Regretfully Belated...

One thousand cherubs aren't worthy to carry you to heaven.

Ahhhhhhh...

My lungs are black and my fluid is stagnant my nose belongs to an opium dragon

Life back home is not as exciting as life on the road

Sung Higher...

The machine can't control human nature and will
It's beautiful!
Devil on my shoulder, just let me be!
(I can't finish a page a new chapter)
Only have faith for a face
of beautiful factor
Let's kill all the sinners then sins be dead!
Though there'd be no one left
Destroy and burn all novelty!
Nothing ever bothers me
But everything smothers me!
And you really, really, worry me

T.S Eliot opening stanza of 'The Chorus' from the 'Rock'...

O perpetual revolution of configured stars

O perpetual recurrence of determined seasons
O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying


The endless cycle of idea and action,

Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;

Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;

Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.

All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance,

All our ignorance brings us nearer to death,

But nearness to death no nearer to GOD.

Where is the Life we have lost in living?

Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?

Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries

Bring us farther from GOD and nearer to the Dust.

Lady Grey Hair of Seattle Seduction and Pacific Pleasantry...

Soggy basin bellows smoke and steam over the pine holding borders together

The Rocky Mountains look like ice cream, dessert, and no Officer I don't have any grapes

Clouds wrap around mountain peaks like white fluffy halos heralding angels

I saw a rabbit devour a whale in a frosted glass dome with blue background

bending backwards down to earth, in the Pacific Northwest
(shake the snow globe restlessly)
Evergreen guardians of the roadside keep a close eye on me

They hold boulders back, saving falling for sacrifices and mudslides

Road signs are stark reminders of the murder here

Asphalt snakes slither through homes flattening families

and animals now hide from the lake

Construction kills nature-children-babies, and century old movie memories

Distortion echoes forests and wood chips on this trip

Shadows dance and promptly reveal space spears hurled at hills

Riding through clock faces trailing the tail of time in her chariot of fire

the bitch arsonist of prayers

Now mothers don't light candles and fathers stay at home

Children drop to knees when they learn we die alone

Assassins put cross-hairs on destiny cat tails conduct symphonies

Instincts live viciously passed down from pets of history
We have masters to answer to!

Tired beaten boards with seaweed green coats seen rotten socks
of winter Northwest rain, foggy baptisms of sin
and looks stolen from family homes while blue knuckles roach needs a light in gray Wednesday afternoons by 99 south fleeing ghosts
(to beer and whiskey romantic feelings found in dives, and army boots on march and deck to books about patriotic killing)
while wheelchairs creek to rooftop organs blurting and breathing speaking to those that felt lost on a crossroad but never sold their soul though the devil told them so
so doorways of 2nd Avenue become homes behind pedestrian boots echoeing only in hollow

starless night
reverberated off of 19th Century pews and bar stools down alleyways to fountain feature veiny marble hues
street lights drop yellow tears and flicker artificially over gutters and manhole covers across from wall of lava
with vacant rooms for tattoos and black death children neck chain crucifixion devout to finger tip-less beard of England that reached North American youth
and in turn specific soundwave combinations gave way to birth inner demons writing new equations

"Hey you!" the night called to the closed window of showered youth
who levitated downstairs and smoked a totem pole for goodnight ritual
ignoring the cheap cry of Aurora and dread-locked ghosts in blackwall ruin

It's time for future memory image capture with some kind of mind camera
You need more life in your sleep
Eating a beard looking at Sierra Nevada in neon
Millions of people and they're all strangers
Washing travels in a 40 with quarters
I am a student of my Seattle Buddha
The one who knows the seas

Thankyou for being good to me,
Goodbye grey haired Seattle.

Avenues of the Americas...

From desert to city, already forgotten new arrivals in Manhattan.

The rumble came deep and steady screeching like machines of Morlocks unsettling for first time street bench sitter. The underground maze not puzzling the night dweller masturbater and gloomy overcoat prisoners, hiding from howling New York city apparitions of wolves in air vents of bathroom, 13th floor, for the second time. Street visions of Ginsberg in SoHo, I am sleepless and mind lost, wandering, walking with a quarter dollar black plastic bag from laundromat twisting knuckles needing maps. Wide awake in Times Square lights considering month long Canadian nights in the gateway to the rockies. Graceful Chinatown newspaper ballet, dances with subway grate hooded by tobacco smoke in palms of black gloves and Canal harbours black clad Manhattan Island hipsters with knees greeting leather greeting sheep holding spines from the remaining winter chill at 5pm evening, like ghosts we are receding. Simulated midair crucifixion in Central Park with upside down squirrels dancing with dinosaurs on rock tombs of their friends, witnessed the bowing down to Godliness, eating strawberries hidden in the imagination of each in the field. Blue blonde by pond the skeletal arms and fingers of trees creeping across the sky spookily, wonder if she's scribbling about her life and what it's all about. I smelt grass down Rambling, felt the warmth between lips and breath of fleeting romance of man and woman in stone enclave. 

(On the subway from Broadway to Times Square wondered about mystic similarities unknown unnoticed, they were children they had parents, what do we have in common? The mythic proportions of New York)
Eyes gouged away at grouting between granite rectangular pavement on South Broadway revealing subterranean time lapse backwards through history. Goodbye and long live New York City, God bless the beggar in Greenwich Village, while worrying about records in the belly of a Greyhound bound for the Capital, at least I'm not hungover. The Garden State Parkway somehow reminds me that eights are bound to live long and die alone. It doesn't have to be dark to see stars in America, red and white folding over flag poles above spring red fiery amber tips of branches look like flames, national parks and forests are slowly putting their clothes back on after being naked for so long. Turquoise right arm polka dot brunette made inquisitive eyes at Egyptian good luck coin and Aswan octagon over sternum at chest. I also noticed hers. The District of Columbia is the prettiest picture in the story book of Spring. I want to fold America up into my notebook and take it home. 

My Wild Dog Went Riding, Nevada to Arizona...

Couldn't handle straight lines on Arizonian open highways pleading power pole soldiers to stop looking crooked -- Sea breeze keepsake at Yapvani and bright angel snow reminders slowly swallowed by desert beaming blue skies that looked too huge -- Walking peaks of faces wrinkled to canyon origami valleys wanting to be a grand snake Navajo -- Indigenous genius dream catcher catching fears of dying and of heights but lost dreams of accumulating vagabond demands -- Another $4.99 spoonful for Grandmother and horse hair for her childhood when her Father was a blacksmith -- Australian giving the bird to Colorado American tumbling past Flagstaff and Phoenix to Kingman and Chloride as guests -- Armies of boulder bodies protecting peacock and rattlesnake with screaming eagles scouting dusty souls and decay -- white line fever 85 on junction I - 1 4 9 is every bit as dramatic as the Sundance and what goes on in free rooms for truckers at the Hacienda of neon midnight arid doom