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L I T T L EF E A T H E RE L I A S V A N S O N

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Copyright © 2009 by Elias Van SonAll Rights Reserved.

Cover art and design by Adam J. Steinbrennerwww.adamjaymes.net

SOME BLAZE FREE presswww.someblazefree.com

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contentssinging

lord god bless and curse the martyr who /12the butterfly /13little feather devoted to the struggle /14i was born in a black cave /15bravely walked the plank /16do you see the famous tarred and feathered /17primative bodies of water alive! /18eyes on the prize good man /19begin by giving dog a bone /20under the stars /21knee-deep in needing and kneading bred /22with the elegance of fire /23for robert and vincent /24cobwebs in our mouths /25cloud: sun nest: egg /26embrace new faces travel forth /27in that case i’d want to be an indian /28jitterbugs jigging through /29fabulous cavalry /30wild flowers wild /31wake me when the fever turns to fire /32americans we /33it is the women who talk endlessly /34we the people protest /35waves of wild horses /36the tremble of leaves /37as explained to the bird that i hit with my car /38 we finally have contact /39 gazing /40my love my art /41when i say you are my sunshine /42

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blind horses dream and gallop in the womb /43 fireworks of bold /44 upon wings of the eagle eye /45 pulsing legs of centipedes /46 exits exist /47 standing cold stranded in the city smoking /48 boston 08 19 08 /49 photographed by she /50 happiness is what they sold us but /51 easier to build strong children /52 watching geese by the masses /53 little feather lies quietly /54 documented BLUE HERON survived /55 the night sky /56 awed the dim crowd /57 subway system acid test /58 acer palamatum dissectum /59 alabaster bundles in the tender /60 a man picks up a lady of the night /61 moonlit jaguars muted prowl /62 conversation with a woodpecker /63 a centipede like two lips sewn together /64 when i am truly with you /65 elastic potential /67 the winged ones and i /68 static is half the song /69 flee the nest of rats, my brother /70 haiku of the bedbug /71 slow and simple caterpillars /72 animal: i see its eyes /73 uno welcome /74 i imagine purgatory as the hush hush /75 dragonflies /76

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seeking

in my dreams i am a writer /78to be spiritually literate is /79we are on edge /80how do i follow the waves /81wind and wave obey /82with the beach slipping through my palms /83battlefish /84laziness and procrastination murder millions of my thoughts /85when his mother leaves the den the pup /86gravitational thought /87friend ship /88the center leaves the room /89as a wholehearted observationist /90you: Pity the moth /91wondering why some people smile /92honeycomb home /93audio art /94artifacts /95do let the firefly /96the thread moves through the needle /97redwood /98to be courageous and moving /99dear dad /100without its roots a branch can bear /101glass half full children /102have a wild wide open mind /103constantly seeking /104the best way to die i think /105they walked for days /106and once my older brother josh /107

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poems of subtraction /108 steps ahead still catching up /109 remembering things /110 golden bee /111 tour of the churches /112 lightning orchestras /113 created company /114 recorded pyramid of thoughts /115 bad teachers talk too much /116 on the other hand worldly success /117 in the scriptorium /118 under wonder lust /119 matter of intention /120 Illa: only God /121 lifting babies high into the air /122 life is movement artists are clay /123 unfinished business /124 thoughts on orgasm as the peak of a god complex /125 dream /126 no more i /127 note to my self /128 pride implies that i deserve to know /129 a man does what needs to be done /130 first things first /131 realized that my tendency for observation /132 calculations /133

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L I T T L E F E A T H E R

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SINGING

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LORD GOD bless and curse the martyr who fell madly in love with his own reflection who [drunk with pride] dove headfirst into shallow water whocame face to face to face his sorry self and the bottom of thy swimming pool in autumn. [for he was]

lost in thought / buried by leaves / reborn into the light

may the dog eared pages of his volumes speakboldly through the throats of future ghosts foreverand ever amen

