Arboretum

An  arboreal  calm 

Has  descended  upon  my  daze 

So that,  now,  when  I  sway,  I  do  it  in  place, 

And  when  I  heave,  I  creak  in  a  deep  staccato, 

And  when  I  shed,  I  can  read  limerence 

into                                   the 

s c a t t e r 

And I

Can see

The future

Yellowing

All around me,

As I feed myself

On myself - growing more rings and

More wind-blown fruit, scrunching up the black earth

By the foot-ful and reaching up with splayed fingers for a shedding sky,

Just to taste your breath travelled from a mere branch-and-a-half away to me.

Dam building

Some have built dams to hold back and grow
Usefully the indefatigable flow, but,
Frankly, I don't have one-
And so I pray for softer rain
Until my bones and stones are set.

To Leave

Candy-green leaves coming into their own,
Verdant shades opening in the light,
Chancing these times sought and slandered,
Remind me always of friends as we are, reaching up
And out, still joined and drinking the same sweet sap.
The whole world flows in their veins as they
Lilt and grow together.

Tetractys

Still
Learning
Everything
Trimesterly.
Overintellectualization?

Diner Daze

Fluorescent light
Warm, ripe stench
Dry ashy knuckles
Split cuticle on an index finger
Bright red dots on thin toilet paper
Weird smears on yellowed tile
Dried phlegm wall paintings
Haunting streaks on a warped mirror
A waterlogged head
Fingerprinted slick on a brassy knob
A heavy bathroom door
Body odor wafting by
Sizzling grease
Sharp bacon smells
Stiff knees and a bloated belly
Harsh sunlight streaming in
Everybody in this goddamned diner

A rickety chair
Moist gum touching a knee
An elbow resting on scattered salt
Dried brown ketchup on the underside of the cap
Bitter runny yolk and a gelatinous mass of albumen
Metallic hot sauce
Cracked lip stings
Sweaty, itchy scalp
Odoriferous water

A pimpled, tired face
Questioning eyes
Frank regret

Agarwood

Atop the glowing coal, you twig from Laos-

You, child of sweet, blackened jungle trees,

You dancing, slow companion soul for days

That creep along and nights that steal my rest-

Are we not brothers, wrought from yellowed suns?

Your fragrant smoke enters my lungs before

My heart suffused with sweetness grows and bathes

My bloody brain in vetiver and poppy clouds.

And now you're gone, your charred remains remind
My eyes. I'll breathe in all the air in this
Forgotten room and later sniff my shirt.

Teh End

Wow. Such try

Too surprise

So bad one

I Concern 

Plz no

Cry alive

Granola and Pemmican

One traverses a terrain marked by clear peaks of day-lit idées fixes,
Isolated from each other by valleys of swampy ambiguity and doubt.
One would fain construct bridges from peak-to-peak for fellows and return,
But rope is wanting and must be conserved.

One would fain find repose on a lofty promontory on whose shoulders
The horizon tensely bends as the bow of truth. But, spoiling the view, one sees
In the distance still higher golden peaks at which one's current height is
But another penumbral trough.

One would fain press on, over rock and brush until one alone breaks the blue sky-
Yet what happens now? The firmament darkens and one must rest with the sun,
Or be swallowed by some toothy crevasse. Also, since wild beasts abound,
At night one must sleep hidden in a cave.