You are my only wish beloved
in darkness I see you
In light I see you
in my anguish
in my ecstasy
in the company of others
in my aloneness
I am with you
always you

All those old Saints and
Heroes
They are the chorus of my sorrows

Wish I could see them in dreams
Virgil and Aeneid
Homer and Ullyses
Achilles and Thetis

Watching me
Hoping
Wincing at my pain
Hearts soaring with my joys
(I would like to meet you in the garden
Augustine)

Sit with Socrates and Plato
And then away with my rowdy friends
Chaucer and company,
take pilgrimage
just for the food and drink
and tales of debauchery


Books mean nothing you say
empty peices of paper for degrees
who says I'm smart anyway?
the academy plays there games
Handing out B+'s and A's

But you my love
(you know how to enter my soul
you can read those books too
and understand the French philosphers with
your mountain lion mind

know matter what anyone says or
no matter what you think or do

(time knows that you are
mine)

Yes...you recognize yourself here
(my love)
And you should write yourself into history

My love is my poetry
and my fire and my fear
 and all my dark power/
light power

The ancient ones speak through me
and the future gods
and the prophets of know

(and they have chosen you to listen
to feel
to taste
to imbibe inside of
every part of you)

This vibrant sorcery
(our spirits belong to each other)

I didn't realize how deep you moved inside me
or how much it can hurt to be alive

Didn't realize how much it'd flip me upside down
(and I can't see which way to turn now
and I'm pirouetting into stillness now
slow pirouetting downward into stillness)

Perfect motion of destruction carries me
with frightening perfection into the
sloping wilderness

Didn't think it could hurt
this bad
almost everything is broken
inside me

True Zen-Warrior
he won't even help us
we have nothing to interest him
burdened with our possessions
(people strung around us like a christmas
garland)

It's the delicious emptiness
(fragrance of freedom
that may make him pause
for a cup of tea
at the side of
some dirty road)

it was the sing-song voice of a
child
that saved St. Augustine

"take and read, take and read"
are the words he heard
while weeping profusely
in the garden of his conversion
(profusely in the garden)

The only possibility is that
God spoke through the child
who opened a window
letting angelic guidance pour forth

Message:
find a garden
listen for the child

Specters of Aloneness
easy to avoid with a pretty tongue

Halfway round the world by now
she gave me the flight number

But I ain't no Bob Dylan
(just piece together any old story
and change the names and mix up the
faces)

But everyone knows all them
songs were about
(ourselves)

...and I know I've sinned
time and time again
turned away from the sun

held my heart in darkness
and I believe in my angel

( I picked her
because I knew she would never turn away
even when afraid )

Brighter than any darkness
sweeter than any honey
softer than the hot air of summer

The sound of her tongue
resonates in my soul
I will never lose her
fate can't be that cruel

I must have done at least
enough good in this world
to finally deserve
the sweet heaven of her
(I have felt the embrace of
my perfect love)

I don't care what people think
but I do care what I think

I'm not a good liar
ain't too good at hidin' the way I feel
and the way I feel about you is way to big to
hide

can't shove it under the rug,
it's way too hot for the back burner

(I ain't never been good at bein pushed aside
asked to hide)

I'd like to share our light with the world
not be ashamed

And you can't ask me to change it or mute it
or tone it down or stop the magnetic
mystic pull between us

You can't fake somethin this strong
so why try to water it down?

I am just a song in the sky
and the sky is a dream
and the dream exists between the
love of angels and those angels
are a God and Goddess
(both of war
both of love
both of kindness )

Gods of pettiness Gods
of Deceit

(we inherited these deities
and we are the flawed avatars
of their procreation)

and in that space in the sky that I am
you are my only sky
my only dream
my one angel
one vision
one truth
one love

trust my own darkness
i am a small candle
enough light to form a star

what magic did we steal together
(beautiful haunting
what a beautiful haunting we believed)

Showed each other a paradise
that only we could see
yes only we could see

(Borrowed St. Augustine
yeah we borrowed old good St. Augustine)


rite to the third heaven you and me
rite the the third heaven

tears and angels wings
of joy and angels wings

sorrow backwards
if this poem was
really the first
not the last line

we parted
in the beggining
we came closer and closer
after what we thought was the end

because our spirits are infinite
a whole ocean waiting
underneath what was just a taste
of what seemed like pure ecstacy