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the caterpillar is patientand preparing for change

the butterfly is bornas it bursts from a cage

labbayka here am i

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little feather devoted to the struggle for freedom song of voices speaking at their separate paces come togetherdrift apart softas a rotten strawberry

the less we know the more we loveput food into a belly holler at me in the streets filmstrips of branches fly by woven webs of fingersheaded westward for the pillow of the sun

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i was born

in a black cave no a white cloud above a broad canyon yes a thousand wings for every step the last stampede of centipedes would take i was raised

in a web no a fucked up

furious fang storm yes anaconda split forked tongue always kissing at my face

now you ask me where i go and i answer just one thing in a hundred different ways

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the dining room in ruins from unnamed wild children who wear wax masks of animalistic dreams awful rotten barnacles stuck to the cage of ribs seem ripe enough for plucking nowthis is how it is

bravely walked the plankswallowed whole by a bright blue whale set to sounds from outer space floating in the vast beyond and you can’t even light a candle for the company you keep

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do you see the famous tarred and feathered the puzzle pieces forced to fit together

do you see the face of folds and frowns theempty eyes and furrowed brow

i am far gone from the child i was but i’ll make it back somehow

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primitive bodies of water alive!

living in the art of living as two opposing arcsever turning never ending circles in the dark

watch the sun sinking out of sight like i dowatch the fireworks fall apart like i dowatch the clouds cover up the blue like i do

hold the reigns of solar waves my tongue to hear you speak catch tigers in my evening teeth imagine while i sleep

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eyes on the prize good manor hands round a damp moppushing dirty circles dreamingof golden days passed by

wake up rise and charge the fenceso scared sheeple of the flock set fire to thy wooly shell stroll straightdown butchers blockthe sky is falling red coatsare coming wolf wolf wolf chased a chick for fox faced future splittersscribbling telescopic writing in the dark

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begin by giving dog a bonewith this classy clean conscience fences disappearfor the both of you

paint your flag and raise it wave it wag it pupbut make it last

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6 12 08 1200 AM

under the starson the hood of my careyes endlessly sway inthe hammock of heaven

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knee-deep in needing and kneading bredtwo warm sons:shining piles upon aisles of used dentureshoarse throat wheezes and gallopson dry splitting hoovestil this missdoes become misadventure.

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with the elegance of fireworks in bloomthese elephants they tear apart the roomtusk-scratch murals on the walls swing and croonthrough trombone trunks of umbilical bamboo

who could help but whistle with the mesmerizing tune

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for robert and vincent

prowlers overturned and burned with much rejoicing kept close track of the unusual the forgotten on rolls on the great freight train of human flaws expertise ghost movement through rafters and floorboards cracked mirrors and thin walls

we will set upon the trees who push their fingers through the dirt with limbs turned up side down

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cobwebs in our mouths spitting spiders outmaple syrup breath exhaled against the glassfingers trace the name of she for palms to brush away

skeletons of trees fell victim to winterand the first sign sometimes seems the only

very few things like cigarettes growlighter in your hands responsibility is love is a burden the frayed wire whips and dances in the street

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cloud: sun nest: egg

exhausted tongue dragged upona ribcage in the sky

nothing done inlove is waste thunder being wonderful

keeps his distanceknows his stuff isweak with giving andweak with the desire to give

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embrace new faces travel forth before i comprehend complete the task ofTILLY how i love youis quiet and unrelenting i feel your heart beat in mescotland yard lies in the distancedogs are licking for the salt

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in that case i’d want to be an indianlive hungry on the plainsstand steady as the cactispoil my eyes and change my name

we as brothers band togetherpaint our horses speak in smokeand as the white men ride toward us slowly spin the heads of spears

or should we choose the life of whiskeylook for red men dawn til duskfuck our women hunt and raise the wallssomehow civilize this pasture for our children: thunder looming at our hips

