poem

i can't fix
it

it's
not broke

but i'll
try

moments like these...

paint
already on
my hands
like blood

live blood

first
thought
only thought

revised thought
best
thought

no thought what
thought?

untitled now

moments like these...
allowing me to forget
to remember...

allowing me to move
through time

without interference

...more from an undisclosed past

dream

there's an open house and
problem at the studio.
the lights won't come on
and there are people gathering
to see my new work.

the electric panel in my studio
has erupted and a complex string
of wire is hanging out of the box.

the studio is filling up. i yell to matt.
he says david is on the roof trying to fix it..

the lights come on quick..

but go off just as fast. already, there are
several people here looking at my
un-illumined works..

and more in the hallway coming...

the electrical wires form an arc and
spring out in a circle, almost as a zodiac.

there seems to be a critical mass,
and a group of people in a circle around
the wires become connected,

and the lights come on.

this time for good.

there are as many people in
my studio as can fit.
matt comes in and sits face to face
with me.

he looks me straight in the eye
and tells me about my life.
he makes a speech and a few jokes

everyone laughs.

people are all writing messages
on the walls between my paintings.
it is a very emotional moment.
they leave shrines in the hallways.

the dream goes on and on...

dream#254,654,987,960 (from an undisclosed past)

dream

i am home here at the mill
it is a dark night, dark, black
the darkest of all nights.

the light in our house is dimmer,
the glaze of a dream light,
letting me know, that nothing is as it seems,

matt and gabriel come home
there is a chaos about and through it
i decide to make order..

there is a glass that matt mentions is half full,
and promises it to gabriel later
in the evening.

matt sets the glass down on a small table
that collects clutter in our kitchen
without a thought, i whisk the glass away and dump it's contents down the drain.

"o-did you want this blurts out of my mouth"
there is a look of malaise on both their faces..
"shit" i think.

they had been planning to dye their hair
and that was the last of the peroxide,
i immediately volunteer to go out to the store for more.

some one decides to make a list of items needed from the store
matt starts jotting things on a yellow piece of paper.
the phone rings and i decide to answer

on the other end is my dad
in a faint voice i can hardly decipher
what he is saying to me. my attention is scattered

and i can not devote any real focus to him,
i try to let him know i have to leave,
but it doesn't get through to him. the conversation fades to nothing.

just then that special someone comes bursting through the door.
and i am so glad to see him. "baby, lets get out of here..."
the first words out of my mouth.

we embrace each other.

we bound out the door with a chuckle,
embrace, laugh, and find our way through
the maze of doors to the out side.

we are in the parking lot,
his car is there, and i think we get in and drive away,
but i can't remember

i notice that i am in my bed,
but i look up and see the stars,
it is cold and i wrestle with my blankets.

i realize i am sleeping in the parking lot.
the stars are wonderful and bright, but i don't want to be there.
i sense something raw, a predatorial sent

someone is at the foot of my bed.
a very intense primal fear surges through my body.

the predator senses my fear..

i can not move, i am paralyzed with fear,
until i leap up and slash like a wild beast
protecting my territory

universe doesn't care just keeps on revolving

we are stardust
million-year-old carbon
we are golden
caught in the devil's bargain
and we've got to get ourselves
back to the garden

i dreamt of a future
and in that future
there was something i was a part of
and that something presented itself
in what i could only
describe or think of as
what might be considered
the future
of what we know
today as our internet

it wasn't frightful, suspicious
or some Orwellian nightmare
feels natural and peaceful
like evolution
almost John Lennon's
...imagine there's no possessions
something like that

wet warm consciousness
a loving caress
reaching out towards the world
a voice or a thought
and it's so much more
than this

and like all dreams
it fades quick from my memory
i'm left with my blankets and pillows
and the impression it left
will always cause me to wonder

we are stardust
we are golden
and we've got to get ourselves
back to the garden

the good, the bad, and the not so relevant (after bill burroughs)

i am an American. that’s almost
as difficult as saying: i am

Homosexual.

there is a certain disdain,
a bitter-after taste that word
leaves behind.

eventually, time makes fools of all men.

what once was innovation,
cutting edge,
a new creed of thought;
seems now, – slightly used up
over-extended, ready for an
upgrade.

concepts of patriotism
and nationalism are very
vague to me. it's like watching
the New Years' come-in (with obligatory bottle of Champagne
in hand). it has meaning if you want it to.

it's completely arbitrary.

please, allow me to generalize myself...

i do nothing on a regular basis.
yet, everything is happening constantly.

i 'm even struggling right now,
trying to think of something to say and i find that odd (for more than one obvious reason),
but not surprising.

but, that's neither here nor there
or original or interesting.

i'm even going back, looking at what i've typed
thinking how "constantly" could be "happening" and "happening", "constantly" and what
that flow would be like. too bad.

and now... it seems almost existential.
pangs of guilt and shame for my apparent lack of ?

inspiration? insight? bullshit?

augh, so 'this' is the postmodern experience. i was wondering.

blog#1
blog on.
keep on blogin on...
it's a long blog highway,
blog now or forever keep the peace.

***