Aircloudsky

Sketch from Above

Improbability in Upswing

The tongue

a slick wretch of smoldering ash

phasing out into the bright eyeless morning.

The belly

a hurling progress of air

folding tight over scratchy blood wisps

in proper disarray

From the asshole 

light as moonshine songs

on the back of a long-necked blonde

ruining her penchant for stout drained 

and bearded Jewish gods

and an ugly sour moves

breathing shifty smiles

In the upswing of a jet train

cooling into the sonic blues

of a new world horizon

soothing the answers of the afraid

in mundane pockets of strange insignificance

a judgment inane

Re-working fluidity into the brain-splotched hide

of a perfect whisper 

into the historic tribe of ancestral compromise

Heading strong into a battle 

towards the away

in a perspiring lawful gyration 

engraved as Ouroboros; 

a serpent that shall die

from a pandemic hung over Amazonian lakes

triggered to fuel the toxic lust of a few embittered white slaves

launching figments of the imagination into a monkey ruled space

afloat on an ocean of stolen Mexican or Indian gold

and providing torturous vandals

with a home and name

Rocking through the amniotic

flood of the saved

We shout in stuttering ruminations

over a nihilistic desk

and attempt to cry

weird helpless short stories

into the mud of our breath

and as the whaling shores reach single-handedly into the rug of traditional mores

we become suddenly attracted to the lady who has been through at least four wars

and animalistic, from a drive outside in the shivering lows

there arises another incapacitated fjord-shaped mugger

singing to the groove of a healthy malaise

in a wild out of tune way

ranting all along about the next probability

Tuesday, December 29 2009

                                                                                                                              1.48pm

…hiccup

to entice druggists
to remove their belts
and mold the swoons in their cash for laughs

to engross the love for play in workaholic dreamers
sitting lax on a moonwalk bud
rotting in the melt of a half-digested corpse

each cannot stop
…hiccup
oncoming painful throat

Tuesday, December 29 2009

1.48pm

Drone seating

she’s weary
waved

behind thick glassed highs
in the giggling aftershow gloom of the warm winter sky
brewing wry wisps of blue

the craving moon
loses its grip and drizzles
into the mirage click
of a computer stare

drone and despair
behind me

the woman’s leg

Tuesday, February 16 2010

3.18pm

Lonesome day of movement

grown thin with distance
as another hairy, greased band shines
reckless before the arrow spy
and his envisioned grave

who hails cabs
in the Siberian gruel of angry change
as we ransack the factories of uproarious disrepair
and the mechanistic bored train crashes
killing the meagre European glance
into the frantic rush of civilized absence

lonesome day of movement
through spider web sands
and drunken coasts
of blood red remorse
filing in by the pulp fiction pages
breeding scummy eyes that talk in kisses
and swoon on the porch of another early breakfast

groom who wails curiously at night for the pub dreary life
that awaits
after the cut string of golden dreams seethes and falls
to the ash of the smoky avalanche noon

in Canada’s hibernation mind
of the un-bloomed
and unborn
wenches who lament
the dry phantom queen and her uncaring cool sleeping high
with simple touches of the grave beyond
landing in sun croaked alien poverty

my first wishes grow callous
at the knock of a burnt vegetable gum
that sneaks into the cracks of layered skin
beaming with the color of a white night
turning in late with the last nest of wild being

unloved rhythms, fuming with uninspired dread
as we caress the lung wired cane
of bone sweat
carved merciless into the roaming wood
that answers in black hills
and a flat womb of earth

Tuesday, February 16 2010

3.18pm

Northern mind

lip sweet
and unfettered thought
swung music
intensified in the intimate romantic environment

ideal collection of the two-bodied
trailing waves in the ocean
of serene all-encompassed feeling

silently bringing the visions of the blessed to realized heights
in amnesic bliss
hearing only the fizzing of a tongue
sifting through the hydrated glory of a deep violet sight
darkly fixed inside the arborescent wilderness

to the foreign drum of an impenetrable toxicity
left unconsumed and needed by feet
lit under concrete sustained magic
of the urban disillusioned

northern mind
bringing in the steady rings of a consciousness
prepared as the instrument of a government culture
performing the theatrical stronghold

of minority no-release
a fish-burdened town of extracted marrow
through procedural temperaments
that go un-led and steam up
with chaotic strictures
that demean the meaning
of man and woman
or masculine-feminine time

