My Algebra of Dreams

39 notes

the eternal desert

the
anthem
chimed adieu
as we walked

into a desert storm
unbuttoned startled

with

tai-chi
music … clerical/clinical

with nicely folded energies

under
the
arc
of sunlight
as
the
wind
dusted
our shoes
with stones
catching our
breathing lungs
out of sync with

nature …

jettisoned
into despair …

we sketched
our loneliness

into
the
vanishing sky … where

silken pearls
still hang after
the sun leaves
for another planet …

droll and
quizzical

we asked
ourselves
questions about
new beginnings

levitating
for miles …

into the
forever.

38 notes

to love you is simple … but deadly

to be simple
would take me
a hundred years

to love
you …
a mere
moment

if
only
the dark
spells of
midnight

flew
away
to an
empty
place …

you
could roam
the anthology
of my deep soul … full of dark eccentricities

stitched to the
surface of my
body

my palms
grow flowers …
yellow
like the
sun
running
into my
skin … i love the thorns that follow -

to be simple
kills my soul

to love
you …

all eternities
are forfeited … to an act of simplicity.

42 notes

she read in a dark library

darkness shivers
through a
clerestory window

she dreams of a lavender
blue moon chained
to archives
licking
lithium
from
her
bleeding hands

her delicate slippers
walk over stone floors

claw prints
of unnatural beings
go
unwinding
the ultimate finality
of her sad imagination

shelves
littered
with the aesthetics
of dreaming demons … touch her lightly

on plum laced shoulders

rodents go scurrying
past her twilight self

she reads
and reads … into the night …

vampire words
reconstruct the
orchestra of her
painted romance …

faustian rituals
in ancient
garments
fill the
library … invisible

only
to her
rancid mind’s
dark imagination

gnostic tongues
glitter in the dark

speaking
of
patristic
fathers
of
ancient
Rome …

heretics fly out of books

she reads
and reads … of whores for the kingdom

doors
close
but the wind
screams at her …

she reads
and reads … frantically of arcane wisdom

dwelling
in her
mind …

convulsing
into fits of
anger

fighting
to get out …

she closes
herself with
secret drapes … full of despair …

dragging herself to an empty corner …

morning
comes and
only her eyes
remain alive … transfixed … into nothing.

61 notes

polishing her soul

she
crawls
through her thresholds
seeking lanterns in the
dark winds
that carry her
across the Emptiness

tremulous sensorium

the
apricot
sunset
gathers the
fragmented
aura
of
her
soul … but

she comes to me
with her inner life

in tatters …

a science fiction
of ghosts and demons
rambling in the sybility

of her
mind
traveling through
glitched arteries …

their mad
echoes
twist
like
her …

a whirlpool
of scattering
pieces

of
her
voice
screaming into
the serene vineyard
of an oriental pavilion

this
is where
i sit and meditate

… but she comes
to rupture
my mind …

her grief falls
at my feet …

but …
when
the moon arrives
she’ll know how i turn
her despair into poetry

tomorrow
her melancholy
will dance on the pages
of this shaman poet …

empathy is the polishing
of shattered souls …

into
pure
jade … i love her like this.

46 notes

tattoos

behind
your eyes
time washes away
your soft trellis scars

d
r
i
p
p
i
n
g

on tables …

mercurial
red letters

sig(nature) and
sutures
of sins
but

the hours
are brutal

as
you work
on your flesh

with a
tattoo
maker …

subtracting
years
of anxiety
from the layers
of living and dying … still

you cling to him
even as i
love
you

my tears cannot
be washed away …

soon they’ll
turn to scars

I will not hide them
with this soulful ink …

my skin
is too soft … i write poetry

for you

… but you cling
… to him
with his
powerful fists
too strong to write words … but

your tattooed flesh says it all.

47 notes

merging into further darkness

cold cobwebs with derelict silk
address my mystic tones
with spiralling swords

drawn
with force …

my words are
blind
my eyes are
silent

i feel
a tiresome silhouette
creeping
beneath
the roots

as the moon tonight
becomes a harlot
thickening the
lusty mist

flowers call
out the saints
before the clouds

bleed
deeply
into the
rhizome …

where
ventricular eyes
stalk
the night watcher … i feel the essence

deep
deep …

inside a dark stained upside down sky

mystic lore
on my lap
reading faint words
of
Paracelsus …

they scream “forgiveness” - i close my eyes

silence is … a
thunderous/naked voice

i call out
for
an ocean
to rinse myself
of my heinous past

the owl brings
me a mountain …

it stands still … immense …

as i disappear
into further
darkness.

