Fifty-Eight Degrees and Cloudy

Follow the raven,
Flow on the wind’s wishes
Over telephone wires
And the tip-tops of
Tree branches budding,
Chimes singing up and down
Our street in the breeze.
(Call me, call me,
Up and down the road,
Call me, call me,
And there we go…)

On the Fence

Maybe it’s just us.
We’re the weird ones
That want to be walled off.
Is it so wrong
To want boundaries
And to want those lines
Herein lies treasures
Worth protecting.
(My patience,
My solitude,
My privacy,
My will
To pass through
Moments in time,
Minute spaces,


Laughing at the absurdity
Of me telling myself to
Laugh at the absurdity of
All the thoughts flying
Through my mind as I
Meditate on the absurdity of me
Meditating on my laughing mind,
mine, me…


angel, come with your band of merry saints, encircling us in holy presence. clear away any lingering doubts and fears, illnesses and pain, and heal us completely, body and soul. filled with light and knowing well the pure-God of this Earth-life, we create new beauties for the worlds imitating our inner images. we think and write and speak of these good and righteous things for them to manifest into being. move the old words over and usher in new ways. take care of nature, heal bodies so there is no longer any barrier between us and our creative faculties. we have free access to all of creativity. we guide others by simple living of our own alignment. we know what is good and right, always, and it forever shall be this way. kin, listen deeply to intuition, this is God speaking to me, through me, through every cell of my being. shine right from the inside. there is no place for fear within. amen.

Bad Dream

Bad dream

Water pouring from the attic

I go upstairs to find

The intruder is in.

Naked but nobody notices

The sick man breathing

So slowly with rattled breath

He cannot take his daily pills.

Rummage through drawers

For clothes that aren’t mine

Pink jeans that look better

On me than on her, yes, I did.

In the old house, in a

New house with more stairs

Than I can remember,

Than can be necessary.

The chase is on,

Car flanked with men on

Motorcycles, but I can’t see it,

I’m out-of-breath distracted.

Kisses and controlled images

Holographic on all four sides

Box us in, but he’s

In on it – who’s side are you on!

How did we get here down this

Long dirt drive to the woods

Where the driver pulls me in

An old adobe home?

He draws a new door on

A solid wall, there was no

Way through, but now there is,

So simple as hands together,

Open in the shape of the door

And it appears. Into the room

Full of artifacts from a

Future self non-existent,

This is a trap and I know.

He’s offered me the metal

Sculpture and Art and Stories

I have not created on my own.

Outside in the park on the long

Trail, the men are being taken

One by one, tricked by a

Siren’s song, they struggle,

And at last she plucks a purple

Flower from the water and

Presses it to the man’s lips,

The final kiss. Death grips.

Three boys on bicycles

Speed past, looking for police.

A happy couple share a glance,

He says, “It’s not blood

On my shirt, it’s only ketchup.”

She nods her head, agreeing.

She’s complicit or complacent?

What am I not seeing…

Running down the stairs,

All those stairs, oh my God,

To save my family, warn them,

The words caught, I sputter,

Wake up, out loud, “Call 911!”


my dear
the truth is
stop talking.
do you love filtered perfection/protection?
do you love feel in-your-blood deserved?
painted, like it, hate it.
sick-hot as a match,
you asked for me to
never stop
get the keys, love
trim your insecurities
tired of fakes, buddy,
block me,
block me,
uniform hurt black and blue bruised
internal organs’ dark matter
help start the healing
integrity means learning to
call me back
plain and simple,

“but, is it really you…?”

lifted, driven,
reaching the outer-limits,
the bones of us
lift and dive after our spirits,
coming along for the ride.

“after you, after you, dear.”
wish, receive.

eminent and verdant,
leasing reverent hands,
luminous transference ending the good day,
it’s not iffy, time’s up, you’re due,
please and release to be approved.

as talos, we remove the nail,
ichor like molten lead runs out and through.

third party intelligence
allegiance to signs.
check out.
she’s waiting, she wants you.
get relief, don’t get personal.

the 3rd part

they used you,
all signs and symbolism,
your heart’s a loaded gun.

you’ve been given something
special, i’ve never gotten so
lonely just by missing someone.

i’m not ready, please don’t
let me… ward off contact
from the fox, you got me?

you got me? remove me
from the knowing,
unlock the future

days and nights,
pre-programmed and solidified
swan songs of dying investors

in this technocracy.
they can talk independence,
shock millions of americans,

trick the truth with fresh lies,
no rewards, no relief
for the alive.

our deactivation has arrived.
prove you are
who they say you are,

update your profile
or unsubscribe to food/water/housing,
love/money/luck ain’t on our side.

blood psychosis,
consciousness conversion drugs,
we’ve been transferred for release.

the stillness is a gift.
we knew each other.
we need to talk,

but can can we talk anymore?
high alert,
we have only today, nevermore.

On Tradition

Aus Gott wird man gebor'n, in Christo stirbet man. //////////////// Und in dem heil'gen Geist fängt man zu leben an.


"If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space." - anonymous




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