At the Zoo

You were in the zoo
You were inside an animal's stomach in the zoo
You were the zoo and the zoo was an animal
in the zoo fleeing the zoo
You, the zoo, and the animals were having tea
discussing the news
It seems the zoo hated you and you probably detested animals
But the zoo never existed and you were not an animal
so much as a beggar on a street corner painted in black and white ink
And the blackness ate you
And the animals ate you
And the animals and the blackness were one

I say to these things
in the air, words,
oh lord hold fast!

Love is a lampshade

The buttocks of a morning have risen. Love is a lampshade sitting in a corner unimpressed by the gay apparatus of life. Quiet, the bookshelves are still sleeping. A bible instructs the blacksmith to build metal houses. Within them nothing can exist. As it stands, the angels barely exist themselves. Now we've seen the last of darkness. Now we've seen the last of immediate strangers. Take pride in mirrors. Hang your dreams on coat hangers. Rest assured a good days work will not go unrewarded. When you turn the street corner wave to your fellow man. How glorious is a morning with no evidence of life!

Now, crossing the bridge, we see the woods are without complication. You may kiss your wife, but literature only exists to ensure the mechanisms of sleep.

Evidently there are wars, but atrocities happen. Sincere are the pleasantries of man. If the crippled can't walk we'll force them to write phrases. Now, let us mingle among ourselves. It's an afternoon made for kings and queens. Go forth and squeeze blood from diamonds and back again.

Spirit is the chemistry of the flesh. My body once flew across the countryside leaving me much to do with nothing... How does one sleep without eyelids? I am like a locust living among the swarm. I wish to be a herbivore. I study the methods with which to devour flowers. Here, have the night sky. These road maps lead to idle passing. I've seen everything, but nothing always seems so pure. Even the sunshine prefers natural shade.

The terrorists are actually aliens. They wear scarves and write bad poetry no one cares to read then eventually find their way to Hollywood. And we dig their neat mottos.

There is no such thing as monsters. They're taking the sound of rainbows and putting it on to the radio. As a result, the quality of life has increased by three magnitudes! When you fall in love you can expect a friendly reply from your representative. The more vague the better, as always, to help ensure everlasting peace and solitude. When you buy designer napkins you'll may win a free trip to Tahiti (feel free to go swimming but don't pet the crim. Have you ever seen the dark side of a pound cake? It's quite the fascination).

Sparrow

There is an elbow walking in the woods.
Beware of lost steps.
There is a broken heart wandering the night.
Resist the temptation to laugh at strangers.
The strangest places to be are bathrooms.
Why the universe admonishes birds, no one knows,
but to fly is to be free.
A sparrow races beneath the stars
in search of impermanence
and eventually is awarded broken wings.
Everything else is simply beautiful torment
and words never existed once spoken.

Unfortunate Age

Lies are larger than life.
A seagull is lighter than air.
The rain is blacker than nighttime.
The age of reason is tired of rent.
The slow season of rust must endure.
And the snow is always lost to indecision.
A blind man speaks; there are no more salmon
as we've bred them out of existence.
When the sun rises a magician
has pulled it from his hat.
Emptiness is a still shadow.
From here until eternity the hours wait.
Death is but an aside.
Elegance is my bride
with the stars and planets at my side.
There is nothing more sincere than apes.

Where are the grandchildren? Were they lost in the flood? Did time fly out the window? Are there no more sharks in winter? Alone in the waves a statue stands. There are no roads, there are no trains. The veins you see are what's left of Earth's exposed heart. Do not be afraid of poems, they write themselves on the letterhead of short rumors. We shall reap the rewards of storms that return on a dark night like desire. There is a mistress whose corpse sings in the mirror. What is lost of the best moments lies delicate beneath rainstorns. When we listen to silence the world returns in a cup. Without knowing whispers life's mysteries remain undeciphered.

How Far is Too Far?

The Ode falls flat.

It was a little whisper meant for the sea. All the jellyfish are properly franchised. They've left the sun out too long. The skeletons of the night are always dreaming. Good grief! What is left of the embassy? Will they allow the top hats to enter at will? We must address ourselves as sirs and madams, if for no other reason than quality customer service.

There are not zebras on the moon but one can not discount the possibility of railways to Mars. How cruel men are who do not understand law.

Once a thief always a beggar. Those who are depressed are most likely to sin. Without perfume humanity is but a terrible abomination. Cancer is God's will and thus: no kissing after midnight.

Untitled

The gnats all fled
The soil sank into its eternal hiss
In the fall of a black morning
Memory is a porous container
Into which the night bleeds
The cross-eyed owl
Limping on a branch
Catches the Sun
Hell aches for children

And the Night is Quiet

And the night is quiet
Where the river runs deep
It is the cricket of sleep
The tongue of concave
The voice of silence
The tone of tone
And the vines are trumpets
The whole of blackness
Is stiller than water
Where hangs the nights bells
Soundless in the shadow of an eye

A Heavily Wooded Night

I have bled to the four corners of the world. My veins connect through underground circuits feeding grass and worms. I lay pacified by the cool air across my skin. Willingly, I give way to the struggle of the elements.

But no one saw the hidden eyes. No one thought to contain the dreary flies before the banquet ending that rang in the dead. What foul words were heard while skeletons drank wine and laughed about the phoniest tales.

My tale is one of enduring fools. My tired oaks are drowned by their souls.

