Spaschak
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midnight ping-pong ball
a gallant moon wakes the sky
unseen sun paints light
ajs
I step into silver slipstreamsof SEMI conductor dreams
broad halo days of golden innocence
buried in the hatchet holes of
this aging tree bark frame
my thoughts are limbs
that lead to falling leaves
T'was once before the break of day when in the silence of a stored cachethere upon my memories ladder one ring above a thought came afterwhat was once so fine, so well placed, now lay defeated and disgraced
They honk incessantly, bellowed bathsof incorrigible bass, pond pricks,but, oh to watch them flylarge V's slide sweetly.
Fresh,a slip of tonguean adolescent impulse.Later he will learn notto say what he means,when he dims to mellow.
He pretended he believed her
She did the same
Reciprocating impulses
push away, then suddenly contract.
When two worlds collide
new stars are birthed.
In the ashes of a post explosion
She was the wind's breath
alive and moving
with grace, a sweet slide
across the room.
When she kissed me
the world went away
but, like the sea
she too could roar.
The earth quakes in thunder claps
a hapless dressing for a proud sun
melting clouds enough for rain.
One is born, another dies
a constant neverland of never come again.
There are no great hills in Kenilworth
where grassy girls give fruitful birth
born from men of stately girth
I have been to Kenilworth
I have been to far worse
and back again upon a shore
Last night I saw you in a neon dream
all lit up in a throw back scene
the streets were wet in reflective haze
where the truth is shadowed
by the fire's blaze.
We talked of prized cheese
as if cheese was our master
in the great disaster of us,
Then mind spent, W(H)INE spent
on dreams only a fool would leave behind
we passed our own tests on our own
It was as much a hinder as a clatter
a soft splatter of broken love
delicious melted caramel
on creamy lips of summer fog.
I do not forget her of hers
a fine progression of my past;
If I were any man, or any man was I
the first thing we would know
of one another, should we know
anything beyond our way
is we both saw the light of day.
We were only jokingWhen we sat beneath the weeping willowThe soft hairs of your armsElectrocuting my sensesOur conversation went onIn silence
I have seen the splintered timbers of a forest losing pine, waiting ona fire to carbonate its time.
I know I am chemicals reacting to their tidesbut my mind it overulesa simpleton's design.
Like some provincial rain that came crisp
from latent springs sprung too tight
stored energy fast relinquished
down a sliding sun into new light
In the piercing heatof the unfolding daywe set sails for Avalon.
Guided by winds wetested our fate, provingit was fragile in thedesperate side-by-sideof our changing lives.
Some came to satisfy their queer attractionto be close to something deadthat draws such loud attention
Her eyes are the color green you can't describe without a viewThey soul speak of December leaning towards August's blue.The girl, the choice, the time, oh it must be forty years.
I crawled deep inside myself
sand crabbing my way to a deep security
there were no stars to gaze
Last I saw you we were in the north woods guitars in hand searching for that place in the music where harmony resides traveling down the highway of notes and chords from opposite directions
Her ways that wet the windin cloud drips close to clandestineraindrops hidden in the grays of ghostswhere broken-hearted loversplayed hollow games of what ifor, worse what if NOT?
In the wake of thingswe surrendered below cutting cloudsyou to me, me to the reign of ages.
In a moments timethe world was bornour love's deathtook decades to complete.
They quarter-toned their deliveranceagenda based and ill conceivedin a quiet corner there was always eyeslooking at me smilingthe quiet ones were wise.
They are confined in canyons of chaoswriting crayon graffiti in the dark corners of restless mindshither too, and hither from, come hither to a have not,a has been, a has to have, a half a man,always incomplete
We are like cans of soupcollecting dust in a discarded martonce, when the day was sharpour pencils pushed the poembeyond a feeble flight of emotioninto the grand promise of new suns
Tidal changes of this floating heartwhen to stop, when to start?My pulse expands my waking mind.
She was lightheartedlike a feather in soft windsI was playing throw and catchwith girls still growing breasts.
He danced the Mapiko while stary-eyed
women looked on in fear
and lust.......unashamed
walking the dusty streets
searching for a cuandeiros
the dengue fever pitched
to the blazing ball of sun
There is no test to time for time itself is of rest, or work,of giving, living, loving, hating, lying, cheating, repeatingitself over and over, just as the soft clover rises in the Spring.
Delving into your personaI danced on tips of grassthat tickled my feetuntil my heart laughed
long before your hissy fitsrendered me into a small black box
It was the beauty of lifethe gold dust of dawnthe dripping, dipping, haloed moonthe crystal light of a summer noondressing my dreams of agape love.
These tribes of thought gathering tracks of non-compliancethis hardware-brain that racks pins waiting on a rollthese wars that internalize their every battlein the space between the filters of swift change
I am driven by such things as those that drive a hobo to a train
tall grass waving in a Midwestern field, August dry and gold
against the back drop of proud Rocky Mountain peaks
Side A
Find me on the flip-sideWhere vague percussionsTap below quarter-tones.
Part 1.
I tossed the day awayYeaton’s farm a memoryof waving cornsoft hill grasses the bent barnred in a gold sunbut, it is your eyesthat still live in me
There is an essence to angerthat bites the heads of snakesrattles the chains of Asmodai,in the vague light bad seeds wilt and diehe stands alone hands on hips,
Here in the Venice lounge we have no lagoonswe have no gondolas, mountains and lakes are plentythey silver Sunday afternoons framed by green grassit rises up towards Placid, where the snow caps into June.
