meat

there is something compounding,
the debate between clashing
and the demand for more color.

thinking is an occupational hazard.
it is the mind that cannot be cleaned,
it is a habitat, like all meat; occupied matter

it cannot exist if its dark missionaries
are not meddled with, otherwise they simply
hold vigil until it, unassuming, is exposed
and fear pierces through, creating

we cannot make up our mind because
the mind cannot be made, it is nothing
without what survives within it, and so
nothing recognized can be without discourse.


i walk outside, all gravitating toward
self self self. the black sky juts out before me
with nothing in the way.
nothing to say- the best lesson.

it is more vast than its own reference to my matter.
it weighs this ticklish amount
and i become lucid, magnetic. aware of
the weight share of all potential positions

the self cannot remain silent
until all is or until it is gone. yet i can be used
as a comfortable constellation, fixed as any spun star-
moved only when moved by matter around me

my voice as opposed to letters on a page

the feeling carries over
the feeling of potential
that i am going to do everything
fly above an orange city of toys
chasing the contagious atmosphere

the sinners are still learning
and there are no cops around anyway.

what does reality have to say for itself?

i peed into a cup driving down the highway
and was thankful for the other drivers
but i was just born with these legs.
i choose to think less of the law

the static of trying to be heard fades
in and out, makes the day long.
laughing alone is the only justice

gypsy dentist

(in a world where there are dentists,
what kind of revolutionary do i need to be?)

energy is the legitamite currency, beneath all else.
and despite the lessons we have to learn,
a lot of us are still spending wisely there. $$$$

i'm here, you're there, but that's just the party.
get real, because we've been lovers before.
we've travelled a long way, and i have a love for my
language you can only have with someone who's
been with you for "years", but it's time to let----

something else in

i couldn't put the dance down, by the end of it,
i was mining through evidence as a messenger,
thanking time for being available after the fact.
i was hosting a vibration of magic!!!!!
and if you only do it right, you'll be resounding too -
giving color to this one with your name,
curious, honored by laughter, because
offering all up through these five palettes gets bigger,
more rewards through pleasing the master,
these senses we're trying.

sit, LISTEN,!!!!!!!!!!!!!.........................

learn to kiss our lucky little bodies for now. I
can't put the dance down, but the rest goes on
for on and on and on and on and One
another meta cycle blesses us fond
another taste becomes midnight snack
we've got further and further to go, gypsy dentist
even if you feel the need to bring floss. but the road
reveals itself through loving the process, and there are
many secrets to doing that. where we're going,
many many many many languages will safely take us
and trust me, the rewards will be inevitably tHERE.

thus

each house holds a different passenger.
when you console you speak to yourself.
there are plenty of words at my disposal,
i dispose of each as i use them.
last night i threw a tampon out a car window-
thus, the city. Disposing, disposing.
i definitely do begin to belong to the beast
and our flame suits me up for battle.
but we're all in one thing together, and that is
the ride toward absolute and total possession.
and where does the power end up?
this is just this reality. the real danger is
in knowing i may have to live it

i didn't leave because i was mad. i'm not mad

we end with a hug and i
pierce through the empty red yellow green city
back home. they left the signs on for me.
these will be artifacts someday
just like the open book, and i am juggled,
i exist to be misperceived. so
i sit at the intersection for five cold minutes,
they were good minutes, which i laugh at later.
two people drive past like needles sewing
straight through the huge fabric of the lack of land.
i have nothing new to say, but i want to be heard.
i am dissolving fast into sugar. we are perfect
examples of what we want to be:
i want to test myself, you see me as this witness
of how hard it is to stay awake. but we try.
we want to try. others want us to know
that much has happened. we start with a hug,
and we end with whatever we want to

the ground mother

even before i realized, i was saving space
for a thousand illustrations of mother.
the ground mother.

i thought i could be all action
and no essence, that i could
access the total feeding
without passing the point of return.

not everyone has moved at this height,
but it's back to beckon me
and when with it, i feel this earth of her,
beneath my gravity, in the storm
i know so much about summoning.

but these verbs are still all introductions
to the biology of raw eggs as vessels,
we've breached into new weather now

and instead of striking, i'm hypnotized.
yanking on the chord, resigning.
i'm pulling the moon up just to sit with it.

new year

dear strangers outside the party door
i listened
you've got to talk. you want them to
let up on this blue-eyed shit you don't deserve

"it hurts to meet me halfway"
"it's good to see you"
to make base, incinerate the fallen out
and the double chin of most of the time.
almost snoring the cat away from
the one quiet place and a quiet beer we shared.
i say, we do not contain our experiences
and they do not contain us.

i don't know what you believe.
straight up with you tonight,
"don't try to take that out of my experience,"
my place in history = "what's up?"
is location a hilarious validation?
"i haven't seen you in forever" and
it's been so long since i've laid here
behind the door, and
thanked the universe for the ride home