Rode on with the
Goa syndrome

We were nothin'
but kings on Enfields

Thousands of miles from
home

(with the Western wishes
gone
and the Gold in our bones)

locked down
in the back of our
own minds

Strange way
to enter into
the dream

American Mythology
reduced to staring into
the void
of
technology

Beat of the drum
(Rhythm of my soul)
banging,
banging,
through this life


Pavement, asphalt
dirt, blood
bones
(the bones calling)

DNA changing
twisting to find
you

Goddamn spooky
action at a distance
haunting

And so we
remember

all the nights we
tried to
be free

Fleeing on two wheels
combustion roaring through
open pipes
no helmets
Cuban cigars

The French-Canadian girls
hanging on and screaming

we never slept at night
greeted dawn in surreal
vigilance
the sky was
a sacred candle

All these archaic intentions
I mean, we just...
hit the open road
smashed all communication devices
buried most inventions
scattered our possessions

A kind of invocation of
Wilderness

Every molecule
in existence conspired
to create us

LIRIOPE

If the story's not finished it's
because you didn't write
it

Fragile goddess of infinite pain
you can write it with your
pleasure seeking

(that you wear as a loose garment
masking the innocence you refuse to
surrender

that corrupts you to the core, )

I understand your pain and fear of
exposure,
shocked into the distance one day so
long ago

The child you lost that day,
the one you forever cling to forgetting
the world is your
only real friend

I.
He started out
ridin' greasy motor bikes
not givin' a fuck

his only salute was the
middle finger

(some say he had a heart a
gold, )

High school drop out smoked
his brains out and took a thousand
Trips (again, some say)
he had a silver lining to his mind

and that he used to lay in the woods
and speak with trees

(just a figurin' how to grow
his wings)

II.

So sorry painful soldier
with the music so loud
your ears are bleeding

and your just crashin cars
like they was candy
(she asked him once
why you so angry)

Takin vengeance on everything
around you
(sorry soldier that she smashed your
heart like a piece of ice with the
cosmic/karmic sledgehammer)

He built sheds to protect his machines
fragile american iron of black and chrome
dangerous spitting animal of violent
combustion

III.

So the soldier returns to
the roots of his maternal
ancestors (brooklyn, flatbush and
such)

Arms himself with scholarly dignity
reads the masters and Chaucer and
Derrida, and Foucault and all them
wizards

So he's partially covered in tattoos
now with the whiskey smile of a hundred
goddesses swirling in his aura
(an aura polluted with Asia and the
Western poison)

IV.

bathed in the purity of a doorway
out of the past
(slip between the clouds when she's not
looking
whisper goodbye in the twilight morning
in between the worlds)

We had so much
power in those nights

vibe-high on the
molecules we shared
breath of angels

burned by the light
we shed during some
kind of karmic
fission

I'd like to unlock

the mystery between 

us 

whatever the universe 

has hidden inside each 

other 

for us

I think if
Jesus were here
today he'd probably
ride a club style Dyna,

All blacked out
custom fab'd straight pipes
smoked windscreen

Some trick engine
mods he wouldn't tell
anybody
about

Do we all run
find something to hide behind
Mountains of lives
tumbling endlessly

Music reciprocating
mellifluously through
space-time

I think I've been
in exile for some
time now,

Wandering my way,
(weaving my way)
Home to you

What kind of witch
doctor would understand
what binds
our souls

So the breath that
moved the cosmic
dust that we are

formed into us
from the same
place

Spooky action at a distance
magnetic forces irrelevant to
space/time

Peaceful journey
back to the void
whatever that means

Is what you think it means
this poem is for you
(whoever you are)

should come shining
now

Let me be
in the silence without you
beloved

I am only the voice
of my love for you
breathing poetry

Yes I've sought out
seclusion
burned with a deep
silent fire-path-reaching
always-reaching
further

Beyond the beyond
gone gone beyond the
beyond
hail the goer

(somebody said that,
and it's been repeated infinite times
but it's worth repeating)

Gone, gone, gone,
beyond the beyond
hail the goer

(and our hearts go
together)

So you think with a
poetry-mind
move animal quiet
with soft boots not
touching the earth

(ride fire-machines
love explosions and
the death rush)

don't sit easy on a
shelf or in a box
draw back an
arrow

but I'll be gone before
you let if fly
gone before you
let it
fly

Don't worry baby
we're cosmic baby
it's written all over the
faces of our souls
you and me
(everything knows
about us)

Don't worry
(all those Montreal Nights
and Pune times
you shine over those baby)
you shine

