The Doldrums

To whom it may concern,

I must admit that I could never remember the days when the slayings were intentional / regardless of the many moons we stood under upon stone monuments that rose from the so few mounds we carved in droves and circles / this ashen esophagus of mine has cried just the same every day since the rain came in flocks of pillars within that trojan paper crane I recognized only as my waning affection waxed in pale star light between anvil and the hammer of a souls crescent temple / perhaps if the smoldering coals were objects capable of reflection the palms of your hands and fingerprints may have been something more familiar to me / maybe even the midnight dousing would have been some kind of sanctity promising anything I could have at least contrived as longevity / pooling in your cupped hands / slowly tiding between the metaphysical cracks and kindling / a haughty glance from the corner of our twin born eyes purple askewed admist the heavy laughing / i know //
i know if I breathe the dust just deep enough I can still black out to soliloquies we penned together on the back side of beautifully vulgar polaroids of you spread eagle and bottom lip biting //
destitute mellow and brooding are the angels drenched in triphaecta composites that visit me now and again when the lights go out and I find my skulls arrestment between the dirt and the floorboards / the heaving contractions and the doldrums / beings as separate and emotional as the speak directly and individual / lifeforms exist in as much as what we know to be sound as in as what we trust to be based in carbon //
(I learned that from you)
I must admit that what I remember the strongest is that day behind the emerald drapes when you taught me how to eat the children of the songs you sang into existence / the sustenance was more than overwhelming / so many nutrients that were almost too many providing / I never told you this but I was never capable of coping / the density and breadth of what I was growing exponentially to know as love was a landscape so vast I was scared into hiding for fear that my digital and canvas renders would be projected as imperfect deliveries to an audience of jeering emily carr graduates bison eyed and jaws elephant tusked and wide for the killing fields from days of street car grappling long since passed / New York / Chicago / Detriot / cocksuckers that brandished sabres spelt in the east coast snow the way deceptive leering shackled attic studio movie making into fits of rage turned acid blotter snuff film endeavors / the machinist fingered towards the screen while he spat of how he was always loving those women / he would repetitively ask me there there do you see? / that's what the patch teemed compassion looks like //
those memories seemingly so independent of one another / but these are the subtleties that connect the left and the north to the right and the south hemisphere / Calgary / Black Rock City / Victoria / these were the bone yards where I built beseeched and cobblestoned bomb shelters I knew for textbook certain to be capable of meeting the dose / stemming inside from underground where the blackness was complete where I knew it would hurt the least / and the most / I led you in by a fingerless hand traced the hallucinations across your technicolor eyelids and what without sense of touch or sight taught you a lesson I had learned for myself / and was able to teach the lipreading palette of awakened stone ghost hosts I had chipped from the space between knuckles that had once been slits to gain knowledge of forgotten widths of the color wheel planks now deciphered to paint two new iris onto your body / I assumed from your wanting language you had once applied be better able to see with / walk stalk hunt and make the necessary kill with / open up the throat of your captors the graduates those fingering machinists / come back home to me once and for all fuck flame and destroy that sinking left behind nothingness of a slave ship...
...but the doldrums were a rocketing downward anchor that pierced your side by surprise / drug you down to the oceans deep from where sincerely sinful and plotting monsters are derived / it was there in the crushing cradle of your own rut and defeat you yourself learned the powerful lesson of what it is like to never awaken from a dream //
while through symbiotic karma I was thrown pieces of the nightmare that came at me in fragments / a true captive of your entanglement I am pried from the safety of the bomb shelters basement the tongue cut from my mouth as I tried to give wave to your testament buried to the neck and left for dead alongside the rising tides disengaging embankment / I whispered last words and prayers I never through it all could have possibly spoke / if I had a joint in hand or an arm to raise it I'd dedicate the smoke to you and the burning weed to me / kiss the cherry and take one last toke for all the hauls I believed meant the most / a tear from my right eye would land on the sand and in it's reflection all of the true lies we spilt on one another and never seemed to give a damn / refractions of everything I'll ever be and everything I already am / reflections of the whisping smoke as it rose to the sky//
and I must admit that what hurt the most as my mind went black as I felt myself die / is that you weren't there beside me your ocean blue eyes staring back into mine / and if there was one thing that I could say in this moment I would scream for all that is holy and all that is right that every second spent without you I WAS FUCKING ELECTRONIC ON THE INSIDE //
and a life lived as a gadget harbors no happiness / at least none that I could find / a life lived as scrap metal rusting away into fragments is a life lived simply waiting for the power in the double As to subside //
so for all that it's worth and all of the nutrients in the dirt found under the grass upon earth / peace out for now to whom it may concern / I know I'll see you on the other side / where the only ocean we swim in is an ocean we know as love and pure light//

/PEACE

Escher

A brick falls from the apex of the ceiling
your head detained / accepts a dull thud
derailed on route to radio static smeckling
oil paints across pale cheeks raises the color
floored sculptures like you are art for the blind
braille bound upon hardwood contingence
conveyer belts that only drift you
from winded soul into the space between
wet walls with every out stretched hand
only farther still / away from me / never more

dark spots fade to closed eye visuals
embossed and delaying sumi-e ink runs these
golden limbs rush down the spiral staircase
cement tiles twist / flicker in a flash
a rain of things betwixt this scientist
breaks the sky beams into focused light
which pulls at my heart strings ashed
as thumbed hash screens describes the diagnosis
the lamps that lit my progress are destined
to set the hay ablaze visible from
the widest points of the paths I made
to embers glow against our bones
a single hair between my lips
you are prostrate / and already dead
I was just trying
to build you a home

