Saturday, December 12, 2015


Hay fever seizes the accountability of the narrative if the
commentator becomes susceptible to this malady.

Sometimes we live in fear of being forced to tell our stories
under conditions not best for remembering them.

It's a systemic emotion bred and  ritualized into us over the course
of many subsequent generations.

There arrives a point where the terror no longer registers
anymore and so here it comes triggered weakly within.

So that the detonation of silence opens a clustering sky
for a garden from which to hang tears individually.

I don't think it's possible for the story to have ended
really, not here today, nor there tomorrow.

Friday, February 27, 2015


Past the breakdown of the bicameral eye into a jewel dropout.
All the droplets fall as if they were all too happy to do so even.
Without gravity to aid the mutual alignment of all the remaining.
Creatures on Earth each one here exclusively in our own domain.
Sharing our individual universes with each other interlaced.
Repelled embraced unfathomed because it's still going on strong.
This here reality appears as a symphony believe me I've seen it.
And I'm listening to its strange refrains even now as I write this.
The weeping curtain of diamonds falls in loose girdles like rain.
Outside my window just one of many filtered lenses on a chain.
Like a rosary trying to balance its own perspective as it spills.
Through hands caressing its beads to snap taut against the anchor.
Waking up to the chill of morning with every last gem spent.
Look into the crystal and imagine the music emanating from it.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015


A crucible of knowledge replicates from one man's solitary diary. 
Understandings are innately acquired from over long distances.
Filtered sunlight reflects serene off a series of alternating mirrors.
Nodal torch points of the Matriculation align themselves over time.
Networks of quasars help synchronize active galaxies universewide. 
Paradise arrives before our eyes after colonizing us from the inside. 
Hell breaks out around us when we find ourselves on any lost cause. 
To be found is to realize we are here at the exact center of creation. 
Awakening from the sleep of the dead often triggers disorientation.
The ghostly real world blurs behind our shuttering facade of factories.
With inexplicable rapidity the self replicating planet corrupts into slag.
Fated to become yet another asteroid belt embedded with human DNA.