wont come back

insane forever

really dying

Amabilis Insania

"The ancients had already observed the kinship between

the imagination and dreams, hallucination and visions...

Democritus had said that one could not conceive of a great poet

who was not possessed by a certain divine delusion.

Plato declared it was impossible for the production of

ordinary artistic intelligence ever to equal divine madness."

~ The Theatre of Dream, Resnik, Salomon

It is way past 13:00

I know, you know I saw you, pass them iron tracks

Your Jack Daniels, your Lucky Strikes, your “Leave Me Alone” Ways

Thinking about your Dirty Mama, thinking about your Boy Blue

You have come to rest your head upon my torso

Telling me, it’s late... too late for Indian Summer

And that somehow you have lost a season, possible several

The season when some dry flowers

Pack fruit in jars                          comfort for that cold bitch February?

February

Moon of dimensional smuggling, place of echoes and shape shifters

Season of Broken Rosary

That chokes, asphyxiates

It will come you know, sooner than we realize

Red lipstick, smeared sheets, extra shoe polish

Polished grip of the gun, hand made, expertly crafted

Angora, wool, silk. We’ll wear robes of small prey

And draw with a stick in the dirt

Our mouths meet in a confusion of Raspberry, Vanilla and Xanax

Season of

Scotch and bourbon, a time to stay behind smoke          forget

And you close the bar

Absolute of Cèpes, Costus, and Black Spruce

Define and guard the nights

Cannabis takes a back seat to the Shadows, it simply won’t do

We have laid down in the Night Garden

                                    chronophagoi

                                   distant nuncio

                                          lost days

I call upon Labdanum and Blond Tobacco and need fire

                                                                           Michael

                                                                            Gabriel

                                                                          Raphael

To balance the cloying and sickening sweetness of too much floral

Too much treble, the bright lights and paranoia

Overindulgence and insomnia

Bitch Season

She wants to see me dead you know

It’s ok

We know death well

humans              born to kill

Like hyena, like lion, like bear

Sometimes we eat our own

I am drinking each day by 10:00

Beautiful diners, leather coats, the newest shoe/boot

The vitamin, herbs, roots. One tablespoon of dragon bones in grain

Pure water, enough fiber

I too want to tell lies

And leave the garbage bill, water bill and Lovers

To pile up

Fruit, cheese- all sustenance

Left to rot

Make it go away

All go away

For I have gone

See me without my beauty, lace shoved in my mouth to stifle the screams

I want only to kiss, to kiss

Sex is so over rated, absurd and desperate

Bad for my state of mind

I will Tango when I am well

                        hold both your hands

                            look into your eyes

                                                 15:00

                                       finally falling

 
This is penetration

  
          Please

Do not speak

For sometimes I have confused the monster with the man you see

But don’t be deceived; don’t take my silence for frailty

I know enough to come out of this alive

To get up and walk 100 feet from the house

And call the Dream Helper by name

Saying her lapas are 25. a piece
I want to spit and do
I will just go to china town before winter and buy
Fabric off bolts there, or muslin from Rosie’s and dye it
In the wine barrels, maybe just soak myself in them as well

She is still telling lies as I walk away
We know the truth but then again
If we can remember
Then surely we were not there
I let the spit fill my mouth
Before I leave the market I want to
Toss out used gauze and medical tape
Band-aides and old iodine bottles, a tourniquet, swabs
Create a sculpture around her booth for the afflicted and ailing
She is wounded- infected- remember the sand flies?
And needs an altar, seen or unseen
…yes, still praying

be the jackrabbit
be the small fox
your corn pollen has washed away the shadow ones
i am sure of it

feel Good
feel God

listen

who knows you

when there is sand in the river

calamus

osha

paccoon

calls us back home

going going

we are the hidden streams

Slide down the curvature of symbol

You know how I scribble on anything here, there

My scrawl

A sip

Chug of your dark brew

Inhale of the deep forget         you are my opium

Holler     sometimes screaming

And the angels hear you

Whisper and they still do

Upon the Ground of Gabriel

                                            we float

                                            he will not let us fall

These are the secret words         you read

Nobody knows you keep them

                                        Come

                                        Come here

Come quickly if you can

It rides like citrus bound to rawhide a scent that may fade

Before you taste it

Pull pulling you

Come home

            the

            dark viscera of someplace

                                    fecund soil

                                    be the river

                                    unbound

This River twists

Contorts and confuses the city

You disappeared into the deep crevices of the Dead Pine

Then further, you retreated, coming to rest within the Cedars

I too sink back into the granite within the sea caves at negative tide

This is exile self chosen

From here I speak to you, tell you everything

Come when you can no longer speak
Come when the glands of spirit suffer from malnutrition

I too have hungered

Have fed on the cicada shells

On the letter that never arrived

A mouthful of tule fog

On the perfect nothing

Expired visa

Emptiness

The lost rhythm

Where the Salsa is not fun

Broken swan whistle     hollow

                                     Where not even echoes return

Tell me my Familiar

You know

How I have risen from the Red Delta

From the filth in the rivers, from the undeniable

Echo of the tight alleyways, where I leaned against cement

Unstable many times

                    too much

I keep laughter in my pocket

And now         your presence this side of the hour has me unhinged

You unbraid me

How can I even lean or buckle

Release the softness you remember so well

Yield

In all this upheaval?

I don’t dare crumble now

This is vertigo

And if you look

Very closely you will see me- head tilted         listening

Looking very closely at the visible invisible beings         shadow         dream

We are also

What we have lost

As we stumble into grace