a golden wind-waved field,
swaying Earth whisper
surrounded by deep Emerald woods --
in the center
a low soft hill crowned
with a single tree,
branches holding heaven.
in the field
round the tree,
feral naked children spirits
gather in ritual
to turn the moon + sun.
sinking through yoga into the roots
of the tree,
reflecting sunlight by their soul smiles --
the one sun above begins to split
into 3 stars
rolling apart
til they drop below the horizon.
the tree begins to glow
with purest silver shining mercurial light,
its translucent rivers pulsing,
up up
til the leaves sing out
and light splashes
down down
into the crown
chakras of empty lotus bodies,
warms + falls down their spines
til root to root the cycle is complete,
respiration.
this Union strengthens the light,
it builds it ascends
becomes the moon
and rises into the field of stars.
thus passes the night,
til from the 3 corners of the horizon
the white suns rise
become one above,
and the day is new.
∆
Thursday, March 25, 2010
∆ ॐ ∆
young Krsnas
hugging themselves,
our Being,
through each other --
ascending prophet nymphs
hip to the power of Love,
we blissful intoxication
reverberation
saturation + overflow
of Love --
"the giraffe got into the apples!"
i hear lion roar afar,
i feel manatee dream thunder.
the whale-sparrows turn
infinity loops
through the clouds.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Blackhole Cheek Whiskers
(about to color it! --
but my brother said i'd ruin it,
so here, unadulterated.
finished version on its way.)
click to see it larger
Monday, February 1, 2010
"T R U"
city blocks
populate like ant colonies
personal installments of
logic +
functional dung shells,
reminiscent of vanity mirror cubes.
eyes sore
from courting radiation --
legs atrophied
from lack of use.
foreigners mistaking the Statue of Liberty
for performance art --
thoughts of futility, cycles,
determinism, chaos.
"NOT A T R U STREET"
and by the time
this wandering orbit
swings me back to
sympathy and
empathy and humanity,
i'll have exhausted this
grapefruit store of iron --
i'll be weak.
still stumbling
for a nostalgic future,
mind in secret shapes --
sleepwalking.
sitting on stacks of books,
opening cans of concrete,
it's rained
so everything should be clearer.
populate like ant colonies
personal installments of
logic +
functional dung shells,
reminiscent of vanity mirror cubes.
eyes sore
from courting radiation --
legs atrophied
from lack of use.
foreigners mistaking the Statue of Liberty
for performance art --
thoughts of futility, cycles,
determinism, chaos.
"NOT A T R U STREET"
and by the time
this wandering orbit
swings me back to
sympathy and
empathy and humanity,
i'll have exhausted this
grapefruit store of iron --
i'll be weak.
still stumbling
for a nostalgic future,
mind in secret shapes --
sleepwalking.
sitting on stacks of books,
opening cans of concrete,
it's rained
so everything should be clearer.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
"visions of death"
visions of death
pass before me:
hawk woman-boy
followed by
Death's shadow
followed by
gaping walrus black man
followed by
twin ogre abuelitas.
an omen,
a station of the cross,
golden tableau:
a homeless man,
an Untouchable,
a pid-geon
with arms stretched to Heaven,
dying
beside his shopping cart chariot.
pass before me:
hawk woman-boy
followed by
Death's shadow
followed by
gaping walrus black man
followed by
twin ogre abuelitas.
an omen,
a station of the cross,
golden tableau:
a homeless man,
an Untouchable,
a pid-geon
with arms stretched to Heaven,
dying
beside his shopping cart chariot.
Monday, January 18, 2010
"LES ROIS"
el otro bodhisattvo
y San Slumber
et l'esprit de dandelion --
LES ROIS du paradis ici.
une fille d'été
and Marley child,
sweet boy --
tumbling and stepping,
Father only watching.
rascal acrobats
of the city architecture
tap staccato morse code poems
on gummed black concrete.
on foot through these hoods and barrios,
my home:
(dark Achilles blood
soaks my sock, stains my boot)
y San Slumber
et l'esprit de dandelion --
LES ROIS du paradis ici.
une fille d'été
and Marley child,
sweet boy --
tumbling and stepping,
Father only watching.
rascal acrobats
of the city architecture
tap staccato morse code poems
on gummed black concrete.
on foot through these hoods and barrios,
my home:
(dark Achilles blood
soaks my sock, stains my boot)
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