Would have liked to be there
with Eliot's Magi
in particular, the narrator
as he sat there
faded visions of the sacred
birth
and the hard journey still bearing on his
soul,
and the emptiness that his kingdom brought
upon returning

I should have liked to know
what death
he spoke of

The Pain-Life vs. The Joy-Life
We try to choose the easy one
Manichean Dichotomies
St. Augustine's Battle


After his conversion
I wonder how many long nights
he lay awake
longing for his lover

Walking the Smoky
garbage-strewn-ragged-wild-dog
streets at night
Haunting myself with Morrison Poems

Sometimes I wished I had the nerve
to give up all
my belongings
and join the beggars

(but I knew I couldn't let go of my
first class western mind)

Anyway it was just a middle-class kids
dream of escape

and then there was the man that I saw
convulsing under blankets, by the side
of the road,
flies eating his flesh

I never saw someone so close to the brink of
death, and still hanging on


I think I gave him 70 rupees
just laid it there in the dirt next to his body

Later, when he was sitting up and smoking I could
see that his eyes were all burned away,
just white cloudy pools

I've been back here for years now
and sitting in the dark
in my cozy blankets

I am jealous of his freedom

Whatever love I once had
I give to you

keep it for me please
while I remain
simply a shadow

Alone with the empty spaces
of gods I've known

Even the Buddhas leave you
finally offering a chance

(for the little light to shine)

We are the mystic ones
homeless
penniless stargazers

without the moon to shine
my words fall hollow

frail
broken

sailing without direction

(when i failed you
i failed myself)

WINTER SOLSTICE STORY 4 A PERFECT ANGEL

Once~There was an old nailed shut
rusted hinge,
dusted over secret
entrance (t0 a long lost secret place)

And a perfect angel,
who was exploring the world
and whishing for a moment
of solace &
a place to keep warm

Somehow found that dusty, rusty
old secret door,
and let herself into a golden palace

A golden palace that the builder/owner of the
palace had forgotten that he built
forgotten that he owned

and she danced there and she laughed there
and she flew there
but after a while she became lonely
with no one there to keep her company

and in her lonliness she shed angel tears
and those tears grew wings of their own
and went to the sleeping prince
who had been sleeping for years
and they flapped their wings in his face to wake him

So he came down the long staircase
to comfort the weeping angel,
and the moment she looked into his
eyes
and he into hers
neither was ever lonely again

and they lived.....
Joyously ever after : )

When will you realize that
there is nothing more to realize
and that there are no bars and cages and boxes
only the illusions of bars and cages and boxes
and they end like a movie on tv that's over when
you change the channel

...and that walking out of the cage in your mind and walking
into the bright sunlight of my door that has always been wide open
for you and will always be wide open for you (in fact my door is not even
on the hinges for you, its actually been taken out into the forest and burned
in pagan rituals to the Goddess for you)

ANGELS & ALL MY OTHER FRIENDS

...and at that very moment,
when I reached for the angels
you reached towards me

Do I need any more signs?
has not the moon, and the stars
and the avatars and the angels
given me a thousand signs in my life
to show me that all is friend,

the water and the trees and the cars and the garbage
and the homeless vagabond-thieves and the writers of
bad novels and the fat-americans and their screaming children
and the endless procession of simulacra sent in a trillion digital codes
to invade every crevice of my brains synapses

...and all of these and more...
the tram to Roosevelt Island
the broken Rickshaw drivers of Pune (in their dirty brown pants and dirty flipflops)
and the boy selling candy and ciggarettes who speaks no English
and the Elelphant who shits on the sidewalk
and the relentless beggars with their performing dogs
& painted faces

and the girls from Paris who
come to my hotel room
and the ape galloping buy me with stolen papaya
and the sun bleaching my clothes
(and the way my mind empties into sunlight until their
is nothing left to do
but sit like a dog in afternoon heat,
in the middle of the
road, )

There was a moment yesterday
when I reached out to the angels
asking them to help us be together
(and now I will continue to reach for these
beautiful angels, who are better than the best
friends and love me more than the closest family)

and you are my everything,
yes, it's not supposed to be spoken about
and we must "love ourselves" but when i love you
I learn how to love and

My spirit flies to the place of higher truth
(like when I read about Socrates and the great
dialogues he had with his friends, & don't be a fool and
not recognize that they loved their conversations so much
because they loved each other,
they were in love with each others bodies and minds
and the divine they saw in their friends eyes)

and they were thinkers...
politicians don't think,
intellectuals don't think, properly
you must be educated and wise
and most importantly IN LOVE
to think clearly