Lovers and Dreams

Gone are the days of lovers and dreams. It sometimes seems the tragedy of life is that irreducible flavor of two hearts wanting to be united as one that is scarcely tasted long. It happens on rare occasions. A magician taps his wand - there, you have love - it's the instantaneous magnetization between two poles. Is there anything less natural? After the smoke clears, you either have something or you don't. There's no monetary exchange. It's like picking apples from trees. How to teach the world to be free? Show them by example or show them by creed. If we're going nowhere let's get there in the most intimate way possible. Let's get there by blowing kisses to soldiers. Let's get there making the rules up along the way. Let's pretend to be kings and queens who rule the nightfall. Let's emulate the stars, or better yet why don't we become them?

Somewhere Always

Somewhere always the rain sings. All glass ponies lie in dust. All friends are friends without knowing either weather or the dawn. Frowns, smiles, famous, letters, never, the charm of laughing, a kiss in the shadow, the restless night and moonlight, lust - all things lost or loved and divine...we should wed in a forbidden dream. We should pretend to be demons lovelessly caught in peril. All beginnings have no end that life shall be a winless victor. Somewhere there is a languished realtor who holds a lease on life's prime real estate and now is never. A pearl in the hand is equal to the land and its fortune in based on the weather. Eternity is night if nightfall is day. There are no leaves on the ground where I lay. There are no summers. Indivisible is the twilight, immovable is the dawn. I reserve romance for all mankind. Somewhere always a strange motif reverses itself to be heard. Always we return to the same stolen endings.

The Heart is a Circle

The heart is a circle.
The mind is a guiding light
nearing itself towards ecstasy
or engaging in flight.
Vicissitudes of the poor.
Annulments of the rich.
The quality of purpose
manifests in rich reward.
Tangents of love
precedes the arrow.
Silence in the ghettos.
The heart will not hold the shadows.
We have prefixed the dawn
on the gallant wings of majesty.
The whole world is migrant.
Now the voice of cannibalism prevails.

But the forest is alive
and the dove of peace will sing.
The heart is a circle.
All my songs give charity.
Life is a gift.

Hysteria

The vegetation is electrified
Opalescent pearls stage the
entry-way into a garden
on which hangs the lonely night
We've gone to all corners of the world
in search of love
not quite entirely unknown
The faceless voices of reason
can be heard penetrating the void
of sorrow's little underworld
We shan't loose sleep for civilization
Which is not the end all be all
Some words are more powerful than factories
Some worlds end just as new ones begin
Those elicit prayers build the beds
on which we sleep with dreamless pillows
Renewal is more powerful than any
machine of death
The criminal landscape has been warned

Part II

A nation is formed a nation falls
Centuries abide until the last call
Visions paint the future in pristine words
Nowhere no one has heard

Violence is but an ill
Emptied out when the cup is filled
No nation can stand
No vision shall be over-ran

Eternity Not Lasting

You've written yourself in words

You've traversed the final mile

At the edge of all things reuniting love and hate

A heart is concealed beneath a glass case

You've opened the corridors to secret passageways

But what finally remains is wandering emptiness

A seagull is doubting the sky

(The irony of existence)

Veiled in the fog

The mirror of flesh is forgotten to the eye

Eternity shall not last

without the flowers and vegetation

I've chosen to forgive God for his sins

so the crickets shall not be bored

The Seismologists Ruler

Seismology is an art reserved for anyone

Little crytals beneath the earth contain starlight

I weep for stars too small to take flight

A bird with no wings is like a summer ending

Various lands are embarassed by telephones

And no one understands scientific logic anymore

An ounce of love is unstable at room temperature

A piano is a leaf whose keys lightly tremble

Outside a window

A wasp is a woman who undresses

In the bare moonlight

A continent is subdivided by the freedom to roam

And eyelashes

After the rain a subterranean world comes to life

After the rain Chicago sings and the universe

is so undead

Modes of Existence

Existence in Space

Every object has a limit as to what can be observed, unless:

a) you are that object

or

b) you exist outside of time

Consciousness exists as nodes within a dynamic field. Knowledge may be dispersed in non-local units through non-local action.

When we understand self-reality--consciousness--then we may transmogrify into something larger, or take on more units (the nature of being and becoming).

Convergence and Divergence

All paths converge given enough time (change) and opportunity (existence).

Each path is unique. No universe/realm is the same (laws may be arbitrarily assigned).

There may be infinite universes/realities. If so, each one supports the other like nodes within a field. Each individual consciousness is a reflection of the universe, existing at a reality-resonant node within a field within a field. Each reality may introduce new reality-being, or knowledge, but only through non-locality. The same goes for non-resonant nodes of individual consciousness in separate dynamic fields (non-linearity of consciousness).

Existence and Becoming

To be is to be becoming.

All that which is shall remain unknown.

That which is not does not exist.

What is the meaning of love? To know the self and to know the universe.

To know the self is to know the universe, and vice versa.

Proceeding Further

Reality is like a mixed drink: the right ingredients determine the right flavor. Drink at your own discretion.

(Some thoughts I had this morning upon waking.)

Velocity

There have been entire passages ripped
away by greedy hands
Words that liberate and bloom
Stolen from human equity
These lost pearls roam the tides
Waiting to be reabsorbed
And ignited in the minds of man
Each night at the right hour
A word appears
And then soon a collection of them
Seeking remembrance, awaiting flight
Each night a flower unfolds
Expressing its beauty
Unaware as to the modes of its embodiment
Life springs forth across an entire continent
Love is in the womb
Silent in its velocity
In vacant places and in shadows
Veiled in the true sorrow of a kiss
Each moment, each season is a disguise
Every butterfly flourishes on the wind