Black light
Road trip
Empties
into the tree line...

We have lost sight
of one another
...Where the horizon
inverts

...Revealing
that there's
No difference between
Sky & sea

Only remnants of myth
a kiss...
Not meant to be

Haunting
embrace
...Deep wound
phantom blade

Scarring
Is a beautiful thing

(Nightmares are also dreams)

She stands
in the corridors of my mind
ever present
...and yet fleeting, fading
at the same time
...I feel the rapture
buried deep within
like a kiss between lovers
blown through the wind
...our spirits have become
entangled
complexly so
like copulating serpents
woven of smoke
I felt her breath
on the back of my neck
her arms doubled over my chest
her lips press against my lobes
and her tongue drags across
my throat
birds begin to sing,
her mind's eye winks
...and my dream is shattered
into the bits n' pieces which
form awakening

*Co-written with Brittany Griffiths

Watershed...
flocking freely
to a momentary pass
of a floating point in time
anti-meter...
"step without rhythm and
we won't attract the worm"
in the immortal words of Paul Muadib
traction...inner essence
sipping from the fountain
ciphering progressive paper
from an ever present
knuckle to the face
bow...not out of reverence
or supplication...
breathe deep
show constraint of self
with a nod of understanding
abstract separation
in an effort
to feel more conditioned
beneath florescent stars
& air conditioning
practicing darkness...
½-assed student
in the shadow of a master
he calls upon Exxon
barred from home
corner alignment of monuments
we construct around ourselves
simple view
vast reflections
lost in conversation's mouth piece
high magnetic resonance
sound reverberation
lapping against the hull
supple fixtures outline
ancient paths of memory
in ritual, become...
who you are meant to be

What are lessons learned by driftwood?
It's shape, softened and stretched
Hard lines within smooth patterns...
Eyes, faces, tears...
Story of untold years
Perhaps, men will wonder with noble thought
From whence has it come & hence will it go?
How many times has it seen the spring,
How many times the snow?
How many times has it been plucked from the water,
only to be tossed back?
A walking stick for a mile or two, a fire stoker,
a kings scepter, or even a wizards staff...
It's swept down stream
Ripple... rapid...
Glint & gleem...

No life , besides an unknown path...

The fates seem content to be cruel,
as long as mortals are up to the task...

go ahead, pretend…
you cannot be taken… beat’n
not killed but left for dead…
just dreaming out loud
in…
not part of the crowd (shit)
public, out of line but in bound
tuned high
low to the ground

The only clouds in the sky tonight,
encoil the quick silver mother...
blackest pitch...scattered with jewels
the air itself as cold as ancient catacombs
lined with the dead...
baby dust devils dancing
behind invisible footsteps
the age old stranger,
the first of the fallen
the custodian of the tree
walks the witching hour...
up empty streets & down alleyways
the cries & screams of souls long forgotten
sing of his coming,
silence as he passes...
his home in every shadow,
his kingdom not of this world...
as throats are slit in cozy beds
women & children raped
demons fed...
as the stomachs of the starving grumble
wide awake in the dead of night,
as pistols caress temples or suckled like babes to teats
as winners suffer horrible defeats
& losers are carried away drape in white sheets...
his majesty replete with stark mad splendor
smiles as he ambles around wandering
each village, city, town
...tired, the knowledge of countless centuries
weighs heavy upon his crown
his laughter from off the four corners resound
cheif rebel angel in mourning of himself...
tasting vengeance in his tears
as they trickle into his mouth
the ethereal key can now be heard turning,
the triggers of the lock no longer resisting
the black eternal flame burns vigilant
as blasphemy moves on into a new age
...birth of the two thousand year reign

It creeps out
like the faintest emotion
like trickling tears
in public...
heart emptied by too much feeling
one day
wished upon
like a star
or lost keys
blissful memory kissed goodbye
santuary
stumbled to
like a drunkards bed
...promises rest
undelivered

