retreat / mixed media / wood board

there is nothing to lose

except life, which is lost

as it began-

everything is growing

take it all as it comes

if its painful,

bear the pain-

this is everything

until its lost,

when its gone

impossible to know,

this is beautiful

when you fail

the utmost

to learn from that,

bear it all

for that is life

whisper aloud

what you know

in the dark

and your heart & mind

will be clear and calm

okay.

terrace / mixed media / canvas

hear the plea

of time / 

keep on living,

that's the plea.

affecting
to the silence
cold in a sweat
up at 3
up at 4
up at 5
up at 6
passed out
at 6-
to tired
to affect
the phone, asleep
my affected head
where you smile
outside, & you
outside, & the luminant
hollow plea
of this,
now taken back
from the dream
to the silence
without affect
where is this place
but here
how much
the sweat leaves a blank
impression
on my face
on my pillow
on my dreams
swallowed in
everything that was before-
it comes now
as the affect,
praying softly
under breath,
take me to when
you were biting my back.

ive opened up my own gallery in my house / i already have a lot hanging up and plenty of space to show paintings that are rolled up or in storage. people can make an appointment and stop on by. the site has a comprehensive list that i'll work on keeping updated detailing what is available. enjoy.

casket / mixed media / paper

demigod / mixed media / paper

clap hands / mixed media / paper

A body hungry

clean & safe

can pass away,

in a riotous flare

burning piety.

there's no hand holding

here. cross the street,

with the sound /

of humming /

cars,

dangerous play

mass shivering

exaltations,

the river full of

ice & fear,

floating lazy

memes, 

all the drowning swimmers

can't see / the beauty-

besotted by

clean & safe / things

all's quiet

in this tremor

waking

coughing spit,

a body hungry-

for the real.

instead &

jackets

kong,

don't meal out.

drunk enough on

multi-course banquets

its only better

to An Australian 

Snow.

revolt the songbird,

she's Stuck /

let her cry to the empty pool

her drowned lips /

in a red cup,

interiors / mixed media / paper

sweater - k.i.a.

sake bottle - k.i.a.

cowboy killers - k.i.a.

the drug dealer was interrupting

my napkin art with bad proposals

k.i.a

matisse

gauguin

van gogh

i'll find it all,

in valhalla

empty banana box

in the landscape

beside a cold chase tree

crumpled beaten

folded & stretched taught,

wordless-gratifying in

winter sun.

fortune / mixed media / canvas

spam

thousands of oil paintings for sale:

water lilies
bridges
steam engines
trains
nudes
musicians
cars
bugs
dogs
players
deceased
war
clouds
sun
shine
rain
fair-weather
faces
light
color

pears

an empty session of midnight
walking the alien world, symbols have become broken
the closing hour awakened by an endless closing hour
so thankful that i have gotten
back to the road, to the line, life a nice path.
each sigh
is a breath
decency measured only by the words and actions
belief
broken chorus music, all the same, a tired
wobbling. prepare battlements and
luster. never feeling better
but agonized and passive
throw me into the wild water and let me swim.
i can.

what hour troubled by

the dream's demise

a desire broken

in shining fragments

of untold things,

born from what

dearth in an

aching heart,

waiting

by a black pool

watching snow-
fall,

A residue
of untold desire

running far
from A
pursuing
cry

walked home past all the houses and the dry leaves crunching underfoot, hearing the whiskey bottle jig. walked past an old car where inside kids were smoking marijuana hiding. i gave them a look that must have put terror in their bellies, i could imagine the nagging paranoia and the strange delusion of a dream that it may seem; 3 in the morning with nothing but the sound of wind and then all of a sudden hearing the madness pulling up the sidewalk, eyes all bright, the muffled sound of despair trying to escape from out of my chest, a world of noise descending from the pits of the dying night. i could already feel the air changing. i cannot remove their faces from my own, & i can only wonder if they feel the same. inside the house was quiet and removed from the world.

i made a sandwich, watched exactly 5 minutes of television constantly flipping through the channels and my dog underneath begging incessantly. sometimes i imagine his cries of pain as he fell from the stool, wriggling unable in the flash of an instant to jump as he used to. a dull pain sits in my head and will not go away. i pile the dishes and drink a glass of water as fast as i can. i want nothing. there is nothing in this world for me at this hour; i climb into bed and stare off towards tomorrow. i hate thinking about tomorrow. when i turn the light off i remark to myself that its better without the light. somehow everything has eased off, like going down a slide. maybe the dreams will be good. i know when i close my eyes that i won't remember the instant of conscious realization in its last breath, that thought however illuminating will cease to exist because i won't remember. sometimes i edge my mind at this point hovering for the epiphany and then when it comes i turn the light back on and scramble for some paper and a pen to write it down. the problem is that when you do this it fails to hold together as wonderfully as it did in your mind. so in writing it down it becomes the same exercise as living; never quite what you considered it to be in your mind. these fractured visions pollute the serenity of an ignorance. its not something to want, only an aspiration of a weary mind and body that simply want to exist without having to consider anything. let it be, & another sleep comes on, another move in my transport towards the end.

birthday

A cold fugue

balances a shiny taste

of the new, on my war

with the old;

the should takes over

where there is no want,

& I have faltered again

& again

in silence

on warm stones

to picking the ground

with a battered stick,

the ant moves relentless

and swift,

finding no breadth of space too big

it diminishes

in the noon light.

there was a space of time

to stay warm,

and with this

A cold fugue

makes war,

the softest parts of me

bleed to end

the fragile figure

of life beneath

the wind-

house of cards / mixed media / canvas dyptech

.burial

burial / mixed media / canvas

changing of the guard / mixed media / canvas

placate

there's a quiet in my heart
I don't know it,
A foreign quiet
in the cold-
it makes a blank stare,
& A solitude

the curtain tears
the hem of your dress
rips neatly
in my hands,

to the quiet of
my heart,

A bereavement
considering the dark
& empty places
of home.

