Poem: 27

Does the heart beat Or is is strung

Fear eats the soul The heart beats a war drum

The soul eats fear The heart is strung

Rising and falling Firmness in fluidity Consciousness has begun

Poem: 26

Press this against that and make another Letter, picture, something new Though they say reproduction: Each is each it's own

Which mind from this will awaken? Again and again If the work is made with the right heart

Poem: 25

My heart and your heart White today fluttering The sun is brighter now The birds are more awake See them fluttering in the grey grasp Winters iron fist frozen tight Release me from your bind Our heart fluttering White as snow drifting drifting In the light

Poem: 24

I don't remember Whose hair it was But the curls were tight Clung to the skull With might

It was a woman And I admired

Me with my dull bun Hair twisted torqued and strung Au natural a chemical never sung In my hair margarite My hair your sorrow clung

Poem: 23

I woke up with the morning frights Sweating shaking pure blitz fear Nothing is right All is asunder

A shoe A letter A sweater

What will be there If I look in the mirror glass? Who will face me? In this dark

Poem: 21

A ghost sun High strung Seeing us through the night

"A religion in my head" Makes me wish I were dead or fully fully alive Whiteness is the coldest color And I am implicated

Poem: 21

Forgive me for weeping When my mind turns to creeping The sea of my eyes Springs from soul pain

The body knows such a thing exists The soul: Even though we falter and falter and falter To think of it correctly

I too snarling in contempt At something that seems nothing But a suggestion

That state of vague presence Is an identity stolen through the back door You runs fast and furious with the invisible loot--a history of religion-- Capturing the weaker ones

White rabbits in the snow With a design not meant to be explicit But trusted in the deep sea of yourself Silent but surging strong

Poem: 20

Breath that golden light Breath with all your might Pull it in that nectar Golden again and blue So right, so absolutely right! For life

Perfect gleaming golden streaming air We share in the blue silver

Without you I would be a rag doll Of a thing Will less Golden globes in the sphere I bow before your feet

Poem: 19

"Why do we get angry at each other anyway?" She laughs like my bird escaping to freedom

Yes why. Except how horrible if we didn't. No surprises no demises of what is already dead no spring to joy ahead

Investigate your head

He said "its a cliche But how can you solve a problem with the mind that created it?"

Idiot! What else are minds for but to solve their own problems. Yes I know I know it's not worth getting angry about The struggle of that responsibility

That joy ahead

Poem: 17

It was morning And I was in bed When the sound of struggle Came from the chimney

A ferocious beating of wings And a bird emerged Where fire should be

Blue black slick Clean eyes gleam Whap, rap, tap Wings

Alive! And something gentler filled the room And I leaped out of bed

I flung open the garden door The bird flew free

Poem: 16

Anything wet Is not here now Outside this winter Manhattan

Locked and socked And frozen stiff Our eyes our sighs our nimble minds

Sky hung In frozen solitude

Sorrows bit Pipe dreams riffed Somber vilifying solidarity

Poem: 15

What does Zyklon B Mean to me A bitter taste a sacred waste Dying everyday

Still is the shade in the shadow Hiding from the fright From his deep life light

Poem: 14

Your heart full of glass Still beats It's as if there were a keyhole On an invisible space Between your shoulder wings What turns it on or off The willing

Last night I dreamt Of a Russian in a polyester suit 80's style, bright, big I held his aging hand His slicked back black dyed hair A government official I was sad but I wanted him

And there was the sea Churning on and on Green clean and glorious

Poem: 13

Again I woke up Crying Light streaming through Windows glass iron gate

The sound of the vacuum Soul crushing and senseless A patch of golden light Near a door hinge

One solution to the madness is play 6 & 7 again Being led By a sound structure

Each pain resolved Never repeated but drawn through Mourning

Poem: 12

Wind whirled White twirled Snow swirled

Father Your smoke no longer Curls

Above my head The book you have read The life we have lead

It's better to suffer the injustice Of quitting Then crying over the dead Father forgive me

White snow winding

Poem: 10

Softer I remember the poplar fluff How it comforted me As I refused my own language

Snow in the summer

I walked and walked and walked Attended my lessons In the vast blue domes But barely talked to my beautiful foreigners

Observing my strange sad surrounding Glorious aching littered with light Incense

I'm seeking what is missing I hear the alarm:

I will return Impulsive and brightly We have a lot to learn