Sometimes I understand
how their is nothing between our spirits
no concepts, constructs, ideas

Our spirits touching is us
(and that time
we allowed ourselves 2
mix, like steamclouds
inside of each other)

All things shine 4 me
The disappearing begins

Like the Mystics Hafiz &
Kabir

Dipping My pen into
the well

Black ink becomes
Every color

Time fades all things
into beauty
(but we don't need that
do we)

extra-sensory-reality of our
euphoria...
(this is the kinetic dynamism of my
poetry...
& I like to leave my poems open ended,
dangerous
and free...

morning radio silence
dreaming mindspace quiet

My truth is so fragile
(so strong it won't die)

Is this what the power is for
simply to turn away

Madness besieges one from
all sides

The sage smiles
these are the truths he must battle

with no weapons no arms
at all

faithless son of dogs
(must grow wings
without the DNA)

if all my poems were backwards
and I met you at the wrong time
could I just reverse everything to make it right?

can we undo the knots that keep us apart
or do we do what Alexander did with his
Gordian quandary

How can you stand there and tell me your
truth and do nothing about it

I have nowhere left to leave to
bombs ripped apart my favorite galactic hideout

This time I will face what you face

­­

broken images
glued together
(patchwork of selves)

Pause: Smile : )
this is yourself
(break the chain of causation
addiction of patterns:
perpetual trap of creating stories
of who we are.

self imposed narratives
(if only you and I would stop this
and fly together)

Do you want to fly with me?
what's holding you back....

an empty lifetime?
bodies you think can't go on without "you"
but who are you if you deny
what you are the most

It's this place
in the river where we
meet, inside and outside
time
(flowing through now and beyond and into
our bodies and out of the skies of our souls)

its the blending of our
light that makes heaven come
alive

it's the touching of our skin
that takes bliss
into the smoke of our
lives

if we could see where my poetry
came from
(that would mean something)

Inversion duplicates itself.
done with simulation.
nothing left to destroy.

Everything is outside the
text

If she really came to me
(or did she already do that)
did I refuse what I couldn't have
or turn away what I was afraid of

She is the nucleus of
every thought
(unequivocal center)

all matter, schema, rubrics
assimilate themselves to our
synergistic dynamism

Perfect centrifuge
around which our worlds
evolve

(absolute calm at the eye of
our existence
divine peace
bliss)

Words of Page
and this is the

Page of my truth
and this is the

Page of my freedom
Page of my love

Back in the blood
of my existence
dull ache of phantoms
passing through
me

scatter out the flock
of empty desires

peaceful gray flame
(heart extinguished)
buddha ashes

mix with goddess tears
stay unholy
god has no blood
only woman

We live in a world that wants us
to lie
(agreements and contracts begging to be broken)

A free man signs no note
needs no one to hear his vows

When the masses decieve the one who tells the
truth is
criminalized

I keep saying the same
things to you
(what else is there to express)

It feels good to need it to want it
to share it to be overflowing with it
to wince from the pain of it turning in

expansion and contraction
magnetic attraction and repulsion

am I softer or smarter
or lost and easier than ever

(and some trick of my brain, or the
warm dim lights of this room
remind me once again
that you are like no other
and that you fit into my soul
perfectly)

Snapshots of a forgotten life
all that's left of the frayed scrap book
laying there just to haunt


and this aliveness of what we are now
(you haunt all my waking moments)
Is that good for you to be a haunter of my life
some kind of marvelous sun simultaneously
imploding/exploding inside of me

setting fire to all I know
(& me running around trying to put out flames
half halfheartedly)

The Mountain lion knows
when to return for us
(she cast her spell that day)

and merely waits for the moment
between time to perform
her shamanic magic

We are the WildCards
in each others lives
(chance for a quantum leap)

The leap we Really-Truly-WANT
to take
so afraid of dying
(dying to the falsity of all we know)

...and being born into the truth
the truth we've always known
the freedom we've always been

(freedom of children)

Take my hand (I won't let you fall)
jump off the cliff with me
I promise
We'll grow
Wings

My wild tiger
we are a dream
that will never go away

(we are light waves)
come to the wild places
of my heart
(unexplored wilderness)
run with me