Very good day

Wake up early. Make coffee for me and the one I love. Listen to music. Enjoy the sunlight. Play my guitar. Study, read and write. Discover new poetry. Continue to look forward to the prospects of the eve. Hard work paying off. Blessed am I today. 

Evening Love Song

Ornamental clouds compose an evening love song; 

a road leaves evasively. 

The new moon begins  a new chapter of our nights, 

of those frail nights we stretch out and 

which mingle with these black horizontals. 

-Rainer Maria Rilke

Jack Kerouac

Fellow writers were always asking Kerouac how he did what he did. So Kerouac set down 30 essentials in something he called “Belief and Technique for Modern Prose.” These tips may or may not make sense to you, but that’s Kerouac, man:

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

A legend

Goodbye.

Aluminum heart

Girls come with secrets and locked drawers.

They come with faces you'll never see.

They want to be swept away, and yet stand all alone, despite the shaking knees.

They muster up bravado when they are tarnished and lost.

They bring in the last flowers to be saved from the frost.

They'll stand like a patriot, against all odds, 

For their unknown country, and their undying selfless cause. 

They wound like no other creature can. They can stomach heartaches no one could ever understand. 

They cry for their children in the night. 

They hide their tears in the shadows, and smile in the light. 

They are the girls that walk the streets. Feeding themselves crumbs of dignity with a woman's slave deeds. They are always second class, always last. All encompassing. All woman. All me.

Hour Desire

I want to exhibit with you in a forest grove.

Pictures upon pictures of our black and white pasts immortalized, seconds pass like ashes. We age evermore; 

Built on sticks, dirt and earth our watershed met.

I want to play with you in a forest grove, melt away our muscles The ones that hold our heads up and make us nod, and arrange ache around our eyes and jaws.

In my teeth I can feel you.

You and I mix together our breathes and wake -reaching... thirsty pores meet each other.

Our song is in the tone that makes heart strings pulled, tears almost come.

Foundations built on a strong ground with a crack running through.

Underneath flows the river, pain spills over the falls, and our souls regenerate in the pool undertow.

I want to be an explorer of rocky ground, and a wind chaser, and a bridge builder over all these land markings and forebodings. The notes bounce on the violin, it is made of fire. We reach for the neck, just as its about to explode.

Warming up

Is there inspiration under my nail?

In between this tooth?

Crawling around with the gnat at the bottom of my salad bowl?

I have yet to find a swirling word, lingering with the hops in my beer. I have yet to see a letter mingling with the clouds, although I did see some while tripping on LSD. It was a mysterious stew of alphabet soup floating overhead and tripping me on....

I do find inspiration in this most spectacular thing. This unrest that makes me toss and turn in the night. This bumbling human, wearing pants I am, has found a sentence pouring from the tips and spelling out phrases and searching the dictionary for more, more, more! It is in you I find an emotion, or two, to speak and lyricise-an exercise of my wit and foil, and kneed entries of endless bliss- I hope to find with un-gloved hand. It is you that has sharpened the led. Tonight I will give myself a good talking to....

Sauce Recipe for Boiled Tongue: An excerpt

When one proceeds to prepare a tongue...
You must remember it is one of the strongest muscles in the human body.
It has been flicked,
flittered, tainted, burned, bit, and bittered.
It is the connected filament of our purpose.
It is the taster of the fine times, and the salivated expression of ourselves.
It pleases and teases and makes moist motions to come hither.
It is both; the softer side of the sharp whip, and the merciless dom that takes toil- a fierce, coiled, cobra like spitter.
So when preparing the sauce,
mix equal parts pure,
with equal parts intent.
Stir, serve and swallow. It will taste what you meant.