she had the mark 

of my poetry 

(all the signs of

inner beauty)

He wanted her to 

be the answer to the 

question 

make the pain go away 

even though buddha said 

to suffer 

and Jesus said to forgive

and Krishna said to Remember

and Osho said to die 

and Osho said to dance

and I just forgot to ride

I need to ride or die 

Hidden from my freedom 

long enough

In the vast now of your ocean
timekeepers slip away from Sundays
April after April she wanes
for me

Moonblood expectations deliver
souls with perfect dawn
(nighttime with it's imprecise
melancholy
always asks for the same thing)

the beautiful forgiveness of
nothing

It's snowing in Montana
and I don't even
know your number

Maybe I could find it
up in the Himalayas

or maybe down in
some Polynesian
volcano

Maybe I could learn it
from the stray dogs
of India

Or sift through someone's
garbage in New York City

(but it don't matter
cause nothin' we could
say, could
say anything
anyway)

Instant lifetime
karma on a dime
could we just look
ourselves up in the
dictionary

and understand the strange
algorithm that makes us
tick
decode the warring dichotomies
in a
flash of
knowing

(we stood there once
breathing in the
darkness)

What if I was already
gone
when you found me
sitting by the side of
the road

next to you around midnight
(that life was even rough
for an outlaw)

Shack inside a barn
(we loved it there
like it was a shadowy
 paradise)

Later you made that
underground white palace
shine

Perhaps I left too much of
my magic there

Free enough to be alone
leave everything behind again
and again

(he tried to be interested in
things other people did;
lives
jobs
families)

all he ever cared about was the open
road
the juicy life

the wild and real ones

So, assuming you can
read these poems psychically

(before I even write them)

then please,
finish these lines

(so we can be
together)

We are the mystery
wondering

Pondering arcs
of civilization
(meandering through
this technology riddled
miasma)

Grids frying ourselves
running along the wire
shock collars keeping us
in place

Feed the empire
obstruct your enlightenment
at all costs

I dare you with my poetry
to move beyond all things
I cannot control

(you are the barrel of a
gun pointed at yourself)

I am a mirror shattering
over and over
(that never shatters)

You might find yourself
inside one of my poems

you might travel across the
lonely desert
over rich mountains (that will
give you every-thing)

You can't reach me with technology
(it's broken)

you might want to risk everything
(which is the smallest of all nothings)

if you showed up at my ragged door I could
share the immense wealth of my nothingness
with you

If you read yourself
inside my poetry
it's because you

were always waiting
to meet yourself there

(some kind of wild orchid
queen, ravaged by nighttime
without anyone knowing your
real name but me

and I keep your name a sacred
unspoken word  tattooed across
the bark of a tree (or maybe it's
etched into a mountain)that grows
somewhere in the perfect lonely
paradise of my
soul)

How many of your
dreams came in twins
triplets

Unions,
pacts
symbiotic tandems
molecular fission

reproducing multiplicity
of themes,
whole teams of horses
of yours running wild

(unconfined we float downstream
wicked affirmations free us from
our chains)

Have you noticed that
my poetry leans towards
you

atoms streaming away

Space haunted by absence
imagery of souls created
to explain yearning for
cosmic comprehension

Planets revolving around
a lonely star burning
a fire we cannot ever
understand

(every molecule screaming for
earth, water
union)

Some of the lives we've lived
Asian times lost now on
alien shores
(babbas and Sadus and
 buddhas)

(she never said a word
while we were dancing in the
pyramid (of black marble)
over garlands and flowers
left behind by disciples,
with all broken rules)

When did we run through
our lives without each other
trailing embers of burnt
spears we made from the fire

of everything we left behind
remember when I never told you
that i'd a dropped everything
if you just said the word

Montana moonrise
mountain stillness

(empty mirror of the
heart)

He'd like to be
nobody
(feels everything
emptying into light inside)

He'd love to not want
anything anymore

(he had her in his
eyes several/sometimes before)

She doesn't know what
Time she holds into twilight
Afterthoughts hidden within
Crepuscular
Yearnings

You know Jesus is a timelord
and there is no such thing as
me

(so he'll probably just
ride off on a Harley or
somethin')

Just when he had them all convinced
he was
real

Wolves drove him
through his spirit
world

Montana winds cleansing

Do you know my sunrise
or the planets I hover over
some fires have burned low
while
invisible diamonds
wax towards
supernova

Something mystical
to hunt
Someone I once loved

Trivial sadness of
cosmic differance

deconstruction of the specimen
human mind floating in
celestial clouds

Wait until now
reflection of the moon
flies home to here