When I said it

That’s when I saw it

A stickypasted truth
a self-made path

When you heard it
That’s when I saw it

A hungry
Immaturity

The ‘sob story’

songs that we repeat
even when we are invisible

from ourselves.

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falling sand

This world has its cup full
look how the sand is spilling
The journey is long
it is a desert trapped in an endless song
a breath against life
it is a counter-clockwise spinning
clockwork
of grain before it gravitates,
it is that unseen distant
horizon fading in and out of focus
like it is breaking
or -in the making ?
it is not knowing and walking
forward spinning circles
to encapsulate the whole world and to
stay alive
-like in counter strike

collect dreams and

loose threads and magic beans
dance on top of the world and
when it is light enough
-carry it on your shoulders
prance
because the world is not a stale thing
because the sun still travels each and a
million atoms to reach here and warm
the small toe on my left foot
catch half the happy moments of a day
and you are twice blessed
find a jar of dreams and open it
watch the magic that unfolds

sundrops

on my skin and
primary colours in a bowl
the water in the wind
and the heat against the cold
the palette and the paper then
the palette on the paper
and a picture of a pasture or the
making of a painter or
a scrumpled piece of paper and
the thought i’ll
try again later

To the dumpster-truck outside

To the 5.30 clockwork wake-up clatter
Slam-dunk a hole in zen and shatter
this bubble-membrane void.
To the ironfisted zilla exploding
against a concrete wall beneath my ear beholding
crawling into the headspace
that was -this- a moment ago now-
Fists. and popcorn rocks and clash crash
crocks and BooM

Comb

I will let the universe be
and difficult is easy when we
follow the current because bears
only catch the salmon and we aren’t
freshwater fish anyway so
the analogy is (whats that word?)
and when intention is combed
actions stream from pure
network so comb your intentions
and comb and comb because we
are human
and if we stop our vision will blur
with the magic of world and word
and the only way to wisdom is from distance
with direction so
comb.

A hole in the floor

I used to always look for you
In memories in mom and dad
In your music and your words
Your friends and your places
Now I know
There will be nothing more of you
Calling out from a tall maze when you
Are not there
It’s the headless chicken in a circle all over again
Bewildering panic
The falling of family
Losing of limb
Breaking of box
Taking from whole
A missing complete
A crack on the pavement
A hole in the floor
A loss of gravity
Accelerating
…and so today we can speed up
so that the ever-falling you
stills.

You are not alone.