Nothing Too Complicated

winter's ebb the melting frost
as ever feeling cold and lost
a wisp afloat upon a breeze
I would topple to my knees
and crawl a million miles to be
with someone who believed in dreams
then we could love them suitably



can't take me much higher than this
I'm pressed up against heaven as it is
hard to breathe for some up here
the air is thin and rather sere
down below you see it all
where water flows and thunder falls
yet I'd rather be here than down below
like I'd no idea what's in store




Aine and Russell how their young locks curled
brash-throated lad and pensive girl
both identified by hairs after being mauled by bears
they sought out a clovered glen
what they found was a grizzly's den
Happy St. Pat's to one and all
may green beer flow like waterfalls!



neon and chrome reflections of lights
driving alone in the white lines tonight
the Moon hides like behind a slate
even the low clouds remonstrate
pouring down acid in lakes
what on earth will it ever take
our own extinction is on the plate
it might already be too late



when urchins sing of eating ooze
and otters hunt for abalone
makes no difference sets the mood
— adrift in a sea of poetry
singing til my lips turn blue
these songs flow through me endlessly
the simple need to sing love's truths



cry for the insoluble
as if we had a choice
all we can ever do is weep
cry out in feeble voice
for monsters always hold their breath
and wait until we're weak
they were all once just like us
and now they want to speak
listen while they babble on
they'll be silent in defeat



Humans get their heart's desire
a world alight with oil rig fires
carbon overloaded air
a brand new product for their hair
no revolutions from above
scattering all in furious ire
landing like a single dove
strangled breath's all we have left

Caminando con Dr. Jones

coiling thrashing lashing whips
the tendrils of this sea witch fly
rising from the moonlit surf
a liquid queen comes to the earth
mists and depths in her opal eyes
her colossal mind toroid-serpentine
this wise and vibrant octopus divine



por la viento soy emparedada a cielo
no tengo nadie y ningun auto a ud corazon
liebres y tortugas este tierra propio
y yo no lo tendria de manera otro



stars are coiled up in my mind
strangled til they're not divine
render unto me what is gris
pull everything into my sea
from skies of slate to blackout days
to whirling in the desert crazed
travel everywhere to learn
there's not yet a book worth the burn



if to author is to own then
I'd rather remain free
set a heart afire or set
ablaze every last copse
within the winds of poetry
tasting life's every last drop
la viento por la mundo
y todos espacio entre cado



from tidal flats to Carlsbad bats
hiking boots instead of flats
better wear a wide-brimmed hat
the sun's nearby, I'll tell ya that
ain't got too much atmosphere
the skies are mostly crystal clear
some may call it poverty
but I call it living alone and free

Scolding Water

sing tunes of the apocalpyse
as if it's going on
meteorites flying left and right
in random arrhythm for this song
let's dance around and swing our hips
to the howling symphony
while sandstorms strip our flesh from bone
in the dancehall of Humanity



dream of love and rockets
only in two ways
one in poverty, life
the everyday
white dust on dirt and gravel, scrub
swimming in low drama, blood
— the other a simple knife
A/C in black cool studio
primary lights at night
music clean and crystal clear
soothing to weary ears



a drive up to the Bugaboos
my dad and I were on a cruise
just drivin round a mountain pass
and there before us on its ass
a semi trailer big and long
a feller crawlin, the wheels still goin
I pulled on over and I said, "Hey,
"Can a Canuck's grandthing help ya, eh?"



these tautologies like crimson wine
dowsing for fountains or brief bloody showers
as landmark and generic sky align
landscape changes to postcard time
no simulation, nothing to find divine
gaze at the sunset, now that's sublime



wails are low and long today
harmony is brief
erratic and ephemeral
watch the ballerinas on their feet
toes like goat hooves en pointe, precise
dream fountaining geysers of steaming blood
—if they had skates the throats they'd slice
to dance away the day is nice

Free Dissociation

been two whole days since my winter funk
so I'm feelin extra queer and punk
grew my spine back it appears
blocked and dumped the vicious dear
damn right I went there, first time you bet
because I won't forgive pain I can't forget



red tail they perch alone and high
upon an exposed peak
watching everything below
keen-eyed with wicked beak
let's not dance with agony dear
not today, not in this light
it seems so silly, fear of the dark
only the meek come out at night



rills and creeks and babbling brooks
a range's tear ducts well up in springs
as snowmelt and with gravity
down the slope bringing poppling
rocks and twigs and leaves and things



as Humpty-Dumpty would play Profokiev
in serenading a wall
so this small man is ignored and
driven from civilized halls



ain't nothin wrong with a big ol plate
of your favorite stick-to-yer-ribs
sometimes a simplistic familiar plot
sets yer sails and trims yer jib
dialogue most unnatural might
bother yer regular sort
so hermits can write poetry
everybody's who bestseller lists are for



If that's not euphemistic
it would be kind to share a pic
for some us love a pie
whether rhubarb, apple, or black bear eye!



