Redemption Of A Red Planet


We can only but get to Mars now

Can I kiss you?

Can I under those blue white skies
skirt the hues of red and orange
and beige
and feel your textured, crusted lips

dry there

waiting for a humanness to know you

amongst routines, ritual, and duty
to clone
the next progenial elation

to sample
to sample
what were the forms and ways before
in a new kind of gravity
a different context
the answering of ionized metals
for redemption

for our redemption

the new ways of being

from this space port I buzz to you

my mercury and iron oxide singing


On Kraken Mare

Damn, they want to send a space submarine
to the methane sea of Titan by 2040.

I’ll be 63 years old then, if I make it that long.

I’d like to be onboard that submarine.

One would need to be fearless.

What if they encountered some strange
and gargantuan creature?

I believe in such a situation I would be fearless.

One would have no other choice, being
886 million miles away from home.

All my life I’ve had this feeling of some
form of galactic fearlessness.

I guess this is what it’s for, a space
submarine trip to one of Saturn’s moons.

It could also be faith, faith in an ageless

An agelessness that destroys myths and fears
and leaves possible every iteration of every
physical arrangement,
for always
and for this always to always be again.

A Border Dance

I can’t live without the Dead.

All the suns that turned
turned to make Time for the living.

All the stars born
bore the home of the Dead proudly,

bore the lines of horizons,
the place of hemispheres,

the songs from Australia to Alpha Centauri,
the songs from Mexico to Alpha Centauri.

Teeth fleet this precious attainment that is crushed.

Blue nights burn endings
this become beginnings.

The blue nights flip December nights for June
and laugh.

In the beginnings
we bring children to dance on sunrise sunlight.

In bones we walk the path
back home across the pasture dew effervescence.

Ants chew on cow skulls.
Tall grasses grow.

While infinity is right.
Still the Entirety has a point of axis,

gravity spills sometimes,

“I can’t live without the Dead.
We live together.”

Door To The Stars

a portal door

to the stars


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

Wizard Girl Heaven

Palo Pinto County

There have been alien thoughts visit me
since I met you
and I wonder if maybe you’re an alien.

Created in some form before time itself.

Maybe you come from the makers of

Maybe something has happened with
me lately,
some sort of plasma is inhabiting me,
my neurons are inflamed
and now perhaps
I’m an alien?
Well, a different kind of alien,
an alien of spatial configurations and ketones.
Seeing the different fields,
You know,
liberated from form perhaps?

I believe that you have liberated me from form.

Chalked up the cliff sides of Palo Pinto County
in the summer.
Made ancients from your knee bones.

These things that encode you, regardless of
their semantics,
are beautiful and press the return button
to the imagination of childhood and interstellar

As mentioned before, you reset time.

You’re not a form I’ve known before.

So I see you very similar to rocks and moon.

In Argonic Language


When you are away
my words are like companions.
Things like farm, house, deep space exploration
and searching for the footprints of argon.

This is what you do in your absence,
join these concepts as equivalences in my mind.

Then beyond the words,
my emotions for you become landscapes,
features, mountain ranges, beaches,
oak tree meadows entwined with clustering stars,
somewhere above West Texas.

The chalk of that dirt reminds me of your
Mediterranean freckles.

So it is at night that I thirst,
dreaming of your brown hair silhouette
passing through white plaster porticoes,
sunlight trailing on your sweet ass.

I awaken to take water,
one of the companion words you’ve given me,
because it runs throughout my soul,
blended to my blood and body.

All of this as one. A self that’s not just one.

Vagabonds Burning


two vagabonds
in the midst of a cosmic journey
found themselves
crouched down by a pickup truck
in the parking lot of a corporate chain hotel
on a hot summer night in Victoria, Texas
drinking beer and smoking cigarettes
surrounded by concrete and fluorescent light

they would become husband and wife

as that’s what vagabonds do
when they recognize each other
reassembled after billions of years
and born into the forms that are here

forms indiscriminant of data

they’re comfortable anywhere
once they’ve found each others gaze

at a wooden table in Peru or chalky road
on northern plains

amongst any kind of wave or radiation

breathed this and that terrestrial scent

terrestrial scents from ancient stars

made like scientists and gods
they are


Phases From The Universe

It was extraordinary

to love the days I did
with you

There were days
in the
Bagdad Theatre
in Portland, Oregon

I lived with you
Before I even knew you
There were days after you
Days between LSD trips
when knowledge became

I saw you there
in the flesh
over the low trimmed carpet
moving your curves
the daylight
in the lobby

Then, there was a breakfast
around the corner
where I remembered your smell

and the sun came out
to tell me the fable of how
time reconciles itself
in the various phases of the
physical universe

It said, that was the point of
you and I

to notice what goes unnoticed

to love what is fleeting with
the textures of mortal soul

to become information

The Loves Oceanic

These things that give suspension to atoms

These things of the being

They’re being and been in my heart for your love

They cause for your blue eyes

The cells of my dreams

Windows of the way the sunshine was with you

In Mexico
after you ate the hibiscus flower and wept

Down a damp street in Dallas

As the snow came flying down in New York City

To make a parade or make us all crazy

To make us cuddle and feel like enchiladas in our

The sunshine was still there

When your buttressed lips kissed me and I felt

My mind tilt like the cascading cliffs of Ireland




Into the crisp and unforgiving coldness of the Sea


And because of that coldness I am preserved forever

Where you reside within me

On this planet

In the depths of the ocean

“The Stars Of This Poem”

Not with the soft hands
that leave me
these are made of desert sand
a different house
a house of hours
underneath the configurable stars
turns the clock from orange to red
some new technology runs
on board a space ship
so a new time is born
one that is free from revolutions

In a cave
below a chalky canyon
I believe in you
for your precious script of DNA
your chestnut brown hair
the journey of your lips

my bones turn to dust

they kiss their galactic sojourn

They are the stars of this poem