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All of my most recent poems are on this page.  I participated in the poetry tour of The Free Witch Poets Cave by reading a yet-unpublished piece in January 2013 in Portland’s ADX and Red & Black Cafe.


it’s nice to feel warm I think and the saxophone rolls in

Tomato kitchen, ever-glowing pink on pine
The earth is deeply warm at this time
The air is damp
My thoughts are wet with emotion
I stand in the sunlight and look through the driftwood mobile with prisms
Sending my friend a heart message across the ocean
Wishing an island time eternal in the sunset of our adventures
We’re all talking with god
By reconnecting with ourselves
And defining ourselves on the backdrop of life
We all want to ride horses on the beach
And love divinely
The light on the counter
I go to the desert in this kind of jazz
I go velvet and hasheesh
Gold camel and space queen
Freedom riders
I put together a tea from my herbs now
How long can you take Hawthorn for? I just keep needing her sweetness


listening to geese flying overhead and leaves falling
loving that decaying smell underfoot
visiting an old dreamscape
visiting a big house through a wild forest backyard
Rose Golden
my symphony weaves together
threads weaving themselves
you know what is happening?
a plant is trying to grow
how to be satisfied with all aspects
my easy chair is still getting softer
the universe pets my head through the hand of my love


A perfect moment
Suspended in peacefulness
within and without the mundane
A holiness
Claire de lune
My middle name also starts with an “L,”
Chronologically poetic
A 4 and a 9
A Thursday Mars
Looking at a picture of cut yellow citrine
And the ghost berries on my altar
That I found last night
Getting a message from god to bake chocolate chip cookies
And give them to the Land.
I’m on some secret island
refusing the touch of something
All I see is beauty because it’s all I want to see
All my ugly thoughts don’t belong to me
I see them move through and let them blow free
Slow and thoughtful, the turtle floats


R&B heartbeat
It’s a beautiful good morning
When we get to fit into each other
See your eyes across the ocean of pillow poof
Today is a railroad track creek day trip kind of day. The sun seems to want to burn through the bamboo blinds. The King’s Candles are frying.


Observations of Nature
Ants are slaves.
the only thing that I don’t know the story to – interests me.
My early observations of Nature
wanting a reflection of my mind
My first poem
crude enough to turn your back on
I am happy to play the role of the human
making time magic
goodbye season
I move back to a seed
It takes much longer than you think
Do I hear prayers being sung?
I love every moment of weightlessness
I want to melt with love
I’m tired of being a girl
I want to be a woman


in pastel yellow, i conjure up sunflower feelings stand in the middle of the room
radiate soul through the floorboards
i don’t want to read the cards
i erase all ideas
still getting visions like fantastical frosted cupcakes on the counter
i draw suns an all the faces
animals run over the eyelids

Rose gives its first flower to this Season
i trust the universe a little more again
but i had help
I’ve been for a walk
On a winter’s day

Kicking Brick
hag’s stone
i’m back in contact again
with The Flow
i can understand my dreams
Plant Plants To That

i can’t tell you what this means on the dancefloor
i know you know


i love wearing my lacoste slides
flopping out to my mailbox
walking along the sandy cliff
with the sun microwaving my legs
I can go there anytime I want
through the portal
my other ride
Isaac Hayes in my ears
I am the same 50 years older
as I am younger
I climb in the pinecones
with my eyes on treasures
The Earth is warm
I’ve got cinnamon rainbows underfoot
and drop bass
Lemon Sess
we are all revealing how much we’re similar
Pharoah visions coming to be
A breeze up here
standing in a field of angel trumpets
acorns and alligator heads in trees
Meet the new renaissance
I choose a sunbeam on Summer grass dry
with mossy bits
a coyote snake watches me watch a beetle


