We sacrificed our
golden futures for now
(which is an accumulation of
what happened)


Mutable destiny swims around us
and every decision is perfect
we will find each other
everytime

This life equals,
momentary pause between flight

After our orbit
subsides

remnants

Beggars & Kings

We became gods for a while
no one seemed to notice,
so we turned up the radio,
(playin' some old school)

sorta slipped
into paradise
unnoticed

I watched these holy men
carrying her,
to the other side
(I heard one of them whispering,
"Sacred spirit woman")

They moved in a space
in-between worlds
all three of their spirits
dancing together

They sang the way for her

I am the child
of a Beautiful woman

The world of images we construct
what else is there

Matter is what we imagine
it

Dreams are less fragile than smoke
more solid than rock

Angels wings
stronger than cold
steel

rollin thru
the gears
we glide

ecstatic lifetimes
(organic flash)

I wrote poems
because I knew I could
read them to you

Knew you would marvel
at the experience opening
inside

You are in a place my
poems cannot follow

(when I can leave my
poems behind,
I'll meet you
on the other side)

What is it we offer
each life passing by
(each other walking
by)

What kind of ghosts will we
become
(images in black & white)

One picture,
in a frame
explains the
rest of the story

From your perspective,
I am back,
In someone else's,
I am gone

In my own:
I'm moving through beautiful
dreams, one after the other

Be, in this gift
knowing there is pain

Give thanks for your heart
and how it can break open
flooding the world

with light

They didn't really tell us what
this life is about
(how we would gain everything,
how it was all free)

How it would all fade
how we would lose things so precious

(i can't understand how my mother,
is younger than I am now,
in the beautiful black and white photographs)

The softenss of the flowers of her beauty
pierce me gently...
I never really looked at those photographs
til now

Never understood how alive she was
how in love my parents were
how alive and beautiful they were,
in the photos from the 60's and early 70's

She beams like a queen while she's holding me
and I don't understand how I, the infant in the photo
am myself growing old.

Perhaps we will meet again, when
time bends itself around again,
we could laugh in black & white,
My mother and I, the same age,
in some black & white New York cafe...
I'm sure she laughed very
loudly

THIS IS THE WAY IT REALLY IS

The universe waves a magic wand
 incarnating you into a body.
you grow to adulthood.

then,the universe,
points a bony finger at you:
COMMANDING;
"Find your exact center
before you are dispersed
back into the cosmos"

I liked the way
she always read
my poetry

time travel through memory

Waltzing with Proust                                                       

And if this is our
destiny, the way
everything turned out

(tell it to the mountian,
with its sleet storms,
salamanders and enveloping
mists)

Lost in mysteries
we claim to understand
life does not consist of
the paradigms we
have constructed

feel your way through darkness
the heart has a vision of
its own