Hmmmnnnnn......

Silver is the sky, this reflection of sun bouncing from flat metal. Halo's drift away in the shade, earth cools, and the water tastes good. I have a craving for turkish coffee and a deep film.....

Idle hands

Complacency is the Devils horse. Rest is different from sloth. Obsession is a flood of interest. The hills don't have eyes, it's the people that live there who are looking at you.

Void

There is nothing here save the void, the void saves the nothing.

Water

Ten second increments of reason bounded each side by 12 seconds of insanity. The move creates a swirl creates a void and I am left travelling for water.

Surreal

The good greasy monkey leaves a dish beside the road for wayward orange pickers. A soft harp builds a train and the reverand dances behind silk curtains damning peanuts and creamed corn. On the hill a man with a big head and hat can't remember why he's there. The interstate in the distance hums a background. It's summer out there, and it's weird.

Hush

She slapped the butter down on the table and shuffled away. Over by the window the head of lettuce sits and noon shifts shadows from the southern sun. Ten apples on a tree pray for rain. "Ten people in that room... ten and one wish..." She is drawling. I am wishing, another bagel, a plantation in Jamaica, brain bubbles riding radio waves to tiny soft spaces. There is no more pudding, only air from a voice. I am listening.

Yeti 1

The yeti down there won't leave. Time and again I have made vain attempts to convince those close to me that I am not a sick demented sasquatch imprisoner. "He just moved in. What am I supposed to do? How do you tell a Yeti to get out of your house? I can't get rid of him like I do you guys.... y'know... boy sure is gettin' late, oh hell I have to study, I have to take a shower...." Indeed I have tried these tactics but it all boils down to lacking the proper communication skills. I did it anyway. It's my fault. I'm studying and I take a brownie donut and coffee break, I went down there, stretch my legs. If you are eating a brownie donut and are confronted with an anthropological anomaly, real, hairy, big, and just as freaked out by you as you are by him.... by all means, give him a donut. Do not give him coffee. The donut was for all intensive purpouses not very popular or readily available during his heyday, neither was coffee. Remember this, donuts have inspired little old men to sit on little stools next to little counter tops in little houses colored with pink and orange. Coffee has inspired revolutions, been condemned and blessed by the Vatican, created a whole generation of black turtle neck renegades, and enslaved entire nations. You don't want to fuck around with coffee and Yeti's man. Having said that, I gave him coffee too. I've had to cut him down on that stuff. As anyone facing the manic deluge of ideas brought on by a coffee and donut kick sooner or later it must be heard. Tell the world, I have a plan. I listen patiently as he paces back and forth and occasionally pronounce an affirmative " Ah Ha!" and hold my finger up in a thoughtful pose. Now we have repoir. I have no idea what the plan is, it must be good. Because he does the same thing. Perhaps it's something to do with farming or turning rocks into pointy things, maybe he's come across some cosmic algorithm that no one will ever be able to understand except him ( yet another side effect of glorious coffee). I imagine myself having a movie, books, speaking engagements, bodies of students poring over my works in dank and dusty archive files, like Jane Goodall , only different. The missing link and I clinking tea cups in ivory towers. I've shared this vision with those close to me, that's why they think I won't let him go. No, the Yeti down there won't leave. So , in the meantime, until he chooses to go his merry way, I'm going to keep giving him donuts and coffee. He likes them.

Box

Adress the man in front. The man in front has the box. The box has the man in front.

New Media Blues

Nothing is real, everything is real.
My mind is made up
of tethers of inconsistent material.
I am bound by constant change of face
in what wakes me in the morning
Trauma sells
Weakness fuels
Truth took a bus
out of town
I read too much
I read too little
I don't read the right things
I have data, but no instructions
Somewhere a great orchestrator is saving
the last dance
Somewhere the great construct
Has fallen
I am left with wandering head
amicable intentions
floating on the meniscus of perception
Where did we go?

I don't know what all this means really. I've just been surfing around reading news articles and clips and snippets of opinions. Makes my damn head spin.

Plans

Relative fish. Nothing gains momentum until it does. The Sasquatch lives in my basement. People who sit by fires and catch their shoes aflame. The machine is too loud. Freeware is relative to hassle. Soft spoken priests and cacaphonous clowns dancing in the fountains of Avalon. Just a minute, I've got another call. Wan' Get high and go to the Cosmic Cafe, it's Friday. Circus music and dancing widgets. ........ A promise to myself to do something about this ever building list of anecdotes covering the past month or so of my life. I believe that the cosmos have granted me the life of an odd number.

Still
The sirens have been silenced
The barons in the ashes
Have turned to to the earth
That war is done now
and let us embrace integrity in it's failure
and walk the long mile home
like dirty children
on a pilgrimage to the river

Halibut Donut 2 am
Shuffling feet swallowed by the night
Off to deep dreams towards
tomorrows reasons