Tarot Erotica
the arousal of fate
gold leaf and neon green
possibilities puke
Unforgettable goes poof
Mercury where you at
come bump hips which ya girl
you and i have gotta chat
what happens bubbles up
i write on the sand
part of a photograph
thus far love hasn’t been enough

pearls for aphrodite
she fucking loves me
we talk to each other on the phone
call her up like – hey
“no bb you doing good
you my cupid’s cherie
hold still and strong, here”
holds a damp face towel
now tattoo of roses on my face
look like bruises from my open heart
Oh Momma Maya, Maha Maja, yee Mary too
Lady Jane you always singing in my ear
they all lean over me, scarlet and obscure
bling out my blunted tooth with
a gold dolphin
periphereal surprise better to blind ya with

the faerie king paralyzes me into frog position
hovering me where he wants me
i was moving mountainscapes, foam Palaces
seeing my baby in the clouds
i’m floating on my back

angel face of the morning
quicksilver Papa,
we slip and slide through fresh memory
light sparkles through the lemon trees

the land of milk and honey

I am empty of all for you to fill
I am a transparent softness blooming in the dark
a rich black velvet I am radiant against
in your arms
the voice I do not hear but feel
the words you do choose
are only dug out at the roots
they make me laugh with profound delight
my throat is thick with dream
Wandering The Palace of Apples with you
in smoke the spirits have spoken
your wishes on the wind land on me
I am bringing you
in my date nectar womb

no crash against the stag
running at a new dawn
walking deja vu
climbing out of the smoking hood
I am 300 years ago
getting slipped back
moving like soft lights
sinking into misty groove
breathing hundreds of little fires all over you
peanut butter creamy aura of love
I took a bath the rose mask over most all of my body. The Strassenbahn emerges from the woods through a veil of steam that rises from the tracks. Morning dew glitters in the pines. I go to my holy places. The Earth is breathing in orgasmic joy
I drag my romantic aura around with me
Child of Spring reborn
My fire catches and licks the air in ecstasy
deep-sea inhaling the perfume of warming dirt
a great euphoria sighs within me
My lungs in the sun like an absorbent butterfly
I’ll take your dragon
a caterpillar to giggle with

all the buddhas love me

our job is to envision
yeah, sure i don’t mind what happens
Forget suffering, what about sacrifice?
I love having my mind blown.

panthera pitter patter is out of the broomstick closet

clarity dawns
under my clown hat
Flamingo this:
my dragons sparkle.

Always throw the last grains of salt from your palm over your shoulder.
there are angels at the windows
I am bloated with the present
All the buddhas love me.
my bellybutton is a cute gate
of abundance
Warding bat residue
the spirit cats got my back
I read the rags of atmosphere

My breasts are invisible
when will I explore my body like it’s new again
The kid’s still dedicating to my spectre
I’m not going to count all of my “I’s”
or want for experience


i am almost out of body
there’s a tension building up into my head
can’t seem to write anything romantic
except maybe a little cold ode to myself
contained in a blue bundle
running the edge
in reverse hush
pup of the universe
how will i get there?
I will build a fort of fluttering tapestries.
Rilke, you dribble all up and down my livejournal spirit
I’m hard like your muse
grow into me
I carve magnificient statues for your entrance
make your higher self blush
fluster not about in the bush!
Let’s make something of It.
my thoughts bicycle along the sand
I feed you faerie muti
lightening up your arms, sugar on fire
Earth comes panting at my gate
We lift each other
Ascending quiet festivals of amusement
funky porch forest
the paradisical garden
in which we stroke the rabbits
and lose all of our fears


I be your Sun-In lemon fresh babe
lightening up herself
Rooftop Extra Wow
my gnome nose red, kinda cute, definitely shiny
supposedly I look the same forever
beaded curtains of fun
The ocean is a moon mirror
I call Big Mama
My raga of dedication, walking the shore
yellow turtleneck
rainbow-striped bellbottoms, carrying a Mexican blanket
My hair blows around, getting baked with my best friend
dancing in the crossroads of the tide
Bleached-out trees that have become logs to braid our hair upon and dream, captivated by
I serve tea to the surfers
Hillside Hag Shack Chapel to Blue Sky Days
with tinkling meanderings on organ ghost
sun-room stained glass with windchime tarantula theremin sounds

looking into all the faces of people
My heart tendrils are unhooked by my 2nd faerie godmother
She’s a shamanistic kush-puffing seer
Who Wants to Play!
So we add the sunstones to the dreaming seed and back up, space filling, my crown gets lit-up all clear
like a giant giggle
“Mercury, I sent you a postcard
no rush”
I sing Happy Birthday to every moment
I am my seven year-old dream
Exploring the meeting point between land and sea
the realm I am home
I’ve been magically activated

