This Show is up now and runs through april & will be at the Chico Sports Club gallery.
here are some images from the show
You and the Puzzle
Catapulting pigeons send beaming
rainbow light from unicorn horn beaks aflame,
like your achey breaky heart,
engulfing the world like a sword
the size of fifty six million king kong blow up dolls.
A state you seem to keep winding up in.
Born into a puzzle whose pieces seem to be your life,
but you’ll be damned if you can figure out where they go
seeing as how the previous owner lost the cover box
with the original picture…
now the pieces reside in a ziplock bag which sits
on the coffee table and makes you wince
every time you walk by and happen to glance at it.
But the burning hearted king kong sword wielding captains room
within the recesses of your mind seems to keep docking
on the pier of your daily existence
and even though the smell of fish (which you’ve always hated)
you decide to follow the intrinsic dial a date
instinct bliss button within sight mechanism
place a few pieces on the table and look at them.
You have NO idea where they go
a big step has been taken,
you, sitting, contemplating the nature of what the bigger picture
by looking at these variously obscure and seemingly
you and the puzzle
portland pics & a poem
Here is a test,
to sit and interpret
that which fidgets in the higher recesses of mind.
a taste test to gauge the internal structure.
like perfectly placed china in a glass house.
arranged in a unified sequence with no folly placed secretly so that the house might shake and all the china would crash into each other and the house, everything shattering into a million billion pieces.
then it’d be like some movie, like most movies, where an emotional bone is thrown and the placated audience sits, prone, on the edge of their seats waiting for the moment when that thing is going to happen,
and tragedy ensues everyone’s bent out of shape and they leave the theatre feeling like they got hit by a truck.
what is that?
This is insightful,
not an investment for my capital, but insightful none the less
to feel the slow death of that thing inside me which gets to decide the fate of my own internal “oh crap what’s gunna happen next” mechanism,
cause for me the glass house is there and it’s perfect, immaculate!
I don’t care how many big shot movie makers, school yard bullies, external controllers of others destinies walk by and try to sneak a rock throw, the glass house remains, and every piece of china is in place just perfectly so according to the dictates of my mind,
you can huff and puff and blow down your own piece of the show but mine will remain.
And as things generally play out around subjects such as words coming out of mouths, I’ll probably invite you over for tea, so we can share some of our perfection mind stew to the best of our abilities. It’s a more co-operative adventure.
one that really does it for me
no big screen 3d virtual mind hump
can compare with the reality of the miracle of your eyeballs
and the vibratory countenance which corresponds to
ONLY your throat, only your heart, You and only you.
a gift in gods garden
a perfect little twig on the end of a
VERY VERY big tree,
you, the bird, i the squirrel
sharing the sunlight.
Boxing up the box office into dice,
that we can throw
Pictures of my feathered friends and a poem
he sits, with a pro-staff 3 golfball, a sprig of fresh rosemary and a cup of matcha tea.
The train does not move.
in-directly the stars spiral
into the upper recesses of his gong tower.
the tall tale teller quivers slightly
like a 30 foot tall giant bamboo in a wind burst.
the air is hot, the smell of his zapatista scarf Sweet
a scent which ignites the
“I want to make love to myself”
voice deep in his being.
You have no idea.
Intrinsically quizzical bronze monkeys cluster around his brain,
dancing and squirting thin streams of liquid gold.
his golf ball falls off the table and rolls over to the fancy chair’s
she presses firmly on the outside of your tight skin
she presses firmly on the outside of your tight skin
trying to determine the best point of entry.
the frail, tender state of your luminescent vessel lends itself to an over-abundance of questions.
I’m definitely not an early riser.
I ate at a fancy french restaurant
she hands me a cup of tea
matte chai “I made it kinda strong, we could share it, I could add more water to it.
cut it in half”
Jerry gets sticks to start the fire.
my stomach growls
i wonder at the nature of us, as opposed to just her being here.
MANTIS EGG CASE: Jerry- my body rejected it instantly.
Puer 2 places – the tao of tea, rishi tea company “it’s green”
“I switch off all the time cause I even get tired of things that are really good”.
A NARROW PASSAGE
SHE ACHES FOR FATHERS ASHES
JUST MISSING THE STORM
SHE INVOKES INSIDE OF I THE QUESTION OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE
AN ALLIES ADVANCE INTO STATIONS BEYOND MEER APPEARANCE
A RELATIONSHIP THAT WREEKS OF BEING THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD
The green light captures me
variables of form
in the end
the final consummation and rebirth
as sure as mother knows your name
each one, her child, each one, a butterfly of the sun.
accept life (that which is always and ceaselessly given)
as a gift for higher service.
she renders herself not in the gift that is given
but in the giving and giver of the gift.
her ability to offer service relies solely on your ability to accept her body as yours
and consequently, her means for transmutation and evolution,
with THE BEING as the principle directing agent of change for all growth.
NO MISTAKES, NO MARVELS, NO SUPER HEROES, ONLY CACTUSES
AND HAPPILY CONTAGIOUS GREGORIAN BULL FROGS, SINGING DELICATE HYMNS TO NATIONS AND NATIONS OF SMILING PEOPLE AND MARTIANS AND MODERN MYSTERY SCHOOL GYPSY SCIENTISTS
THAT WHICH, AND OUT OF SHEER NECESSITY, WILL MUTATE.
THE TRUTH, LIKE SWORD WIELDING GODDESS
CLAIMS HER VICTIMS
WITH THE SAME NURTURANCE SHE HAS ALWAYS GIVEN
SINCE THE BEGINNING
A HEAVENLY VORTEX OF LIGHT OPENED, LIKE A MILLION BILLION SUNROOFS AT ONCE.
she folds her body over the floor
she falls into the carpet
she removes her peacock feather earrings. she irradiates love,
every movement a testimony to becoming gods will through every intent of your being
she who longs so deeply to render each moment of her existence to dharma, for each interaction to be an opportunity to bring forth that which she cultivates.
the canvas recreates her
“this insane funny new body thing”
it smells like casserole
she laughs hysterically about her friendly and regularly visiting queefs.
the young one gurgles his toothache blues track,
destined for glory
a king without question
an emissary of the light.
this is a picture of my dog maia on the beach in pacific grove with a crazy head wrapped around her. doesn’t she look like the road warrior?