poke and burn

syringe to right ball
I can hear geese overhead
-- gonad biopsy


note: this turned out to be benign lesions

come here go away

dropping names
like dropping turds
I have no statement
of my own

if I should reach you
with my words
do me a favor
leave me alone

at 3am

the great circle
healing wounds
eating flesh
coming round back
and back
and here and now again

reconnaissance duty
at 3am
he is making a circuit
to feed the bright ovens
of our deliverance

the duke

letting it slide
the duke
of apologies
oh, how much more
gratifying and freeing
when I begin
the inward movement
of forgiving
when I stop
f'ing up
when I start
living

I don't sit

I don't sit
the Buddha sits
I pester myself
while he sits there
I open my eyes
look at the clock
grind out thoughts
and hold onto them
with my toes
while they take me around
the Universe
for a turn or two

why can't I sit
with Buddha
while he behaves himself
the candle snuffed, then
only remnant smoke
drifting peacefully

peachy preachy

if you're trying to reach people
who don't already agree with you
well, you're not
and if you're not trying to
that's kind of dumb

photo

a gelatin photo of a wet brick sidestreet
small storefronts, a Starbucks
with wide, shining windows
a shop with a sign of a bear and a cake
a bakery; "Piroshky" reads the sign
No Parking placards scattered generously
light, dissolving into grainy white and black
a doorway leading to apartments above
shades drawn, mysteries or secrets
private people, living like heroes or villains

the come around

I am quiet
in library silence
surrounded by magazines
-- Paleo, Real Simple
Quilter's Newsletter...

the least sound
the come around
the zipper of his laptop case
the clonk of her high heels
across the tile floor

the sacred shhh
the music of air
rebounding off the walls
and the ceiling, singing
inbreath, out

scaling back

scaling back
mountain top after mountain top
pulling the rug
from under our grand conquest
complying without complaint
remembering what was entrusted us
the day before
we left
for this life

little ditty

Concepts are angels or archetypes or gods
Thoughts can be peaceful, passionate or at odds
Everything you see is a projection of mind
The bright One who watches is quite nice to find


Note: The cool or weird or appalling thing is, this is really close to what I believe

the long and the longing

the long
and the longing
time non-dogmatic
yet particular
from omni-devastation
to orni-salvatiion
one shines limp
the precluded soul
hummingbirds nod
by nasturtium buds
the rive is liquid
the fallout, gold