I conjure a moonbeam channel to our reflective storage container
This, image’d
possibly a song begins to sing within you
while mine own cartwheels across the sand
squishes mud between my toes at the cliff grotto
and collects green slime sample on a piece of driftwood
Glittering Mass on my back
shadows of crescents splay out beneath our tree
I submit myself to the sacred impermanence
the forest spirit is obviously within me
the mushroom is driving this skin suit
Mother Earth has accepted my offering

manifesting daydreams sweet aroma that tickles my nose a little bit

Winnebago forest in Joshua Tree country… A sweat lodge for the spirit, special desert plants and special gentle animals with protective powers, like violet totems, vibrating under a naked night’s sky where all of heaven is exposed and glowing… Polaroid from the past.

I pop open the capsules of marshmallow into a cup of cool water. I spread butter on both sides of my bread slice made of seeds and ground nuts. Then I take the bread knife with the gentle teeth and cut thin cheese. Sprinkle garlic powder, which uses up the rest of it that was in the tiny tall jar, and a little bit of red onion, translucent and fresh and I put it all together in a stack called a sandwich and inside the waffle iron it goes.

After I eat my squared and indented lunch I spread the now-gloop over my arms and hands. Push the screen door open and sit on the front step with the breeze.

hermit series

I am focusing my sentient salience
on the greatest sandwich
Saturn string-beans: a planet made of satin.
I rotate around my gut, ping-ponging between possibilities
which arrange themselves repetitiously
I forge onward, waiting for the flash of light
that will illuminate my path, little bit by little bit
My iridescent nail polish chips away
I am my own pale blue dot.

Neptunian Rivellettes

blue green sheen
when I close my eyes
I see red glowing from the sun
the sunlight through my eyelids

Clown Casual Style:

multicolored blue dream baby bopping through a light blue station wagon migration the mobile of desert time. Terracotta chimney-pots on sun-beat roofs all spread out limitless under swift little rainbow clouds
matching mugs to my outfits
thin and long sky
sweet sun runs the back of his fingers along my cheek
petting me

Wet Water Full Moon

blossoming double-decker lotus flower with a fairytale in the middle.


So mucho scrunch-faces olde before their time
I’m still nibbling at chickweed
but singing the song of Mugwort
Oh Artemisia, riding in on a strange fingered fog
wispy, delicate bells of moonlight
the water at night.

Nevermind the lightning, its not meant for you
Fill your eyes and mouth with smoked fish and fresh fruit
The space between your toes with sand
and soft furry plants
running clean
bubbling low
trickle stream
and in that nude minute
the owl comes in


We are flying over the dead sea
ancient salt monoliths packed and hardened
me in my fuckle barrette, shirtless in my little aura forest
This land beyond the mists
was built on top of the remains of gold rush ships
The guardians of the gateway smile at me
like little aliens puffing their pipes beyond the porthole
I notice lots of things about
small details in the apartment
sitting up in bed
the room next door afro-harping contentedly.


Why did you come home with me
little stone?
You look like a planet, shimmering stranger

We pull up in the desert
deep blue sky – expansive, with very green cactuses
rolling out of the road
some old car playing something sincere

Want to go to Tucsan, babydoll?
We can soak in the sacred spring of circumstance
look at rocks all day
go through the gateway

(what happens) At Sunset Cocktail Lounge

Baby pink block letters on bleached sea green, washed out turquoise
Infinitous and from bare feet on wood floor that recedes from foggy dim to darkness
Japanese blue linen strips of curtains hang with their strange straight weight
fluttering at the edges

I’m eating wahoo tacos from a porcelain plate painted with blue flowers
Blinding sunshine yellow emerges with sincere jingling
Bongos and tambourine and guitar
strum strong
Musicians materialize from the end of the lounge
Their forms are the only lights, bright colors refracting the misted sunshine
Relentless harmonies pungent with chlorophyll green, poppy orange, ketchup reds
curling the rattan into delicate spirals
ceramic and glass discs wind chimes clink glistening radiance

