Tag Archives: nature

Entitled

Were you there

when I woke with ankles chained to coral

could you hear it 

when I woke I was surrounded

how many of them were there

when I woke strapped down the serum inching

what was it that was murmured 

when I woke five filaments of hyphae

was it just a dream

when I woke a full lotus flame

were you absolutely certain

when I woke the ground getting closer


How I learned to love the spider (preheat)

I don’t know how many people were there
in this boggy meadow somewhere in Florida
a festival by day
a carnival of oil pastel lights dipped in naptha at night

thubwomping teepee’s with spinning
thingamabobs in the center with handles
that I sat on like a tornado—
burning incense—wearing sunglasses—
(It was the full moon)

I wasn’t on molly
until later
didn’t want my head
rubbed by strangers—
I was being guided
through hyperspace at light speed
in my tent—the mountains of spice would melt
and we’d pass it down five or six times—

Meli would run off and I’d be all
holy shit oh my god
honeymooning
at my first real breakthrough (that wasn’t) but

Who has time for terminology
when you’re lead straight
to the terminal for the first time
by something that
never showed their face again

I was doing flybys of planets that looked artificial

The control panel audible like
six diamonds had come together 
and formed cubes twisting, a knot
in another dimension

A yantra

So what does any of this
have to do
with the spider
you may be wondering
as I exited the tent
indolebreathed and metawinged
into the meadow
lit up by the moon
                       minds
chain reaction
you can invision it wavelike
always twisting to and from
itself collapsing opalescent and alive
a mix of pastel and neon
synesthesia whispers to accept
like the untying of a lace
or your legs made of lightning

It was just the most majestic thing
to be and to be disintegrated
off on the outskirts of a meadow
listening to the musics mesh
on the winds without much difference
eyes shut, eyes closed

Except when… it ran up to my sandals faster
than my choked perception could calculate 

before I even knew what the bone white hand
on the ground that could rove faster
than I could—than anything that I knew could was—

I was flailing goosepimpled
acidwashed insane
down the grass meadow faster
than I ever had in my life—

I thought about the times I’d raced
Raul in fourth grade and won every time—he was so hopeful

I ran—my soul screaming—my body in flight
to the laser dome fishnet cushions
the giant oven on fire—my synthesizer—
the stuffed animals
sewn together that wouldn’t burn
they would liquify
in love—mystified by the terror
of your trickster curiosity