I mean,
I'm just workin'
through these cosmic blues
(yeah, so I can hear
the celestial music
and I sat at the feet of avatars
we rode Enfields and shit
no helmets no shirts
through the Indian miasma
two-stroke-death-fog clings
overhead
Caressed by a thousand goddesses
not enough to take away the pain of
lifetimes carried into the sacred temple
she sang above the angels
enough to cave the pyramids)

We just rode away on horses and
you smiled only once and
the fates rearranged the universe
just because the shift fucked up
every little thing
everywhere

Some distance
from the star
runners

(galactic type shit
and the funk of cosmic
destiny bleeding
stains and scars remember
good times easily in the
fog and rain we cry like
clouds where eagles
once flew
but it was us those wings
and infinite power
shake it off baby
shake it off
we'll be alright
I'll make things right
in all times
before this happened and
after )

So whatever;
just lost in
my mind again

cause there's no such
thing as the present
it's just a story they
told you

Hollywood-suburb
narrative about
who we shoulda been
baby

(who we shoulda been
baby,
whisper it slow
to no one)

Heavy fog sets in
chemicals change
(less rage
hardening of the heart)

We need fire for
cleansing
simply

for the pyrothechnics

Those old poetry
times that never
died

(somewhere lost
inside us alive)

I'm alive in you I
can feel it
through the stone
sitting in place of a
heart the
machines that ate my
brain say its
fine this way

(don't worry I'll find a
way to free myself from
the blindness of
pristine knowledge)

Remember when
phones were dead and
locked away in homes
and when you were on
the street

You were on the STREET
and everybody was so alive
and looking each other dead
in the eyes

I'm just a fragment of a fragment
now
philological illusion

Simulacrum of a simulacrum

You keep playing with
the time-stream

Accumulation of psychic-scars
torn from the mental
wars

Piece it all together in
your broken collage
mind-scape

in fuzzy corners of time
I hold you

Philistines tend to break
down under sustained
intelligent
conversation

Add that to the technical
bouncing around of devices
and short attention spans

Sometimes when the artist/intellectual
is accused of "talking too much"
it is simply the former's way

of expressing an inability to
actually implement cerebral abilities
for anything other than
quick primal impulses

The dumb accusing the eloquent
of possessing
oratory prowess

Machine Freedom
(fighting off extinction)

Prehistoric drives
primal urges untamed
animal ride

adaptation evolution
addiction-vibe

when you gonna
grow outta your
silly death
drive

The surge
of dopamine
rush

(crushed flowers
life trampled,

or was it us that trampled
the fragile lotus
of infinite power

that bloomed
between us)

your paradise is
still waiting for you

all you have to do is stop
projecting the box you live
inside of

for an instant
look through the walls of
your glass houses

into the eyes
(in the eyes of the
eyes you
love)

treading water in the
buoyant swampy fields
of the philistine

Unknown corners of
my soul hidden
to their eyes the
best part of whatever
shines
unseen

Did you write your
life down in rhythm

space your soul out in
equidistant measures
to all corners of our cosmos

(kiss the inside of the cloud
we floated down to earth
on)

If you don't believe in
winged horses

why would they ever
believe in
you

Do you count the
moons that have gone
by since we
watched the spider
build her mystic web

(she was watching us
weave our sacred
blanket)

Or do you just feel them tick
by on the heel of your
heart

A guy that lived on
the street in Seattle
would tell your fortune
for two dollars,
or a hit of whiskey
or a beer

I heard him tell someone
"your mission is to stay where
you are and
let your life unfold. I repeat:
your mission is to stay where
you are,
and let your life
unfold"

Buddha called it "the lonesome
path of splendor, and
the only journey worth taking"

or was that a zen parable
about cake, and...

what if this illusion
crumbles suddenly

will you be directly in
my vision

where your'e
supposed to be

Excerpt from a 19th century letter, on a cattle drive

I come too far to stop now.
I hurt real proper
and some say I should see
a doctor.

But I won't have none of it,
as a man should always do
what he set out to do and not quit.

If a man says he's gonna go from one
side o' the country to the other,
then he ought to do it,
for no better reason than he said
he was gonna.

"Quittin is somethin' that quitters do,
and that ain't our kind son"

is simply what pappy always
sayd.

