playd8

smile bright 

god is sunshine

melting laughter

out the gutter 

something right 

weak hands 

kisses, hugs

keeping straight faced

getting high 

rolling circles 

round my cuboid 

you’re not a big drinker 

and I get so serious 

don’t know what time it was 

lookin’ so perfect 

high hopes

though there’s fire 

burning in the distance 

forever after 

doesn’t exist 

groovy 

baby spin it 

forget 

like the first time 

like the last time 

right now 

right now we got sunshine 

god is light reflecting

off your eyes 

fireline

the girl with mauve lips 

takes my hand and brings me

to the hole in the wall 

we go up 

I step back and watch 

her line of fire 

every time I go up

these stairs they

take me to another place 

night outside like a vigil 

and all these people 

fragmented, pieces of me

pull the single, red thread 

of my spirit that calls 

to wander in the pool

strange souls 

felt so clear, sinking into them

my darkness laid out bare 

wading until dawn 

scattered voices

the soft hum of instruments 

the fear of what I’d invited in

melting from anima 

there are no answers 

in the fireline

only silhouettes 

Dreamscape 

They touched pinkie

to thumb, an alchemical

devilish hand gesture

peering through masked eyes

dark figures, religious, occult

running for the elevator

can’t get out of this one

fast enough

finger-slamming the button

“C’mon, c’mon!”

two floors up, eyes wide shut

Tail lights in the forest

white van, he’s handsome

park alongside a trail

hop out to take a piss

we were roaming

we were vagabonds with

candid grins

we took photos

naked in the moonlight

Blue ocean brimming

old man, glass eye, wrinkled grin

he took us out in his boat

magic whirlwind of white

water splashing

hundreds of feet high

swirling, we were flying

subconscious vessel story

into the deep Jung depths

of finding one another

peered into your soul for

just a moment, or was it hours

we held hands

even though we were sinking

we were dreaming

just falling

Wander

duality dribbling
trying to disconnect
from the illusory circuit
cyclical, all of it
a matter of recognition
when I see the same teachings
dressed in dark shadows
and fanciful costumes
a preoccupation from
noticing the obscurities
clinging to the corners
like dangling cobwebs
a jumbled pattern is
what it all boils down to
we are what we do
and some things are a virtue
the wander will continue
we are not static
the feelings are
simply sensations
drifting inside and out
of a quivering fleshbag
the antidote is always
to drift from that place
from the monkey emotions
to find serenity in the elements
in mountains, in the forest