under the BQE

came across this strange christmas tree ritual?

i like how the curtains look like eye lids...no?

starting to clean up my act....

the tune to his head was escaping so well

the tune to his head

was escaping so well

so many fingers         dangling

pointing          down towards his boots

so many fingers

so many fictions

so many phantoms

lots and lots of damn

fingers snapping

dropping        to the floor

wrapped in kleenex

put in a false bottom box

remember as a child

the absconding criminal

reframed as a skilled man

remember the man

his  artist

not even an actual index

he was looking for that moment understanding

he was looking for that moment

understanding

he thought maybe he could find it in a book

spines on the shelves of clarity

for him everything was gas

until you spoke

he drew pictures

and you understood

warm flesh

belief

the sandman             the tooth fairy          

the grind-grit-clench

that pillow still holds soft impressions

on both sides

even when bathed in epic frost

heat is in the present

to fuck is in the future

you both knew the past       had not shut

changed

you can still and always      

eat bugs and make babies

some thing weird 

sculpture in progress 

my jewelry station a new challenge to work small...

a new one not even edited ..

in the spirit

of

the spirit

she wore it well

in

the well

gushy moss skinned

hunger

mud hugging

her feet

and

between her

toes

the old expressions

of

express

ink on her eye

lids

blinking silver stained

love songs

spots

tearing up a well-spring

i will give you some surroundings,

some shoes,

a sandal or two

well

a whole pile of them

and them

and some gifts that are not

well     well    well    

well

but more like oh... ohhh.....kaaayeee  ah...mmm  yeah

oh yeah and this one from a few days ago

you cannot see          the trees

for the black birds    helicopters

stolen is stolen is stolen

getting high from getting over

i was a burglar

until i became a locksmith

i had so much of other's stuff

extra extra     i did not need

a burden every time

time changed

and moving

when the neighborhood was bad

running with all sorts of "tools"

around my belt

skin poppin gifts

from the emotionally blunted

jacked in to a hardly carved place

with would be           chips

and dust so soft

sugar for       salt

smoke for      soil

and the way  you waved      ok

and then again           again

nagging, following    

putting the wish into wishful

new poem just finished...

I just spilled coffee on my                coffee table book.

It was opened                        so the pages absorbed.

Then I thought          I should write a poem...

Then I did some stuff.

Then I picked up a book

on the earth.

Opened to page 104

Something about glaziers, Franz Kafka.

metamorphosis.

google

See where it's going.

page 196

Cliff tops at St. Johns-

Hank Williams mapping

tectonic plates-

272

An aerial photograph

of the San Andreas fault.

wikipedia

368

Above             a sulfur miner.

The hardest               toughest job on earth.

Basket ears-

bending like a power lifters squat.

Bar

across the shoulders-

2 piles of pigment.

How many times I would not want to know.

Earth is a ball with stuff in side.

And Oscar Wilde said:

" Alas, I am dying beyond my means."