for Antonin Artaud

the dead skin sloughed off Institutions
something to record our cryptic Solutions
promissory notes passed on but never Paid
from trees that we made into Lampshades
for the illumination of our deepest Fears
and desires really the same thing Fueling
our fires and schooling the liars we Hire
to print more currency from the flayed Hides
of our own strip-mined lungs so we can See
ourselves in this written mirror Instead
of breathing in the air paper is an Excuse
we use to justify the ending of our Lives
and to marginalize our state of being Alive



It has always been like this

We have never been present

Because the moment carried 

This river of spacetime to reflect

Split-mind objectification of the

Subjective so now we may all rest

Assured the foreshadowing of our

Awakening must occur twice during

All of our existences here and there

In between both sides of paradise



Falling much slower than should be normal.
Drifting into a fog and lowered into silence.
Given to the wind swept by to pick you up.
Whispers and dry exhalations of fallen leaves.

The world becomes a carousel of clouds
spinning below slipping frictionless quick
towards the haze you find yourself stretched
out plummeting head down swan diving through
the outer layers of a swift approaching world of mist.

Rushing upward until the target pocket of white light
has been struck a mattress upon which to sit back relax
and recline emerging from the amniotic veil we step into
darkness our only guidance the bright light radiating from
our bodies catapulted as from a trampoline into ricocheting
off eternity our colony of cells thriving every day of our lives.



   he lingers still
by the clearing

  at the end of the road


What is   the commonality

of all things?

Could  spirit have projected
this image of my
friend into  dream?

Does   dream end with that spirit
bidding  farewell ?

Even   slipping
 mortal shell
unaware himself
God  may
have been sending
  a message

 hope and pray your dear friend
has not passed   yet

  this image in   dream
  as  reminder

 that after all
not much
  time may  be left

A tap on the shoulder in
 sleep    to  get
     us  to  spring

where is God  if not
a word  invented
writ  to signify what
won't withstand under

 the force of this
 magnetic    planetary
   solar storm of
   nested    spheres
 energized and
animating us  all


Water....it's clear.
Water....it's here.
Water...it's fair.
Water...it's there.
Water is fodder for life.
Water is not pure, it's complex.
Comprised of one oxygen atom,
and two hydrogen atoms, a trinity,
so to speak. Forming a strong bond
for us to drink, and by which nature
continues to grow...show us water!
And we are presented with the solution.
Do you think that water is the gateway?
At the subatomic level...through which
all of life arises, somehow; from the micro-
scopic we are slowly drawn, as if from
a cosmic hypodermic needle, drip, drip,
dripping with droplets of complicated
water...into the universe to crown life.