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jitterbugs jigging through dark and narrow crevicestoward the light away from the lightas if that makes the difference

we are all of us warming like beat dogsstretched four legged by the firelet us lick our wounds and dream of the outdoorstogether

we are proud doves planted on a wireimpressed by how the others coo and whistleletting time slip past while staring at the suntogether

run madly into the arms of one anothertoss up your caps to the haphazard emptiness we long to fill

ride strong some lightning bolt to its endtouch the world with crackling branchesexplode and ride again

let us spit in the face of good fortune grind ladybugs with our back teethtogether

build homes with our bare hands and rest our weary feetlet us be the truth we speaktogether

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where’s the click-clack of the fabulous cavalrythe harlots and the heroes mister media promised mewe see those aerosol gang signscrossed out and covered up by CNN headlines alley 1: the rich are rolling over in their beds of 20 dollar bills. and the rest?alley 2: they drowned like rats! we watched, we saw, we taped it from our digital hills we’re still listening for the sugar sweetsounds of swimming in concretewe’re still digging through the trash and glassthat avalanched our streets

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wild flowers wild

when stereo speakers finally learn to speakwill they tremble in treble?when hummingbirds spin a slow swansongdon’t you think it means trouble?

flowers gone wild swearing at the sunand pulling out their petals

hyena smiles melted to each faceand stems made of metal

these tv sets are so turned onby green tongued priests still rambling onand that strange shame skirt must weigh a tonif it’s such hard work to keep it on

all our wings are melting offand all our beaks are mouthing offthe waxwing sings through cold wire coughsthese death machines are turning off

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wake me when the fever turns to fire:technicolor flames flowing from new flowers

twelve fingers shook with laughter on a belly

to slay a giantis to become one

whispered david to goliath

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americans we

who rode the broad shoulders of our fathers and never learned to walkwho craved effects in excess bones of white hearts of goldwho sold our firstborn children for the dream it seems has vanished.

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it is the women who talk endlessly, squawking like hens who have spotted the fox. men are the cattle, calmly chewing on their thoughts. children, the eggs, fragile and full of possibility, are smothered by such hens while they turn blindly in their sleep. the fox then fills its belly, which is louder than its conscience, and the chatter of those hens provokes a smile.

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8 17 08

we the people protestwith heads high our loyaltywaits in its nest on the bow

warm and warn the wet wicksyou’ve got to shinebefore they snuff you out

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waves of wild horsescould not move you from my mind

lying naked writing musicto the rhythm of your breath

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the tremble of leaves at your deafening reply love will know my name

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as explained to the bird that i hit with my car

some sad snails salt themselvesflat drunk on whatever instinct draws the insect to the lightto spare themselves of painpale worms drown in puddles from the rain

the groundhogs dig to snatch the bulbsof tulips anchored yay deep in the dirt

sleep so hungry that it hurts

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as explained to the bird that i hit with my car

some sad snails salt themselvesflat drunk on whatever instinct draws the insect to the lightto spare themselves of painpale worms drown in puddles from the rain

the groundhogs dig to snatch the bulbsof tulips anchored yay deep in the dirt

sleep so hungry that it hurts

we finally have contact an inhuman voice rides the airwaves to gnarl the hair of she loud fingers shred soft curls while you cling to the hull like a cat catch your breath save the strength to let go with the fish

[sirens and flashing of lights howling dogs]

out of ink pools climb ten octopi

wrapping up young sun bathed bellies arm locked hammocks swing them in shitless brothers load toy guns while eighty twisting arms merrily slap upon the water

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gazing at that steel steam engine stitching on the baseball that is earth the lovely corners of your lips begin to curve the ground trembles as a virgin ispeak to you the truth too softlyfor the passing shells filled themselves (muzzlingclamor overbearing in its stay) on plucked young wordsbefore you heard and with thievingrusted laughter rolled away.

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my love my artthou art my loveo most natural abilityin its multitude of forms

many things done well without an ounce of satisfaction

no one knows how well i lovefor when they do mere quietness denies it

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when i say you are my sunshinedo you know what i mean? you arethe most beautifulcenter of my everythingthe reason i grow and dare to explore the mystery of space between us

and i might spend this lifecircling yours

a constant reflection : sadiyalleluia

yet who am i to love you in a language with no end?

