untitled in black and gold

Monkey

dazed and confused as a baboon too soon let loose

from the zoo impending doom foreboding werewolf

moon and screechings in the night like untuned

moth's wings juicy glory of moth puree still

untasted yet untempted and undated

in time underrated masculinity belated

awareness of his darkness and simply belied at the

thought of admitting he relies on the zoo trying

to force a howl of despair but what's left of the

blue on his big baboon ass gets the best of him and

he ends up crying into a tree opining and opened

to the world and his sundry knuckles among

matted sticky fur like flesh--his tongue is dry--

and the frogs sung throughout the night like jaded dragonflies

silhouetted pirouetting black against the russet sunset

one being with insect regality and one man undone

undoing his circulatory system and letting his brain

matter unravel out and mingle with the blood

and synapses exploding like fireworks shows closer in focus

under a microscope and then marbled-warbled-kaleidoscoped

under the stethoscope and consciousness coming

to a full lotus

I AM GOD

[untitled]

He wears nostalgia like cologne,
And I do not fear his embrace.
Resisting my urges of discontent
I hold on for dear sanity.

Life is before me,
But not an enlightened one.
I know Mara is unconquerable.
  His 3 daughters harass me.
I can't shake the feeling
That serenity has deserted me.

Your Third Day Home

you stand just naked as an insect or

a worm on wet and broken pavement, early

in spring and feeling rain as metallic

or stoned mist from monuments all lit

up gold and silver slivers rushing on,

stampeding over: horses, men on their

backs all come falling, flailing and just splash

away in waves that plume like smoke leaked out

between your words—all nonsense now, and drip—

no—soaking tones of wonderment at some

thing simple like the Washington monument

as just a phallic symbol or how planes

look like they’re cars, so i tell you that they

have made an invisible sky-way so that

the Congress members don’t have to get caught

in traffic like the rest of us and you

laugh and look at me to say that you

get it and that you love me, you just laugh

and ask if I feel moths, you, me, a week,

a time, a place, not solid, but still—