Friday, July 20, 2012

Nuggets

If I were to have just deleted, with a great deal of intention, my most masterfully written essay on life and how one gets on with living it, I might be inclined to not post anything here at all tonight.

But I did.
And I am.

I conclude with but one thought on the matter: 
Only the fallen can rise.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Inviscid Flow

Fictional realities fade into
an abiding injustice always
the most fantastic, unkempt dreams
fibers of the only truth known to man

This is living, again.

A need,
an insignificant need
for wanton desire
Atomic, carbon explosions
Mushroom clouds and tumors
To live without them, death
To have never known them, sleep

Beyond ideas
all is nothing
nothing "is"
all does.
and we.
WE!
such an impossible word.

Nonexistent
without need of forced meaning
or mattering
and without practical application,
We.

This is not insanity.
This is blood.

Incandescent endings for troubled tenures
Wayward the weary
Weary the waiting
Fevered searchers find
paralleled perfection for
promises plucked like fruit

Beauty escapes maddeningly tragic ends
as the split pomegranate
reveals its million dawns,
and the disemboweled apple
a solitary star.

Only by such brutal means
with juices spilling
the start of decay
does the vision exist

Beholden to perfect skins
hiding the fearful infidels
Apostates of wonder
no longer curating curiosity
or breathing bountifully

Heretics of love
pretending to carry on
weightlessly
lamenting knowledge
and time
and crystalline minds
shimmering in the old light
of yellowing disfigured stars
leaving trails of broken rainbows
to dance happily
on the crumbling plaster
of our shared space

For even when iron hope
rusts closed the doors to bliss
Planes still fly close enough for
sonic waves to peel my flesh
And boats still sail fast enough
to suck my lungs of air
before Bernoulli's equation suffers
the shock and every parameter shifts
to drown in the undertow

Fluid dynamics, love.

Compressible flow
striving for understanding
of myself in these laws

We will lose it all
to the tragedy that befalls
the greatest thinkers
and the most passionate poets
their suffering, their perfect beauty
likewise, ours.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Upon the impending purchase of a new tent

Situate yourself in such a position
that you can see everything
and no one will ever reach you
Where your voice alone echoes
as the the object of all truths

Streams of words rush below your cavern
splashing against the warm face of all you stand upon

Faster the rapids
Harder the push

And no force great enough,
without a drowing downpour
to wash you from that darkened place
will ever prevail victorious

You must first die and be reborn at the bottom of it
You must first become the sticky mud, ever moving
Then, the minnow
Next, the trout hopping gleefully about the surface
At last, the bear, the grizzly beast.
Again to shit,
but finally, a tree.

Because it's only the trees that will ever see
Or know a god-damned thing

Friday, July 6, 2012

Love as a singular noun

opalescent bubbles shimmering
in the dim light of a clouded moon
given with a heart completely peeled
they linger on his lips just long enough
glinting desperately from his teeth
longing for that final act of communion
he gives them back to me
and I to him
and back again
more fluid than the moment
swallowed each by love, by life, by this wondrous
whimsical notion that to be again may be again
and again again, for there is no end to our beginning
the fissure grows 
such unimaginable beauty


Have you ever seen the sunrise through a dew drop?
Have you ever seen the heart of the lion through a telescope?

Ever changing, and ever the same.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

fishbowl broken

Speak not another word.
Your soul is seen.
It is yours to lose,
And not mine to find.

Of teachers, I have many.
by example, by face
by moon beams reflecting
in ether eyes.

Putrid honesty,
sees only inside its own skull,
twists words like dying fish.

Such a horrid stench
permeating the airy space
of perfectly eroded shores

Short and slippery are the ties that bind
my soul to yours
and it is my soul to lose
not yours to find.


"You speak of my love like you have experienced love like mine before. But this, is not allowed, your uninvited, and unfortunate slight."  ~Alanis. 

Happy holiday, folks.  Stay safe and do try to not blow off any important appendages.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Upon high, ears rung with bliss

Slipping fast into a fresh blackness.
Perhaps he's on the other side of it,
Perhaps he's still in the midst of it,

My god, the places I chase him to.
The hunt.  The kill.  The feast.

Expansion to never cease.