There’s a reason
why I listen
to Ali Akbar Khan
until it’s dawn.
I pulled it out of my puzzle box
and tasted it
bitter and beautiful
just to see the moon shine
again.
I’ll be brewing tea
all day tomorrow
pondering what move to make next
on the chess board of my soul.
How could it have come to this?
I can’t believe my eyes.
It will never be so simple
again.
We embrace
each other
and the moment
because we can.
I could click New Post
and let my fingers dance to Bonobo
after a few beers
and think of you,
my spinning clay,
who wants to move her own way.
I could insufflate the crystalline phenethylamine
that beckons me from the dark drawer
and sit outside and watch our stars
swirl their pastel dreams
until the damn sunrise
and sleep all day
just to pass the time
so I could write about it
after spilling myself
and our potential
all over your back.
I could live for whatever reason seems most right
as its fleeting like our lives
into something else,
something blurry,
something beautiful.
I could pick up my guitar and shred
to reveal a smile
that my father gave to me.
I could close my eyes
one last time
and it wouldn’t even matter who I was
or who was around
like a drop of water
falling into the sea.
I can’t deny what you do to me.
I turn the music up louder.
I let the ethanol bind to the GABA and metabolize.
I gather knots and undo them in the only true sun
from the inside out.
Anything could be said.
Anything could be done.
There is something whispering my name
into my ear.
Something keeping me
in check.
Even as the Earth begins to burn again-
We hold hands and dance around the fire
clock-wise.
I walked up to the house along the meadow cautiously
not sure if it was the right one or not
and met an old man on the porch shaking involuntarily from age
who gave me a cardboard box
full of Dungeness crab shells
that washed up on Manresa
perfectly intact,
some still with dehydrated eyes,
but most just with holes
where they once lurked a weird window.
With every thought
and every shiver,
growing what looks like
personality.
Metabolizing biosynthesized matter
at a frequency adjusted
for the star walkers spectrum.
Usnea sways in warm tea
like some kind of seaweed.
Without these stories
coiled into a dance
there would just be
these timeless all encompassing
parameters.
Nothing is ever empty
or far
and no one is ever
alone.
Will these seeds sprout along the window sill
next season?
Will this tether supersede,
or will it disconnect?
Sometimes the last straw stowaway escape hatches,
while the rest,
a perpetual love making
that knows no limit
set by the chain reaction.
I almost didn’t make the train
but I fought my way
thru a test tube
of infertility
to write this.
Glowing blue
and glowing green,
on my herbs
and thru my screen.
In my cup
and in the dark.
Under water
and with a spark.
Slowly melting
to the tune
of an adjacent
drunken sand dune.
It passes through me
like a snake
taking with it
all the fake
and all the wrong.
Transmuted into
the eternal song.
In the light
that does not end.
Thru the night
and around the bend.
It can go
in either direction,
and it must be easy to forget
the divinity
you never had
but always were.
Time burns like cigarettes
wrapped in dollars.
Holding the dead confederates heart up to the starry sky
to light the pathway we must take
to get us there.
Anywhere.
We gave fire
a taste of our own medicine
somewhere down river.
If every note disperses,
but the symphony is forever,
then I just don’t
even know.
Every morning
someone fills a red balloon
and every night
it pops.
She stopped traffic,
lit her car on fire,
and jumped from the Sunshine Skyway.
Over time
I watched the anchors of ambition
get thrown overboard
fading away into the sea
of necessity-
I watched the dream world
disappear.
I drink from the old well
of paradox.
A pot of water on the stove
is my slingshot into oblivion.
Outside
the dogs build a wall
of barks
the coyotes laugh at
until my midnight
hash pipe
and ayawaska eyes
take flight.
+
Been too long,
been too sick,
been too caught up
in the human tornado sim
dies down a calm stillness.
I wade,
soaking in the gulch of life
that just needs to be reminded
to take a deep breath
and absorb.
+
Let the moon wane
with the parasites.