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blind horses dream and gallop in the womb

long backward equations explainedrather harshly by

frontward! onward! yah!

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fireworks of bold

red birds born starving for the sun

in a gentle breezeno words describe

truth bursting out of beaksat last alive

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upon wings of the eagle eyesore my steps once less blessed a worry no morecalm seas call dry dustto grow green around usand carry us off to the shore

can i live without the love i know?

does each wave crave the undertowpatiently waiting to roll inand carry us away like childrensleeping in the arms of oceansour eyes are closedour minds are open

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pulsing legs of centipedesmassage soft eyelids in their sleep

in day light knock incessantlyon doors or what appears to be

hello nice to meet youfor the hundredth time as i told the hand before you i hold value in my dreams

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exits exist as avenues of endlessnessthere are no fitting words for thisforest full of emptiness and empty nestssurvival of the swiftestin these sudden bursts of brillianceantlers lostnow artifacts

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standing cold stranded in the city smokingself rolled cigarettes saw that weline the roof like icicles slowly lose our lives to spring

no drop is lost for longall land explode with frozen bloominghold new shape and are born again

awake with eyes shut tightlying in bed through afternoonswe stretch our legs for night is

coming soon

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boston 08 19 08

some smart mouthed young tongue laps up most of the earth’s surface

some overdressed understudypicked up some plumes forgot his purpose

some cats keep leaping roof to rooflooking for a lay that’s worth it

old dogs drift off on dirty porchesunder sunsets wild and gorgeous

never caught a thing poor paws pursuedbut every hunt they dreamt was perfect

an angry ghost now floats toward us

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photographed by she while i paper and paintmy brain all overthe dirty city while i smoke cigarettessip hot chocolatelaugh with music while i ride

my lady drivesit’s a getaway eloping over and over sprinting smilingit’s a rush to the altar rolling in glueoaths in broad strokesit’s a honeymoon

an afternoonan evening of memorable poetryof criminal inhibition

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happiness is what they sold us butthey kicked our shins andset our hair on fire

now we are all of usboiling with rage orglued to the page orcontent with what moderate magic we have

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easier to build strong children thanto repair broken men he said and so i grin and bear itgrumbling in the language of botany forsythia leatherleaf viburnumwith the faith of reddened sporesclinging tightly to the fernin the form of a golden comet crash landing in pure wilderness

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watching geese by the masses as they fly from the wateri picture the parts as a unified whole as a whale taking slowwinding flight

the bald eagle screams and i smoke from my pipepaddling quietly toward her

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little feather lies quietly amongst the lionswatching waiting on a feeling

he calls it faith he calls it to question with ink and a penand then

to stretch the field of play he walkedhis fears into the ocean

filled the bottlesank to bottombaptized with bravery little feather rides again

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documented BLUE HERON survived the tonawanda on Godgiven stilts flying off with a grace i still can’tcomprehend PRIZED PIKE trolling the weeds punked outaccidental trappings SNAGS on our flowing floor

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the night sky moonlitmasterpiece mimickedby fire flies

an owl wonders aloud

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awed the dim crowd graduates in color

even socrates the wise knew nothing

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subway system acid testwe (program interrupted bylook good newspaper fiasco)

i do not want only to beaimlessly in love with youwe (laugh and laugh and laugh)

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acer palamatum dissectum

pressed o change o set sail upon the seaof love letters made from bubblegum treeto new dome manes on even bluer mountains

says the old man at the hot dog standchocolate milk for the chocolate boyand strawberry for the man

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alabaster bundles in the tender grasp of storksdive like bombs through bedroom windowsbroken babies breathe the wail of sirens and father folds his hand over a dream

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a man picks up a lady of the night pays her to lie in bed beside himcause i’m afraid to die alone says hepulls a gun from the pillowcase andpaints red their rented roomhe said she says his dog don’t like loud noises

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moonlit jaguars muted prowlon swift paws pure as violins

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conversation with a woodpecker

marco polo knock on wood

bare knuckles calling fora rhythmic reply. . . . . . .we don’t know one another. . . . .as well as we should