A pan moves around the metal burners in the kitchen
The performers bow and dissolve back into the murky somewhere
Little red bulbs pop on, the wood siding glows
Margo behind the bar
wearing various fringe
Shows me the boarding room upstairs with mats for rolling out
short-bladed ceiling fans rotate
A desk, a chair, a rectangle of balcony and the sound of seashore
“It is the time of the owls,” she tells me as she leaves two super-soft tooth-colored towels on the desk.
Taking out the sleep mat, I watch the grayness hover in the air of the balcony and beyond
Downstairs again, at Sunset of vague discernment, another life reveals itself
Solid abstract geometry of calming quality
A Flintstones car if it were cool jazz or hot blues
clear liquor and lines
guitar and trombone
night-blooming flowers, fat and waxy, burst open and close slowly
pulsing phorescent against the red velvet which has settled like a coating
of dusk


The captain collects Victorian frames
Mornings he straddles the porch nakedly
Pointing out that this bluebird and crow have been fighting
around the great cedar

Putting the kettle on for the daily half-drunk mug of tea
Meanwhile, I determine crystal doorknob is officially a useless ornament


Oh Moon, I am yours
laid out at my root
With the nine of swords as my crown
Drinking the 2nd steeping of Golden Buds of Joy
I think sadly about The Hanged Man’s 3rd appearance

Earlier I try to move a moth, freshly dead
on the sidewalk

I go into Artemesia, the terrarium store, with my paper grocery bag
to be around air plants, ferns, whispy wild carrots, miniature towers of dewdrop jade and dusky carnelian shards, phantom quartz, glittery sands…
How do things stay sweet and tiny?
“Tecate, they don’t,” she says

I paint in my mind
I’m walking down the street with their little hand in mine
The sun duly dapples our moon skin
We are made of milk and honey

From the great tree we come, golden
The streets are streaming gently with breezes and late morning
occasional slow car
rectangles of concrete sidewalk

Dandelion, faerie tales drop in and out
Mostly I feel peaceful
I think about nothing except the feeling of soft fingers

rough ridin’

great winds blowing today
fastly sliding clouds
the sunlight changes
A day of The Surf
where wind meets water
i become my hag self through waiting and trusting.

the sky’s breath the trees sing with

my consciousness exalts
in the nature of now
Earth in this incarnation i am grateful to share with it
the dawning of my animal nature
is due soon
here i go in fear, mourning these breezy ways

Children of the Foam

There was so much LIFE everywhere!
Your mother was irresistible

Strawberry of the Morning

that car vibrates in sqeeches
outside bamboo forest of soft rustling
the sun rises earlier and the morning is mild
a lonesome crow caws on the telephone wire
daffodils splendidly innocent
bright and churchy and pioneering

sunshine colours and earth tones
mints spreading with little purple parts
petals flapping in the breeze

In Huntington Beach to Newport and Costa Mesa
the streets stretch long and laid-back
with careless strip malls and convenience stores
for buying beach corn chips
Palm trees and Eucaluptus and Pine
It is time to be dreamy

conifer bundle
bonfires at sunrise
ocean slaps
loud like a feather duvet
The Great Doug
little wood and brick shelter building underneath it
with coffee bubbling in the espresso maker
Thick, wooly rugs and velvet wallpaper panels peeling
From salt and surf air

beach baby pink walls

cruel dew
my face is as fresh as a piece of seaweed
Human experience is one great connectedness unfolding
my vision extends to deep blues and the faintest opalescence
I’ve always liked fences of wooden slats with gaps between their teeth
Plants clamoring outward from the old base
By the hair of Gwenefahr
I command thee to lay your burdon down
See into the foggy morning a song of silence
walking without sound so to be with the Earth, and for the squirrels
lights of white an yellow hue coming closer


he sings a song in the sometimes words of faerie language
streaming like a mountain stream
trickling bells and vibrating sea-green
with chrome finish
My cottage walls inhale through their exposed grain
and exhale warmth
my spider plants filter the air
the lights are gentle
a fiddle and a flute

dawn breaks for the beach comber
the waves cry the pulling of the moon
and the sea nymphs slip out with their woven nets
Chimney puffs little plumes of smoke among the trees

