
a straight
descent
through
the narrow gate
right
into hell?

frogs or toads alongside the roads

(click title for fun frog facts!)

driving to Marshall
on a warm spring eve
sun setting behind us
reflecting off
the little strip
of grainy asphalt
worn smooth
called county highway TT
(Simon and I call it the Pi-way)

elevated a few feet
along gravely ditches
above unplowed cornfields,
grassy lowlands,
reedy wetlands

windows open
windy as we pass
temporary ponds
laid across the freshly
exposed farmland
snow blanket disappeared

breezes
toss in
something
wonderful

strange
cranking
noises fill
our twilight interior

chirping
in cycles
like a wind-up toy
clockwork
unseen

tigers
and leopards
dating
hope to be mating

it's getting late
otherwise I'd stop
and listen
to that surround

let it resonate
around
my cochlea
and tympanic

intense
hypnotic
mechaníc


(these little videos are from this website: http://www.midwestfrogs.com/ go there -- it's cool!)

worm castings

is it something
to sustain?

some kind of
nutrition?

can we feel
heal
have a meal?

together.

this is how
it ends
is it?

in a field
somewhere

in a compost
heap
urostyle
fused
evolved
solved

each part

marking
time
by the
notches
etched

spending
too much
saving
nothing

reduce
reuse
recycle

he won't
even ride
the bicycle

that's OK
just another
notch
etched
upon
nickel
and
brass

missing
class
breaking
glass

substituting
sex
for
love
and
kink
for
sex

it's OK
though
everything's
OK

because
nobody's
ever going to see
each part
together

they'll
never see it all
together

each part
still seems whole

Odoscope

in my ear
high pitched tone
slept straight through

the heat
turned up
under the skins
terribly tired
soaked
woke up

the nurse came
to look
(who knew)

She gave me
a bunch of her's
so I'll take one

I blew you off
Love

Beatnik gone

you hurt me

it hurts
to think about you

it makes
me sore

all my organs
constrict
into tiny
little knots
deep under my skin

adjusting
my position
doesn't really
help at all

it makes
me sore

it makes
me sorry

but I worry
that without you
there might not
be any

monolith

entropic
thunderstorm
reorganized
unrecognized
but still
a bit
familiar

only one
single stone --
monolith

'til
it cleaves
forming more
from that one

the
monolith

that monolith
inside
that
undesigned
chaotic
mass

empty

there's nothing more
inside

just empty

no buoyant
continuance

no getting
right back up

it's all gone

no brushing
it all aside

the failure
is inside

where it's all
just empty

my little seed

stolen moments
breath on ice
flesh on flesh
dreams entice

long emotions
mending hearts
time ticks by
bending starts

little seeds
rest inside
fertile chances
missing tide

calling over
man his boy
bring your love
plant some joy

over most
only stones
keep true love
within their bones

cozy cove

I follow the shadows
they turn across the wall
as the cars pass
into the night
outside
my room

in my bed
I snuggle down
under
soft sheets

my nose presses
into the pillow
and when I inhale
there you are
my genie
my muse

I want to run out
into the street
stop the cars
from passing
stop them
and tell them
everything

the wind picks up
tossing tree tops
swaying to the
drumming thunder

now lightning
breaks the dark
no cars pass
rain begins

I breathe again
your scent
your mystic apparition
is an envelope

I nestle cozy
in the cove
between
your chest
and arm
I am home
no storm
no harm

swallowed a fly

swallowed a fly
inhaled it actually
it made me choke
but eventually
it worked its way
all the way through me

fecund

well preserved
a harbor
within
a rocking
torrent

stealing
inside
murmurs
whispers into
the future

unsettled
float
bobbing
under
flesh

light
for timid
beacons
racing
through
fog

touch

a fear
too near
to the part
of my heart

that beats
me up
and bruises
my history

stitches
across the gap
a sutured
strap

I hang
from there
and dare
to draw
conclusions
by connecting
the contusions

once your touch
made me warm
now it makes
me bleed

I ate it up

glanced at you
over the page
of the newspaper
the type presented
a special session
and blistered
over it's
noise
a certain
decision
I've made
to ignore
the more
obvious
signs
of
your distraction,
your dissatisfaction,
your dysfunction.