Haha

a wordless dead
man, on the verge of
dead business-
crossing the river
swathed in color
tempers;
with wordless weaponry

there's a quiet in this place
I feel it creep across my bones,
when the music stops
i take it out;
the quiet
grave
of silence

rebuttal

pulled by time
our moves
& like a flying bird
we try and trace
the path
through color
& light.

what I say to you,
you misunderstand;
my inflection
grave & harsh
its only the seriousness,
only the way i move
like with a knife in hand-
i make no moves to cut you
but watch where you tread,
trust the look of my eyes
brightness and the cold
makes them green
& joy will make them flicker like a candle flame,
the other side
may seem dark & sad
a pattern of pain
you need to know what you have
what you've gained,
if you're troubled
then find your sin within
and realize, I find no sin
I only want a way;

what you think
is caught,
is the grip of your soul
take care of how it spills out
it treads on your steps
on your lightness
your smile
the very things you want,

alone
with infinity
but still alone
the gaping hole you see at night
when your eyes close
I have one too,
so let it be

through the burning fog
you walk along a river
to the sea,
past the silence
to the shouting waves
to the tumultuous
affront of nature
that's blind in how it deals
its company of screams
to us, to you, to me-

you need to know
that I love, that I'm in a war
with my soul
deciding life in every instant,
to my nightmares
every dream
assuages the waking eye, the trembling mind

through the night
catastrophe spills
on the wood, on the tile
the patio feels the thunderclap
the smoke curves through the
deep shadows
remembering meadows
& eyes looking
through the moon,

our struggling wings
beat the air
war with air
war all around
this is dangerous
you know the sounds i make,
so let your worry fall away
like a dead clock
and trust your hands
to know what to touch.

Marquee / mixed media / canvas

Mixed Paradise / mixed media / canvas

after dark / mixed media / canvas dyptech

through

hell

through the pane of glass,

the shattered dream

of love

breaks.

cry with me my dear,
for our season is spent
and nigh is the black,
sweetly singing

clasp my hand
to the suicide
of a better place
A music for our hell

framed at midnight;
god
behind the moviehouse
smoking a joint
and crying,
with a .45 in hand
and no bullets;

the air thick with demons
and flying things,
and whispering softly
kissing my lips
to taste
my soul,
practice patience

life is hell
our season is spent
our river dry
our faces wet
with fighting
& spies
the birds

cawing madly
the leaves change color
and the night comes quicker;

oh my dear
this is hell
this blackness is hell
this absence is hell
its all around me
i must find,
the way through

without your light
or halo
i cannot
& am stuck

please forgive the silence
for i am lost.

Oh, yes

crusade / mixed media / canvas dyptech

for victoria

down below,

water & fire

to the sky,

we scream! , we say

what we must to keep our lives

as the passing of living

makes everything more & fragile & important.

and the burning fog,

A call to arms; Master of

the wild soul,

keeper of the guard-

signs
& apparent apathy;

let it fall

from your fingertips

& insight will spread

like fear

& you will run

& you will tap the timepiece

to shake it alive,

& you will pass the shrines

of our nature,

& bow

to nobody.

A star in the sky

the apocalyptic desire

burns & shivers 

to an eye looking straight at us,

it blinks several times and fetches

new meaning, new curiosity
for a better look;

the message made me reel towards

the parts of me

that were deep below

An icy sheet,

you've warmed the crust


A dream keeps us together-

A drink keeps us closer

A time makes us who we

are, shards of glass

pierce my arm

& stay there to become companions of reminder-

& crows pick dust at dusk.


Wandering a green forest

where waves break the coast

sprays of cold pricking regeneration

tossing the end of days to the

muted sunset of the North Sea-

perilous orange fire, gray

dawn an infinity away, a touch to my temple

sitting at the wooden bench

reminds me of our adventure.

tori!

for it is a dark frail thing in the abyss, but i will take it as it comes and cherish each breath it gives. for love cannot last forever it is human made and human things all come to an end. i will leave love for more as love does to everything. until it stands otherwise the only thing is to move and be moved, and to not hold anything in the painful grips of an immortality. take care of time presented, love will come and go. desperation will breed a lack of love because it cannot be forced; but the conflict remains, what is love if i do not hope for it dearly in my heart in every instant. love is the culmination of our frailty, the disappearance of hope to reality. i do not want love but it will come to me and i don't find that troubling. i only find it as the way, as the wind, as pain, as joy, as nature. 

A wild soul

what gets a woman naked in daylight,

what gets her in your sink with her eyes-

looking up at you, drunk & demanding,

what gets you drunk at 7 o' clock in the winter,

what gets her to push past her fear-

and yours

what gets the music to my heart faster,

where-

did my home go,

what got us dead,

what cut me so deep-

that I froze forever subjected

to the cold.

what got us lying here in the morning

without thought,

what got us crazy,

what made her tear,

where is the animal hiding

beneath the covers, wild.

what got us up in the morning

& forced us back to sleep,

the sound of emergence

made us run

free.

laughter and pain

repeat

waking to find 

something better

beyond

what's here is good,

out there is more

out where?

waking to petroglyphs

to falling snow

to regret the stab of death to what you want and love;

to the bank teller and her black dress

& her smile on her face

to her looking at me

to wondering what she knows,

and if she wants a kiss

on her cheek;

if she wants to.

lost in clear weather

to the fake joy of a pill

my body shakes and smiles

to lies.

little joy without

joy's bad pill

after a rescue party finds us

starving

the bleeding arm of release

the catastrophe

of a sharpened switchblade

cauterized eyelid

of bad food and being drunk,

without a sponge

for the sadness,

there's only sinking deeper

until you shatter glass

on the table.

a kid with an Iron

threatens A life,

to digest the reality

of pain-needing to strike it out of the heart

with force,

losing teachers in your years

to more teachers,

then waking up

alone

without a guide,

to teach yourself.

A wolf in the road

Lapping up rabbit blood;

to the flow

of falling sand

in an hourglass

tomorrow turning it over

again,

broken 

but it keeps coming back

wishing for summer on the river

under willow trees & songbirds

and dragonflies darting along the water

splashing silver in the air-

beckoning

from over the way,

to the stranger

who is what my friend wants me

to kill,

because she is beautiful

& beauty is powerful

& the powerless,

wish nothing more

than for things to be

fair.

sunlight dies too quickly in

the winter.

after a drunk

dear,

please excuse my behavior. 

hard ventures

blood

laughter

i was a mess I know, but-

We couldn't help but rob the taco shop,

or drive around with a requiem

for our past selves

past the bells

dead trees

swinging door,

A floor huddled four

smoking.

outside the coolness

breaks the dizzy spell

of bad air,

it feels like there's something to apologize for,

A bright morning

without birds

its like waking up from being dead.

what was that

was it me?

