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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