No power in the hills 連句

1:48am

It just reminds me
of Keith Fullerton Whitman
snow taps the window—

I wonder how long
I’ll be disconnected for—
like I give a shit—

The satellite dish
is under a mound of white—
it can’t do its job—

That’s usually when
I get up and go outside
or eat some acid—

But then I figured
I could keep writing haiku—
seemed like a good plan—

There exists something
kinda like the internet—
it’s what we’re made from—

It’s why we see things
before we think they happen
while we are asleep—

And why we’re always
thinking exactly the same
things at the same time—

Sure I count the words
first five, then seven, then five
all over again—

I count them without
knowing why or where they will
scatter—lead me to—

The time marches on—
the snow keeps getting thicker
but it’s warm in here—

Like a bright greenhouse—
I’m naked in the garden
just because I can—

A pitch black drumbeat
in the way that you’re melting—
drift off to elsewhere—

Or so I thought—uh—
now I’m wide awake thinkin’
might see the sunrise—

I still wonder who
lies with me by the river—
the rattlesnakes coil—

Who sits with me by
the bonfire in Myakka—
the jumping spider—

Who gazes with me—
but the blacktailed blackeyed deer—
the barn owl says yes—

Who forms tight clusters
on the eucalyptus trees
down by the lighthouse—

I don’t know—I can
only wonder—only write—
only wait once more—

The grey wolves are gone—
they left ten decades ago—
mountain lions stayed—


8:08am

I waked powerless—
there are trees freezing to death—
the creaking woodstove—

Called PG&E—
miracle to have service—
down since 3:21—

A generator
would be pretty sweet to have—
just watch the snow fall—

Maybe I’ll get one—
fill this page with haiku first—
we’ll see what happens—

Life can be like chess—
say patience is a virtue—
always simulate—

Why did I have booch
before a cup of coffee—
that was pretty dumb—

Sit by the fire—
wonder if my friends will come—
phone’s on airplane mode—

But I’m not flying
on a plane like the other
renku that I writ—

That swollen gushing—
welling up and wondering
where it will dissolve—

What tributary
will this channel fertigate
through perseverance—

What sign is seen next—
how long before we see it
clearly again—

It builds up—collects—
like the snow on the pine trees—
something’s got to give—

They’re only notions—
like things I ought to strive for—
everything’s a dream—

It spins like a wheel—
hard to say where it will land—
it’s always moving—

I want to take it—
everything I’ve ever done—
give it all away—

I don’t believe in
space but I believe in
time’s weird gravity—

It was way too bright
writing this by the window—
crawl back into bed—

I won’t wish for it
’cause I know on some level
it’s already done—

Besides let’s face it—
all of this will melt away—
rocket arches warm—


7:54pm

When was the last time
I sat with a candle lit—
inkhanded filling—

Dozens of trees down—
the road that takes me out there—
obliterated—

All I need right now—
peppercorn pork tenderloin—
fuck yeah the oven

Not sure what else but
Amy’s cream of mushroom soup
will be dank as fuck—

Feed them coals with logs—
go out and get a bundle—
the motor on deck—

Come at your own risk
is basically what I said—
the fuckin’ road man—

Gotta love the hills—
it’s always something out here—
never a dull day—

Now it’s time to feast—
why am I still writing this—
steady with candle—

Gold country’s rustic—
drive a city slicker mad—
not even a road—

Butter up the toast—
I’m full as a big balloon—
how’d Boozilla fare—

Well this has been fun—
you gotta stop somewhere right—
all about that sleep—

Put my toes outside
to feel the cold mountain air—
it’s too warm in here—

You’re like a windchime—
sometimes I can hear you—but
you’re always there—

Come here—rub my hips—
ten years of my life spent on
sparring Koreans—

 

The third day

Coconut ballsack—
no beating around the bush—
good as a shower—

They said 9pm
yesterday now it’s today—
lol cabin fever—

Fill up notebooks back—
maybe make another trek—
maybe I might not—

When you go to leave
babylon bring your guitar—
you’re gonna need it—

Super silver haze
crossed with extinct cultivars—
breathe vapor like air—

What is this mountain
vipassana on bluetooth
with oldschool bluetech—

The skies are blue now—
the earth iced over frozen—
stars shine on my face—

Saw some shit last night
I couldn’t even explain—
just soak it all up—

Let’s all just pretend
none of this is happening—
it never happened—

You could try to lock
me up but I’ve already
escaped from this place—

There it is between
the songs—the generator—
half-n-half went bad—

I like when you hit
a note and it relays all
over my body—

The effervescent
tingle atop my head
when it’s sung just right—

The busted canteen—
the gun metal pocket knife—
I know every scar—

Never got a tat—
didn’t see the point in it—
think they look cool though—

This reminds me
of Haruki Murakami—
bottom of the well—

When you are to wait—
deepest darkest you can find—
then pass through the wall—

The cat disappears—
then the cat one day comes back—
but where did you go—

Push up against it
until I no longer can—
face flat on the floor—

I was seeing stars—
like the atomic forces
starting to break down—

While the ink empties
these words they seem to fulfill—
let it wash away—

There are no more days
ever again in my life—
just like groundhog day—

Animism or
anxiety—I’m right there
with the frozen land—

Exoskeletal—
didn’t need it anyway—
cotton swab the nail—

I wear sunglasses
in the house—I’ve seen the light
in all it’s glory—

What comes from the ice—
breathing like the hemp dragon
Chinese festival—

We will not forget
no matter how hard you try—
ninja hashishins—

The voice of Hassan
I Sabbah in the desert
has become my own—-

Billie Holiday
with Henry J. Aslinger—
deathbed withdrawal—

Like we didn’t see
you move crack to schedule two
that was a while back—

Only reason left—
ignore it ’til it caves—
I’ll gladly join in—

Sometimes I wonder
if it’s even worth it or
I’m right where I am—

 

Perennial (I am back)

Flush the electrical
conductivity
of my beating heart
with the sulfur
pink ore
of gypsum

May the crushed
shells of oyster
calcify you to your
true love

Let the kelp
entangle you
into submersion
of nourishment

You will be
aerated
by the lung red
lava rocks of time

Don’t believe
the Jaguar
when it leaps
into your chest

Blackstrap molasses
will become
the milk
of your microherd

The worms
will feast upon
the slime molds
used to dissolve

You break apart
the sky
and fix it
deep down below

The ground dust
of ancient rocks
disappears
within you

It’s the fungus
that will aggregate
us all together
once and for all


Craterellus cornicopioides

I had a vision
while everyone
was sleeping
that I would find you
where the redwoods
met the madrones
I was to go there
alone
six years ago
with my perforated
medicine
water bottle
backpack
two paper bags
and some grapes
I must have rolled
a joint ripped a tick
off taking a piss
the old Winchester shells
rusted relics
for tarantulas
the hours walking
down trails
through manzinita
tunnels sweating
in the light
in the shadows
of the giants
honing in
on the rise in
blood pressure
the spores
in the dirt
                  It was right when
I had decided to go home
that I looked down
deep in the woods
and saw the dusty
black brain
beckoning
to be picked
before the years
of drought
that held them
down