loomenis whiskers

dual tone huueeeehuuuuuuEEEHOO
then a great hum
and a shaky rattle
the deep throated Waldorf gargantuan from the deepest of the sea
and vastness of space
here on Earth
man stupid
fix earth
nature sees us
sunlight burps up and gurgles orange
in my mouth is a whole world
kept secret by my heart

booddha baby

coming up roses
love family in simple wooden cabins of an old mining town
driving the gingerbread wagon

clear cold river water pools around
off in the distance the dark lady of the Firs
sings low, sweet chariot

marin grove

Crows on the trees
some blazing bright green through the haze
on the beach
Indian Summer fog reaches in
The barks of so many giants
smoothed down by hands
dusty paths red dirt rising
little trickling currentlets of prehistoric life


In the backseat driving through Oakland
the density of memories smoothes over
the gritty hurts and hurtings
Tolerance descends
her veil is Temperance’s blindfold
She pours from one vessel into the other
Our morningstar – the sun
A strength of faith
behind misting fog

my suggestions are orchestrated
my wishes for happiness
taking flower
in the retrieval of details
of a foreign landscape
superimposed over my quiet absorption
feeling absolute and pastoral in the backseat

slip of paper made of tree

lizards rest and shoot about on the rocks
we see another hare
big in the sunlight
I want to paint my nails for you
But I’m usually dating my own muse
trying to seduce her to the surface of my skin
until I am radiant with her purpose
no longer to be dedicated,
but for the fingerlings of all imaginations
which I feed with the essences of flowers and stars
androgynous mystery of a complex whole
to you I gift my humanness
to carry your seed in my body

Elven Knight Magic

his amorphic transluscence unfolds in the forest
of faerie characters
sub-liminally the horned one
crystallizes the nuggetry

fantasy aisle

sci-fi bookshop
cups of coffee and tea
cool late summer day sober skies and placid sun to the
cabin the the woods of pine needles and gurgling stream banana slugs under leaves browning and wet
wood fire in chimneys
and leaning in embrace on old couch with my lover
who idealizes me yet has no mercy for my needs
he owes me nothing i know
the crows outside and fridge vibration

in riding my heavy clunker bike for a long time i find the stillness i crave
he daydreams of babies i daydream of being the ocean
he creates in the space and lets me be

woodland creature

I speak the language of peace and love and deer
graze on!
I’ll brew the Chinese tea
make you live in the enchanted forest
miniaturize vagueness
take you on a joyride
the seagulls migrate to whales
my other RV is 80’ long
a real boat
with a cube on top
it’s a room I call my studio
always work in top private
my ideas are sacred and become actions

Captain Skybreak

A cozy lil Souther hospitality feeling
Rad Dad pops up like a cartoon – slide guitar
palms full of morning glory seeds
“another look where you know it all”
days breezing by
pine boughs behind baseball fields
You can teach me something but
my child plays harmonica for the sea gulls
so I may not need to hear about it
unless you speak barbeque
which I know you do on your speedbuggy
crawling coast highway
Pink sky
give in to the drifter in moi

need to daydream

Tonight I lonely-cream and damn assumptions among friends.
cruisin’ in the all-time buggy
I slide around in my opalescent pink skin shell
sluglike, growing Earthsize pearls out of my heart
then using them to lay upon
their gravities of evolutionary eternity magic-magnitise my body.

My ego is so wild
it can warp anything
in love with me

way over the rainbow
where sweet Buddhas are allured by witches
I need to daydream of finding some balancing bliss
to stomach-curdle back and forths in the statusphere

Desire desire

Northern Californian beach babe
takes No. 17 Magic Carpet Ride
wobbin weaving
wiggly toward Southland
A chorus of Mexican back-up singers
rotate on a cuckoo platform
sing I am stand here alone
My man don’t grab grab grab me no mo
I am I am I am
too something!
I need to get some different action from
climbing same mountain Transcendence
or Clarification
Triangularily mirrored underearth by mountain Vision
Aqua aura quartz-clear for sure
I’m the golden gate keeper
Artemesia misters for your cheeks, here.
I have lost my mystic womanness for one of them Sun Gods.
Could drift off… dreamy folk ballad
My snotty weepy tale accompanied by cupids shaking tambourines

