BLINK BLANK

I speak from a land unsane
projected from the blossoming
terrain unfolding in shudder
lapse mutation for our beautiful
camera's observation so the heap
of history happens once buried
beneath strata crushed under avalanche
how to escape this inexorable advance
we pray until our grins become permanent

MINOR CHORD

beyond, beyonder
ridiculous concepts
there exists nothing
but the current moment
even these words
written in a sustained 
note remain absurd
notions for any who 
happen to view them

BAT COVE, MOAB

for Zane  and  David 

Leaves tremble, fronds wave
River flows, clouds pass

Birds call out, lizards scatter
Day bleeds, trees darken

Bats hunt, eyes open
Night sets, we awaken

Moon floats, stars appear
Rain drops, fire licks

Steam hisses, flames reach
Out like hands and taste the evening

EVENING KEEP

On the wasteland of our dreamscape
erecting campsites in the middle of 
the night.  Supplying another spot on 
the line of wavering dots.  Our flaring 
campfire barely altering the timbre 
of our star's voice.  Of the sparks flung 
our way from the dark, do you remain 
impartial?  Down here within these stone 
walls we can't help but wonder.  

BY THE WHARF

A carnivore fed only once, it said
"Dream me," while it ate a mouse
and afterward, the bones were scrapped,
cat-scratchings under the pylons now
dissolved in the moonlight
playing on the black surface 
of the water rippling amid
undulating shadows

BEFORE WE GET BURIED AGAIN

Under the low slung skin
Of the night reflecting fire
From our slow approaching star

Life lines held up like stems
In a jar full of water and sugar
We rose in the dark eyes closed

Asleep and forgetting the dream
Of being awake in a forest and breathing
It all in during a flashing silver sunrise

ROLLBACK

Staring In to

the Reflecting Eye

a sense of distance


the pupilled interior

shuttling through

infinitesimal shades

of darkness


to form a coruscating

sheen—the sheer abundance

of stellar furnaces Inside

scintillating and piping

out their multicolored

melodies we receive

with eyes that sing


to behold such an echoing

grandiloquent fugue

as this symphonic ballad

of the suicidal arias

adrift—for nothing fits

the feeding frenzy below

better than the dead


black reflection

of a shark's eye

peering at the core

of the cosmos


living ghost of a

once blown heart

when it blinks—




—that's just humanity

skipping a beat


to get to sleep while

the night lies wide

awake around us


crickets chirruping

susurrations of song


notes captured deep

within outer space

PETALVIEW

The stars— 
captured mayflies 
in crystalline suspension
 —echo their harmonies.

Each  unique instrument
across this spectrum
adds to the symphony
  of the multiverse.

Hearts explode 
within the macroplasm.
  
 Lungs expand and collapse here.

Shadows of  these events 
seen as  grotesque forms  
interplay against the interior
of these lit up circus tents.

  The filaments of rungs 
to which we've clung 
remain as present
as ever diminishing notes. 

  We who are shown clearly 
are now fleeting
  from the point of view 
of the stars.

FALL BLOSSOMS

More than laughter frees the man 

who dares to stop questioning— 

Listen—the stars are talking

late at night in our back yard

FOCUSING

for Shasta



Day comes out, night stays in

Only time may touch our skin

Look deep in there toward the stars

To see the echo of a heart 

Once alive peer outside with your eyes

Just to notice paradise

TURNING THE OTHER SHOE

All men fall equal prey 

to the mistake

Of betrayal.


All men fall equal prey 

to betray. 



Betraying others 

betrays one's self. 



Betraying one's self 

betrays others.


All men fall equal prey 

to the mistake

Of pride. 


Too much pride breeds arrogance.


All men fall equal prey 

to the mistake

Of being judgmental.


To judge equals being judged. 

Judgementalism replaces listening. 

Listening always becomes necessary. 


All men fall equal prey

In order to learn anything

One must escape the choir

All men fall equal prey to.

OR A GAME, I

Another folded crease in the universe.
Exactly like a paper bridge created
temporarily by overlapping tabs
in blossoming intricacy interlocking
spindle woven along spiral revolutions.
A game, or am I—the only question—
A construct, without a room for doubt,
as faith, fueled and fed, thrives wild. 

TEMPEST REDSHIFT

In real life 
we're the characters 
in a story that 
gradually transform 

into microwaves
then spool out into 
longer radio wave
lengths only to be 

scanned and listened 
for fruitlessly by remote 
alien civilizations. 

The echoes of our mutual 
cries of exoneration
after having traveled 
an otherwise unfathomable 
distance finally wash over us
as so much static noise. 

For that is what 
they have become. 

In there— 
(points to 
the stars)

—precisely 
where we 
are going.

   

BELIEF

Every day
the under mining
 process lies

one  step nearer

to completion
 beneath you.

The ground
  crystallizes

with  tremors
  interred

under this cloak
 of night.

The work

gets done
  much easier

out of sight.

Though no one
 would  believe it

 in   the  least.

Any way
  they can

never

 convince

you to

   arise.