Tuesday, February 16 2010

3.18pm

Leaving nowhere

loopy adolescent

limping

and boasting

a raucous

and numb

pride

for nowhere

leaving  

Tuesday, February 16 2010

3.18pm

The last sound

when was the last sound
that lent meaning
to the claustrophobic business
of airline sleeping

ear-foam music
and the idle screams
of the thoughtless few
who seek convenience
in the cinematic religion
of mass transportation

headless visibility
and divined mapping
swallowing the cloud
shifted lightning ground
with ruinous might
cutting through the immense distance
of our freed land
only bonded

under the wishful terror
as incantations
released
to feed the public deities.

Tuesday, February 16 2010

9.42pm

Canadian night

Elevated

mundane

modernity

figuring

impassioned

materialistic

defense with the arms of astronomic flesh

weaving listless tomes

into back-alley food slang addict rat

cursing in Experimental english

for the beautiful sex pack

of genetic mug torn blood

praying old and strange songs

of morbid laws

that kindle

in the unsightly meandering

lifted pull from metal glass arrangements

stinging the sensitive pink swift burnt love

for a bodiless dress

that curls soft under the train sped winds

of 8^th street

welded

like an art ward mural

into the unending chalky skin

flayed belief reading

bold

colored

red propaganda

at the icy and charred separation

from family and god.

Tuesday, February 16 2010

9.42pm

Another worldview

Law
at dawn's sacrificial wading

a groove sweetly prized
as the relative truth of our frantic, overgrown hallucination

in sickening respite
from the earliest lame vanity

before the show appears
as human death

powerless to the mold
resounding to an inner frequency

deranged sad laughter
groaned thick in a sumptuous tumult

under the prying talons
a delectable fire answers in blues-swing hoodlum homes

temporary as the submissive
upbringing of one purifying lash

rending the nerve-wracked fingers
of torturous warring
within the Nile’s tantrum phase

skinny, lingering smoke fix
and we eye the 99 names

to the moment's reaching up
to the negative female symbol

comrade against these forbidden culturati
timed to the arrival of the outdoor preacher

worshipping the lost dead
world of stone and writing.

Tuesday, February 16 2010

9.42pm

Desert history

Mint-touched
and hash car
southern California
advertised with Middle-Eastern lies
and slick forgotten self-conceived prophecy

the modern mental pandemic
vanishing without place
in the cyber-sphere trenches
of the eternally unrelenting

first world wars imbibed
through consumptive passivity

on the boulevard’s torched singularity
in this beginning decade of solar functionality

from the cyclic foundation of space
as a pulsating inverted birthing

as creative inhalation
that speaks in visual tongues
through an ocean-sky

horizontal corridor
leading to the sixth direction
to the place where spirits roam

into boundary dissolution
of the fear-shed community

snakeskin brethren -

whose psychedelic vision
embraces the twelve possible cults

whose 7-year round occurs
with silent motionless inception
during a four-year journey

merely waiting

for the black hole diffusion
of the one impossible
drop through Mt. Hozomeen
where Kerouac learnt to fall
and be outside of the doing
that seemed

towards endogenous entropy
yet instead formulated
as the perception of the staff

Challah,
fabled source of life
for the intuitive-

incensed few
in their Indic caves

breeding the children
of originality
led through a piercing spine-tipped pencil

Tuesday, February 16 2010

9.42pm

The Mythic West

Cyclops’ rise
dimming only with the muse’s laughing dream
and her unreasonable echoing, cries

sharing the eagle’s pride
yet destroyer of all
symbolized

working lazy
in the shallow stream of clarity
and eating free
in Mexican dreadlock bustle

the generosity of a chanting mage
inspired by love for the Tree
that spreads roots
of the mollified earth

whose giving breathes iridescent crystalline surety
under a city lain bare as a leafless twig
in the winter of human occupation

over the frigid glare of our northern memories
fickle, as we approach a secondary wisdom
understood from blind precepts
that erase the open wounds found in deep cleansing
and spiritual promise

as the uncovered subconscious recollection redeems the sordid impositions
in the process of multi-generational
trauma and becoming

able to revisit the relaxed state of the Child
admiring the Parent
as incarnation of a dream-character

belonging only known through tribulations of self-awareness
interred thoroughly with Helpers
revealing their self
as not-other
same aspect of you

and bled into one with a Taste
that experience grounds world delusion

in the volatile expression of profaned monotheistic truth!

the explosive ruins of the loquacious mind
react to a lunar philosophy
(on oriental calendar time)

that stresses the dissonant way
of relation, as earthly direction
towards the celestial tune

sounding echoes of reason
into the joint-sparked play of seeing
the folded circulatory reflection

in external light
as spoken epic

interdependent
with the meaning of one
question.