I know I'm wasted when I can't see green.

cradled self,

I'm apologizing over and over to my 

eyes,

my feet

my head

my stomach

my love

my despair

A best friends whisper

valiant

sad

tea-cups 

in my wavering hand

how the shrouded moon

knows

dear,

your smile was a weapon

even if you didn't know

your laughter daggers in the night

your coat a covering from my stare

relent

take care.

woman,

a weapon A mask

apply lipstick apply defiant

A secret behind the makeup,

that no one knows but her-

not even her lover will know,

hiding from the otherside,

from the conflict machine,

from the fake open doors of embrace.

women have been hurt more than men,

they thrive on life and life hurts them,

from the suicide

from the machine

from the pulse

from the fake kiss of a lie-

living a constant life of hiding-

women form the underground,

scattered communication across the globe

the conflict of desire for the enemy,

forever tremulous because of fear,

at a young age each one learns or is taught

the value of secrets

A woman with more secrets than any other living thing

applying makeup in the bathroom

the only one that knows is her reflection,

the biggest gap from the face to the glass-

a curled fist, a breakdown which consists

of tremors fear and failure,

of not doing her job

which is bringing life into the Chaos-

weight of meaning,

no wonder they learned

to hide,

no wonder it means more than you know,

when they sleep over and wake

without makeup

the smell of cinder ash in the morning, from my mother

burning documents in the yard and the dog stands there

listening to an unknown piano.

the day sharp and cold, bright, the day energized by daggers,

by falling leaves, blowing dirt, the last hope of fruit before

it freezes, blankets, fur, warmth-

take everything-i don't want it,

with regards:

undercover cops

sunglasses

knifes & pipes

the ocean

whiskey

getting wet in the middle of the night,

to become a shivering mess. 

with pains:

catching the afternoon diamond show,

on the loft wall

in the downstairs kitchen

An orchid moves nearer the sun

in the upstairs bathroom,

residue of desire, dreams, hate, self loathing, Admiration, caricature & love

scribbled on the doorframe

so,

shining riches adorn the walls,

ready for a thief

in the rose chest

memories,

smells like stains of comfort & safety

rocking chair

anniversary gifts of tears and kisses,

I remember hearing laughter in the common room

when i was faking sleep

when i was nine.

smile / mixed media / canvas

shroud woods / mixed media / canvas

heaven battleground / photo / floor & paint lid

nature / mixed media / canvas

remark about the strange nausea i feel in the morning,

awake with the cold touching my toes-sticking out of the blanket,

hoping the house is empty,

i am up.

there are some things i instantly look at when i wake:

how worn my desk looks,

my stained floor,

a broken clock set for 9 o' clock,

paintings,

the streetlight,

palm trees,

see if my brushes have hardened,

how many empty cups are lying around,

stacks of books,

dust.

sunlight.

i dread,

hearing footsteps or a television or someone on the phone

knowing there's nothing for breakfast

not having a book to read on the toilet

overbearing heat collected in a room

no one to kiss good morning

someone to kiss good morning

appointments

the first word i probably say,

is an affirmation.

rising is painful

succumb at night to relief

between is the substance

that makes the reality,

something happened-

sometimes my eyes are wet,

before i sleep.

old people drive their golf carts to the wells fargo branch in sun city. i stop off there sometimes to cash a check. one of them went up to the coffee machine which read, 'Do not touch, hot' and she had crazy wild hair and looked at me and said i couldn't touch it. then said she had a problem reading any sign she saw outloud. my hand smells like a grandpa when i leave. someone must have been fingering the deposit slips.

townie talk

if i ever were to be buried with a tombstone, it should say, 'Fear is the Mindkiller' 

click the red link for the dana point townie talk

no show notes; no edit.

enjoy

the phone won't ring tonight,

forget about saviors-

forget about it ringing,

its 6 AM. just relent

& pitch a tent inside

your head. 

walk home if you have to,

the weather is another Intoxication.

better than the mind sludge-

of dust motes,

and falling leaves,

fryer smells,

spilling whiskey on the kitchen table,

looking at the clock A hundred times,

throwing a glass out the window-

to hear it Crack!-,

pushing people away,

desiring the girl playing pool,

thinking about Everything better,

thinking about past friends,

wishing-which is painful-,

listening to a myriad drone.

pass out.

pass out.

pass out,

afraid & worried-

about the hold on tomorrow,

and then more afraid-

of the future After tomorrow.

i'm spitting too much in the sink-

its got some blood,

time to wipe away the cold tears from my eyes,

every beautiful woman i've ever met,

they sit on top of me smiling &

Naked. every hour is a wake up,

from this dream.

there should just be a woman in my bed

but the phone

won't ring tonight-

so forget about it, turn it off and you'll win

the phone won't ring

pass out, naked & sweat-

give it up

close your eyes,

let the glow of the phone

dim out, like sleepy eyes-

hear a bird-forget about the nightmares

there is no control

pass the hope & the bottle

im finished.

pain poem, sad poem

what happened here? 


are these imaginary wishes?
do they come from vapor, an absent air?
there is no consolidation
and there is never an Okay
all there is,
is too much moving, and too much of everything.
the world got big and crowded,
and I want off
but there's nowhere to go. just the same old dismal land
and landscapes,
and everything that happened for thousands of years.
get me off,
i want to fucking leave
for real.
welcome to the most filled Alone place you'll ever find.
Earth.

twilight / mixed media / canvas

posted on the balcony

in trouble

with the world.

mindless drudgery

awaits me,

and i am 

hungry,

in all fashion

i fashion a bayonet

to kill the drudgery,

and am left with

A Carnival.

awaiting orders,

the color merges & Fades

into a noise of meaning,

lost is killing-

replaced by creation.