The midnight dances,
as a reflection in her eyes
upon her lips,
the darkness smiles...
& the children of the night leap up,
out of slumber
their clamor filling the skies...
laughter... celebration...
the only purities left alive
& she mumbles something to herself
something about love,
from a passed life
...memories concealed in half light
she walks alone...
a beautiful ghost
perfectly gentle
as lingering smoke...
yet the chaos she surrounds herself with
is the only comfort she'll ever know

I'd like to
stop up that hole
in her heart,
with fearless fingers,
passing them over
her lips
so she can taste herself...
seen her
sad smile
know her
warm tears
barefoot walking
cool grass under
new moon
there's a prison escape inside
her honey eyes
"it's the gypsy in me"
she says...
in a voice
so slight
it reminds me
death...
the kind that comes
welcoming...

I'd like to hear her cry...
because, she's
invulnerable...
touch a nerve,
till she punches me
her eyes smile,
when she squints
glimpsed,
the wrong messages
wrong dance or
performance
can't tell which...
she wears proud
scars...
fights at bars
full throttle punk star
Jap-anime school girl uniform
tattoos
whole 9 yards

Hell hounds on this
lonesome trail
mangy, starving...
lost love
like
loose change
stumbled over sand
pebble
in
surreal twilight
drifting mind
solid
white lines
blackout
hit pause
talk some shit
revisit...

Shores, of brilliant
forgotten tomorrows
hold a simple smile
prisoner...
a slave of beauty...
cool breeze of soft
fire, passed on
from out her luscious
lovely lips
hair & eyes,
stained by mother night
...the deep warmth of
her body...
shines with the
luxurious glow
of a home light...
asylum, given
by the
gently refined
comforts
of her smooth heart...
temple of the mother,
is she
...hers, are the gifts
of soft love & sweet
peace
like that calm solitude
for which we seek,
in endless sleeps
...& ever ancient dreams

*Co-written with Brittany Griffiths

distinctions blur
thick with sweat
humidity
a spark buzzing
it's more than that
it's the world
you can taste it
right words
a double moment
throwing my ear to the door
both keep growing
my nostrils get bigger
in time,
we outgrow people & places
memories filling open air
licking the blinds
caked with the dust
of you & you & you
blowing off ceiling fans
you settle into hidden spaces
that escape my vision
Rebuilding foundation
far too expensive
there it remains
which I build upon
vestiges transformed
violent death
takes flight
cleaving
light
of amorphous cloud
birth of stars
upon a bed of nails
tripped tumblers
unlocked
staring out the window
into neon noir
closed liquor store
car parked across the street
stops, watches me
listening to the piano keys
music made
when
words
disappear
like a director
with all five fingers
in
motion
never resting
on a laurel
but
if the cap fits
you
could always pretend
like the blinking light
down ‘ships
billowing smoke…dripping dry
even as I gasp for another

*Co-written w/ Brittany Griffiths

crooked counters steer
my words
off the end of the bar
into the trash
can of distant nowhere
...only to find
my left foot planted before me
misleading my hunger
it’s all I have to sustain
this flimsy raft
in the middle of the ocean...
we cannibalized the ship,
mark my words
we'll survive
come hell or high tide
I realize the fault
born in my disposition
I see the morning
rise out of the depths
as I continue
to tow the water
deep...alone...
the only thing I know
...as the passing of time
is told, by memory
no matter how accurate
our time is fleeting
like piss down the leg of a coward
or the overripe
intentions of a porn star
moving
across the television screen
acting out to
break the sex in two
a divisive line drawn long ago
between intimacy & peril
the line is fear itself...
where we crave nothing more
& accept nothing less..
but the light fixtures
continue to sway
in an uncanny wind
that blows through
our vision
& trickles down
in the form of a ever
evolving question
an amnesiac myth
stampeding for a western purpose
trapped by the shoreline
wet thoughts drip
stemming from
archetypal resonance
looking to a future point in time
knotted & woven
down articulated paths
in sine
& bound
to grids of motion
repeating, recycling
carried out to ocean

Co-written w/ Brittany Griffiths & Jim Fitzgerald