The Pain Outside Me

A Brisk Morning

Morning cool
The full Moon sets
Sunrise wind sweet breeze soft
Against red pink turning white

A window scene
Bright light beam becomes
Enhanced warmth consuming swift

The brisk air
Crispness grants memory
Mine a mere moment
Short breath returns
The simple mind of youth

Emotional peacefulness
Graceful the dawn's demeanor
The day bows and begins
To me
To the world

A performance this dawn gives
So desperate to play
Unsettled anxiety
No idle waste can be
Such to call the day

Sunrise risen
Resting gentle grace upon
The treetops set a flare
An opening act made way
To a day of the greatest affair

Love Splattered

Shelved Skin

Reach up
Reach down
Grab the Earth
Grasp the Sky
Kiss the Fires
Embrace the Air
Look forward
Look back
Never look back again

Dream in
Dream out
Always dream often
Reality is Element
Elements are Body
Body is Mind's keeper
     that expresses the Elements

Breath gasp lost less control
Release dark embraces low
Think within
Think not
Feel no Body

No Element felt
No Reality to reach up or down
Body numbness before
A smile of contentment

A Cleveland Track-Train Wander

Bill Burroughs' Bagel

(In a dream tense)
He looks at the plate
Looks then at me.
"That's IT?!?"
          the old man asks,
"Where's the ol' eggz-n-bacon?"
"Bee happy so little
          can you eat today,"
I say.
          Cough, bite, phlegmed grumble:
"No addiction worth kickin' for THIS!"
          he mumbles.

Tone Found Harmony Sung

La Romantique du mathématicien et Géométrie Ancien

2 dimensional parallel
blends 4th the eight inverted triangles
bent circular round 3rd angles
of deep partial outward insight

When alone the 3rd stickman drawn
steals the hypothesis from me
and the 1st inverted reflective awe
my eyes have not seen since childhood home

Hearing time’s lectures stolen
lies stolen homes horizontal
6th fourths of breath breathed empty
in eyes unfelt of the angles abilities

If then given that when before
walking on space parallel quadrant rhines
to 4th dimensional carousel spun lines
spindled cries of geometric ties left
7 lullabies of theoretical alibies

Goodbye to the lyrical right-angled soliloquies
spoken gently by minds akin
deep within mathematical spiritualties
the stickman has drawn

Angles left circumference cross-paralleled
contradictions to win
the heart of the Number’s sweet dreams

Pour le bord de temps vais-je errent maintenant