Tuesday, February 16 2010 10:00pm

Flight to Los Angeles, holding only Canadian currency. 

Children weep. Jazz and Chilean fiction.

Creating in the City

Expressions amid Urban SpRaWl

An Artist's Line

Charged into the luring night

Carved into the alluring heights

Nuanced into tribal delights

Singing with the ancients in tones of space delayed, silent

Prophecies spell dismay and the pandemic smites the land

Wired fortuitous growling harbored animals’ grow to fame

Sparkling wizard beards of vision drunken smoldering

Breathless festering urban elision of peopled life

Instead populations crave dry-mouthed

Fingers wade and stop at money

Childless fathers and the motherless binge within a month,

Afraid street side mission

We show our fangs to the insane

Lie and kiss the hatred in our names

Why don’t we simply play?

Follow the footsteps of daughters in love with others

And falling with the rain possibility

Emergent and untamed

Lowly demise rearranged with pride

“The art pales in comparison”

“To the experiential!”

We go…where home is a path

And our skin splits and cracks with sunlight and smiling tears

To pass away in weakness

A flickering moon dismisses the angered insinuations of self-mourning

And a lonely family away from all known

Steering clear, keeping awake

Lifting above the circularity

Rhythms of strong liars who dart nimbly like a constant trick

They do not stop and wish for a change of the guard (or at least the costume)

Wondering if…we all suddenly died

Would tomorrow hide?

Or would the sun rise?

Without blinking and greet the naked Earth

Inspired to a new meeting between eternal friends

A secret in keeping told only through the listening of storytellers’ weavings

Meaning nothing to no one

Only a sound for the memory that once was upon the artist’s living

And the random birth that flew without mind

And ended up…

Well.

Friday, April 9 2010

            A room in Calgary’s urban sprawl

Hawk over a farmer’s field

The hawk

that steams in

subtle intricacies

The emotive acrid stress of tears released

from the skin of a planetary erection

The tame bred into our inane fledgling grave

of bursting bound-locked waste,

etched with numinous soul

In the upturned pangs of a universe unnerved

on the psychic-enmeshed phase of atmospheric delight

In the imagined painting of all swaying and crucified worth

fornicating openly against the light paged future

and blunted cross-eyed in a circular maze of her orgasmic ploy for a sorry breakfast

On Monday’s staked rage, we drain and drain the followings of divinity

throughout pulses of grain and sweat in the final drink

Before deciding to cross the impassioned switch

into non-being on the lifted sky

coming thunderous in the eyes and ears of a late transmigration

into a head of wires and a spotted flame that rises broken in the quaking silence of loss

and drowning in the oxygen gush of utter perfection

Bluish gray and the opaque brink of highest terminal altitude

flying still against the belly of earth’s integumentary life

straining in a cursed name to breach the surrounding flesh of unearthly ice

in the telescopic fire of an avian mind,

and sudden grasping with the stretched tongue of passive death,

“a fallen way grows above the ceiling of humanity

in a flutter of fear and reverence for the quiescent vacuum of entire blackness

and spiritual duress”

Loving the sacred breath of hot tainted lag

of the tragic beauty

who became animalistic in a single visceral moment

only to look down on the integral mire of woven screaming

at the blessed forgotten dream of the virgin

in Mexico calling with every figment of pride mustered

from the smoke of ancient impressions of superficial divisions

sweetening the catch into a released cold moon

undone on the back of a talon

seeding the lovers intermingling with the sharp pleasures of stone and grass,

as a feather presses swift under the enjoined sexual tight figures

preparing to create the universal wave of continuity

in the fallen bird’s heart

drifting over untold slow fissures within the fragmented body of self-taught work

that lay sacrificed to the unknowing violent west of paradox in action

dreaming the lucid air and buried with lust in the ashen grave of a mother’s living breast

to answer the prayers of a man resting softly on the back of a sea creature

unmoving and shocked with ruinous leisure

and idle passing.

