being gentle

the sandiness of saliva and summers stunning sometimes the sunflowers sundip the stars. the tree carresses caramel leaves. tending from her lovely dripping jasmine the wounds close in confidence. I grow gratitude a calm cadence of moans to moons. the flow of flowers finds snakeskin in sandalwood. increased in the intuition of the third eye…

make a song of it

after so many silk screen steps, we reach the tip of the tower. inherent to doing the splits, I don’t always call you when my soul is dark. . the timbers of the open windows are held with lacy purple mesh. the birds, sign rituals for hours inclined for us. vastly technical it bypasses all…

black wings of all direction

fresh & awake to the inverted flower of the fig she is present to the miracles of moments. on a clear day, water is home in the timeless presence of trees they keep things secret. neither illusion lives in the shadows. a whole universe between them planting contentedness the pit of the plum is an…

bones of a red moment

creased in the river she smiles in cherry rows. we carve long letters into the trees here every sun has been a different sun. . the willows are luminous, lit laughter in a flower pulse. repetition is in the art of a photocopy of a photocopy. . I cant forget his face   one line…

intimacy is different than presence

yuki means snow, little music im bored lets play theres no chasing : its just a dream like a seed there are needs she asked me what I like I said ‘notes anything from you i like most what is from you’ ‘it was good’ they said, with their eyes in their chest wednesdays are…

journal entry: 2013

bundang, south korea (unedited from notes in phone) if we were to wisdom some deep meaning if cloth and cosmetics how home is relative how I’m so young how my speakers are the size if two fists how the dead butterfly is my totem why? how he called me how bullshit is common how I…

he undresses me

with a crayon that circles her eyes. until you speak the dance people are cheering as you try on your person’s socks a bridge of sky silk screen portraits cannot forget a word in a child’s mouth sixty : ‘how do you know when its finished’

the stomping was a bass

rose gardens and cigarettes try to describe it already wrong. rose gardens and cigarettes. my sorrow like little red books. rose gardens and cigarettes. I had breakfast and expected nothing. rose gardens and cigarettes. these black eyes are little red books. rose gardens and cigarettes. lets walk back in the cumulous clouds. the landscape slaps…

schedule a good morning

sex and snow. a roadmap to intimacy is as good as any. 25 cents meets the true self and requires me to listen. the monks chant their rounds my whole flavor in subtle harmonies. the blue assumption of getting into the pants of poems is continuous spiritual fulfillment. naked art is life being plugged in…

I am like a love bird

I’m not like a pigeon. the catcalls from the boats in the afternoon sun. a jungle ride in the sunset. this soft whistling way is the power for change. there was a motorcycle crash. the noise of a terrible power. true self untouched. crunchy rumble. seeds only sprouting on fertile ground. they seemed to think…

gem of the deep pompei

the voyage pops us in pink lotus blossoms seen through the looking glass. see how these have supported the tree tops of eyes, you were always my favorite. a heart to heart field connection never fooled by candies. spiritual appreciation they don’t even say thank you in temple. climbing through the bench we lie back…