todos los que dicen ella es peligroso
ningunos mentirosos y tampoco idiotas
a de mi lengua y mente son ellos tampoco no locos
pero yo creo ella teine un corazon de banditas

I and Me

My theory on toxicity is a rather self-serving one
for I suspect I may be toxic but I'd really rather not
be a pain in the ass or come condescending because I haven't got a job
and I ain't much of anything but an annoying fat old blob!



radiant frosted earth tamps down
Sun's ascent to boiling crown
yet I accelerate to generate
some wind to cool my superstrate
homeostasis must be maintained
open the vents and all the drains
in four hours it won't be the same
so I'd better not exceed my range



there's too much funk to feel sad
and too much punk not to stay mad
at the end of the day another one starts
another cycle of goths questing for hearts
and minds and souls and experience
or to just clock in for maintenance
today there's no shame, no lives misspent



jackrabbits on percussion god the tortoise on the bass
if I look to the sky for heaven all I see is outer space
but the smell of creosote smoke and monsoon showers...
there's no other heaven for my soul than in this place



perfection is very simple
what's hard is day to day
rejection, yelling "f**k you!"
is weakness, I would say
and denying imperfection
means you might as well eat hay



when stupidity and whimsy collide
they sometimes make a spark
I would cross a road backwards
alone and in the dark
if I suspected that my Muse had left
and taken inspiration to the park


I'm a mystery an obfuscation a simple twist of mind
if you can think in circles you'd be halfway from the brine
some people call me a reptile and that also suits me fine
but either way I'm neither devil nor am I divine



some extol the virtues of a bullet, war and pain
those sorts have bolts and knuckles in their heads instead of brains
a gentle life is hard to do, one mistake and it can break
but when you live in proud humility there's nothing you can't take

Laramidian Arachnids

peace starts out to the left to the left
floats along with the zeitgeist breath
songlines, dancers, true love and birth
a joyful existence on our blue earth
but soldier and warrior to the weave they are weft
and war is who comes when there's not enough death



oh what folly, we got conned
we shipped our dirt across the pond
and now that all the water's gone
there's nothing left to build upon!



if I did it in a burst I was the worst and he did it first besides
now he's fresh gone and I should feel a longin'
— but I feel lighter inside
some things are worth it and some things aren't...
his lies I could never abide



a consideration of circuitry explodes from under the shrubs
rising in the sunset air just like a flock of doves
El Silbodero wanders by, his tune a whistling haunting cry
and coyote's yipin at the Moon; pray the skinwalkers stay outside



Pulp and Paper Products Pizza Party
send another invite so I can go
throw it in the trash to burn
then take a crap at the Tacoma Dome
huff a big old snoot full of that de-stink-tive aroma
and remember where I'm not from



to glisten your listen,
relish the silences



the gini coefficient has moved another notch
back and forth it always swings a revolution's spot
representing equilibrium as a certainty or our lot
Messiah is among their people, climate just got too hot



vampyropod cloak billows out
churning up the silt
fast as lightning we hit the pipe
turn into the angle parabola above and back down to dive
slide the wings of a ray from your sides and get bubble-contrail glides
dream silvering arcs into the night



Deep friars in devil's club briars
immoblized by a ring of burning tires
like a noose slowly drawn
they get rather warm
as the bristly woody stems catch on fire



Bread n Butter love no other don't split about a pole
to break your parent's back you just gotta drop a stone
but if you break their heart you'll lose your tiny soul
so don't worry bout the cracks just keep your mind on staying whole
pigeonhole the principle: rejection out of mode

A Soggy Tussock

— emily dickinson
is the best place
the em dash exists
to express her grace
the ternary —
left unaddressed by Blake
so focused on Milton
— that was a mistake.



never ask us why and always tell us lies
keep your own counsel and blind your own eyes
that is the way to truly worm your way inside
but better hope you got some rope to wrap around your butt
because what's in here is quite severe and will rip out all your guts
deception doesn't work on us that's why we're not a slut



doves in the eaves are lulling
cooing and purring like rills
weaken the creek — let it reduce to a trickle
divine silence in high pines and juniper thistles
why ask for too much when there is so little
separation between meaning and riddle?



la lengua de la desierto — an old Chevy's choke
survival is not optional for the Laramidian throat
fight or flight con las grullas en la rising smoke
rodeado por las montañas solo queremos un corazon



catacombically imperious
the whiskered rat-queen doesn't bide
from every drain and toilet bowl
her children at nighttime slide
through the attics under cupboards
and swarming through the walls
in every climate-controlled terrarium
you'll hear their little gnaws



we wish we were a telescope
aimed directly at the Moon
we're tired of twisting on this rope
dangling in an empty room
perhaps tomorrow — but never again
a dance with Arachne on her loom
tragedy can be canyon-vast
or a simple sodden buffoon



a lullaby born inside a jar
she wailed and thrashed back and forth
bottled up each and every star
from Southern Cross to Ursa Minor
Polaris burned her soul to char
she spread her lungs out the bloodwings torn
she's not Venus — he was always Mars
And now he's ready for war