pure energy

dehydration

you just keep trying to get free from the minute love.
just a moment, free from the moment of.

moment of...
here it is again swallowing among the ghost where you're hiding.

you broke down my fuse box.
you wore out my last heart.
wore out heart...
you told me what we needed was more to lose.

iiiiii iiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

it's time to head for the desert.
till you find your moment, just a moment.

this time...
and what if it feels right this time. this time.

you broke down my fuse box
you wore out my last heart
broke down the fuse box...
you told me what we needed was more to lose.

iiiiii iiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

mercury

renaissance

her deep cryogenic sleep

she left the orchid fields on sunday.
september. 10:30pm.
there was this blackout and then this dislocated dimension of dark eyes surrounded the platform.
the strum of the praying mantis was weaving a yellow focus.
strumming and strumming.
off in the distance the brakelines corroded and snapped on the 10:34pm to nova scotia. turned from a local to an express.
the mantis strummed. the platform was rising under the express turbulence.
a golden chalice in her knapsack was hiding under dirty linen.
hiding under dirty lip gloss.
she needs to get on a train away from the orchid fields.
away from the mantis strumming.
she turned hoping for the next train.
and the mantis strummed...

just one of those things

slainte

in the storefront window.
so many spokes.
so many chainrings.
so many kickstands
so much metal.
so much lemonade to sell.
so much to pedal.

sigh...

citrus handlebars cruise on gravel.
9 years of miles.
adventures.
chores.
flats.
tulips.
climbs.

rains...

rusting here in county mayo.
abandoned.
rusting.
stained.
orange.
brown.
coroding.

sublime...

hara

september 18

in central park sunset,
in central summers end.
the forecast...
chuppah undertow.
to breathe in those smiles.
high voltage colors and shapes.

through temple you found your surface.
watched all those satellites fall out of flight.

through opening, you found your union.
watched all those 꿈 become so clear.

soju flavored tears.
swelling in kireogi flow.
in central park sunset,
in central summers end.
this is where you began...

reentry

flight pattern

the countdowns ending sometime...
all those satellite eyes are floating from orbit.
saint kilimanjaro has begun to cry.
that mighty levy won't hold this tide.
this time feels so different. not like last time.

what did they do with the maps?


to be continued....

rescue mission

electromagnetic meltdown

what did you do this time?
what happened to all the sky?
that sunday night you breathed i felt you so near.
when that thunder rained i was on your stairs.
bleeding pieces.
soaking wet.

please call the nurse i need her help.

providence

you left the colors needing.
wanting.
watching me needing.
i'm wanting you.
wanting you singing on the wall of vines outside of my big window.

tiles

lantern

and i can't find a way
can't find a light... to make you see

school bell

sunday you leave me.
always on sunday.
always you leave me.
alone....... alone
belly gone cold.
i don't want to think about you.
i don't want to think about you alone.

intermission

and this breeze shines,
shines through the wonder wheel.
and turns and turns and turns and turns
through the escape pod
we're grounded

snowshine

grabbed my bike and closed the door.
trashed the helmet and hoped for more.
and a mile away i felt the alaskan snow
felt the californian sun

homesick

you always knew something,
you always knew.
how 13 years ago i ripped my wings and flew.
passed the pasture,
passed the grey of sight,
passed the rocketships,
i faded into bright.

you always knew something,
you always knew.
but when i asked you, you ran to blue.
when i asked you, you ran to blue.

you always knew something,
you always knew.
how 13 years ago they'd capture you,
how they'd bring their poison-might,
how they'd fight for my fall,
i faded into darkest night .

holland's eve

inhaling tulips and bicycles from under the tundra tree.
with her there's space and serenity.

ice cream

this time the satellite is wrapped in cotton.
it's 2am and the apricot breeze...
she's breathing.
she' feeling.
she's finding.
that simple cotton.

bottled

broken feet bleeding.
that sea salt stain, bleached white cosmo.
i am ... walking her undertow.
climbing the only flow.
and she's in mid-current.
in the middle of the night, i am walking her undertow.
climbing the only flow.

Japanese Mexican Princess

On the F train they took her shoe laces. Japanese Mexican Princess in a morphine coma journey to Coney Island. Think she'll escape if she makes it to the Wonder Wheel... Car No. 11. Safety in Car No. 11. Japanese Mexican Princess... so tired.

Grandma

2005

On August 16th I believe my Grandma smiled. Smiled, for she was freed. Freed to be with my Grandpa, her husband and love. And now she remembers. Finally she remembers. And she smiles. Smiles that warm Grandma smile… the one that comforts only the way she knows how.

Endless memories. I want to open and release- from those 630 Weber Road garder-snake- chasing-summers, to those late Sunday afternoon carport barbecues.

Hand churning that homemade ice cream.

Sprinting to the peak of that frail-mountain-sized-porous-levy…

Reaching the top and looking back to see Grandma smiling from the front yard.

Rummy Royal laughs and the parental Sunday Euchre tournaments.

Endless memories.

Summer of ‘81 or ’82… I’m not 100%. Lake Wappapello… Wappapello

(what a great that name). Grandma, Grandpa, Matthew and me.

A deep-sea-fishing-expedition.

That maroon station wagon loaded…

bait filled.

Rods ready to reel.

Reel the anticipation.

Reel the serenity.

I remember this so clearly… Grandpa captained our vessel across the lake like an admiral.

The tuk of the motor.

The buzz of the dragon flies.

The Gars (Grandpa despised those Gars).

The Bass.

The Catfish.

One afternoon we set across the calm shine to one of the secret "good spots." The spot where all the fish were camped out at. The secret fish base. The tuk of the motor sputters out as Grandpa tips the off switch. And we anchor. Grandpa baits Matthew’s hook and Grandma mine. And whoosh we cast. Whoosh. Whoosh. And whoosh we cast and cast and cast. Cast to empty hooks. Those fish we’re seasoned veterans. They treated our hooks like a Sunday buffet dinner.

As I gladly fed the fish Grandma would caution me about my cast, " be careful your hook is close to me when you cast." "Okay Grandma I will." The cast continued. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. And on my third cast… rod over my right shoulder, ready to extend and drop my line into the secret layer of the fish camp…back went my rod… and as I swung forward the line jerked. Hmmmm. I heard Grandma say "Oh." A gentle calm "Oh." Then I turned to see my hook planted into the corner of her right eyelid. She gently removed the hook herself. Right there in the boat. She never yelled. She softly said, "I’m alright… just be more careful."

Endless patience. Endless warmth.

One of the reasons my Mom and Dad moved us from Rhode Island to Missouri was for my brother and I to have Grandparents. I remember when we moved I missed that sea salt Narragansett breeze. Missed it so much.

I’d trade the sea salt today for just another moment with Grandma. I miss her so much.

Today… right now… I believe she’s smiling. Fishing with Grandpa in Celestial Lake Wappapello. Whipping up some crust for a lemon meringue pie. Picking tomatoes in the garden. She’s smiling. And she’s finally remembering.

My Waza

Day 1: it's SanDiego beyond the doors today. snowfall in peru. and somehow i know she'll smile. i was so sure for years. and you hope to watch it fall. i'm so shallow.