- date unknown  

                                                                        Inspired by a song written by a friend from Red Deer, AB

all rivers have one source

These rivers never meet the ocean

so as to return to the source in another form

These rivers create

a pond,

nourishing the soil

and creatures surrounding

immediately

They,

a giving source

to rain

that flows gently into the other

creeks and streams,

who one day may become great

Rivers,

leading back to the source

outside

direct cycles,

into the greater round

inspiring life to move

in different ways,

through different eyes

and fresh movements,

drawing close

to a reckoning

with Truth,

yet remaining ever-natural

with specific beauty,

being immersed lightly

in being for the pure enjoyment

of its smallest waves

as they rise so gently

and sink unknowingly

with a most subtle whisper

behind a fantastic passion

eager to express unity

with perfect awe in world dreams

Up, a new way to be

for the moment

and its own living mystery,

asking

“what is before?”

March 9, 2011

Chinatown Calgary. I live beside the Bow, in all its humility

An Old Saying

"there's an old saying, 

that goes something like;

‘a person that knows their place is a demi-god,

and the place of a person,

is a god,

and the One who has no personality

 and is everywhere,

is the God’

a really old saying,

no one knows where it came from"

Russell steps off the sidewalk

onto the cold, freezing ground,

it's another blisteringly unbearable day,

he, arm in arm with his loving companion,

begins the day out into the open horizon

"if a bird so much as flutters in this weather, I catch a cold!

I have a terrible reaction to anything with wings,

a symptom of living close to pigeons"

in bed with his love,

they face the ceiling,

covered from neck to toes

in a leopard-print blanket

"what was your first word?"

"I said a phrase, 'the toast is hot!'"

and, was it all imagined?

a strange throwback to a terrible urge?

an unlikely warmth that sprang from inside?

a sexual need?

  

enticed beyond reality? 

beyond the body?

calling towards the supernatural?

a whispering inside?

to lie?

and wakeful, conspire? 

March 8, 2011

Urbanized Personality

This,

the urbanized personality,

and his drive.

before he dies,

what anxiety!

what neurosis!

to cast away true love for an instantaneous spark,

to,

with enough distance,

tongue the earthly mold in an imperfect, lonely body;

creating freedom out of mindless neglect,

a neglect that transitioned into memory

from an all-powerful, superhuman forgetfulness.

and, at the final hour, a joke. 

for no one.

without laughter.

(sound)

(sound)

nor

Fay, 

the only ever truth, beauty, and hostess to life on this forsaken planet, 

my muse, my love, my dream woman, and not mine at all, never once, 

so painfully present, in painstaking moment's awareness, 

driven to inspire in every wave curling back beneath the ocean's global current, 

a lush secret hidden by the nearby shore, 

her smile, faint yet apparent, directed towards me, and never once obscured nor changing, 

a stone, foundational, with gargantuan humanity, 

the worth in honest feeling, to be healthy, happy, alive and sharing every sunrise and sunset, 

with a love for life, wide-eyed, never blinking, and earnest enough to be hopelessly afraid of the future and its narrowing cavernous curiosities, 

struck with wonder and with thoughts strewn in all directions, 

reflecting within into the deepest, most revealing corners of the heart, 

to reveal her face, again, winking unflinching into the bright catastrophic demise of this blue-eyed heroic soul whose literary touch swings chaotic over the musical bond that unites our embodied faces, 

resisting false movement, staying true, rhythmic with steady pulse, together, 

collecting common stirrings, collapsing and rising to the oceanic motion, 

perpetual understanding, peaceful camaraderie, the loving dependence, 

physically complete, yet new, 

reminiscent of a returning, out into our Mother's embrace, who we know, we created, from our Love, and its willing expression as absolute purity, while for the moment, expressively human, individual, unique, distinct and spontaneously unprepared and fresh as each new breath, (or quiet snore) into the all-dissolving Canadian night

March 8, 2011

Chinatown Calgary. Up too late, away too long from the bedside beside her