Curtain is a shadow,

which can be music-

folded cube of love

on a lap of tears,

salty fear dripping down

A face.

my baby is a lover,

she was let down-

by a killer.

now we go out in the wild

to see the stars, Burn!

now its time to heave,

the liquor burns, it burns.

craft me a life

for the both of us

cause im tired of scrounging

pity. tired of asking help,

need a lover.

outside / mixed media / paper

the dark was moving

outside my window,

like it had taken life &

was dancing.

I laid there watching

waiting for it

to come in,

but it simply hovered

as air does on a hot day

with no wind.

you know where people go in the night,

by the motions of their leaving;

and why.

their belongings left in a hurry

indicate

an urgency,

in a wanting.

assume that love

may be involved-

because only love can

steal something

important away.

do not fight,

love is not fightable.

Slowly moving my way across the wet ground, moving towards a grove in the distance all frozen blue & light blue with strange red lights beckoning. I was going to meet her there in the middle spot of the forest. A forest not normally known for having a middle, here I had discovered in a dream the way to find it and now it was happening. A no wind made everything easy to smell and my hearing was sharp. My mind feels awake I think its the cold pressing on my body. I had passed a frozen lake now a memory behind me on a flat horizon it still shimmers and a wave moves across it with snowflakes melting in terror trapped in their lightness of flight. There are no birds. That is strange. The sound of everything else; trees growing, crunching boots in the snow, a mysterious organ playing from far-away, it must be the forest making music. I blink several times and again look off, now even closer. The red lights almost seem a wisp of blood sprayed up and frozen in the air. She will be there. She will be standing in the middle between the trees by a stone singing to herself waiting for me. She doesn't know who I am yet but she can feel the vibrations along the ground, telling her that I am coming. And in her mind she knows too well the embrace of this meeting. She has been waiting 10 years for it. Ever since she discovered the spot herself. And how I don't know. My dream never told me and no one ever told me. I just know that it comes to those who know something deep inside their bones. Doesn't have to be anything in particular. A knowingness that goes beyond any word or action. A deep settling inside the heart that makes things very heavy or very light. No in between. Broken up overhead clouds shadowed the night, so that the moonlight was faint infinity of lines making strange circles on the ground. I could no longer wait. I moved faster and faster. The meaning of my life was about to come to me. How could it take any longer. Where was the future now when I cared little for what had come before. only only only only. 

oslo forest / mixed media / canvas

oct. 18 Dana Point Aggression / mixed media / canvas

Castle Fortress * Paradise / mixed media / canvas

Winter Summer / mixed media / canvas dyptech

Passage / mixed media / canvas

california bombshell

blond beautiful

standing in the bed of a pick up truck, behind the

taco shop

two surfer dudes

girl reaching towards the sun

tall and beautiful lanky

wisp

of perfection

reaching away from

everything.

fuck,

just reach towards me,

i want to be

in the scene

with you.

when I awoke first I assumed it was later morning and I could barely see out of the crack of my window, the time of day deceptive because the house always has a dim glow never brightening but never dark either. I sat up in my bed and the lucidity of awareness hit me all at once. There was nothing to grasp at and no uncertainty, just the calm peace of understanding about nothing. There wasn't even a hesitation in my mind as I sat there considering the time of day. It didn't matter. Outside a fog is rolling over the Point, the harbor covered in a thick moving cover of white & the hum shriek of a saw cutting down below. An erasure has come on, unsure as to whether it is a product of the sublime or a spent engine waiting for more gas. tomorrow has faded spending days here. no point in waiting for anything, the wait is a trap. It begets more waiting.  I am responsible, I am stricken I am prone to Rise & Fall and Rise again. There is now an empty church on the corner of Home, vacant with dust on the pews even ants and insects gone because the air has become polluted by the ravings of ghosts. No one enters. The candles all burned down to their very end of browned burnt up wax drips; An organ with most of its pipes missing a reminder of when the church was at its own fall and thieves ransacked the organ to melt the pipes down. Not even lost people wander in and stay the night, not even if the most horrible thunderstorm cracks overhead. The homeless don't count it as a home because its not. Let us take solace in knowing that with sleep comes the realness of our infancy. Failure is like a guide, working its movement on your body to tell it something important. Running away from the guide only leaves you lost in wild with very little hope of survival; and an illusion of survival may come to you at your weakest and you'll latch on hoping that its the guide. But its not. And that will be the test for you. Failing came back anyway and when you recognize its face the smile of learning will weave a brocade. It stopped being failure and became that guide. Like pain. Its all like that.

I want to shriek and wail Scream, become a horror of expression to the point of burning up or a big orange explosion, fire lancing towards the sky and horizon, a burst. The concern is that there would be more for me in that, then there is now. Which could be regarded as not shrieking and wailing Scream. There are wars and pains and a whole universe which to response is appropriate-why then Am I simply acceptance. I remember the rack long ago. And it stretched my bones telling me the very thing I just said. And almost everyone has been on the rack before, stretched to a degree, so that when they get off its just bliss knowing that the immediate pain has stopped. Farce. Fucking farce. It'll be back in the coldest part of the year. 

don't know what i am doing out here. an empty husk of a ship out in the harbor marooned and anchored. the wind blows all day long & all i can tell myself is how fragile life is and how enormous it is so that its an unbelievable structure something massive but made out of light crystal and glass; even a drop of water on its body would shake it terribly the vibrations causing a cascade. passivity will become atrophy, and I am scared to death that I will be this weak muscle unable to move. I cannot let something like that happen. there is far too much at stake here to let that happen. force is unacceptable, but truth is the real mover of anything-its ride a call to the sky to show itself. who doesn't want to stand upright and speak softly the truth of what they know to themselves, the truth rising from the mind being born and the utterance a sign of its now fading nature and death. i can't stop shaking. its maddening. the solutions to stop are frightening. it would mean letting a part of myself become vulnerable and open, what i feel and what anyone with sharp eyes witnesses is my body fighting my mind, and my body shakes my thoughts of what to do for so long I give up. I am too tired. I need help. Call the person who is supposed to help me and let me hear her voice. I will tell her the truth, the things I whisper to myself softly under my breath. And that will let her know That I am dreaming about her-a paradise where my body and mind are no longer asunder. I am whole. I wish for it with all my heart, if only it would quiet its beating to let me through.

