i jumped in the river and what did I see?

i jumped in the river and what did I see? black-eyed angels swimming with me a moon full of stars and astral cars all the figures i used to see all my lovers were there with me all my past and futures and we all went to heaven in a little row boat there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt 

Mount Fuji Apple

a mount Fuji apple is a flavor kabloosher one Godzilla high Tokyo trembles fruit juice floods Takashimaya Times Square Karen O sings a double rainbow of newts geckos and the most fabulous pomaceous flesh ever 

kiwi spooned morning

kiwi spooned morning sweet earth's gift to us work is not my life evening washing black metal clean she's at Jakes watching the sun dip beneath the sound smoked porter one month after a family piece dies hard to explain music blood I won't back down nothing is as important as sweet sweet burning life I am not afraid of you and I will beat your ass how do you like me now?

what comes is better than what came before

read this today:  Prozac pollution making shrimp reckless ~ as Lou Reed says "What comes is better than what came before" which I want to believe except that shrimp used to go about their business being shrimp writing novellas eating short cake now they drink pipping hot coffee while sashaying at the edge of the Mariana Trench


what comes is better than what came before i need water through my toes a straw hat crown a walking stick Gandalf staff two inflated tires a brain bucket thighs burning chest sucking no batteries nor windows nor clocks nor supposed to be ~ a sundown ride past old houses sunken lots stray cats chasing dogs wild flowers curb scuffs bus routes gutter weeds lotus and mint and people my friends my kin my loves in every direction plus strangers to meet later


your heart beats true and loud your own blood transports sublime melodies more than this more than this the tides bring new things twice a day

the best wishes are just out of reach

the best wishes are just out of reach i have 18 back-up singers singing my praises just under the tidal surface there is life hanging on scavenging squirting floating stinging you can put your hands in it gently small wonders foam over this is the place this is the place surrounded by the fringes of an inland sea find seek sing








thirst inning Cheney is Walt Whitman's heart beating ~ Tacoma's finest fragrance the kelp beds roasting on the low tide sun flats ~ it was good enough for Bing and Neko Case for a while anyway ~ give Grit City a try you will never go back to the last place you called home

a dirge jubilee for Uncle R

so this is the day he left upon the wheel in the sky ~ i bet the Beatles filled the room with pomp and circumstance a last piano chord struck hanging on til the tail-out groove cued the tone arm retract ~ an enso engulfs a point in space the orbit around it being everything else ~ Rio has it all ~ a siege of herons a pod of dolphins 5 miles wide a lotus seed lost in the low tide eel grass sprouts again somewhere unseen on the far side of the sea

The Moor

The Moor

By R. S. Thomas

It was like a church to me.

I entered it on soft foot,

Breath held like a cap in the hand.

It was quiet.

What God was there made himself felt,

Not listened to, in clean colours

That brought a moistening of the eye,

In movement of the wind over grass.

There were no prayers said. But stillness

Of the heart's passions -- that was praise

Enough; and the mind's cession

Of its kingdom. I walked on,

Simple and poor, while the air crumbled

And broke on me generously as bread.

black pint lullaby

the vine that strangles the tree embrace your demon and it will spit in your face break your favorite things spread darkness like black marmalade mess up what you had in place so a pint for the lost a pint for the dead a pint for those who left a pint for those who ran away a pint for Love a pint for Hate a pint for Truly a pint for Fools a pint to all my friends a pint to everyone i have ever been they say there is strength in numbers so put it on my tab i will gladly repay you tuesday in black globlets washed up on key west for tonight i couldnt find the table my face was planted on nor the front door the last call the street lit up by oblivions light

Rip City double-decker pomp and circuspants Lotus ice neon light thru highball glass only so many midoris until sunrise

