i have rented a guitar
it is green
and grows resonating
import and fret-buzz between
and with each
strum-uttered phrase
cycling down through spring night's
chirp-laden maze
it sings,
"take me home, country road"
and i think of spurning it.

today i am making kimchee
it has been five years

i have taken to preparing dal again
lately as well
and it turns out quite delicious and aromatic
and is as good if not better than at east is east.

an onion fell
and rolled down the hall
leaving its paper brown shavings
a trail of crackled laughter
they tear and trickle
up the woman's throat
as she races

still melting crystals
drop in quickening passage
begin to head home

stream
of
thought



* * *

wonderful!

a shout
out
and thanks to diddy.

moon sticks astronaughts used to eat

a post for the night.

someone is listening.
thank-you.

now, does anyone know where are
those moon sticks astronaughts used to eat?

could things be better?
sure.
but things could be worse.

just ants underfoot
conscious of an existance
they race to preserve

bliss below

i can't tell if its dawn or dusk
i have just woken up
and as i fall back deep asleep
will i ever wake up

and i am falling farther than my knees
it seems enough
and i pound my head into the floor
and there is abyss below

and as my hands reach the shore
body's beached to sigh no more
tonight the bell tolls beneath the wake
all is not lost

at first the dread i felt was just knee deep
so my kneeling has to cease
but as i breathe it in and out
it suffocates

and i've fallen further down than my knees
its never enough
i pound my head into the floor
bliss below

did i ever show you my best dream?
did i ever get close to belief?
didn't you used to be my best friend?
i can't remember can you help me now?
it had something to do with grief
but i liked it anyway

moon pulls a ribbon
of humble, distrustful clouds
makes black a warning

the bullrush-sliced air
blows past leaves refreshingly
disobey the sun

seers of coldness drop
loosened grip of frozen clouds
crystals of the sky

icing sugar dusts the streets
the city streets with kindness
melting the concerns

holy shit
letterman's sick
weird i was just reading an
old paperback biography
thanks sis
and he was talking about johnny's
days off and guest hosts
and i was thinking if
he'd be doing that soon
and that'd he'd retire someday
and how worrisome it was
when he fell ill
that new year

i tried to write something
last night
but the giant wouldn't let me
you see
everyone once in a while i like
to post a small poem
a unit of time
i was trying to raise my consciousness
the other day
breathing in ocean air
when a little fly flew in my nose
in public
i remember this happened to me once
hiking with my grandfather
he turned around and saw me
abash, which still stings a bit
picking my nose
and didn't believe my gestures
that it was a fly
we didn't speak the same language.

from now on i will
keep aware of the fire exits
at the next band i go see.

finally watched Stop Making Sense on DVD before
sending it to a cousin. great movie. great sounding too.

i have always had a crush on Tina Weymouth.
i have always had a thing for musicians.
i didn't know she sang.
actually i think she sings like Mary Timony.
always had a thing for her too.
had the pleasure to see her perform in the
old Zulu store once.

think of the sea-life
lying in the dark right now

i have decided to live a little
on the edge
vicariously
not like a vicar
when crossing one-way streets
i will only glance one-way
i will no longer look opposite
the pertinent direction