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a centipede like two lips sewn togetherstaccatos silently for the door

i trace the lines in the hand that cradles me

exits exist

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when i am truly with younothing can stamp out the fire when i am but two steps from you nothing but smoke(and i can see no reason for living)

blessed and cursed am i to wonderblessed and cursed am i to wanderthe immeasurable distance ofthose two steps between us

how fitting it is that we still sing the same sad song of i cannot help who i love while meaning very different things

swim into the depths of desperation or stroll smiling on the shores of self defense

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so when each smile is stopped short and nightsgrow longer than they’ve ever been

remember:

i may lie awake without youbut you sleep alone with him

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elastic potential

beyond recognition i grew tired of storytelling under all names but my ownsailing ships to foreign shoreswhen we could be sending signsthe lot was lost the worst was yoursas lasting laughs were mine

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the winged ones and iare of tangled mindsas we see the lightin the light

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static is half the song

should i sing about sunshine as i sit through the shitstorm?does the coalmine canary dreamof thickets and sharp thorns?

o child of the mothership steadily sinking

it is not too late

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flee the nest of rats, my brotherand i will fight for youbefore any other

where there is water on the hills find me therewhere the earth unhinged her jaw find me therewhen my sons grow proud and tallwhen my eyes rest far too still find me there

sleeping in the softness through your suffering

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a bedbug with fangsand a poor dispositiongrows tired of the couch

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slow and simple caterpillarsnever meant to bloomare now wet and hungryvultures crawling from camouflage cocoons

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animal: i see its eyesovals among Xsthose glowing declarations ofdeath sentences on trees

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uno welcome guestgust ghost in a foreign landbrash young birds withyellow mohawks flaunted

their findings just a few hops from mine they chirped and chased me from my tree stump perch

if it is any consolation i thoughtphilosophers wander in wondering while explorers get up and goand so followed deer tracks until i found

dos two curious doe led medeep into the throat of the forestwhere i understood many more heavenly signshow grateful are we for the sun when it shines

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i imagine purgatory as the hush hushward of a mad house mad mendoped on medicine stroll in circlesgrowing smaller they mumble to themselves

o my darling o my darling

bright birds with clipped wings ona hopping parade are tossed through a tire swingas it spins in the shade they fly for a moment from the cumulative human roar

tiny existential clouds hover aboveyour head caved in by a brick and allthoughts spill onto the floor

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the only end for me would be to bedragonflieswhose wings beatin perfect and effortless syncopationtoward a torn open hole in the skysix legs wave goodbye hauling down monuments to the tune of our instruments blooming but still asking why

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SEEKING

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in my dreams i am a writerthe words flow through me in perfect sequence down the riverbetween left brain and right

sometimes i realize that i am dreamingand try my best to remember what i writei never can

every morning i wake but do not riseevery morning i experience my dreamsover and over and over againsucking every drop of heaven froma cracked coconut held overhead

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to be spiritually literate is to see the signs

vision is a gift from Godand a skill to be cultivated

o citizen of the world rejoicerejoicemmanuel

cognition is for all of us recognition for the few

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06 30 07

we are on edge two distinct habitats the diversity and quantity of the groundnarrowly escapingthe four arms of death

life: web of decisions

left right go stop go stop left rightleft right go stopgo stop left rightleft right go stopgo stop left rightleft right go stopgo stop left right

passive: allows others to make decisions

aggressive: not afraid to make decisions for others

the world is run by those unafraid tomake decisions in the face of disagreement backlash and rebellion but if you keep very still you can hear the end of your life ear to the ground hooves in the distance

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how do i follow the waves without falling in love? amongst ships lost at sea i am happy and free awaiting that nervousness insomuch as embers see the fire as its origin questioning the validity and risk of the voyagehow do i immediately recognize this as a flag of loneliness? a face to which i similarly toa child will reflect contrast and shape my ownaccordingly seeing my self at a considerably younger age my mind was open and willing to believe my interactions and offerings with most anyone i metwere simply brief intermissions in my work my play my desire to love and to create to try a new thinking position again again again

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wind and wave obey

relief :

as calm before the storm,He speaks to wild unbridled wavesand there will .STILL BE .PEACE

we fearHe sleeps in skies of silver sheets once throne upon the ocean bed or floor the mouths of clouds are fed

once more our vessel settles on thesure as the day grows young & warm

He weeps : belief

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with the beach slipping through my palmsi am thinking i am where You’re notbut to sea crabs within shellstiny beasts trapped in helltidal waves hold the face of God.

