in growth we go winning

a great unfolding,

a cosmic egg

maybe roots

like how a flower slowly opens

up.

 

by the road

in dusty sprawl

below an elm

the shadows great

a knight lay loosely

on the ground,

in the sun

beside the road

kind of comfortably haunched;

drinking from 

an ancient cask of rhone,

ruminating.

The story goes

Of Charlamagne,

Who was gifted some

godly wine. From

a hidden valley:

River thru

Glacier pass

Butterflys below

Perfect weather

Vines vast, old,

the dew and light,

the wind and air,

of this place

trapped, within,

the fruit. 

Only once,

was it shared,

in ebony barrels,

hewn from the woods,

set forth from there, for

the new Emperor of the West

all crowned in gold

clad in regal

scepter, sword, and grail.

A happy day 

a bloody peace,

a massive party.

Lost it was,

waylaid withheld,

likely in, some villain's hoard. 

But by great sacrifice,

the knight did win,

a barrel of the stuff,

and torn was he

from that ownership.

Fairies,

glades, a

hidden fortress,

a princess,

a sorceror,

tasks of courage,

& feats, feints, family, honor, fortune,

promised lands.

After all,

he had found some way,

some secret stuff,

dawned guided body

judgement survivor,

a known name.

A story wrought

of atoms old,

of messages

between the stuff of life;

coalesced in instant 

moment memory.

From vessel drought

sipping sighing, realized,

and supped some more.

In his bones.

He whispered much.

An answer there. He knew it.

All that time,

revealed in ancient glory,

god a

stupor, a

suffered wroth,

paralysis,

and relief.

Even greater still

than wan every single pleasure hit.

All that order

lost and found,

his known surroundings

questioned again

again.

Such beautiful stuff

such unworthy being

some redemeptive

arc, noble warrior

honorable soul.

Beyond all duty

beyond the goal

gallant figure

tragedy, comedy

the final little bit

broken mended

buried

all the answers

the moment of truth

only three directions.

.

 

 

 

a condensed history

 it was really happy seeing 

them like, so like honestly,

ive seen it

happy living and dying shadows

all around,

and you know?

I have a lot of care.

We all live in a marvelous machine

We all own the air, we chunk rich

Earth owners, all better, 

healthy. Son morning rise

from the slumbery sleepers. 

No gloomy thoughts,

NO boohoos,

a world of ages

and layers of 

names.

it happens

 it happens,

First it happens,

And you

hear it, or see it, you

experience something,

then you do it again,

to make sure;

happens again

all of a sudden the 

rest is up 

to you.

sleeping family

 there is a version

of myself

of us , of me and you,

that waits for times

of dimly lit quiet,

A place somewhere

Versus and them,

Of all the world

Imaginary dinosaurs,

In pittar patter,

& hatched escape plans,

a tight and gentle holding

of accomplishment,

like being warm

and still hours away,

a silence that we create

together,

more than any answer

more than any one thing

between all the conflict

every beautiful thing.

 

a note of love

 my heart aches for you,

so much time,

so hard to see,

all the beauty around you,

it hurts to beat

so far lost in love

i feel you,

i feel you,

i feel you,

so now found

i see you

beating, with every breath.

i could cry a thousand times

not enough

and still not know you

sometimes,

if i had 

everything, itd be 

in front of you

all of it

the passing time

i know it true

that lying next to you

the single greatest thing.

no one said

 the monster exists

some deep thing

buried in my heart

an early lesson

of pain.

I hurt to define it

hard to exist

it squanders the love

around us into colorless abyss.

I, dare, not, whisper, its name.

Eradicate the pattern,

I worry it persists,

driven too much by our pain.

Not something pretty,

reliant oxygen,

call me the wrong one,

tell me whats right,

I knew in some instant

some total collective endeavour

i can sleep soundly

in my back pocket

the lost forgotten notes

bestiary for the heart.

particle shuffle

 think of the axe,

As it tears through a log,

Shattering the core

Of hundreds of years

Broken bare splintered

Ready to burn.

Iron steel

Dense matter

Forged in flames

Made from the heart

Of the tree

As it had died

Buried in time

Unearthed to repeat

All this making / unmaking.

What does it mean?