Aloneness fantasy
cabin in the woods
American dream of
stillness

running through the infinite
winding cosmic pathways of
all my lives

I expect to find you again
find you again
(dream you again
create us
again)

Do you see that
I tried to find you

Did everything I could
to break down the walls
between us

All my darkness
surrounds one frail
candle

enduring,
that tiny little candle
hides small beautiful things
(tiny little things like
God's love
Mama's love
spring grass
campfires
friend's trust
first kisses)

these frail objects withstand
the world's darkness and it's
infinite onslaught

Maybe she just put a face
to the broken heart he already
had

(thought she was gonna light up
his world
reminded him of the Asiatic-high times

(tore him down to the dirt and grass
beautiful earth and grass)

What would you have
tattooed inside
your heart

if things had gone
differently

(would you hide your angel-self
from me
run from your demons so hard
I couldn't find you)

What kind of fate joined us
for that protracted instant

Scouring the places
I've lived

hoping there is some
meaning I left behind

Wanting to be someone
equals failure

Zen parables
far predating the technological
anti-social structure

of post-post-post modernity

Remember when you were gonna build a chopper
hit that open road with
just a wrench and a dream

maybe find those golden
pastures

some infantile
biker's fantasy

(west coast visions
sand and sun

a lifetime of two
wheels)

Anti-hero

Love
show me your
home now

I've come so far
lost and weary soldier
that I am

to knock
at your door

Where can I run to
beloved

We stole our hearts
each of us

all those moons ago
(all those moons ago)
all those
moons
ago

I knew someone like me once
looked the same

(things have gently changed/stayed-the-same)

subtle evolution

Trying to have no
identity

But the world wants
me to have one

(dissolving
in my little room,
in a place they call
brooklyn

But there is no such
place

Just my empty heart
dissovling)

If we meditate
simultaneously

You will see the invisible bird
of us
leaving

My one fire
twin

our breath is
the same

some lifetime
will find
us

I forgive you now
for loving me in the
dangerous crepuscular
glow

of our skeletal infraction
against the twilight of
infinite ecstasy

(I carried dynamite into
the coalmine, thinking
innocent whispers of pleasure
would carry us safely across
the paper bridge
of my intentions)

still there is the eternal
centrifuge of us
spinning in stillness

It's good

(I've gone far enough
down the ghost path
no one can find me)

Not enough drama
for anyone to
hold onto

too much silence/stillness
to relate to

I know I waited
till after I became a
ghost

And that you have moved
on beyond now

and that
that world is just a dream
now,

even though I'm just now
returning there
to say
it's
alright

Find ways to
love people

(flee not from
their pain)

I have wings on my
wings

(i have never seen)

the skies
beyond my
skies

come and ride
come and fly
away
with me

We are all wounded
(find a way to hide
behind our pain)

Some angel will free us
Yes, some angel will free
us

Stay alone with
just one candle
(just one candle)

She will find you

Remember those poetry times
back when I was so alive?

Nothing but acres and acres of
mountains and trees
and me with my lonely
machines

So much love to
throw away
Warmth of strangers
and lovers
tumbling

I am just a ghost
to most

figment of some other
time

Caricature to others
(no one to myself)

Haunting a distant
refuge of
now

Maybe I will just grow
my hair and beard

Pray to different gods
ride some un-trusty machine
into other worlds

I am constructed
of so much resistance
(burned out defiance turned
inward)

Something smolders
deep and still

unnameable power surging
into nothingness

(what kind of explosion
would it take)

When midnight
placed you like
a dewdrop
inside the

perfect space of the white
cave of my mind

and ecstasy swept
it's analog fingers
across our peaked out
flesh

(dug it's fingers into
the sand of our souls)

I didn't realize the pact
we made
(to intertwine our spirits
with breath)

was so unequivocally
unbreakable

ODE TO MY UNSTOPPABLE FIXIE

Black and mean don't give a shit
sanitation truck slime
potholes
homeless stragglers
Moving; buses
cars
trucks
(you smoke jerkily by
one lumpy pedal at a time)

Red handlebars and grips
Bitching at anyone in the way
"pay attention, pay attention"

Full outlaw, riding on sidewalks
no helmet,
no stopping

I love you black
fixie

At a certain point you begin
to search for your self

The you from photographs
the you from as recently
as five years ago,

Wondering what you have
in common

Ghost times
ride the waves
Back to where we are

sleeping on the midnight island
haunted children

what did you want
from our time
dream seeker

(forget the highs
and the crashes and
everything I told you)

What did I tell you
(what did you read in
the secret Akashic
messages I hid for you
in folds of
melted spaces)

Slow migration of
fire into
the interior

Cooling of the rages/lusts
(searching for something
inside the emptiness)

dust off the diamond
of Asia
remove the pollution curtain
from my heart

I'll find the silence
again

(rage on with the
machines)

She don't read these
poems

She's not even real

Fleeting thoughts
of "being a real Person"

(slipped under-ground
again
maybe go third-world-hero
again)

someone who would understand
my pain without
speaking

Remember that space
in-between all places

Only you know the me
that we know from
there