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battlefish had a deceptive name as he was unjustly the household pineapple seemingly content to sit on the windowsill waiting for the whole world to walk by moving in waves with the inward rhythm for there are men and wo men who follow others rhythms to the end

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battlefish had a deceptive name as he was unjustly the household pineapple seemingly content to sit on the windowsill waiting for the whole world to walk by moving in waves with the inward rhythm for there are men and wo men who follow others rhythms to the end

laziness and procrastination murder millions of my thoughts

tabernacles of modern philosophy great equalizers the end of distinction molding willing minds into spender role capitalist shapes shouted zappa mandela

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when his mother leaves the den the pup stares after (sometimes forever)

and learns nothing outside the changing ways of hunger and he calls out her name (sometimes forever)

in faithful attempts to lead her home

her name my only sound

catharsis anamnesis coyotes howling out their loneliness mistaking others as echoes

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gravitational thought

friend to no onedeath playsthe end all be allgreat equalizer

taking exceptionthe moon yanks itsdaily raysthe endless tide obeys

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friend ship meaningful commitments to one another if only in our minds

interpretation a sign of life a heart beat this doorwas created with care full lives within

and language is my avenue to you after i am gone hope fully

so much is said and done in one daythe signature is the effortthe twist of the lime

and to the half loves

in my wake i appreciate yourgesture your recognition of the mystery that is me but i am green and growing your nest maymove upon my branches

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the center leaves the room our eyes drift now in circles lounge in quicksand the beaches abandon ab and on a b and on an introduction to the alpha bet escapes to the mountains over seeing minds matter for we monarchs in the making along the shores of lake sham plain young lives spent waiting for the truth to take hold finding driftwood frail and beautiful (not unlike our hospitable host) humbled in this frame this over flowing opera this ever growing garden as an introspective form of self where any passing moment may hold infinite importance

as observed by an observationist who rewrites the dictionary to speak a new language with you

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as a wholehearted observationisti lack the american instinctto immediately interferei pause in watchinga tired moth and yellow jacketfight to the winged deathgive a prayer of thanks for bothand gather moss in the shadow of their struggle

how very bitter it must beto mix yourself with each thing you see

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you: Pity the moth (as if aesthetics drenched in sunlight outweigh the gift of flight) but i am here to tell you blessings are built in the quiet of the night i am here to help you rid your self of shame and shell for the brilliance is in the blooming not the fluttering about.

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wondering why some people smilerocking slowly in their sunset chairs,the wound ones buzz along patterned path.soon they will pack up their chatterand speed away in that cartoon cloud,an irreverent clusterfuck retired andreplaced without knowing for a momentwhat they’ve missed:

each is scenery to the other, only eaten upat separate speeds, strategically timed so thatas one scrapes his dish of every detail to makeroom for the next, the other sips cool lemonade

savors the sky and smiles for the busy beewho has lost his sense of taste

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honeycomb home to the glittering dronewe are one in the billions of furiously grownassembled in piles or dining alone

meetings of madness and the natural wonders:

buzzing ink in clouds above hertidal waves of typewritersheadlines golden glazefrom pollen stems devotionlike pulling storms from oceansthe always changing always

without younothing left but business in my boneslines drawn where birth and death paint brushed elbowskiller bees in corporate common clothesburial plots of blueprints less followed

with younothing left

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audio art

drum with paintsalternating colorswhile keeping the beatsquare canvas fit snuglywithin circular head

playing naturallynoting results

painted piano hammerspedal powered spinning machinemoves spool of paper through pianodangling rhythmic brushstrokesput on display by worker beeuntil you see the sounds of we