76 notes

my mornings with crows

sandy path
dreaming feet
water swishing

silent
mind

clearing illusions
and nimble distractions

no one 
sees 
my world 
like me -

of 
boats 
drifting
into infinite eddies -

zen poetry 
on a cloudy morning
and miles of unheard voices

emptying 
anxiety into
the fluttering sky

a monk reclines
his feeble mind 
into a 
perfect silence … but

i sit 
and talk
to crows …

their eyes grasp
my mind
leading it astray

like a breeze
…  it follows

no direction … the crows play with it

and
they’re like poets -

they feel
the ambiguity
of my existence …

they 
see 
through me
glimpsing into 
another world … they take notes;

they know me well

like 
little Buddhas 
their minds are 
rich in wisdom …

i’ve 
seen them …
mocking me 
mumbling to 
themselves -

and when my eyes open
they fade away into the clouds …

then
i return
to myself
and meditate
into the breeze

and 
no one knows
where it takes me …
there is no direction -

even
the crows
have lost me.

my mornings with crows

sandy path
dreaming feet
water swishing

silent
mind

clearing illusions
and nimble distractions

no one
sees
my world
like me -

of
boats
drifting
into infinite eddies -

zen poetry
on a cloudy morning
and miles of unheard voices

emptying
anxiety into
the fluttering sky

a monk reclines
his feeble mind
into a
perfect silence … but

i sit
and talk
to crows …

their eyes grasp
my mind
leading it astray

like a breeze
… it follows

no direction … the crows play with it

and
they’re like poets -

they feel
the ambiguity
of my existence …

they
see
through me
glimpsing into
another world … they take notes;

they know me well

like
little Buddhas
their minds are
rich in wisdom …

i’ve
seen them …
mocking me
mumbling to
themselves -

and when my eyes open
they fade away into the clouds …

then
i return
to myself
and meditate
into the breeze

and
no one knows
where it takes me …
there is no direction -

even
the crows
have lost me.

Filed under my photography

76 notes

the path we take

she struts
with pirated eyes
full of alfresco legs
charming the ocean
furnished with several
abstract appurtenances
cracking in the excitement
of her silky lusty literal liberty

oblique

with wilful secrets
she spins excess

con-texts

of
seductive
assumptions

walking with axioms
of hybridized tinsel gewgaws
conjectured into a dark broodiness …

crinoline
and wine
leap into her
Victorian mind

as

she
arrives
on time
with strange
codes of erotica
in her silk cleavage
breathing lustily for me
in the hot summer loins of
creamy steaming operatives

and the floodgates
rip open the apertures
of her hot body and soul … but

i follow
the slits
of her pristine
beguiling promiscuity
into sultry lingual labyrinths
tongue-tied with libidinal eyes
impeccably erotic with witchcraft
grafted with arcane incantations of
ambrosial breath whispering of love.

i’m
a citizen
of her flesh and blood
silently residing in the
catharsis
of our
path … an erotic/spiritual timelessness …

a cultic matrix …
a brewed oasis …
an earth-calm Eden …

an eco-connectivity of
an organic mysticism …

48 notes

falling into her insidious asylum

she
wills me
into the sun
to dream of

skin
codex
plasma

framing
her loving selfie
into lucid debauchery
breathing darkly into
a winding river
forwarding
fate …

her
loins
write poetry
for the dark needs
of sleepless minds

flooded with
disturbances
from their collusions
with snaked demons … but

she meets
me
on
ledges
of open skies
wracked with the
scent of innovative lust

her lascivious texts
unwind into the
recesses of
meaning
lurking
in dark
places … as

she negotiates her lust
through clusters of
nightmarish
poetry …

her
dance steps
hammering syntax
filled with whimsical luxuries

run
madly …

droning
into me

throbbing
into the arrhythmia
of the earth and sky …

her loins are full of words
flamboyant and confident

her fiduciary mysteries flow
into my sad disheveled soul

as i fall
into the
insidious asylum
of her poetic self.

85 notes

i write of her

on these pages
words fornicate

her sly fingers guide
the phallic pen
under
solar flares

rapturous
and
intense

my salty tongue’s
eery wildness
falls
into
a

narrow
marrow …

an
en-trance
into voices
unheard of …

she arouses
libidinous energies

it’s just a business plan

her meditations
are out of season

a shining dance
gone crazy
writing
poems …

by night she journeys
to an intoxicated lounge
where lizards linger beneath

the kingdom
under the floor
where dark happiness
floats to her cerebellum ..

she writes
of orchids

i write
of her … it’s

another way
of taking her
to
bed

but
her
beauty
is a complication

her sparks are
elusive realities

radical
blasphemies
in her hot words
splatter all over me

her ink
spilling
secrets …

they walk
anxiously
as
i walk
like a crow
gathering her
perfect thoughts …

i write
of her …. it’s

an alternate
way of falling
in
love.