white ghost machine
of infinite power

We are already one
integrated flesh plastic
metal

spasmic thrust air/fuel
combustion pollution
anger howling

I belong to you
This thirst keeps me
alive

Drives me towards the beautiful
Death/crush/wish

For Joan, On Mother's Day

For showing me daffodils
and healing my wounds

teaching me the arts
how to draw from sight
how to believe
how to dream

For always believing in
the poetry in me
in the freedom of me
(in the wildness of me)

For being a life guide
a spirit guide
and an incredible force of love

for being the presence of cosmic
goddess force that brought me into
this world and stood guard over me

and for the infinite splendor of your
soul, that lives in my
soul

Fire-haunted times
we danced
without sleep reaching
to the sky of us

We need a new place to run to
without fire
(haunted)

Will someone find the ruins?
Some philologist correctly
assemble the perfect
fragments of what happened
between us

Radio darkness whisper
campfire silence
burn

(down the dirt path where
we are still,
hovering invisible blackness)

Indian quiet
(these things burn wholes
through all other
things)

There are no walls to be built
around the places we broke
open

All our heroes faded
old machines rusted
(we ran outta timeships
baby,
left our magic in the street,
by the curb--where we once
laughed at infinity)

You think you are my muse
but it's my idea of you
that's my muse

The way I haunt myself with poetry
propelling visions into the next few
worlds,
Processing dialectics of the brains polarities

transitioning from polluted enlightened cities
to coldness of lawnmower people suburbs
and the frightened forests

Enough of living in these dark houses
My white horse is waiting
(free me Kanthaka,
free me)

Early one lifetime
(windswept and time-soaked)
we spilled into the
angel-dawn

Outlier and beautiful
nothing to do with the system
engines burning we
knew it was wrong
and the only thing we could do

to complete the universe