old verse (re) found

country poets
scurrying for hurrians
harrapa & their pot frags
for millennia
to build a ladder to the sky
in the heart

above the flames
& the Mass where he is
screened goggled & hunted

we hope to a time of peace
yet model those at war
& tire of the peace between
minoans ma'dan ciccians

narrappans joy in
peace for a 1000 suns
before invasion by the peaceseekers

then to greece
a place of islands
where their mother
the nearest biggest was
left forgotten until nine ten hundred

should i love sophia
it is more of a hunger
a need from inside dark
replacing not someone
and no thing

coming from before
the turn of the chain
residue rendered
pure by lives so much before
they do not happen yet

but circle around my
mouth open to the deep
and nary any food
for a belly

the wounds
the hollows wont protect
neither the words

out on the rock
under the talons
and the heart
yet unharmed

going forward
for the past is green
memory that hurts
and clouds the day

we're alone 
and before

a rough hewn morning
sounding vowels
fleeing from symbols
to cloud the sky

i see mu
everything in the friend
in his dance
following his walks

lighting the projection box
unlocking the cinema

the film unreels
before the light
where is my seat
where do i sit

where is the bulb
this room, a house
the sky

waiting scared for the ambulance
and a trip line

1970 lit a sign for the end of feudal cultism in america
after a brief but continuing enlightening

jim sat in the desert walking from school
zarathustra in the sand where ring tails scurried

an emptiness forced a whisper
i am a lizard's king, i could do anything

to noone
it was hot but he could feel a wind

on a road
under white necked birds of prey

you can carry all kinds of dope
pushed up in a sax

heat rose from the crushed rock road
where his fallen eyes dwindled into tiny holes
as my love exclaimed their exit

from a cinema shattering that morning
its film of our shared past & miracle friendship
with a script we could not frame otherwise

sitting alone now
pushing letters for empty books
whose reading does us little
and critique likely more

two lives ended that last night
begun with rum and wine
between islands of curved ecstasy
through morning pools of hue and hymn

until without stop
our morning’s boat roared 
toward a beach never reached

in a film these actors drew
of character against resignation,
ending in battle and joy
our unfailing strength

yet venture had not failed us
its loud heroism and finale
in flight, spinning and cheers
toward a call never forgotten

seated alone again
this master for a shelf
and reels never read

where there is no good night
for a fight that was good
i will not rest & do not sit
despite the dying
ever running for the light 

all the characters in & with,
faces and canals
my lungs, entrails &
hilly wrinkles above

my ears feeling waves
lens hair ankles
brushing earth
breast stirring wood
sphinx nosing over the nails

what a wonder
what a wish
bathing this spine
each night on stage
before the counters

not honest work
lazily spinning symbols
free of thought

tedium eternum
semper somnia
escape from escape

this is a hard trough
ennui in bauder's lair

and this century ends early
not quick enough for management
season's over, no more tickets
leave please through the gates
your thoughts and concerns
will be disposed of properly
before the next show

where is my stream
how does it flow
is it me or even from me
should i care
should you
this dream

if over 
is it now
be clever

my bones, your bones
in this space reader 
where i am gone
you have me where you want me
for tearing and spitting
laughter and stare

what is this wrestle
my words, these bones
engaged in your eye

unless i seize the source
clew the lines
where is a me
should it matter 
when i go

paper news typed
of a post print world
Heralding a desertion 
after a Tr(i)ump of the Mirrors
screening all, at all cost

when are the beats
following this line
juggling text with
scriptures of golden shebangs

riffing out packets
for drums and pupils
jellied on the waters
at take out
before the drain

(t)ax day
and the thief with the (c)law
obliges a moon's time of my labor
to slay my neighbors

should i be murdered
stripped of my members
there will i be nowhere
like i am not now
expecting no demise
little surprised
by staying within

my high school car
any part of my life
replayed in video loads
my same town, same purchases
progressing in denial 
of my identity
presuming one i did not have

but a long remembering 
before death
when action is gnostalgia
as if daydreams 
were different from 
nightdreams

where behind the glass
what isn't artifice
is fake audience
controlling nonetheless
some intention
any "vision"

as if when i imagine more
i do it quicker
until its over

clarity
transparency
the horizon beckons
her smile widens
and my soul reaches out
frittering in the twilight
beyond the trees, past a river
'cross from a town
i left this morning
before coming to the reality
ducks in a row
fit for a gander
and a hat to tip
without cliche

a rough hewn morning
crying vowels
fleeing from symbol
that cloud the sky

opening the projection box
fixing the screen
the film unreels
before the bulb
from the Power cord
behind the seat

in his dance
on our walks
i see the mu
everything in the dog

waiting scared for the ambulance
a trip line to a quick end

if the earth does not know of us
will the earth know of me
when i pass
like the earth
i will spring after winter
into eight legged squashers
and holy vermin

why be clean now
why feel
if the earth will not feel
after i leave

rather why not thrill
from the valley
seek the wave in the next
should it be my last

this trail
marked in ice
and a pleasant companion
the earth cannot know

the cross
i crawl its beams
i've seen the grain
the edge
its nail

it is night
lightning
with the two others
on this hill
and the mass below

my tomb, so welcome
must i leave it in the morn
swim in the road again
with fire as my guide

the sky will not hold me
the stars and moon try
but clouds inside
are not lifting

yet step by step
hand by hand
i scramble 'cross the wood

after the court
after the betrayals
never to cry out 
for sake

for this time of stone
a sound of machines
of the grind, the wind
and the watch's eye