What secrets does the process

reveal,

What lonely atoms

Lost souls roaming the 

Idea deterministic reality machine.

mirror shot

cute cute

so much sweater

cute. That fire fit,

with clawy nails so friggin cute

savage total soul inspiring

mad distracting,

cute.

why we suffer

totally explosive

mute and dumb

secret wishes and bathroom prayers

in the final moment of life

& being wrong, w/ the penalty of death.

hot food

side salads

bread baskets;

three sets of eyes through the window

waiting and watching

while the wind blows.

and it doesnt matter,

too tired,

eyes close;

love eternal

love forever

love solutions

loving blooms

beautiful love

love and tragedy

so much love

it doesn't matter

eyes close

, but dreams persist

in endless loving wonder

for love remains

and sends a reverberation

across the expanse

of empty.

vacation

 take the cruise

along the river chill

so icey bad its good,

swallow the party,

for a smooth wave,

for a good time,

calling like a way back

when falling kills vibes,

just dont fall anymore,

alls well for real.

chamber sub rosa

 nothing better then the start

Birthplace,

Getting to be the thing you

Are.

A focus based on your experience,

I dont think i could crash and burn

from how much i care,

i remember once imagining 

my most perfect world,

in it everyone agreed i was the best,

and if i wanted to i could nap

with respect; makes sense there

I

ISA day of rest.

earned.

remember the flutter of my heart,

my heat,

my long monologues,

my utter appreciation for

every single thing.

Upon entering

the chamber sub rosa,

All Secrets Revealed

unwind my history

 nobody cares about the box

i just moved,

uh ohs and no oh no's,

let me tell you about the hidden tension

all up inside me

tremoring at such high velocity

i appear buzzing,

follow follow me, trace with your pointer

i can pinpoint accurately where

im tight, susususosotight.

i feel it...

little little bites at night

some kind of total encapsulated

rigid states influenced by energy flows.

inside a matter form

unfolding,

with stories.

neighbor upstairs

 when does it feel like mine or yours

when do the tides turn , when do

why does all the passing mean

who watches, who knows,

last on the pause, hearing all clamor,

what is the answer, im listening

was there ever any choice,

the last known fragments

 

of everyones noises.

little note

 under the mountain laurel trees

i get warm by the morning

sun. no place long,

just the details of the places / spaces

wandering eyes.

foot feet on pavement, numbers, names, nascent natures,

thoughts about the future,

this time now.

remind me in 100 years,

the people from my time,

remind in eon,

my one true love,

remind me in the evening,

the little laugh next to my ear / smiling,

remind me in the morning,

that first warm hug,

under the sunlight i am reminded of our doings,

in the moonlight im reminded of our sleepings.

call me, ill come.

the songs of memory and time

 listenin to you

a middle cyclone

in Fall,

absolutely wrecks me,

in every best possible way.

the drum of memory

eternal full of feeling.

the idea of us everlasting

the moment all forever.

picture me and you

 off you go and there you went

someplace new foreign and fun

took everything going bad

to get good

but little moves quake morning

runs, along the embankment of your soul.

sometimes little cries at midnight

and leg hugs. how casual and hard

is life supposed to be? i think i like

feeling alive.

back you came after all that,

better

wow wow wow

actualized realized qualified drawn like

Masterfully, and every future song

about us.

take every drop of blood from my tongue,

dance wild crushin, keep loving

i can hear you snoring

god what we done.

 

Playground / oil / red oak / 10 x 25 inches

 

Last Nowhere / oil / canvas / 32 x 27 inches

A Story of the Night

 something going down down

by the airport.

sirens blaring, in the silent summer 

Heat. cry afoul the criminal

mastermind because

i hear his tirings screeching

burning blazing blacktop rubber carrying bounty

and, accomplices.

Then silence, and planes, and silence.

A final horn drifting melancholy in the background,

till more .

Finally, as the prologue,

i hear the sound of air conditioners,

slowly 1, then they vibrate together,

until all are heard, and the dark 

decimated by the beating of every

living person's heart.

signal flares

 there's something large

always swimming

beneath the spot

of where i see.

i'm a rock, unmovable me,

and i feel big, but don't know how.

if i could find, the thing that is,

then maybe i could be more than this.

little steps, up the hill

farther down the way below.

swift and free we make our moves

tangled and lost, we live our lives.

tell me now what you know

ill share my thoughts as secret things

and together us we change in ways

together us we fly away

obstructed views distant specks

risked it all

for the truth.