dizzy to the weight of the world

weary from standing in the wind

feeling the slow edge of life

come on closer

& closer, crippled & hollow

until something courses through

your body to a substance.

the endless crash

of waves pounding

my quiet mind, fading 

with a broken down car on

the interstate.

sunlight to tell

me that i'm alive because at night

i am uncertain about what is said.

nature not a pacifying force

golden shear cutting blonde hair

blond falling splashes on the wood floor

the open kitchen window,

singing softly as he cuts

& touches her ears

wincing as a drip of blood stains

red

on her sun dress.

without her sun dress

she begins to cry

An interflow of pain

shadowing her body

moving through the veins

concourse / mixed media / canvas

warriors / mixed media / canvas

like a spell

forever eternity

on a raging ocean sunrise

in a sky

pass me the bottle & i hope

its fucking cold! i'm mean. suffer

hope-i'll end us all.

say words in passing

i'm drinking tonight

setting up a climax

organic theory resting on

its head. i'ma mess up

serenity-by blowing up

the night.

oh no there's a monster

with a festering wound

spilling out. oh cry lovely

your dead bird on the lawn.

bitter enemy in paradise

i'll crown you with thorns like jesus

behave; there's a peace song

in the trees, i'm tired

flavor of your peace song.

slowly degrading anger

i'll cut it out

like paper-playing a flute out

on the water.

the hotel room

my shivering body

i was - serious, and my back broke

watching a clock for too long

eating cabbage in a tin cup, nasty

feeling the weight of a call - from my sunken mind.

perched on a couch letting the television kill

like anything killing me, i enjoyed it. and hate it

rubbing my arms to scratch out a white hair

: toilet paper in the kitchen 'make yourself at home'

i need a drink and a smoke, come outside with me

to the balcony.

hearing you play guitar

my shadow dancing, & i'm singing to myself

crumbs on pant legs

a brush beat for the music

when i woke up i told myself;

'not much to approach,' with my hands out

scratching my back.

'i could do dishes again but how important is that,'

and it feels like i'm in

a flytrap

A stream of work

. yeah, that's endless 

impossible to quite

possible to wait

relaxing is a devil sport, I can't ever feel okay unless

i'm doing. What shit! 

i just turn on Lou Reed

& let his heroine cool

make me feel better.

never going to be okay,

he knows

A lightning bolt dead after its moment of impact

yeah like that lightning bolt

Strike! watch out for coyotes on the road

dead flesh with eyes that still look

keeping tabs on how many 

cars drive by with the party, my garage at home

stacked with liquor bottles ready to shoot

two kids on the corner tossing a mason jar

-back and forth-

full of fire. 

all of that energy

is smoke

close my eyes for me i'm too high;

they're just stuck like this

no hospitals

just your soft hands

and if you hug me

maybe the shaking will stop too.

nothing in the refrigerator nothing to snack on to pass the last 20 minutes before i go to sleep. shame. the most painful part of the day turning 1 page in a book. rushing upstairs to find that my water had spilled, i was most devastated. it has been far too long since we met, the days are beyond endless i have almost forgotten when it was i last looked into your eyes. the careful pain and humor swirling endlessly. i must be able to stare into them. do not blink just look at me, out beyond there is a house with children playing on the roof. this is dangerous.

ta t ta ta ta ta tat ta ia ta tia tait iat iati atita tait

-the sound of a white porcelain plate bouncing along the pavement.

i'm just passed out in silence, my mind is scattered in a million directions so that i can barely think. this feeling of being lost inside of my head is a maddening feeling; i keep reaching out to grab something but it all just evades me like atoms and what goes on inside of them. now the fan is off because the weather is getting cooler. soon i wont be able to stand on the wood floor barefoot. the chilling touch of wood to skin in the winter can be arresting. nice kitchens remind me of writing on blank sheets of paper, sitting at the kitchen with a bottle of wine open. it should be in the afternoon or around 9 pm when the night has settled but there is plenty of time left. the end of everything at the corner of a bar where the windows are shut in with plywood, an old willow tree overhangs outside there is a pile of wood out front and a yard with couches and chairs, a hookah, ashtrays, bits of wire picked apart burnt down candles, wax spreading across a glass & metal table, a half shade built out of wood that blocks the view of a train track. there is also a swing set in the back and sometimes even people swinging in it, getting drunk in the middle of the night, men and women would ask each other to have a talk outside or have a fuck outside, or have a kiss, or have a smoke, have a read, whatever it was it usually ended up near or on the swings. inside there was a television that played movies perched behind the bar, the bartender drinking out of a cup-coffee, sometimes coffee and whiskey, smoking cigarettes reading literature. underneath the counter were poems-forgotten phone numbers left over by forgetfulness. sometimes he called. HA HA!.

i had this premonition once of a boy child exploding out of a blue volcano, somehow glorious in a deepening twilight lightning bolts a moon, a forest & lake, hunched out of this resplendence to arise Arise. he crawls away from the disaster all smiles and shaking legs that are burnt. he still feels the idea of them being there only that he is just moving across the ground with nothing past his waist, just wanting what he can't have.