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artifactsare the factswe live with whatwe can’t forget

yes a small child’s thumb can black out the sunyes the elephant minds the elephant gun

like old men with wet eyesthat sit in strong prisonsthey take what they’re givenand there is no lying in them

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do do not let the firefly clench a neonread your fortune fist in anger

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the thread moves through the needle knowing well that the needle will move the thread.neither would serve itspurpose without the other.such is the Immeasurable Trust completing one anotheruntil we both find warmthbeneath the same shawl thatwe will come to know as

Love

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i have come to realize thatlimitations are self imposedthereforeonce the seed has shed its shellthe redwood begins to grow

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to be courageous and movingthrough the frontier in wilderness finding hope for love when plants are cared for they grow

to grow with my arms graspingfor the sun sinking stead’ly golden face still shining

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dear dad

whosecompanionship through the effort ofleadership led me to mypenmanship

thank youdad ilove you

be with me in my movementthis bridge is always openthis way is always good

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without its roots a branch can bear no beauty

motheri still feel you in the comfort of my times

our likeness is that whichdrives us apart

a mirror in the watereventually rusts

could not have growncould not have bloomedwithout your love

here is a thank you i find hard to sharethe vulnerabilities i seldom bareyou know them

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glass half full childrenyour teeth fall outand you grin with those gumswide spanning evidence ofan award winning sleep

knowthat i know something you don’t know

a window washer on the scaffolding of life i find comfort in helping you to see more clearly

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have a wild wide open mindand a steady patient tongue for none will lend an honest ear to hearthose songs already sung

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constantly seeking never acceptingtoo often am i turned from the treasure

churning the waterschasing reflectionsi weather the worst while knowing much better

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the best way to die i thinkto be hurled into the night quite truly a one way ticketon the final frontiereven the closest to God speak labbayka come nearerthose last moments cherished most

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they walked for daysto hear Jesus Christ speak

drunk with the wine of men holding captive no audience

my life spent spinninga web of such an intricate patternthat you might be proud to be tangled in it

i dream of nothing but your movementto shake me from this sleep may werest in love and peace

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and once my older brother josh got a set of real shoulder pads for fooball it was my civil duty to assist in his at home tackling training program (with couch pillows stuffed up my shirt and a red plastic motorcycle helmet set upon my head) SMASHING into one another without any doubt of its necessity

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poems of subtraction

poetry or prose withkey words left outthese missing wordswhen compiled arecompleted poems themselves

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steps ahead stillcatching up

loneliness is a symptom of powerful imaginationi am so convinced and satisfied by the ideaof what could be that ilose track of what is

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remembering things

is my responsibility because i am the only asshole with a book

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golden bee the exponent of flowers

apostrophetic pecking at the gums of hippopotamus

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tour of the churches

once a week for fifty weeks i willvisit a different churchtake notes on the sermonmessage scripture worshipconduct casual interviewswith officials and attendeeslearn every thing first hand

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lightning orchestras

composed preorchestrated lightning storms

as compared to the played outplanetarium experience

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created company

drawing the eyes first when sketching a faceas a symptom of my loneliness it must be somebody’s birthday

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recorded pyramid of thoughts piled one atop the other longhandcomposition played too fastto be deciphered without text

subliminal love letter transmission seeking those who seek themselvesi pile words on words build homes and bury us beneath

good bookworms choosegentle wordsas beds of roses

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bad teachers talk too muchgood teachers listen and respondoften with a question of their own

think of it as a conversationan opportunity to learn from one another

(this is also why dinner dates are notreally about dinner and also why movie dates should bereserved for someone you already know)

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on the other hand worldly success helps to make dreams a reality thus rendering the imagination as an extracurricular activityrather than a survival necessity

most of me clings wildly to childhood and its mysterynestled almost snugly inthe many worlds i build

