& then the ampersand
joined me & you
& you, brutal verity
did use to cleave
to join & join
again
the wound
& dagger fresh
Were I only
nailed like him
who dained to
call himself
a king.
But no.
My woe is this
to suffer crushing,
and to die to dye.
Were I but called
the Murex King
and raised to godhood
just like him,
then were my worh complete.
But No.
My woe is this,
to die to dye
the emperors cloak
to croak for vanity
distraught and broke.
I was like water
I was like water
filling in the cracks,
evaporating quickly
as a film of moistness
touching all,
and getting asked;
Why aren't you watering
the crops?
But, said I, what will
the animals drink?
What dews the windows?
What rusts the fence?
Who makes the rushing sound
of the far away fall?
Not a film of moistness, sad he,
Let the dryness speak for itself.
Water the fields.
Imma embrace you
Imma embrace you
with eye
and hand
with brush caress
and kiss
Imma lift to air
your body light
to twirl in mind
the spirit bright
Then with steady hand
give shape to hip
to lip
and dip to dark
the whispy hairs
of that mountain
that I like
to climb
The tiger and the flame
And there I went
all aflame
looking for
the quenching brook
when the tiger
proudly stepped
from out the brush
Oh no, I thought
Shall I live
as flame with
tigers in my home
with cubs
of burning light
and love all surrounding.
Ei jekt
Ei jekt på
et blinkanes hav
i år null.
I gromsat blått
går fortida ned
tel veldige juv
av gammel tid
Der svømme urtia
og sunkne skip
Der i ei råna
tentes livet
Og mæ i ei jekt
i mitt eget år
null
Fjellan av fremtid
rase imot mæ
og klatringa gjør æ
med tankan
Fra høye toppa
speide æ livet,
ser ei gammel hand
i mi
For du e jo der
mellom røslyng
og fjellbjørk
Barnebarn leke
på haugan.
Taps of pure delight
Your finger taps the screen with pure delight
I hear you laughing from the living room
I think you are engaged in virtual fight
or turning back the tides of withering doom
As to my struggles, you are blind,
your ears are filled with distant clangs of war,
which sacrifice, is paying me noe mind,
even as I leave, and shut the door.
Did you not notice where your true fight lay?
It was a against your own soul, every night,
where eyes were turned against the trapping screen.
Did you not notice my complete dismay,
as I wondered who of us were in the right?
As I wondered, what our unity had been?
A direct compliment
It always, well not always,
but lately,
occurred to me as crass to give
a direct compliment.
But, people seem to like it, so,
what do I know?
I would not insult you
by saying,
my tastes are even too refined
to tell you you are beautiful.
Implying, thereby, I think
that your taste
is inferior to mine.
But I would think it privately,
and be ashamed.
So here I stand,
ashamed,
to tell you,
you are beautiful.
We dive head first
We dive head first
into this world.
Swim in our mother's
milk and music -
smell a father's bond.
The with joyous lust
obtain the we, the I, the us.
I have seen death
I have seen death.
It's nothing,
it's an empty world
draining you,
spilling you.
Your soul diffused,
spread thin,
so thin
and turned away.
I turned away.
I looked god in the face;
he was playing on the floor,
unaware of godhood.
His soul diffuses out,
but does not empty.
The world is reflected
in his light.
It crushed into me,
shimmering like a lighthouse beam,
but I am not translucent.
Wherever I turn,
it will cast shadows,
within.
I'm handing you the keys
I'm handing you the keys
to the gate to the way of truth
Three times two they are,
and then their eye at last.
First these two, who and what,
I think you will find useful,
in pointing at correctness.
The I'll give you how and why,
to give them life.
Thence when and where.
Now they are affixed.
Too affixed.
For how to search, if you can't
ask an if.
He had fastened
He had fastened,
he thought,
to himself.
To himself,
he thought,
he had fastened.
Supple bough,
was sapped,
and creaking joints
were poised to snap.
His mother
he recalled
had weaved
when he was small
flower patterned
vines and grapes,
intoxicating fruits
affixed by thread.
He laid his hand on life,
on patterns older than himself,
and thought;
"I am finished, weaved.
My thread runs low.
My knotted mind is spent,
and frayed.
Now let the weave bet cut,
my life's pattern finished, layed."
But yet he sat.
He thought,
I'm fastened.
Like mirrored bronze
I see you seeing me
but you're dull
the red occludes
While I transparent
ever yields
like mirrored bronze
the face of Helen.
Though my hearts ship
will not sail for you.
What are you looking at?
What are you looking at?
What are you looking at?
Did you really think,
you were looking at me?
No, what you are seeing is yourself,
painting before your eyes
the image of your friend.
How does he seem to you?
How do you seem to you?
Sometimes all is ugly,
all is grey,
and like that the word pour
from pen to form
a net.
A you. A me. A meyou. A youme.
What am I looking at?
What I am looking at?
Only myself, where you stand
like pillars of gold in the sun
like autumn birch
self luminescent in minds darkening,
to fall, to autumn, then the red
and gold of christmas.
Be bad.
1. Be bad!
No!
2. Be bad.
No!
3. Be bad.
No!
4. Be bad.
No!
5. Be bad.
No!
6. Be bad.
No!
7. Be bad.
No!
8. Be bad.
No!
9. Be bad.
No!
10. Be bad.
No!
Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.
Be good. Be good. Be good.
A buss is a mirror
The buss is a mirror,
the shop window is a mirror,
the car is a mirror,
the puddle is a mirror,
I think,
of my own vanity.
Oh my gawd
Oh my gaawd,
said she,
why can't I, Just,
disappear, into,
t, h, e, mü.
Why can't
dissapea I
the Mu
d M s
y m
c
¨
The Watcher
Suddenly it was there.
This eye, judging me.
Was I doing the ought?
Was I doing the owed
to this eye,
the projection of my future self,
staring back.
A fallen man, right there, in front of you.
There, right there,
in front of you,
a man has fallen,
down.
He is dying,
you can see it,
but, don't worry,
you can help him.
Just, lift him.
Go on, do it.
he'll be okay.
But maybe you won't do it,
because,
maybe he is too far away.
To far away to help
from death.
I think he is thirty meters away.
Would you do it?
No, maybe, maybe he is about
a kilometer away. But,
you can't walk that far.
In fact, you shouldn't help.
It is too inconvenient for you,
and besides, someone else can,
probably,
do it.
Oh, what was that? Aha, they
have other men to help. Well then,
got to be you, doesn't it?
Did I say a kilometer away?
I think he is actually ten miles away.
Now, you definitely shouldn't do it.
Too far, too far.
Just let him die.
I turn on the TV. There they are definitely dying.
A man has fallen, he is right in front of me,
and I can see it, he is dying.
But, he is more than 10 miles away,
I'm not going to bother.
You see, I'd have to send money,
With my computer you see,
I'd push those buttons, and then, I would send
a little money, to that man, or, someone like him,
I think, but, he's just so far away.
I mean, he is more than ten miles away. And,
I wouldn't even walk that for, for myself.
It's just, no. No.
No, just let him die.
It's alright.