As I Will Be As I Am

So it began like this
6:30 am I can hear seagulls
outside my bedroom window
pants hoodie cigarette headphones
bare right to left again
down the stairs to toes
to heel then full foot again
good morning to the girls
at the desk for the first time
certainly not the last time
the first of many better
mornings to be many mornings
bright and shining differently
the bell sounds deep and clear
pocket lighter flicker
pull
lighter pocket breathe
deeper than the bell and
pull
the air here touches my face
it is damper more comfortable
than I have recognized before
light and cool enough it lifts
my weight from the street
there is no bounce in my step
for I am hardly touching the ground
gliding sipping simply pulling on a
cigarette with coffee in hand
absorbing the ambience for all I can
through my skin thick and clean
an osmosis I am just now realizing
that I have needed to be reading into
the land of as I will be so as I am

Glass Shattering Under Water

Thoughts that talk are thoughts once sought and
talking thoughts are songs that are taut between
the spheres we toss from jelly and starfish unto
organic stillness as living as the moss embodies

a moment is precious on all levels of existence
from the sloth in the atmospheric tree tops to
oceans deep where I become lost in the belly of
darkness accented by microscopic luminescent life
as conscious as they are asleep all around me
three hundred and 60 one thousand and 80 degrees

maintaining density at a depth
I've never been submerged to before
the echoes of anemones soft glow of
organic phosphorescence the stillness
it speaks to me and in turn I am singing
your attitude and presence comfort me
to temperate degrees of which I can not
Imagine / upon engaging / more so than
I could have ever contrived (even in poetry)

your tendrils and transparencies seemingly never complete
breathe like with the breaking waves that you've never seen
in such silence I swear the sound of the electricity in my body
is that of you singing to me and still in subtle turn
I am speaking in scattered separate tones
influxing pressure parts for the song
it is of the closest distance
the way my voice is through the phone
I talk of thoughts in chosen spoken word
the way I is shattering under water
coma induced cradled by the curve of lacing coasts
coaxing the height of high rises
heavy beneath the surface currents

at these depths / moments are omnipresent
glass spheres shifting swiftly sinking waiting
to be swallowed wholly in by the slinking anemones
the whales tender throats by the vibrato of all remnanties
from the bottom of the ocean floor to the rooves of skies and seas
believe that there are atmospheres underneath my feet
there is vertigo in those clouds if I so say
there is polite autism amidst the trees below my parallel palms
knees swept softly against the inner harbour outer bay
what is that you sing to me sounds which alone convey
cracks in the earths core rotate the deep oceans waves
my transparency is unbinding as the phosphorescence behaves
to bare light inside the fractured splinters of so many
glass spheres shattering under water up turned geometries
angles and pressure gauges of which I am not concerned
air tanks I know that I do not deserve
but without the light I cannot see
where I begin or where I end
so I am as endless as I allow myself to be
completely stripped of all reserve
these fragments are a reminder
of the omnipresence of a moment
every skipped beat
is every silence I hope with

Moon Shines at Night

A midnight summer's rain fills the small space between rooftops
tugs the day time running lights into arching gradients
that pull into shifting pixels onto the cobblestone below
rested against the corragated brick wall with my knees to my chin in Fan Tan Alley
teardrops of light and rain glimmer a radiance between the studs of my belt and the patches along the bottom of my black hoodie where peaks a pair of soft pink panties
light and heavy aromas of oysters and rack of lamb drift from an open kitchen door
light as the back of my hand against a spotlight where I breed shadowy puppets upon darkened window panes
heavy as the gray smoke that collects in my hood skews the nuance of glow across my face lifting from the cherry that spirals about on point of a stout black cigar which is the object of my current absent minded vanity and affection

you are a mother as a moon shines at night
though we have only just met you teach me that safe places
do not only exist outside of the rain and foul weather
you are a mother as seeds bend towards light
young enough to not give a fuck / old enough to know better
though we have only just met you teach me that sometimes dry lands crack and bleed the skin that floods are necessary to float together pieces meant to build a wet and safer kind of shelter

when you return from the restaurant washroom you reach into your left breast pocket retrieve a small white box and offer me another cigar
these are a warm chocolate brown long slender and remind me of old burmese women and board games I've never played
you comment on the black and white photography / the sheen of the steel faucets / a religious tract you glanced at in the top of the waste basket as you made your exit
distant yet appretiative

in your absense
I will dream of lips against the reed of a woodwind
eyes of storms where the palm trees are steady
places inside myself where there is no such thing as sin
and the shelters you taught me to build in the dry heat of chaos
they will be the strongest because I know that there is a time for war and that when that day comes I will be victorious
for I am learned and ready

now in my world of fine tobaccos and better conversations
amongst the marijuana we smoked in alleys
white flags will never mean surrender for white is the absense of color
white is the rain in the light of the flash of a camera white is the color of purity
for white is the color of nothing gone asunder
and though you are drabbed in white linen aside the oceans surface absorbing the moons light that falls only upon the few beautiful women I feel fine enough to call mother
and the space above your head is constantly swarming with doves white as light from which all color we stole
in my absense please remember that it is the heart of the black birds that are waiting for you to fill them with your soul