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in the scriptorium

a priori can feel youa posteriori can see you

angered in reaction and not by choice

shadow self we are shown something in another which we hate about ourselveson we go onusing enemies along with friendsas tools of true refinement

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under wonder lust i have beenceremoniously disenchanted by the tasteof grape juice

something to do withweekly communion liningup for a shot of forget your guilt forgive yourselfthe blood of Christ fresh squeezed

even now each sipunwillingly symbolicand refreshing as a kiss of fiery tongue

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on the matter of intention: i should not writefor permanence for fear of being forgottenscrambling desperation leaves uglyfootprints on the mountain i should walk nowwith confidence grow to know the unknown with this half developed sense of thankfulnessscribble maps for those i love or should lovedisregard my wayward wanting

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Illa: only God la: nothing

how much of ourselvesis tangled with our earthly name

the truth is not contained by any arrangement of alphabetic symbolsthe truth is not a cupto be emptied or filled at our simplest whim

how much of ourselvesis locked within a cage

whose key resembles confidencethe wisdom to forget some childish fearwhose key lies in the darkest corner of our bodies

reach out lead your fingers over every inch of the mystery too powerful to bear until

you are freeand nameless

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lifting babies high into the air as a subconscious technique of establishing trust

the industry is dead mothernature fills her belly onwe the rotting leaves

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life is movement artists are clay the others all are waterthe sun goes down in the desert like a barely burning flamemountains standing through our sleep never lie down with dogsclimbed for hours howled at nature who promptly howled back small enough (at least) to disappear but brave enough to liveat that i am pushing for the edge needing to grow and conquer self knowing even in the dreami am a symbol set to crash

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unfinished business

tonight at the bar i noticed (which is somethingi do quite often)

finger drawings on the windows

and thought it the perfect timefor a thrilling match of anonymous tic tac toeso

it began with an X

and while we sat and shot the shitsomeone countered with an O

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thoughts on orgasm as the peak of a god complex

two lovers helping one anotherto the top where they clearly see the center as themselves

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dream

sitting in an auditorium beside a quiet girl i’m very comfortable

after brief intermission i find another girl on my opposite side

she is more confident and dazzling than the first we laugh together

entertained engaged yet feeling badly for abandoning the first held

in some childish unquestioning trance by a brightly plumed peacock

the other is an owl deep brown eyes full of everythingi am staring at her longingly as the peacock turns my face back toward her and laughs

and so i standand hug my younger brother run swiftly from the room

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no more i

everyone knocks, nobody gets in blessed beyond belief but ihave learned to lock the door no more i will travel the world on a trustworthy steed and somehow help you see it as i saw itmy purpose my gift the weight of my consciencebears down to lay eyes on the flag of a flower unfurledto water a well buried seed i will make language with the dogs bathe in star light fires fly fearless flashing ivory alleluias from the sky will the dream to be you see and someday iwill die.

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note to my self:wake up as a dinosaurhungry to conquer crushingthoughts of avoidance hold down your poles defend the dirt from which we arebest born wild as marigolds

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pride implies that i deserve to knowwhat i am dying for to knowwhether or not artists go to hell to knowwhen to be everything andnothing or something in between

child often colors outside of lines finds beauty in the flaws and vice versaman earns and spends the day dreaming of escape

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a man doeswhat needsto be done

the learning curveof speaking cursivewoven tapestry of tongue

today is the anniversary of something we have gradually forgotten we are fighting all the time we are waiting for our time we are running out of time

and the hooded monks set themselves aflame through waiting for change to be born within

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first things first

a tree falls overexposing its roots

it rests on anotherand begs her helpto right itself

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02 23 09

realized that my tendency for observationwas honed in the winters of my childhoodlying on my back focused on one flake of snowat a time following each perfect danceuntil it settled on the ground dissolved intoa sea of white

hours of numbness moving nothingbut my eyes and eager tongue

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calculations are based on the validity of memory habits and inhibitions stem from the very same bed in my mind

the goalis happiness i feel happiest as a child unafraid to explore i feel emptiness without a friend in this exact thoughtat this exact moment

it ends

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