Denim denim

Contemplating leaf life
through glaze of rawstone
Crimson earthless beach doodle
gentle harmonious ebb n’ flow
Grab a veggie burger with slimey green pepper slice slug oozballing off the sides
taking my top off on the hood of the whitelight bug


Sum mellow Pa in peachy corduroy holding his baby girl’s hand
We rode horses all the time, in Morrocco
Albino Arabians with reverb
a wondrous place

from inside my carpet bag my forearm floats
dangling from high heaven
crown chakraland
green’s the only color to stay behind on Earth
the rest of ‘em peaced out into vibration squeek
Outer realm alienfirefarts
dancing around in enlightenment
too far out for my meat body with
finger tentacles looking for…
artistic carpenter partner
to saunter down avocado aisle
of strange supermarket on the road
to build me moon seaside shackhut
and any simple shelf
I be your muse, woman, ever unfurling passion bud
twilight sand dune explorer
deep depths of gut magic

West Coast Elixir

mad Arabian cowboy action into medicine man vocal solo
cascading Mt. Puma Mt. Choogar Mt. Lynx all those cats
beating cans in the audience
Wild man, WILD! they scream!
We’re all git up in our drag
of dreamy ancient vibrations
feeling right
talking with throat frogs
mere ripples in the lake of teeming life
Moody fiddles curling in and out
I want the world to feel older than me in a teacher way
overcast Spring light cotton curtain
whisking blue and gray into the room


We’re going to have a big bonfire
Away the gray
Get misty for blue
suckle my tit, not my shoulder
What we’ve got here
are a whole lot of Puritan farmers
who like to roll their own
Meteor burn spots on the front lawn
It’s hard to be on the bus
while dreaming of the ocean
‘till you bump up on it
and the houses all sparkle
There is a difference!
Individual, individual, collective
We are all one
but some of us have met before
Get your dick wet in the past
The Lioness only moves through her instinct
Old meat hurts the gut
I will throw it on the bonfire
There’s no cosmic beard
Nothing to save for later

The Witch’s Curse

Strength becomes The Tower
The Lover reflects himself eternally
Fortune is transcendence
Portholes of peace
sleeping through a thousand winters under the mossy shack roof
wind and rain and sunrises hit my perfect teeth
I wake for a thousand seasons
Watch the beach evergreens
dandelions spring up between quiet yards
Bark bends off the tree
When the morning feels like a Japanese bath house
My harmony is with the tides
Just passing through
we grow alone
and come together with the fire demon in the kitchen
Saturn is due for me
I dream of bleeding
the hardness of my canyon vista packs sediment in orange light

Happy Landing in Faerie Land

The captain’s big ol Vitamin in the sky is back
Wood breathes in morning light
people are beautiful when you let them be
each morning
a fresh batch of summertime shampoo
I work with my hands
daydream of heat
carved-out pineapple drinks
under full moon influence
sky canoes from birch bark
I don’t dance for anyone except myself and the mountains

Our Air Conditioner

is a Disneyland motel
weekend day with Claifornia polyester sportswear
fat color waddling around
drinking lemonades on electric blankets
maps unfolded
fast food anticipation
a big hand strokes my back
wild horses graze in the heat

High Witness News

52 year-old gangster fortune-teller
killed in a Mexican bus crash
Members of the Committee to Stamp Out Sorcery
ride sexy dolphins to the scene
to squirt lime juice ceremoniously
and crow that the omelet of wisdom of the ages
is too messy

Lone Fir Substation

San Francisco Spanish stucco duplex
Weedy front yard squares
crumble stairs
electrical backyard
with mountain bike

coffee stomach storm
scared babyface men
poppy plots
teal sidewinder
overall truckers
menstrual charts with yellow roses

Gospel Signs Available

swath hail
French Texas
murder is a nickel in your pocket

low ridge ranch homes
plywood curtains

tarantulas on the ceiling in the bedroom
desert strip kind-of blues
some slow noodles
red cedar cigarettes

