plants a seed in your soil
she smiles at the endless dreams on which your
waking world breaks.
time and again the fuzz builds
on your living room floor
spinning in vortextural dances
trying to taste a touch of the self animate.
and there you stand
against all odds, an antagonist for the indecisive
drenched in high fructose corn sentences
you will your limbs to do the motion they’ve always done
arm swing forward, opposite foot forward,
but nothing, and nothing but dire uncertainty
turning soiled as well as unsoiled particulars
into playful dust bowls which momentarily cloud your vision.
persistence, persistence, persistance.
right, my response,
further investigatory analyses seeming utterly useless i regress.
tackle me, i scream
I have the ball of nothingness
capture my flag and follow me down the rabbit hole of eternity
the gate which, when opened creates the stream of life affirming
uncertainty that presses each of us into the perfect vessels
for human reflection.
pre-supposing, however, the dynamite laden mine fields over
which we float.
He’ll never go down, big belly and all beaming eyes
drinking Budweiser, telling tales of gratefulness for each day
on this, his seventy first birthday.
rich, in that substance which easily produces heart felt smiles
genuinely caressing with words.
solidly shaven, satisfactorily quantifying the yes moments which
the days events produce in his heart
he is a hunter
the one who pursues and unceasingly squeezes
out the glory in each ones valiant struggle
the strategist, the publisher, the drunken rebel rousing indescriminate
citizen of the underworld
the one who walks on water, who jumps from stone to stone,
up streams of memories vibrant living forests.
the questioner, the tidal riding sea monster of your eternally waking day dreams.
incalculable, the 30 second syllable who’s tone denotes the inevitable arrival of your filled pleasure craft.
the million bodied progenitor of life’s impregnating prodigy
inside of each blossoming word which dances from his tongue
the proof is catalyzed by the light filled caverns which implode within your minds ever expanding eye.
the purposefully uncapitalized letters of your carefully composed nightingale inspired manifesto.
he talks to much.
you dream of her.
your own personal genie, the magic queen who’s every move leaves you wondering.
how can this be? you muse.
retractable blades and long slender rectangular swaths of thick green grass
layer brick like upon the raw dusty earth
instant signs of life
hovering, wondering at such a sudden change, never the less entering the newly drawn lush green labyrinth.
The international stratosphere portal is opened to all possibilities,
you sit with nothing in your mind but the desire to connect the timeless effervescence from which you’ve come,
the little bird flies
the chirping is so delicate and precise as to arouse the suspicion as the possibility of it being an alien impostor
improbable and yet…
the stories validity gains moment as the tip of your swinging pick axe keeps striking solid rock,
jarring, an insurmountable task, which continuously draws you back to your small carpet on which you daily meditate
wishing to untangle the knot filled ball of circumstantial elements you’ve come to know as “your life”.
and yet, there is always a time for looney tunes.
a time to tune your channel to the stream of eternally knee jerking banter
the peanut gallery of gods delight in the uselessness of it all,
I am the revelation, I am porky pig, the road runner
i am trapped in the bottom of the well, with all the time in the world to dispel
the inadequacies which have grown as bars around my earthly cage
as restricting thought forms around this spinning turquoise sphere of life.
she’s unformalizing the structures of this carnage happy convolution called humanity.
she’s sinking her teeth deep into the pits of your hearts calm and hungry caverns,
to give you glimpses of how good it can be to give,
as she does. the center of all grace within each being, your own personal
she pushes the “sit down, shut up and listen right now button whenever your tempted
to judge, categorize or critique the essence of any other of her children.
But herself is easy to love. as tame as a tidal wave
drunk on pirate punch her antics circulate like sirens of revolution
through the panda party palisades of yesterdays dynamic recollections.
its uncertain where to place your left hand,
on blue, right hand yellow, left foot green, right foot in mouth and munching until devouring entire self
just in time to reintegrate, to contemplate, and recreate this little light of mine.
The cohesion clouds have scattered, taken up hawking mats and strode magically across the desert floors
in all directions.