sputtering

1. recluse

the urgency of sound rushing
flat against wooden fences

I met windows bigger than people
and slipped through them
to smaller rooms

when the wind picks up
the shutters rattle
against the wall

the world shrinks this way

nagging thoughts bend

knurled limbs

reaching out

against time

and time

again

2. story tellers

I hear myself talking
about my past

strangely slipping
words

I know that I feel something
but it is just a murmur
eking out from below

it changes to a story
the meaning created
in how I tell it

- not what happened

and then I know
that anything is possible

and I frighten myself

for what I would do
just as much as what
I would never do

3. preemption

in the future
thought police will kill you
before you can interpret
the images spinning in your head

that's their job and their right
they would be wrong not to

can you blame them?

the images are dangerous
within themselves

4. setting sail

for now
those images flicker
in a reverse strobe light
starting at my eyes
then swallow the world

can you see the flashes
taking everything in
around you? dreams
marching like soldiers

wave strange foreign flags
drifting armadas to weathered ports

on islands lost
or best avoided

maybe

from a distance
those flashes look like lightning

you'd have to get much much closer
to see what is really going on

meditations on secrets - #4

1.

in a back alley I drew titans
mauling little people for fun
with some colored chalk

at the time I may have burnt
ants scrambling for survival
with magnified sunbeams

or I may have drawn naked people
crudly fucking each other
with extra large cocks and tits

but I was civilized
and killed people instead

2.

how does one relate well with women?

I see the same thing
in each set of eyes
raw beneath the expressions
emoted with intention

the pleading desire
tender and sensual
dripping through porous grates
down into deep catacombs

so human

it is forgivable

we tread on underground rivers

in seasons lost and forsaken

looking for shifting mirrors

absolution and humanness
open and mysterious these rivers
flow in all directions
ending at every shore

3.

love is a question flirting
with tight-gloved workers
building history with steel

dreams no longer built from clouds
but reflections pour out
from glass skyscrapers
overwhelming landscapes

these are different dreams
light expands under the glass
and dominates everything below

dreams no longer drift in
exploding into existence
with graphic mundance force

long since the day

it could be said

"I knew you as a child"

echo chamber collapse

1.

it's not the words
rumbling from canyons
with big ominous vowels
huffing like ether
the scent of breaths
swirling with sounds

it's the delivery
how they touch the sky
grabbing the clouds
drawing faces and flowers
painted brightly

it's the cages
filled with birds
shooting feathers
off their wings

bloodied and brandished
beaks broken

it's the birds that can't sing
too long absconded
in the darkness

it is the mountains
and the roaring waterfalls
off in the distance

there was a moment
when I stared at the night sky
in quiet resolve:
I chose against suicide
thinking it meant chosing life

that difference, however,
defines every last motion
drifting into the great horizon

resistence is everything
as birds sing to empty skies
wind rushes over old trees

I wait for the songs to stop
the wind to fade away

2.

meaning is transitive
each conventional moment
becomes full and vanishes

the ecstasy of extremity
grants some immediacy
then returns to absurdity

is it worth it to say

"I felt you"

whoever you are