Ms Turquoise

Her new boyfriend rides an ocelot through
the light curtains of her boudoir
Concealed in veils of cobwebs
swathed in coyot’
swinging a chain of tail lazily before her
dirty tobacco prayers
from the bed of a truck
nestled under ageless pines
she sparkles mysteriously

i throw up sunny sour gummy worms

Interstellar Cove

purple blues and high whites punching through
the forest on the hill
trickles down a drainpipe
wooly with neon green and burgaling steadily
kissing banana slugs in the pre-sunset
one hundred dollars a month for the view


there ain’t no pier for the sea snails
just mountainscapes of kelp
herds of flies grazin
on an afternoon of sentiment
and kind eyes
spacing out gently
or drifting up to a 12″ soccer game

playing Miles Davis from the top stack
of a shack building
wooden pacific
banging bucks
bending cactuses in the sunlight

benches for my bum boyfriend
who jogs the sand strip
waiting for a new wave
full of idealism
he rambles jellyily about our Zephyr
and a diamond dragon withering in the canyon
still being unphased by mostly everything

The Timekeeper

He boils coffee
In dusty low adobe
Gurgling with black oil
Black eggs
The snake on his arm twitches
The day unwinds
In tennis shoes
On the roof at dusk
He speaks to the eagle
Smudges cedar
Twine springs loose
Toast pops in angelic light

The Land and I Are One

the Holy Grail is a secret soap
of your subconscious

The Ripply Breeze

Such a dashing sea captain
Should get out of this coffee shop
Into your ship.
Or at least a boat car

Los Alamos Library

In the mountains
We carry a small tree
Figs in ten years to roll with coconut shavings
And refrigerate for 3 days
Arboreal navigation
In a wind-vacuumed
Map of death and beauty
One the mother of the other

Our Forest Scene

A shoebox diorama
Chewed by rabbits
Sage curls and dries
The chipper fern mocks it
With my evileyed mushroom lamp
I am the wood nymph of this
Lady in the mist
Laying in the steam
A time traveler
From the bathtub
Of the rain of a place
The mad scent of the faux African Violet drooping
And blooming
With the waning
Of moon candles
Dipped in sloppy mineral tides

Grown ‘n’ Sexy Cowgirl

Roller skates to his mustache
Glowing orange
He sucks his whiskey
A dutiful American
Toting a boot-popping small nacho order
Who crawls all over him with her dimples
When the front seats fold down

Waking up to Whale Song

expansive blue
sweatpants in the river
the best part of Sundays
carried out into the middle
where waves are a romantic notion
we’re closest to the moon
intoning ancient melodies
through vibrating filigree teeth

The Aliens

6 foot tall, red-headed Texas round-face
sparks the magic man in the poet
who leans into a future of desolate San Francisco
Is illusion a big baby
allowed to eat me
and shit rocks for giggles?
simultaneously they make love to the computer
we’re all captured on sizzle tape
I ask good questions
Answer to my little gut me
Vibrate in a stretchy holy moment
We’re all a load of freaks rolling down the asphalt
A big impressive playground of words
and delineations of reasons
the actions are the magic
separate infinities
one in which I try to sell cars
make cigarettes do what I want
hold my piss for 9 hours
My hibernation of perfection is preparation
I go to the other world and bring back proof
experience is reality
Here is my depth
It’s my head
Fuck helmet laws.


Desert Lily smacks
Slow roll Sun jelly
Fat fart squatting behind my peace mountain
I come in many colors
through OM my Sanchez awakens
Electrical belly
Mini grace, bouncing around with the enlightened asshole
Motorcycles, fireworks, and garbage cans dragging in the night
You in me shapeshift eagle
Witchy gel waxed on
San Francisco all over

The Intro

Tropicalia flutes and hand drums
Cascade on a naughty pan
Up a naked ankle
Little gold hairs when you get to the thigh
Frame boundaries bubble into the scene
Just in time over the cauldron
Thunderbird silver, crackling turquoise-stacked fingers
Come down, pulling the whole mess
An elasticized brew
Climbing oboe and tubular humming
Become shivering serpents
Winding into words
Names we’re entrusted.
With more frantic drumming
We plunge through strange jungle camps
A mosquito on a mission
We buzz blood-thirsty deep into the flame of the torch
Free-falling into darkness as the beginning starts