I'm merCuriously illuMentating: where the flash of neuronal fires flower into sudden infinity

in our measure of time there are curious circles filling our days,
numbered moments marked by the scars of transiting lights,
heavens moguls of tribulation 'n plight, that give or take away –

though I spend my time, circling the horizon of my mind,
seeing her in time 'n space as a congruence of my need, the sifting of my sieve,
she is on the face of it, a timeless piece, a swinging pendulum of rhythms sway,
a clock that circumscribes my day, and in every night as I watch her lay,
time stops

an… Continue

it's easy to remember
you in these pictures;
light's language of shadow
sculpting time
and
there you are ...
like a shell pounding out the sea
laying back on the beach
head sideways, your eyes closed
knees buckled in the air
open to the Sun's
fingers of light reaching
glistening there

I've not been the Sun
in your darkened places
since
the day you offered yourself
to the sky
the day
I succumbed to the seas
infinite waves
good-bye

… Continue

everything is gradual

everything is eventual then it's happening --
we're moving in circles at a steady pace

the city got new search-lights pointing at the sky
looking for a miracle in the clouds hanging there
worried about the things they've got to do,
like the war on terror, H1N1, your money and it's true
everyone wishes the rain would break
the high tide, the flooding for god's sake

what are we going to do?

with a predilection for an immediate look
from any third eye cave -
i am in that t… Continue

my noir apotheosis

"We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are." -- Anais Nin

my banal original
left ordinary impressions
on the surface of your eyes; stanzas you couldn't
get out of your mind playing carpe diem

chasing your memories romantically
while you held fast to recognized patterns,
you'd say anything with a cigarette
hanging from your lip: tempus fugit

those wisps accent your spent look;
something frozen, dead winter,
caught by the Sun, melted, a haze of ste… Continue

I feel I've been hanging by a thread -- though I hung from a windy-tree, the icy-rain deformed me; I swung in thunderous reverie, did-see the roots and mud entwined to form the scruples of my mind; there, the Runes in bone-clad dead made the language of my head and formed the magic of its ...fire, rhymes that seared with my desire; my end-times -- our words are created by misery and joy, in the language we convey, our Monsters and Saints - hanging in there ...