Signature

Feast in the tireless echo of words gone down
a thousand years before, in the scraping of wood
on rock

Painted pictures that meant something once,
now, a mystery for modern day
translators

Somewhere distant, they sat together
alone in a cave
to recall the progression of time

In the imagination, before there were
descriptions for catastrophe
or accomplishment

There's the code, follow it across
the repetition the repetition
look now, the tiny tattoos everywhere

Scars all over these finger tips
screeching lifeblood, the signature
the forgotten

Refraction

The window lets in the air riding down the heavy worn coast
Salt trapped in the membranes, the sandy berms, the tall grasses
Transplanted reefs, underwater worlds, rubber tire fantasies
Running my fingers along the bottom
My hands cut on sharp edges, dirty shells scratching all over
Where there once was, is no longer the same ever after


Split a thousand sides down, time line
River rolling roller coaster, grind
Beware the control of tides
Meant to be wild seafarers,
Retract these holy nets, sifting through the debris
floating out there in heaven


Hands upturned to the glimmer near the surface
Cold friends of whale-grazers, seaweed snakes, micro-whatevers
Kicking desperately on empty density, vast nothingness
Unknown, the ties wrapped around broken tree blooms
Holding on as to not drown down
Where no light bounces through anything refracted

Gold Lines

Stage

A heavy footfall on an empty stage
the canvas blank for the taking
sunken rope twisting round the grips
A linear tale told in the remembering

Gusts of stale air sinking slowly down
the lights now, the lights reflect off the plumes
and in the dusty, cobwebbed haze

a voice projected to the rafters
to the gods and the sinners who will hear
Token affections and dime-spun phrases
separate singularly between bleeding eyes
swords that will draw a picture perfect scene

Climb now, the anthill
Reach again, for the trees
The hare is hiding, and mother is hunting
for her babies, starving and blind

Bound by the stage, the universe intact
in imagination in sacrifice
the hands come dusting and the curtain drawn
with weeping flowers flying through the air

A drama unfolds in feigned reality
The backdrop a ruse
All the happy pretenders.
The stage, a plot to bury us under.

Bricolage Collage

Fury

six thousand jagged pieces
splintered
throbbing, robbing

the third eye
triangulating
the tree's roots spreading
underground round

slide down
the mountainside
make a mirror a magic tide

lift the skin until it
snaps back again

hear a familiar voice
on the invisible line
a crosshatch pattern in time

the gristle and grime
all the holy men have gone
to sleep

and in the shadows lurking
a silver tune bellows below
murmur in the chest

and the rest
a story for another day

burning the cinders
the fury and flame

pink black and braille

One after the other

The field is long enough to disappear
into the distance reaching the illusion of
the horizon, a golden hue

the sunlight paints the reeds
and hay wound tightly
is scattered across the land
one after the other

a splintered beam hangs off
the broken wooden fence in
need of mending
or the gentle strokes
of fresh paint

plowing through the thicket
feet stomping down footprints
in the soft upturned soil

heaving breath shooting out
under the pressure
move faster

all fall down in the fields
a chameleon's head turned
towards the heavens

eyes closing now
with another head
resting against
a chest

flying together towards the constellations

gold squares

Clairvoyant

Clairvoyant
Why don't you start
you
need to be better
to see the future

to perceive two steps ahead

to understand a bigger picture
everything for you
limited

on a single track

while we mend broken
things
sewing things
lovely things

outrunning
the dominoes falling
before they catch up
like a wave

juggling with one hand outstretched
and one hand
tied to the side

a stronger threshold for pain
than you

weight bearing loads
heavy on slim shoulders

Untitled

Hounds

Sitting uptight upright
straight on the steps
the columns with lurching eyelids

blinking tick tick ticking
casting shadows flicker
zip cars zip by zip
the median meandering

across and sway
heavy like weights
hanging on the end of a string
attached to his eyelashes

careful steps between cracks
boardwalk bricks wooden
slats splintering
the ocean air corroding
the chemicals

fumbling balances
hands forever outstretched
along the invisible bubble
in the level

delicate now
I see the possibilities
hounds come running now

gathering scents
a thunderous thumping
tribal hands hard now
on heavy chest
breathing
bellowing

a stupid happy grin
and blankness

this is.....

Following

The shadows are marking invisible
threads on the white walls

rotating round and round
dangling sparkle
by threads of
iron and steel

a compass the guide
wind winding blowing
shapes that will
never repeat unique

space overspun
in glorified ambiance
the thick track

treading grooves
waterfall and back again
the bars crisscross
a hatch pattern

in the deep dirty earth
mounds like body parts
emerging and digressing

slip in side slide
between
glass and wood frames
without ceilings

its source shining down
to amaze us again
while we look up
vacant
in our own worldly wonder

imagine an infinite explosion
and the light streaming slowly
cast over everything
precious and semiprecious

buffed to a shine
a little leash
to make us submit

to our following

the gold square

Thumb

My balance bound in a stride uncertain
Tipping topping toes
My fingers graze the contours of the unseen shapes

I imagine the scene before me
a wide expanse of green fields
and I fall to the ground

in a tizzy

the tall grasses
my cushion in the tall grasses
the tall grasses

I see shapes in the sky
I touch it with my fingers
drawing the outline
with one closed eye

a breeze rushes through
the atmosphere and my blowing
strands of hair

there's color there
in the space behind my eyes
what I spy in the daylight
descends
transforms
a mask of its double
in the darkness

its likeness in the hollow
faint and drift towards
the unconscious

a swirling unease
the catapulted delight
bellowing broadly

the warmth of the sun
shining down again

Pink Railroads

Impossible

She had dreams
of doing things
she could only imagine
in real life

Flying like superman
off tall buildings
Swimming in rough waters
and basements flooded

My baby's in the corner I have to save her

Tricycle became bicycle
Double dutch wasn't a mystery

How to figure out this mess
How to figure out this mess

She dreams the impossible
But I was holding the winning ticket

I listened to the numbers
the code
My hands trembling and contented silence

but the dream hasn't bled yet
to the storm of the waking world where
a tornado the stuff of nightmares
creeps around corners
and all I want to do is sleep

Jump Rope Collage

Etching

I could settle in
to this comfortable place
wishing for the years
to consume me
blankly

Free
and bound by
all your words
cascading
digging trails

Peering inside
the dusty windows
empty bottles
and dried leaves
all but forgotten

I'm pulling you
up by your
hair
and fingertips
lingering prints
etched in my eyes
burning regret

1.20.09

Lauren's Poem

In delicate and languid movement
She slips beyond the
Lightness all around, drenched
And floating on the banks of
A reservoir

The crosswinds bound her steadily
Like shackles in the dead
Heat and cold, trapdoors
Slamming down one after another
Breathing heavy and hanging on the line

Uncover
Skeleton keys for
The unlocking

The house is settling
Tender wood creaks and aches in the wet
In to the crumbling and overturned path

So still and patiently
She cultivates with bare hands

Firespark a shamanic vision
Take witness
In this sacred space

Planting seeds in increments
Roots spread wild by their nature
Reigning in
The overgrowth bound
By ties tethered tightly
Reaching far, invading
Cutting in to her path

She speaks

To the haze of imagination
Rising again to the surface
Touching everything
From her world’s edge