far beyond the wave / oil / canvas / 32 x 25.5 inches

exist

 A cactus grows

In the silhoutte 

Of a crossroads 

Where people vy 

For their turn in life

ordinary evening

 I dont know if i have an easy memory to reference of when football ends at a bar. The noticiable shift is fucking noticiable. The bartenders switch the tv audio over to music and everyone leaves. You hear all the drunk tabs being closed. People light up cigarettes. Theres a clear distinction between the dudes who want to gamble and do, and all the other dudes who have to go home. I had no idea 830 was a consumer shift change. Dont let anyone fool you consumerism is 'what you do' as the primary job in our culture. Whatever your work is secondary to the myriad of description on how anyone consumes. Even content consumption generate a massive profit and its what 'we do'. Booze and gambling is less of a veneer than private school and first class flights. Endangered brazilian hardwood toilet seats. Still shitting diarreah. The last people in the bar either playing pool or waiting for food. Take all that as you will. Men once waited in trenches to die and now cant make a choice watching netflix.

Estes Park

 So high up hanging with the weather changes. Still pines and ravagey aspens like every watercolor portrait for the time of fall. Crashing elk into chain link fences, and wagons with kiddos going up the hill. Some measured vacation relaxing between the responsible and the chaotic; cable tv. The sound of meat and veggies on the fire, roasting toasted grilled charred smokey. We perform the caraseoul around the Target parking lot, while mom shops; beats double shopping carts in a safeway...or does it? Vomit and apples down a windy road with crying. The menu. Appetizers. Cocktails, del taco. Cry some more in the shivery night papa, youre welcome. Sleep tight little children, bottles and blankets and beer for the dada wine for mama. Hot Tub Time Machine. Whisper gentle in the lamplight, and from the table to the couch eyes close sleepy in dreamy tired aches. I love you, i love you. This is vacation. New kind of vacation.   Some complex grandeur adventure but something always falling, and falling. Without partners theres lone wolf territory where little cracks turn to chasms and without the backup no repair. So rest easy. I got you. You got this. Each other, no others.

emo wimper

 G l yoner fu. I wait forever for something better. It is human. I am me and animal in habit. Feed my tummy fat and sugar, i will sleep. Dry eyeball in the morning, sighs in the evening. Last of all the good. Forever backwards wanting. Try each joint in terrible achey motion; time has made me wither; and final is every memory splayed like a flayed bo

dy in the sun aware that l both wave and a particle.

ltp

 Isms and ishs Ates and ucks Inging es's ymns Cal ilk tus Ieieieieie Ders apts ips Nds Nds Owers Ifts. Ilsish, in in en. Oopa oopa, axz.  

Perm paper press 

Historical blood draws 

Tricks and treats in border towns 

Costume villains bring doom Down central ave. Call the coroner To view the corpses, Students crawl close quarter contact With debts; Theres nothing like a cold beer After a hard days work. I am flying far To get away.

rip blair

 

Its been a tough week. One of my best friends died suddenly and without warning. He was my age, we were extremely close, and had traveled and adventured both together and with our wives (who are also best friends), and the reason why the two of them knew each other. I introduced them on a trip long ago.

Now he's gone and I can't talk to him or see him anymore and I feel lost and alone and scared by all that. And I still feel really numb. And all I can do at night when the kids go down is paint until I can't see straight. Try to make art that he would love, in the way that he loved it when he was alive and would visit my studio and buy paintings and we'd just sit and share.

Can what I make now do justice to his past memory. Can it make him alive the way his singing makes him alive when I listen to him. Its crazy how if you die and you are an artist, and then moreso a singer a musician, everything you leave behind is a recording. And not only a recording but something people want to listen to over and over again because its music. Its not home videos or short clips, but actual art made by the person externalizing everything about themselves.

We can visit that art, hear the ghost of a dead loved one. I have had other friends die, and I can't even really remember what they sound like because the last time I heard them they were alive and its been too long now..

But with Blair, I can play something from my phone. And it becomes all so real. And I'm tired of feeling the multitude but I guess that's better than nothing. And nothing would be worse. Thered be no art, no songs, nothing. So I can be thankful and know that time will pass and not get better but just be more of everything that is. I suppose writing about acceptance is a lot easier than feeling it, and it being true. Its a step? I hate the stages of grief. They've been with me for way too much of my life

sentencing

 i am sure i would

Know better

If my pruning shears were

Sharper, slicey slew slaw

Sawing all toothy.

Edgey cut bloody

Pouring from gashes.

Im all for efficiency,

Clawing at redundancy.

Shouting wont save it

Not when there's yelling,

Rotting from poison

Rusting without reason.

Laugh it up fuzzball

Cure those crusty phantoms.

If i was quicker with justice,

Then balance be brokered.

medieval times

patrol the grounds

check the trees,

shut the gates

and set the watch;

remove refuse

broker the close

of the kitchen and hearth.

Abandon all the worry

of the past living day.

Hanging are the orchids,

geckos run the ramparts,

ants tarry with nightly cleaning,

broken are the whispers,

Ghosts command the creaking,

fathers break the pantry,

couriers slumber all the deeply,

guests snore sleepy in their chambers,

doggies whimper dreamy,

& princes and princesses sleep

peaceful.

Bricks cast shadows from the lamp light;

stars shine broken in starry starlight,

on windows darkened,

On full summers,

final winters,

shiny spring,

resting fall.

Comfort castle

cozy fort

sanctuary becoming

sanctum heart!