A scent of tobacco in the air sunshine scattered I can feel the envy creep along inside my muscles cringing. but all i know is that i can shut time off inside my head and let an immortality of a second engulf me. its too damn much it swallows every bit of something up. i either got up and left or it all left but its all gone and it doesn't really matter how it happened, just that now the days stretch out in a forever endless mye. there is no escape from this except death, and that is not an option. options aren't really in the hand right now the future holds an escape of death but right now i can feel the edge inside my brain churning streams of ideas & conversations & wishes & clutching every possibility into a trap or i think its a trap but rumination only takes things so far eventually the time for experiments come to play, hypothesize attack unfold scatter out like marbles on pavement rolling rolling. i can hold my body together but its hard with so much nothing perched up all around. i saw black crows at a gas station jumping around next to motorcycles and sand dunes my neck sunburned and me trying to tie a shirt around my neck to stop the wind from blowing across the skin. when the night came and i was alone in the silence hearing its ringing piano sounds i wondered whether the plants had any idea of what silence was and what would happen if i got up and started walking. it was so romantic that i cried a little bit and wished for a xylophone to play as soft as possible. throwing rocks in every direction my hand and throw Chaos tool!; do not touch me unless i want to have sex with you, any other kind of comfort makes me anxious, nauseous & it becomes perilous to our relationship. i have been known to push everything away i am a believer in destruction and rebirth though i do not believe in the rebirth of man. i only believe in the rebirth of things and art and construction. throwing everything away to accumulate once again is the only way to get better things & I hate things but still surround myself by them. when they are absent, say, i am far away somewhere then i can exist and it is the most peaceful thing i have known; it can also turn on you like a drug becoming a frenzy of blood, eyes scattering across a horizon searching the desperate plea from the heart to beat. i cannot attack this or anything without fully extending my fist because when i stretch out rage becomes real. i don't have a favorite time of day only favorite people who have eyes deep with wells of pain & care, translucent bodies I see a boat and You inside gold coins scattered on the floor a little wet and you trying to tackle the wind while i paint pictures and we fight a storm. when i pass they will discover treasure and they will finally understand what i have been doing all this time, mystery solved only to create more mystery and this proves that questions can be left without an answer that answers are kind of arbitrary and I am going to spit all over you. Somehow in a instant i caught hate like a cold and wanted to press pain on your temples. i want to watch how you retreat so that I can understand what you value. don't be afraid, I am quite skilled and have never been known to kill anybody. the worst that can happen is a 5 year repression, but thats better than heroine withdrawal or breaking blunt stubs up to make a joint just to pass a couple of hours in peace; resonated trees taste like butt & ash but they get you very high. gardens are a wonderful source of renewal and even if inhabited by wild animals take care there is never a need for a gun or knife.

'i caught a swallow once in my hands and watched it shake violently almost to the point of death; in its eyes i saw part of myself and i pinched its throat watching it gasp for air. later on they took me to an emergency room where i sat on a cold bench looking at pictures of the body & mind. the doctor came into the white holding cell and looked at me then opened up a manila folder and closed it again sighing. i thought about running. a lake blue from all the tears of heaven a full moon during daytime and a trusty chair brought from home, in a backpack salami, bread and water. my treatment lasted 22 years. i came back and killed another bird then hung myself.' at my funeral my best friend had read a note i left him it said: "there is a manila folder in a doctor's office on Blvd. it contains my soul. please burn it so i can rest." he never found the folder instead got too caught up in his own life raising kids and having sex, drinking and watching movies in the evening. eventually the power grid failed and he sat huddled in the dark smoking cigarettes very afraid and confused. i'm stuck reading bad poetry in an adobe hut in hell, watching fire and smoking weed. satan loves marijuana, but all it does here is make me paranoid. i sure as hell wish i had never been smart enough to catch birds. i'm pretty stuck here & I don't blame him for not burning that folder but fuck, it sure would have been nice to feel sunshine instead of fire and be able to close my eyes without a nightmare. hell is a fucked up place.'

every lover i have ever had made me interested. i was interested in their legs their lips their hair (i love long hair) their eyes their cheeks. i have lovers that have never had me but that doesn't mean they weren't lovers. i got off just by touching their hand even if i never saw them naked and could only imagine it. everyone made everything too much of a big deal so as i got older the little glances looks eye fucks hugs scents and caresses didn't mean as much as they should. why did it all turn to anguish, its all a blessed gift just to see them and importance is a joke. laugh out loud and enjoy every second of anything that makes you sad because that same thing can make you boundless in your mind an extrapolation of ecstasy. every lover felt warm and when i was more keen to my own awareness i had a moment of epiphany: in the dark fingering a naked body hearing it laugh and moan and shake! she grabbed hold. i never felt ever in my whole life an instance where i stopped being totally myself except right then. right now i don't think i will ever get that back ever again, but i will never do enough drugs to ever forget about that. i'll be in war and thinking about it or asleep and my hand will reach out to a blank space on the bed instinctively grasping for the purest thing i ever felt.

i like to hear fruit fall even though it scares me; i like to get angry and then reconcile because it makes me feel alive. but i hate being angry and I never really am unless i'm tossing glass bottles out of a window to watch them break on the ground. one time i destroyed a car with a man watching. he asked me what i was doing and i stared at him until he drove away. people become uneasy when faced with the truth, unsure of what to do. they've only ever been trained to deal with lies. a lie is fine and all but its patchy grass, you don't ever want to sit on it afraid maybe its mined with ants or cockroaches instead just keep driving by. maybe hope was the mother of a lie. i don't really know or care i'm not prone to lying much. in fact i'd probably count all the lies on my hand not counting all the lying i did as a kid. that doesn't count.

the solution to mans' problem is extincting digital watches and cars. in fact mechanical transportation makes your body forget what it was built to do; and that is move. i keep a sundial out back and birds rest on it. i tried to leave a watch in the grass once but the sprinklers just shorted out the circuitry. eventually it became engulfed by clovers and wildflowers. i think some mercury leaked into the water a while back because i have these spots on the back of my neck and they don't look normal. sometimes i think my neighbors are spying on me. if i didn't live 2 feet away from a stranger i might feel better about a lot of things. one time i stole all my friend's liquor and smashed it. it smelled terrible outside in the night on the side of the road singing through the air as it tasted its last moments of distilled existence before hitting stone.

let the silence rock you

let the cold wind blow across your body

making nausea disappear

trust the little feeling in the stomach pit

its gold

without A clock revert

passage is inevitable

bring food

never look down Or away from anybody

taste blood when the noise bleeds

its full of iron

if your favorite color is green; get lost in a forest

always have a book

touching the sun is a good way to die

kissing is better than any drug.