1992 Sweet Oblivion

1992 Sweet Oblivion La Luna Portland Screaming Trees what the day brings ultraviolet elevated breaking free and breaking things La Luna October 92 Mark Lanegan whiskey bottle hand forgetting lyrics couldn't finish the set one of the Conner brothers took the mic Frank said the show got better after that if I could see backstage I see him falling over old stage lights hitting his head and finally passing out Uncle Anesthesia 4000 miles from pain

shiny metal balls in a massive roller disco pinball machine

shiny metal balls in a massive roller disco pinball machine 8 miles high with a shadow beyond the horizon i won't back down though the sun tugs the earth through space


a circle within a circle desire is suffering space within space remove my name i am i am nothing irregularity is beauty the milky way a cosmic nursery an untangleable knot precious mysterious everything


found Whitman's footsteps in grass green as split peas such was the light feedback perspective is widest right in front of your face dogs leave paws in the mud clouds have names dirty street puddles send sine waves harmonic chords if you can stop and listen

skull crossbones minivan tattoo

skull crossbones 
minivan tattoo 
mad libs 
burning sun 
booster seats

Sabbaths 1999, VII

By Wendell Berry
(1934 - )






Again I resume the long
lesson: how small a thing
can be pleasing, how little
in this hard world it takes
to satisfy the mind
and bring it to its rest.


With the ongoing havoc
the woods this morning is
almost unnaturally still.
Through stalled air, unshadowed
light, a few leaves fall
of their own weight.


The sky
is gray. It begins in mist
almost at the ground
and rises forever. The trees
rise in silence almost
natural, but not quite,
almost eternal, but
not quite.


What more did I
think I wanted? Here is
what has always been.
Here is what will always
be. Even in me,
the Maker of all this
returns in rest, even
to the slightest of His works,
a yellow leaf slowly
falling, and is pleased.

The Dagger

By Mirabai

(1498 - 1565?)

English version by Robert Bly

The Dark One threw me a glance like a dagger today.

Since that moment, I am insane; I can't find my body.

The pain has gone through my arms and legs, and I can't find my mind.

At least three of my friends are completely mad.

I know the thrower of daggers well; he enjoys roving the woods.

The partridge loves the moon; and the lamplight pulls in the moth.

You know, for the fish, water is precious; without it, the fish dies.

If he is gone, how shall I live? I can't live without him.

Go and speak to the dagger-thrower: Say, Mira belongs to you.

No tongue can tell Your secret

By Hakim Sanai

(1044? - 1150?)

English version by Priya Hemenway

No tongue can tell Your secret

for the measure of the word obscures Your nature.

But the gift of the ear

is that it hears

what the tongue cannot tell.

http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/

clear start again see what you couldn't see before ring the bell








~me

East Coker - excerpt (from Four Quartets)
By T. S. Eliot
(1888 - 1965)


I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away--
Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about;
Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing--
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------


Immovable Mind
By Yung-ming Yen-shou
(904 - 975)
English version by John C.H. Wu


You wish to know the spirit of Yung-ming Zen?
Look at the lake in front of the gate.
When the sun shines, it radiates light and brightness,
When the wind comes, there arise ripples and waves.


----------------------------------------------------------------------


Worship
By Dogen
(1200 - 1253)
English version by Steven Heine


A white heron
Hiding itself
In the snowy field,
Where even the winter grass
Cannot be seen.

my tank is empty

my tank is empty for the first time in a long time


A Hindu story tells of a fish who asked of another fish: "I have always heard about the sea, but what is it? Where is it?" The other fish replied: "You live, move and have your being in the sea. The sea is within you and without you, and you are made of sea, and you will end in sea. The sea surrounds you as your own being."


Morpheus 2005-2009


Niobe 2005-2010


still swimming plucking rocks watching me beyond the sea

P'u-t'o Temple

By Yuan Mei
(1716 - 1798)


English version by J. P. Seaton






A temple, hidden, treasured
in the mountain's cleft
Pines, bamboo
such a subtle flavor:
The ancient Buddha sits there, wordless
The welling source speaks for him.

rain blots gold soundz

rain blots gold soundz waiting for the bell i'm 9 years old dripping dry under a playground cover by now my dad is miles away woke up in a haze cartoon noises pop tarts getting dressed a wild ride in the backseat down glassy city streets




~me

from the vaults

Monday June 6th, 2005


slightly stone cold crazy
going places i never wanted to go
no more burn only silky sips of salvation
things fall apart fresh & raw
old rasputin a knife in the dark
black moor the hounds are at the gate


get behind me satan
jesus check your head


falling from a great depth
now i got worry
marcello mastroianni
cold fusion nuclear solution
living fossil newborn waste
blue olive blue orchid blue train
dreamland iris recognition manic depression


my chemical romance is a mephisto waltz
time passes
we leave two-step imprints
across the chronal surface
night and day
grim fandango and me






~me