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visions of somewhere, anywhere

walking with the shreds of a great conception of a dream in the soul freeing us from the dreadful pattern of days

 Noonday upon the town, pouring its avalanche of light

distressed with its own busy restlessness

passionate, fierce desire of me who wants to see it all

being away from mother,

the infinite calmness of her that I hold in my heart while I am scared

sinking to a sleep of brightness in that vast oblivious peace

There is a sadness in the street,

and sullenly the folk I meet droop their heads as they walk along

without a smile, without a song

a mist of cold and muffling grey falls

fold by fold on another day

To those who can hear and understand!

Walk through the gloomy ways of doubt with the torch of vision in your hand

Red as an angry dawn

Brahm’s Symphony No. 4 “Allegro energico e passionato”

slow bright rose-leaves

adrift on the music of happiest hours

at the shut of day with secrets forgotten, forever untold, some lover of an older day

radiance slantingly

when Time perversely loitering limps

at the shut of day

I lie long summer nights in trance

drowsed by murmur and scents

while the sky above merges its peace

with my soul’s peace, deep

meeting deep along the scented twilight lanes

to where a little loft contains my dreams

a gift of sleep that comforts eyes that weep

Now the roaring midnight fury

and the creaking of our hinges and windows

the double-depths and sorrows

hipsters in Chicago, IL, drinking PBR’s , getting caught reading Kerouac upside down on subway- “Hey! I saw u like 5 weeks ago with the same book. Oh, you are still on that page? You don’t say”

the murmur of front-door bar conversations,

the mechanical whine of a bus

Wicker Park, Chicago,IL

bar night Americano

the raw cold moon in thin Silhouette breeze

many cars in concrete narrows, trucks unload

[ here, with his serenely bearded countenance, was an elder of letters; tailer-made for popular Americano taste- sage enough to affirm his intellectual worthiness they say, yet rugged enough to appeal to American’s long-stranded weakness for the man of action and doing.]

Although his shyness with people he did not know well was quite

noted, still, he could

muster an impressive presence to gather hospitable cheer

The drunk post-graduate university crowd disperses back to their eleven-hundred dollar apartments

the litany of questions halts until he is found in another town

he heads off under the spun world that takes off

milky depths of surface moonlight

the moon dissolves not out of desperation

but of mounting daylight

like the snap and close of a book

at the end of a day

candle wax vanilla strawberry poetry tongues

The sky, a star broken thru the Infinite

the birth of the Messiah

I took the crown of the idea and

placed it on my head

I saw____________

I saw_______________________

I saw_______

I saw ________________

all ways lead to the same phenomena

And where do we go after?

Ask the warm stained grass from the beating sun

Ask my poetry, I say

Ask me

and I will tell you

Burn me with the ashes of my poems and my favorite books

Pour the glazed wax from my candle and lick it all

Bite the wick

Candle wax vanilla poetry tongues

big winner

Everybody off drinking!










Earth’s future is an upside-down candle

let’s have spit in our hair when we speak

let us cry a million voices at the moon

whirling in slow motion in silhouette like tops

shadowy Indian salsa

casting spells that emanate from our beards

          vast spirit powers

sailing out of my head, incandescent mediation

the great snake from 0000000000 to

2011, and from here to forever

a lover of another day

I ask less now – and decided instead to live

I go over my hair in the mirror with my favorite comb

I thump on the typewriter for hours

I’m attracted to intellectual long-haired madwomen

oh, and their soft skinny arms

    I sit at cafes where trees slant against the tables

       Noise from kitchen

      Rapping pans and knives & aluminum chopping blocks

New life, new loveliness

I am a wild romantic, where I

see an aged house by a lake that stands against the sky;

and a path of immemorial cobble stone that traces me to her where she stands

Where beauty and love is drowned between heart beats

and rapt and tangled in a woman’s hair

I was probably thinking of Charles Bukowski when I wrote this

Bar, forgot its name, didn’t bother caring

 heavy rain, dim, lonesome bar

No music yet

Dinner alone, hotel room,

complimentary coffee in the lobby at least

Too far-off from the place I called home

What happened?

Momma&Pappa are dead

I drove by the address maybe three years back

The new owners ruined the front door with that dreadful paintjob

Fuck em’

I used to be young

I’ve botched the test, I expect you did too

I bitched & complained too much

These worrisome lines, grey hair, sagging

Body is proof

What happened to the dreamer who thought he could live


   You gave up, so sad

I drink alone now

I had my opportunity

Maybe one of these days we will get it right

* this poem above is about not giving up. I truly believe we all are our own creators, our own Gods in a sense that weave the world (exterior world) around us based on the thoughts/emotions within us all. I think our potential is infinite. I say freeze all time all together, and live forever young in the mind. 

me the garden thief

                                   QUEEN OF NIGHT

I meet the furnace to warm them

The high-rise is cold and damp, but

I consider this will warm my feet

                          Hot cheap tea

                         Lots of paper that I shall mark up

    Disregard the suggestion of time and you’re in for a fine lettering night

Candles to glow

Music to participate

Books to discover


In the morning I’ll go for a walk

I’ll pick flowers. I will put them

into my book, decorate all these blank pages

Smearing colors, brushes of Spring, me the garden thief

Dear Mister President, I have love behind me. How about you?

The best way to wreck something is to take it too seriously. – There is some fine worthy wisdom behind that.

 America you’ve left our country to be run by scalawag and coke fiend boobies. Someday we’ll take it all back, we won’t let it go.

Capitalistic Society destroyed by the contradictions within itself.

All I’ve got to say is,

I’ve had my moment in time. I can’t cry for you any longer.

      Dear Administration,

      Dear Rule,

      Dear Cowards & Cheats,


                I’m no longer concerned in your thoughts, your laws, and your prejudices.

I boldly laugh at you; I think back for a split second imagining how I would once get angry when I cared for you, the idea of you caring for me.


Game over. You lose. We win. 

this is my life and i live by my own rules

Nº. 1 of  15