 

Date Night, Sex & Sleep (in no particular order)

 Most Excellent Skull
Admit 2
At Last Chance
Villa Solidad
Fume Rancor
Dreary Sunday
Big-time Callback
Rotate Above
Tres Camas
Dozen Eggs Double Bacon
Bones Pantry
Sol Exposure
Desert Fire
Proper Attire
Duty, Neglect, Touch
All the Little Whispers
Forgiving Look
Soft Nibbles
Collarbone Kisses,
Lips Aqquired
Faintly Surrounding Darkness
Only Shadows
And Eyeballs,
Before Dreams

Boundless, unlimited, the one without death

 Akupara


Akupara akupara

AKUPARA! AKUPARA! AKUPARA!.




akupara.
Akupara
akupara.

...
Akupara.

Akupara





.

choices

 -"nobody knows what waits for the dead"

living life lucky till the end,

lots of time spent fooling around in bed,

slowly, wishing i was yellow,

cooling timid, beams of the sun,

moping like a crow, on the edge,

nothing like feeling better again,

im a soldier looking to get ahead,

giving it all away,

sparing nothing today,

the will in the chest bringing it all to bare,

never getting lots /

sometimes just enough

i swear its all in my head.

 look at all us doing

like little big bads

on the coastly waters

crawling out

from single celled living.

must be confused with deities,

who build palaces

in stately pleasure domes

 

 KuKhan.

 

 

mighty mortal

 the sounds of the enemy

hammer my soul,

my heart makes

beating thunder

on the morrow.

when the sun rises

every blessed virtue

becomes torn asunder,

when the red light wavers

i see terrible, deadly summers...

the first and last of every

supper; glimmer ghostly

scheduled parties.

love something fierce strongly

in the final show

act iii, after

the crescendo.

 

The view of the powerful.

In charge.

A watching vulture.

There must be blood pouring.

And all else is fragile.

Poor souls breathing

Final breaths

trip

you can't go to the pyramids,
without a quick stop
through Istanbul, once upon
Constantinople.
flying forward over an ocean, a desert, & a Sea
some mountains forest and crag, sonic vocal.

clanking drinks.
sunlight glaringly.

i am bound onward greatest journey ever happening.
i am expecting riches beyond my wildest dreams;
both material and other, fulfilling, true and
glimmering.

I need a partner,

She waits expectantly.
a delicate wrist

rests a delicate
watch, with a woman
watching. wrought
inscriptions a mind wresting
some significant time
ticks tragic tocking
take pressure
this precedence
of chance meeting. quickly glancing -
charming / dashing
sexy beyond all example.
legs forever climbing
lashes with a face forever imprinting a memory
fine and featured.
Princess Adventure.

our journey
our location
civilization's cradle majesty the silty extravagance river Nile, some personal conquesting;
knowing, that
in coming
there is nothing
but darkness
for you and me. but also every little atom.

the tombs are quite lovely
the hieroglyphics in passing
some kinds of hissing & snakes,
scarabs, and dankness
and kissing in some forgotten
alley.
you are Pharaoh
you are Cleopatra
touching...
you can't explore this body,
without being greedy.

morning coffee
and munching, munching, pleasing munch.
sparkling vino
attractive talking
glancing and fun.

could this be never ending?

o

crescendo

 beyond our loneliness lies
the dream of heaven,
a shimmering imagination super imposed
on the oasis shoreline of pure water, wavy.
incredible! successful bliss, in waver waver
total carefree bleeding
lost in good intention
from living being
living.
save please save me save please explain
the song is ending, but
i knew it was coming, and
it felt like it could be forever.

to make the world a better place

the value of a dare only exists

if the dared also gets to play.

and if the game proceeds Accordingly,

then may fortune favor

the braver.

 

 

 

the hanging lamp

In an abbey far from here,

up in the mountains touching

clouds, monks pray in silence;

making bread,

making beer.

A garden circles the stones:

and glass, orchards, towers, windy paths, halls and rooms...

extra large oil paintings, tapestries, stories told in candlelight,

farm to table dining, and some wildlife, a pond, the smell of morning, nap-time, and dusk.

A quiet calm pervades

the grounds.

Yet in one corner not far

from there,

a forge fire glowing

hammering, hissing,

and hot. 

A lamp is wrought;

commissioned by the King. 

A copper base, inlaid with gold

organic life. Somehow scarabs from

the middle East w/ emerald shells

shimmering in the light.

The lamp hath some miracle wick.

The forge hath imbued some

witched trick.

Shaped like the tear,

And a platinum chain.

The lamp has seen many master

slain.

It has come and gone as Ages pass.

It has hung from hearth, in home, on branch,

battle, meal, and lights the dark.

Tomorrow means little to the lamp.

It glows and dims,

like ever the passage of time.

the inner tear

 during a windstorm;

the cries from the suburbs

can be heard in the city.

A trove of abandoned

dreams, voices hurt

in achy lonesome.

cold like memory

abandoned by themselves.

sorrow heard as matter

carried by the motion

of celestial.

floorboards

 their lie houses

in the fall.

Then,

winter crawls

in quiet halls.

Alone and walking,

creeps creaking slow,

humming heater

dropping snow.

shadow lives,

shapely scary;

shifting, showy, slowly,

slipping forms.

Slumbering since evening...

Waiting out the season. For,

Spring light unraveling.

Stop sleeping, birds singing.

 blossoms cover

all the awnings.

Yawning

warm fashion,

in woken rooms!

Preparing for

Summer.

----

Post party collapsing,

so much swimming.

Glim light yonder future.

Forward is the passage

Surely in the rapture

Surely in the ray

of light that starts each

day anew.

 

forget and keep on

 i want to move my hands 

 with something i already know how to do

i'm a sucker 

for watching anything
happen; 

i want to give it my all 

all of the time. 

if everything wasn't so fucked, 

maybe we'd be good, 

if we are the best 

maybe this would be 

beautiful. 

i need to go 

you need to leave 

we'll meet on the sun 

a thousand times ago.