Friday

I used to attract moths

Shushing roomfuls of characters

Snapping necks of barking dogs

Chaos quelled like a deity

To simplify

Reducing things to fundamental elements

But – as with all things human – where

Are lines drawn?

Who minds the limits

Who minds boundaries



Endless analyses and questioning

Antithesis of simplicity and

Complication’s very bestest pal – collaborators



Much more organic than synthesized

The two over the one

Water dripping onto black holes

And kicking at clouds



Batteries on last legs

Despite myths of desperate

Last ditch surges

Simplicity of the end of conservation

To be among the family again

The comfort in knowledge of affinity

So eager the tears – welling

My only mistakes are in timing as always

But the wonderment is worth the waiting

Subtle like eyebrows feet or thighs



Panache spilling over authentic

Able to be only myself without act

Sadness temporarily interrupted by life real

Interrupted by the time moving forward

Awakening mid afternoon in time for teas

Open except inside my secured fortress



The kids today…

Will they know what I know ever?

What I will never know?

Is recapitulation and endless loop of

Stills wound fast – a horse in full gallop?



The edge of caffeine-induced vomit

In a former grand ballroom painted

With cheap green and furnished

With thrift store furniture



Middlespace is a half-eaten carrot cake

For instance or the doubts of matter



Again my time is expiring here

The meter running out – alarms sounding

And the sadness will return (sigh)



Accept

Or

Stop

Another day without harm

About as big as your finger

Bleeding in and out of lucid beliefs

All the while feeling superiorly unimportant



Pathetically desperate for validation

And drowning in the ooze

Of the taste for human meats

A thing for the soft tissues and large muscles



After some coffee and some time alone

And the customary dredge for muck

A deep dank still sleep with the

Promise for rebirth awaiting



Being so full so quickly after

Being so empty so long after

Neither caring nor wanting

Is generally - and surprisingly - shocking to the system



An acceptance of selves satisfied

With sins and baggage forgiven

Peace and relief are identical twins

Joined at palms with hearts beating in unison



And there is still reason to live

Random ovals

[Previously Untitled]

Again with the thoughts
Haven’t you learned anything?
Seeping faux genius

Wandering focus
Internal conversations
Over Iowa

Of love and passion
Mean spirited interplay
Narrow shallow lives and lies

Wrong turns at junctions
Continuous debriefings
When is enough enough?

Volcanoes in clouds
Retirement is never safe
The pace is deadly

To finish my thoughts
Over the mid-western plains
Free beer and pretzels
Heightened senses of awareness

Paranoia mediated by instincts



The depths are still frightening

Drill-down to situations not of our control

Or, maybe it's really getting scarier yet, the world



Or maybe experience teaches

Circumstances change perspectives

Evolution occurs regardless



Imagination, being what it is, has

Powerful effects on perceptions

And vice versa



The nature of things

You know, stuff, you know



Clarity is a motherfucker

Befuddling is likewise



Sharp pointy things

Running amok



Distillation is key

Simpler elemental thinking
"The California protagonist belongs to no establishment, a born renegade fond of mocking the shabby masquerades (of traffic courts and dictionaries and jails) with which the corrupt officials in city hall or Chinatown seek to imprison the noble savage dreamed of in the philosophy of Jean-Jacques Rousseau."



- Lewis H. Lapham

From National Airport



Oh, to be a

supplier of cheap blue

size 54 suits in DC

now-a-days



(i'd be one rich man in the party of huah)
Triplets in my head

Pills on my mind

Politics in my brain



Although dreams from two days ago

Have begun to fade

Still I am horrified at the

Depth, detail and genius

of places I went that night



A warren of art, magic and passion

Webs of storyboard images spun

From molten metals

Like cartoon spiders answering God



Of smokes and touches

Wary interpretations of

How things should be

versus how they are



The point of decompression

Can only be found in the memories

Of dreams to make reality envious

If my brain can do that

I prefer sleeping

Wednesday

As my daughter begins to more fully interact with this world and she begins to show personal preferences, I realize that some day she will completely embrace her life as her own, rejecting external controls and dependency structures of her parents.



She will march to the tune of her own motorcycle.



How do I know? I fully rejected my parents at seventeen, moved out and never really looked back in any substantive manner. But, until now, I never realized that on the other side, from the parental perspective, the hurt that was probably inflicted. Being the center of your personal universe for so long results in lost opportunities; lost potential of an unselfish kind.



Whether it’s when she decides to venture to Costa Rica when she’s fourteen or when she heads off to college (or the circus, for that matter), the emptiness will come suddenly and deeply. Sure, maybe she may spend holidays with us, but she will develop her own world where we are but minor components. If we get the weekly call, we will cherish like life itself. Then I will be able to die alone and afraid, surrounded by strangers.



They all say, “enjoy it while it lasts” because it won’t last forever.



Nothing does.