Elegant chill of April, patrician chill of April. Restrained hesitance, adolescence, poignant, unrepeatable – or repetitious – stillness. Can’t control the mind, mind leads to God – or Devil. Truck mind – let’s explore. Tired mind. Heat. Stillness. Chill. Heavy machinery. I lift, forklift. ILife, I dude, I write, I still. Shovel, rake, hoe, clippers. […]
embrace every particle of ground with mucus foot asphalt unpleasant don’t look up don’t look for sky effects reflected in the glint of puddled earth don’t ask about the blue just love the rain its intimate ticking on my car shell roof impenetrable secrets rapacious birds grass everywhere first flush tea green
is it gringo? is it local? is it tainted? is it poisoned? is it a photograph? a portrait? a container? is it a town, a road? is it a hotel, a place to stay, a ranch, a desert? is it wilderness or is it populated? small mammals, do they drink the dew?
to not care watch the ice shelf fall see the earth productive until the sun dies or the sun dies from my eyes whichever comes first not in the blood or Present Moment weaving on a paper loom that’s naught but warp (or weft?) when I’m done nothing’s left voices trail away
re-erect the scaffold of my word life less words than rhythm of my privacy like calling a spring “water” like calling a sky “air” relaxation drains from prancing limbs forms a pool on the stone floor stone sink in the plaza watering your sins with relaxation hardly paradise – you don’t hunt except surprise
blue room metallic surf with pelicans magnificent frigates sail then shimmy shake and plunge kleptoparasitic essentially of air Raimundo sings while working pigs in the neighborhood tame ones wild ones plumeria blossoms lit with passing light pang remembered horse in dusty twilight prance limbs backlit rider whom I thought was in command
men with machetes hack a hole in it straw drinks the water out sharp scrapers filet fish flesh into a plastic bag then doctored with weird condiments * limes (a special squeezer) * red sauce (apricot and chili) almost nauseatingly strange eating coco frio’s slippery bites I left some in the rental car
the vacationer’s fear of writing the vacationer’s fear of being pulled back in the vacationer’s desire to stay unknown the unknown traveler wanting to be cool the gregarious adventurer wanting to retreat smart aleck surf alert smog alarm smoke ahem speaking – the traveler’s fear of March work – woke up in one world
still trying to still still trying to still the murderous heart now folded back between its boney wings admiring sirens and enamored of disaster it can’t be cured of wanting to quicken quicken quicken quack quack every vein now I’m trying to end it pace being too fast and heartbeat too relentless
Moving forward heart aggressive springs out of my chest shoves aside my breasts bursts the bounds of bra (or busts) lies there hardening raw in air texture of dried beef (it’s jerky) dark blood color, failed, an awkward stone, organic and obscure we are no different from the plants in our avidity
Poetry: my daughter a purchase, something changes hands blue, green, bronze Poetry: my children saved me split shifts, nine or ten more days the sleeping garden Poetry: long correspondence postcard, Quiet Mind a force of isolation, to swim underwater mostly Poetry: headache constant snow the optic nerve Poetry: the dog with you
Looking for focus, but focus is not there, due to a disorder of the optic nerve. Looks like rows of flags hung off a yacht. Sometimes the floors are level, sometimes not. There are trains. You can get on one. There are absolutes, hug them, clutch them. Can you sit through this?
Straw, bricks, gold. Do I have contact with these things? Yes, mulch in the garden, red bricks edge the garden path, gold design around the edge of plates. Truly brilliant, flawed. I have questions. I am inquisitive, but frightened. Spontaneity walled. I am already in a foreign country, staying a long time.