Door To The Stars

a portal door

to the stars

opened

and some of the people passed through

i passed

to follow you

to look for you

for the you that i would never see again

but equations

or probability

tell me

that somehow at some point you will be
made again

i will not be

the same

but the one who

passed through that door was me looking
for you

Dialogo For The Mythmade Magic

New York - Los Angelees

What’s the difference between New York and LA?

In New York
they’re well-postured people.

Tightly postured, if you will.
Excellently postured, I might say.

Very very well-postured.

In LA
they’re sloppy posturers.
They’ll posture at anything.

At cartoons, cars, stars, pornos, bars, fast food.

To quote a person I once met who represented
both so well,

“Do you know what I mean?
I mean like the experience.
You gotta really have it.
You know what I mean? Yeah, you get it. You do.
You know what I mean. Yeah, you do.”

Quote, unquote.

No. I don’t. I don’t get it.
I think you’re all full of shit,
living in some deluded 20th Century archetype mythland,
giving yourselves pats on your imaginary bigheaded
mythbacks.

And I hate to be the bearer of bad news,
but this is the 21st Century,
where the people have stopped operating via mythmade
ego-wanton magic.

Masturbation Beings (or Flesh Amongst The Living)

These are but flesh
that ratify nothing

Ratified by mountains
Ratified in mountains in New Mexico

these inconsequences of computers

Land of launching spaceships
from
Galactic contracts

creatures, clones and tunnels

a mortal program realizes itself
you once loved someone
awake

trades of bodies of flesh
not long lasting
there but not back

never everlasting

This is but flesh
this passing
no way outlasting a blink
of the network

the proliferous supercluster web

a mortal program realizes itself
again, again, you once loved someone

you’re now dead, extremely very dead
just flesh amongst the living

The House Made Of Stone

Tenochtitlan

After you left
the land remained greener
than it should have
in Texas in the summer
far after
the pastures should burn
and turn to brush

Grackles with mouths tilted up
toward the sun
still visited
with anxiety in lost eyes

I needed a copious fertility
to hold me
like you once did
afraid of the lake waters together
cutting across
a fluffy blue cloud sky

I needed a way around the lake

You and I were afraid
So we turned to our bodies
digging into those remnants of earth
and
this is what I asked of the land

the digging and the finding of relics
in cold mud
a pilgrimage towards the miracle journey

the next planet
the one in the high sky
the rational civilization in the highlands
the promise
the stone threshold beside the cedars

: : the good house that is made of stone

Straight Edge Denton ’97

Denton Thrift Store
Is anyone still straight edge
cruising past a thrift store
in a
midsize town
at the start of the Great Plains
Is anyone still cruising past a
thrift store
in a
midsize town
at the start of the Great Plains

Yellow and brown bricks
Do people still have these colors stuck
in their heads
as the feelings of an era

How many times did the sunsets
stretch out
our hearts

The oak trees have continued
to sing with a choir all around
for all that’s gone
unnoticed

Murry is out there mowing

For the purpose of the County
the oak trees are breathing
The County thinks they’re beating
the sidewalk

Even the passing cars on the
State highway by the thrift store
the oak trees have befriended
the smell of refried beans
wet pizza dough and mustard
to help with time’s remembrance

Yellow gunk in my eyes
or to love in some form
among the living

to love the way of insignificance

Are You, My Gloxx Tower Baby

Gloxx Tower (Williamsburgh Bank Building)

Have you been to Gloxx Tower, Baby

Where the Head Capitalist lives up high

In Roman decor

Have you sipped from the crystal

That whittles the soul from the mind

Have you been with the collector of numbers

On evenings

And drank of the wines of Bourgogne

Or
Perhaps
You’ve only brushed the Tower at its bellows
Like all the good commoners do
Rushing on their way across Brooklyn
In subway cars
These alms to the American dream
At the feet, of course, of what the
Capitalists weave

Have you indulged or worshiped or even now
are you sleeping

Sleep sweet in the fields of Umbria

The timbers of Iberia have been lumbered
To carry the motive all across the planet

To alter our DNA forever

Oh, my Gloxx Tower Baby
Your DNA was once human