Indoors

I have a quiet tendency
Through the chilled wintry window
Transparent dew blossoms reflect heaven and memory
It is winter
There is no sap, nectar, or pollen
And the bark is brittle
If not frozen

My memory is both a blink and a wink
Shall I explain?
Imagine the scent of a rainbow
Don't think

Messages - like memories - become fossils
They will always exist
But in a small, specialized field
A little terrarium, some would say

Squeeze

I'm too much of a realist
For poetry
-just some of it-
Not poets's poetry
Just mine
I can only lie
And fake it
So much
And then I gently
Place my hand on it
(on the paper, you see)
And squeeze-
This act is calming in its casualness
And crushing
Hence - gratifying
I want to right now
To this that should not exist
I don't like bullshit
Even if it's beautiful

It is windy outside
Inside - I am thirsty and restless

Cricket

start

with a word

something like

I have a headlight out

an absurd happening

there's nothing spiritual about it

(it's all right here)

requiring the simplest of language

been out a week

or so

I think very little of it

-that was yesterday-

today

at a coffee shop

(I know)

got my headlight fixed

on the way

wasn't quite so simple

put something in my head

had to wiggle it a bit

orbiting in and out

can't catch it

completely like a cricket

2,000 miles of Ellem Sea

Never enough time
you were always leaving
2,000 miles of nervous
Yet still you're thieving

I'm conceiving a drink
no - conceiving is not the word
I imagine - I don't think
presently - it occurred
I'm drinking a drink

Still - I'm bitter and troubled
Someone is leaving
my confusion is doubled
and I'm perceiving
most certainly
my insides are cleaving


I've learned
it's better to get weird today
than die tomorrow
Montezuma - as you know
grew old this way
It helps me not sink - its what I need
It's not about power (?)
Am I?
My flower flies west
I'm stuck with the sun
deceivingly grieving.

Ghost

Just say you miss me

What is this future?

Say you want me

My heart is a ghost

Living in the past

Creation is a grande wound

Sleeping in hot honey

An exhilarating cavity

Baby, my bones are stitched

Together alone, hemmed 

With happenstance

Memories of wildflowers

White country smile

Mangled rainbows of reality

This sure is depressing

Innocence - whatever

Should I remember?

Love and Conscience

corner of a whiskey glass

captured memory lips

mine - like a murmur

"a charming explanation"

I know

but I'm not a charmer

sensation tips

life is staying

and my chest is heaving

life is leaving

my chest differs

associations of fine, dazzling memories

I feel like the sun -

sometimes -

but at night

(I don't care about being) misunderstood

I feel my bones -

all vague and drifting

lifting plagues of memories

neither divine nor dazzling -

and I don't think I should

I could get by just being okay

and you didn't have to be you

Ellem Sea

Ellem Sea

Death disappears
    when you're
        with me
I am lost
    without ponderosity
        in your sea
The surprise
    this mystery
        an undiscovered sea
I have found you
    you I see
        with you I swim
With you I see
    even echoes
        are new to me
Death has changed
    within the beauty
        of Ellem Sea

Cookies

It's like a cookie - for your brain
    Writing is
I just don't know why I don't
    Eat more.
I eat cookies - all the time.
    Can't stop
Myself sometimes. Quite
    The opposite
With writing. Yet here
    I am....
Writing about cookies-
    Questioning
Myself and everything.

Entirely Different

Who ever settled for insomnia?
Are you crazy?
Something
Inches of life
Moments of happiness
Fleeting extraordinaries
Sometimes I don't want to live
(But I don't want to die)
I just want transcendent rest
It's not a futuristic wish
So why do I always forget my senses?
It burns my throat - and deeper
It happens life this:
....A Ladybug! If only...
They don't come around here anymore
Not like that - with nothing to hide
You will never be with the moon
At night. Response: provocatively positive
It's like - being happy; when you think:
"Why is it like that?" But when it is not
Actually like that and it is really something
Entirely different but you instantly understand
Why, like it's normal, and always has been;
What does that mean in the world?
I'm no bug, but I howl just the same,
And I die just the same. It's nothing
To worry about. It's not violence,
It's just echoing beauty, if you focus.

to some

Sacred to some...it's sacred to some
On days without doing or thinking
It can frighten, invigorate,
Intoxicate, and numb
It's a sacrifice of life
A sacrifice to life
If life lives through it
One can do nothing else