i took a small nap; this morning and later this afternoon my mind stirred with dreams. winter is beginning to press slowly on nature-something about the sun now is sharper but weak. it takes about 1 hour for my body to heat up enough so that i am uncomfortable and must turn over, lying there my body shakes every second from the beating of my heart eyes half awake half asleep in frenzy-somehow the waking life is populated by actors and the stage is my bed; the quiet that receives me is a dilated friend. hope relying on every open way but when it approaches the desert it stops moving surrounded by stars and valleys of barren openness. without a guide to carry it across it merely waits for fools. i try my best in all my waking instances, and when something turns up Beautiful, my gut tells me I have been lazy-for what is anything done, the precious moment away from pain is bliss, but bliss is wrecked by havoc chaos and it seems that I can find the point where twilight is slowly receding but never gone, stuck in the eternal point of the see-saw where the body is at a medium. i feel this medium. it is cold and i cannot move. if i were to die it would be very still and without force. can i sit forever? if i am presented an array of faces will each one tell me something new-it is without good reason that man suffocates the lungs and expunges that joy that can be too overwhelming to hold in cupped hands. i am a slayer & I do not understand compassion for myself; a sword through my stomach tells my insides what they feel. the worthless guise of pretty eyes makes vomit transcendent more real than the deception that can lie inward staring at a mirror and knowing the nature of the mind and not knowing and being forced to play hand after hand without an understanding of the game; let go. to those that plant themselves in the bar at night, you are surely revelry without bound but when i drink i get sleepy and toss in my sleep. i cannot accept this communion because it does not please me, but the naked body that lies next to me breathing softly in my darkness, that pleases me but i cannot sleep until it is gone. i try to close my eyes and let the blanket become a comfort. i'm not worried but it makes me lonely-a patio devoid of wiles waiting for them to come and the moths hover carefully not to mess up one's hair. it has everything to do with wanting & A conflict produced as a result. where the mess of people sit rank in disarray i am absent-there is no such thing as mess only infinite substance. i would carry you and stroke your cheek and kiss Face cheeks, tongue, lips, forehead, running fingers through your hair. the house empty & my own. there is no one here but us. now do not be offended that I have to turn over, my chest is burning from heat. the relief i get from moving to my side is what the pleasure seekers call bliss, it is also known as comfort, calm, and peace. every photo ever shown to me a piece of paper. if there was ever an instance where nostalgia was so strong it removed me from the present it would be called deja vu. alas-there is nothing but my quiet and your fear. let it fall. become Okay with everything that you are and the argument in your mind will weaken. rocks stacked in any fashion form a shrine; a human divine of our small ability of manipulation.

In the early mourning
There is sun on my back
And it drizzles gently
Into the backyard of the dead.
Where the gravekeeper's shovel rusts against the wall
And the dead man has yellow daisies sprouting from his mouth
The grass grows thick on either side
He is a monastery for all the fowl.

a vision / acrylic / canvas dyptech

my actions a sun
eclipsed-You know my beauty
For glancing on my diamond ring
A moment is all; denouement of
my ending-All I know is solace
All I want is brightness

troll the internet drive 8 miles in the day spend 20 dollars passing time drink or smoke or both turn on the television three times in 24 hours pick up a book read a page put the book down 2 hours later pick the book up make some phone calls deal with submission together feel entropy in its grandness for exactly 45 seconds get a head rush discuss politics talk about being free pick something up eat a meal from anywhere in 1 hour its all passed to the future of another meal think about crying maybe you'll cry let the world drift away for .5 of a minute hear a fan hear a car hear a voice watch the sun outside kick a rock have someone tell you what to do debate life inside debate buying something the slam of a footstep recall beauty vibrant green a lawnmower wish & want what everyone else wishes & wants escape foolish prediction sit with fear let a wave of joy press on your eyes wind blows all day the moon a moving disc of white purity far enough to be alone solace growing with the amount of tired forming in the muscles of the body a pale face appearing as a vision having a vision and dismissing it losing control over what is lost never knowing the same pain as yesterday new pain all the coming sex Thoughts at every moment and a steady heart beating.


september 19, 2008

i trace a heart on my hand,

& give it roots & a stem hollow colored

by my decaying skin. laughter as i

write poetry down my arm, &

its faded smudged & gone

turn it down.

outside its autumn 

the leaves fall on our heads as we are drinking-

i haven't seen the people in ages, lost in wander

-my gulf of empathy strike! 

a hollow spear

bleeding profusely

i can't stop it

they pick me up and place me in the bed naked

bats overhead. 

when the night is over and morning is here

Smile, Torture, leftover perfume and finished candles

Patio Ripened Revelry

Shadow posted walls- the smoke trails

black feet sandstone 

comic & my opera. i sing so quietly the air around me shakes

turn the dial

let us speed

i think maybe your view is not selected on what you would want. you can goto

view,

then you will see

normal
weblayout
print layout

and you can select any of these to see how the view changes, and you can pick one that is familiar.

does that help?

this is anger

a drum crash

i am angry

and nature is my maker

the empty pool in autumn

blows dead leaves in anguish

fallen soldiers in all versions

i am chaos

nature was my teacher

across the way

carrying ashes. to a house on the shore

in gray fogginess and cold, where the family

eats dinner and 

in a chair

i am silent

you are my prayer

the misgivings about

a broken clock

on christmas

a burnt out light bulb

4 years in a closet

alone forever

birds flying out

of an open window

the shattered hopes of all the people

a swan

a song. alaling the battered 

i love kissing you

you're the softest body ive ever touched

salty tears

early morning

my warm body

laughing

nighttime driving & infinite yawning

i am colorful

there are so many

ivy on a dirt path

where there's a 

boat

in the desert

tarantula at dusk

half-empty wine bottle

solace solace

an orange burning sun

'my son'

pipe at sunset

water.

a middle day riddle

from a 6 yr. old

my world apart at 2 30

that death

complete

paradise in a high discussion about islands & freedom

the world now

a distress

I am even.

everyone expects
immortality - on a plate
untouchable & Good.
Entropy laughs at your
be-lief. I
Laugh too & Fairies ride
Dragons burning Forever
Across a sky,
beauty knows better than
You.
Time expects
Nothing
&
Nightime Black Shadow Escape
Only my dreams
get what they want
All the rest
Sirens.
Telepathy is a skill / gift
Intuition. Craziness. Elegance
if I was alive
I'd be screaming
the worlds Full Explosion
ringing-Out, ColorAngerAnthems
&
Anthems
Everything yelled As If Pinnacle
given this
Light Flicker
Coming Soon
Human Control.

been busy working

& with

nothing.

there will be a

delay.