I fly friendly

a fire fly
flew
from a leaf
to a branch
to a blade of grass

it picked itself
up and off
the twig
and sent
itself
drifting
zig zag
through
the night

it teased
my eye
set my heart
in awe
oh to be that beautiful!
that you cast your light
glowing green
onto every scene

through the shear curtain of night
its distortions and misperceptions
uncalculated
so random
and bizarre.

I start to follow your path
through the tar of night
then you shut off your light
as if to tease.
I lose you.
but then over there,
another light.
could it be my old friend?
or is it another
I need to make anew?

pose

soma
nocturnal
fire

some
breech
beckons

deliver
onto
around

misty
absinthe
bliss

rest
reforms
stroma

a gift

I have a gift for you
it has no mass or relative dimension
but it is heavier than gold
and infinite as the universe

it has no specific location
but is everywhere at once

my gift is intimate as a kiss
but you can't even hold it in your hands
or behold it with your eyes
its form exists beyond our limited perception

one can't ever understand
exactly how or why or when —
that, not even the giver
can comprehend

I bare this gift with utmost respect
as I have seen its awesome power
In giving it to you, I only gain it greater, and greater

such a precious gift —
yet it is not unusual to return it
which is why I'm sending it back to you —
hoping to keep it, forever

I'm a goner

all the days
and nights
left wondering
are finally over
and now I at least
know
and since I know
I can put it to rest
sort of
and since I can
put it to rest
sort of
I can move
into a new
phase
finally
and start
building on it
and all I want
is for it
to treat me
gently.
anyways.

more hot house experiments

oh boy!

truth

my back aches
I must have done something to my shoulder
I'm really uncoordinated
I'm really insecure
I used to think I was an artist
when I found out I wasn't
I never figured out what I actually was
or couldn't face it,
because maybe I'm just a loser

But I'm still alive
and so I keep trying to improve
my spelling
something concrete like that

how this world got so upside down
I'll never know
or maybe it's just me...
I'm the one that's upside down
oh,
ahem, that's better
ah, it's all clear to me now!

evolution
creation
well, we seem to have been created
and we seem to be evolving... at least biologically.
or adapting to the hideous environment
as long as the minions
keep generating bills
and paying bills
the uglies
are happy

the unapologetic rich
the irresponsible powerful
they are the uglies

keeping money out of their pockets
keeps us stronger.
so you have to identify "their pockets"

oil
mass market food
market trades
stocks bonds

do the math:
repression of alternative energy and "cheap" energy benefits the uglies because if there were small "individual" generation of energy, that would cut into their monopoly on power generation "the grid" and that would make them so unhappy.
Think of the people starving because they don't have fresh water or energy. Think about the simplicity of energy generation and clean water. Making that available to the masses is a magnificent flower bud waiting to open, but it is being subverted and repressed by the greedy power holders. Think of the abundance of sunlight and wind, and the movement of water. These things were in use long before power grids. Long before the perceived necessity of a grid system with the convenience of power at your fingertips.

The selling point might be "safety", or "convenience", or "reliability", but the truth of the matter is POWER is MONEY and MONEY is POWER. So just remember that when you are paying your natural gas and electric bill this month. Who is that money going to? Who are the share holders in the energy market? Who is benefiting from your energy use? How can you keep the money out of their pockets and in your own?

Each day I become more and more convinced that before I die I am going to build and live in a home that is "off the grid" and use as many "pre-market" building materials as I can find. By "pre-market" I mean substances I can acquire by going to the local farmer and buying some hay, or mixing my own concrete and cement. I want to avoid the trap of "green-marketing" this is just another way they get the money.

My biggest dream is to keep the money from ever getting into their pockets in the first place. Deprive them of the wealth that is their power. I can only do this by not buying into the myth that drives our culture and our economy. Subvert the economy if you will, not as the Bushies did, to generate massive wealth for themselves and to rape the environment and further subvert peace on earth, but subvert the economy that aids and abets such criminal use of personal and common wealth.

This requires discipline, energy, and imagination. It also requires some money. But the use of discarded building materials or pre-market materials can be exploited to the advantage of the individual who wants to model a new kind of culture. I believe it can be done. I believe it should be done. I believe if it is NOT done, and not done NOW, we doom ourselves -- individually and collectively -- to live as slaves to a small class of wealthy, power-wielding idiots. This is not the future I see for my children. And I personally want no part of contributing to it any longer.

peace

Spring boxes

This is our day...