I was following a Norwegian artist and I knew she was beautiful but i couldn't say how she looked. I was in a small sort of swing chair attached to a rope going up a steep mountain; all below me was was the rush of snow and ice blowing fast in the air deeper the crevasse and canyons of the mountain range below. i was in terror and i had to close my eyes as we ascended at points i was tipped upside down and my feet were the only things holding me inside as the fear escalated my body shook violently and i held tightly to the handle in front of me but it still felt like it wasn't enough. eventually we arrived at the top but i was now a mess and i couldn't find a stable point in my mind to stop my body from shaking all over in tremors while she tried rubbing my back and saying soothing things to me. we walked on Top of the mountain off staring at a frozen landscape the sea lit by the caustic light splay of the setting sun; an ocean forever lit in a fantasy of pink yellow orange red fire. my body suddenly stopped altogether, we both disappeared it was time halted and experiencing the great instant of the universe as it is all at once.

i'm following a great yellow lion through a corridor and the doors open in a burst of reverie and he disappears leaving me alone and unsure about where i am. each day waking to a new dimension; that crack was there before? this food is different the CocaCola is bitter-er the sun is dim-er or I am older & wiser and full-er and awake. discovered a grove underneath H., lit up with circular white globes and the grass is soft and uneven & big trees line the border. at the western end are four circular flat squares full of pebbles and rocks perfect for fires at night looking at the stars and the mountains. to the northern and southern sides mansions spring up, all windows and Tall and they burn inside with empty souls wandering and I am paranoid of their trust of what they will do to this stranger penetrating their cultivated perfection; but this must be penetrated. the grove has a tunnel that leads into darkness. when we walk to the grove the wind is usually blowing and the lights along the way they are fractured fragments of orange and yellow beams shooting out. approaching each day can seem overwhelming; I sit down, anywhere, just for a minute trying to collect myself but all that happens is a great pressure feeling about all the substance of doing and All the things that I have started that will some day need finishing. Finish the run the race the goal Round continue exasperation / rejuvenation. i am overwhelmed and underwhelmed and All at once or just one at a time; everytime i go out walking i can cement either one idea at a time and deal with each one accordingly like a conveyor belt; or blank my mind and absorb the wilderness. it would be wonderful to be able to play with the surroundings like god, waving our hands about to make this come That go, make brighter / dimmer, add / remove I want a party there and voices to be shouting off there, companions coming and going. blankness disappearing and all around me deep in meaning. it all just keeps passing by air and wind and life and we are in it. i am walking along the desert looking out at the road watching the cars pass by, 'i don't think they can see us,' and for sure they are in their own minds wrapped up in the affairs of home-coming soon to be asleep in bed after nightly order clockwork. she must be feeling everything i feel and thinking about me and the same goes for him; & all of us must be feeling at some points the depths of Alone. this place that is in all of us and thats why the grove is beautiful; empty and when visitors come its just like our meetings we breathe new life into each other but is it enough. the grove lives there for how long? and its always a seesaw. i hate the up & down and living sometimes just this giant torture rack strung along the machine is loosened and my bones shiver relaxing in pain but now slowly painless. i think about the distant night sky how when you leave the city its a wash of white overhead with stars & Shots of light Burning across, paths and the All Motion a universe crying and loving at the same time.

love poem

background noise

white kitchen lightn

ing

striking po    se

fractured Chinese Liars

Universal Monkey Jesters

key player

Lantern Hangers

Middle night crisis

television television

nothing. up & up

we are here in this kitchen making funny faces

Belly laughter

he's smoking cigarettes

and We're Calling Each other Names

a r e you there?

or have you come h e r e?

i dance till' bustin' guts on the Persian rugs

and he's

spending 4 am

against your shoulder

whispering

i really like you while she is 

half smiling snoring 

soft

ly.

the day chime

animal cry

its morning

teleport revised / mixed media / canvas

rapture / mixed media / canvas tryptech

war party revised / mixed media / canvas dyptech

as i walked by the tree cast in the soft glow of the yellow streetlight i saw a flutter and the tree shook ever so gently with a bird shrieking in a short burst of noise; i told myself that if i could simply use this moment as a place of retreat in times of need there would never be anything terrible and nothing could corrupt that place a memory alone in a world full of walking singularities a cradled secret used as bastion Fortress in times of distress.

hurting

im tired of everything;

of smoking

of pleasure

of friends

i dont want fortune

i want all your money to burn

i want the hell of life to encapsulate the world

so that it burns

and we all die

such wishes are unforgiving

they should shun you

and they do

in ecstasy

to disintegrate

or in the most quiet of dignities and solitudes

like those moments of living

where the volume has been turned down all the way

where everything around you has become mute and simple, charmingly small and powerless

the realization of futility

the core of belief

that nihilism

is the only way

this escape

makes everything easy

and empty

i dont care

im tired

i want to run away with birds

yellow canaries

in twilight

i want to burn up in the sun like icarus

i want to know my end before the end and step into it at the very moment of knowing

like a quest

i want reason

there is no reason in the fan spinning oppressive heat of this room

just chairs and a bed and a life's work of nothing

i want to pass out forever but not be dead?

these feelings press down on me

i want a mentor

for just me

but i hate them all

and i do not hate

but my body responds to this pain inside of me and makes it hate

and it consumes me more

WHY MUST YOU RESPOND LIKE THIS BODY

why can't you 

i don't know

just make things better

you got us here

and now were left with terrible

we grew to pain

and we know it more than joy

the desperation was killed long ago

replaced by cruelty

make things beautiful

but late at night drunk in the bathroom

by the moonglow

in silence

you know that you are going to die early

and you know that you can't escape

because you made it so

and when you thought it

you agreed in blood

it hurt so much to stare in your face

in the dark

the molecules in the air around me

make more choices for me

than i do

they killed everyone before

Chaos killing now!

watch over me

but don't

the norwegian death clock strikes at 7

where's my big word

to give everything its greatest meaning

its lost 

in an ocean

the sunset dies with my hope

the latitudes of the world

are prison bars 

drill holes here

instructions soon to follow

the old men rule my lifeblood

i should drain it all out in front of them

do you ever want to make someone else feel pain

its natural

response

is crucifying

scream with me

we live in darkness

where's the light

i caught a shadow

the sound of the piano

makes me cry

i cried forever

in the past

in the future

my eyes are dry