Tuscan Eos

Soft pink spills up from land's end.

Grassy slopes, damp with Eve's dew, demurely glow.

I've endured night's heavy post.

My eyes distend and bloom like flowers.

Search for a Melody

I


The Sun was covered by
A purple robe.
Regal Night arose.
Day's broken promise
Shatters crowns
to countless stars.

Progress, illusory thing,
shadows bruising
my heels.


Reprove stars
and place it on your breast.

They shine for others,
humbly fading
with Night's conveyance.


II

The Cosmos is
breathless with
First principles

Her eyes again,
more wondrous than
Constellations
showering from
Ivory fountains,
rise to crown
this canopy.

Amish Boys

Smiles broad as
wide brimmed hats,
dazzling in the
Sun-wash...

Lashes long peacock tails
strike softly on lids

A few times more
and we're buried
'neath musty hay.

Innocence and Curiosity

My little sister died
as I, with paring knife, 
freed wings from
her shoulder blades.

She wished to fly above home
and brush clouds away.

Her peaceful face... 
Mother, why scream?
Not a cry from her mouth.
She died rapt in the dream.

The knife's in the sink,
shiny and clean. 

Humble Deity

Silence of open space,
hungry birds hedged in stillness
greet Gods and give place.

Proud Mothers and Fathers
hide loss from fledgling eyes.

The Universe does not sing praises.
Bow low lest your head
gets singed by stars.

Vendors of the afterlife,
where are your needy deities?

Only acolytes
and reckoned hearts
stretch out hands.

Economy

Clip our ears 

with honed shears. 

Sunshine is fool's gold,
debtor Moon's silver
dross.

Trim eyes with blinding tides:
not waves, nor friendly hands,
but actuary.

We wept like barren Queens
when the market

crashed without falling.

Your budget

builds hovels
on our backs.

You took the mint,
leaving us with
bitter credit.

The coined heavens
are counterfeit.
Economy is nothing
but cruel alchemy.

The Newtonian Apocalypse

After World War 2 the Enlightenment was dead. Atomic science
and war machines had destroyed Newtonian Proofs. The
Fission and Fusion of the Atom had left two laws broken. The
instability of Eternal Truths had allowed the essentialism of death
and destruction through Thermonuclear weaponry. An age of
finding truths instead created an age of probability, statistics,
destruction and convenience. The increase in Metaphysical
Terror fostered an hysteric rise in marketing and convenience.
All the Grand Narratives were replaced by interest in
survival, oblivion and destruction. We see this in the
Contemporary Psyche with the multiplicity of sameness
through a bad infinity of choices. "Free Market"
epistemology and the lottery have supplanted Economy.
Every choice is a wager or an identity statement. Terror
drives us to the Market. Even places of Worship and Banks
have the same sacral opulence, silence and spacing.

Probability hides essentialism under the cloak of an
event. An event has no breadth and must die with its happening.
Statistics is the Anti-Science which essentializes death through
erasing presence with its annihilation. It maps this annihilation
in equations. It is a kind murder of conscience. Why not fall
into the average?

Much of the essentialism of death and fallenness was marked
by Heidegger in Sein und Zeit. His Philosophy was also deeply
entrenched in the War Machine outlook.

The collapse of Enlightenment narratives also led to a
crisis of narrative in literature. No better example than Thomas
Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow--though there are many others. Pynchon's
multiplicity of venues display the above mentioned rise of statistics and
lapse in humanity brought on by the Hyper-Death drive in WW2 with the
V1 and V2 rocket landings across the area of Greater London.

4 Year Old Sophists

Ear to ground,
hear Earth's
song.

Close eyes 

to negate being.

Throw yourself down

in a tantrum,
an Ethics.

Volition proves the truth 

of every diversion.

Summer 2

Waves of heat rise
like lithe hands
soothing pavement.

Nurse,
your bright dress 

blinds.

Please cure this fever.

Records Recommended Which Many Have Never Heard

I wish to take time to recommend some great records
that, in my humble opinion, have never received the
accolades they merited.

Sharing is caring.

listed in no apparent order

"Mondays at the Hug and Pint"---The Arab Strap

"Lose Big"----Eef Barzelay

"Lapalco"--Brendan Benson

"Think Tank"-----Blur

"Soft Spot"---Clem Snide

"Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea"----PJ Harvey

"Because of the Times"----Kings of Leon

"Head Music"---The London Suede

"Tropical Brainstorm"-----Kirsty MacColl, (R.I.P.)

"Discover a Lovelier You"----Pernice Brothers

"Andromeda Heights"------Prefab Sprout

"Ether Song"----Turin Brakes

"Road to Rouen"-----Supergrass

"The Decline of British Sea Power"---British Sea Power

"One Jug of Wine, Two Vessels"----Bright Eyes and Neva Dinova

"Handcream for a New Generation"-----Cornershop

"Elysium"----The Velvet Teen

"Logic Will Break Your Heart"---The Stills

"The Gold Experience"--Prince


All of these are great CD's. Worth every penny...............Pick one
of them up, listen and agree.

A Series of Trainwrecks with Lady

"For I can see that Nature,
since she's an enemy of repetition...."

-----Bernard le Bovier de Fontenelle,
"Conversation On the Plurality of Worlds", The Third Evening.


I




He talks tough and 
bahs sweeter than a lamb.

Tender yokes are shrugged off,
imaginary ones unendurable.


The defense is
different according to place.

Many worlds,
but only one heart...


She thinks,
as the bird has its cage,
the turtle its aquarium,
the heart
is a plastic plate
with partitions.



II


Another train passes
through the same
vale


Its mournful whistle
plays an old
tale


The chorus sings,
unheard:


"In desperation
we haven't the time
to know creation
or see the line.

We want change
more than we see.
We blindly arrange
A glittering liberty.

Only to fashion
shinier fetters
like the Anthelion
fools all as Sun.


False light burns
Without life,
And liars only learn
In strife."




III



Call when you break again.


The shoulder of song awaits
With sweet tones
and shut eyes.

We won't feel anything
but noting repetition.

Epigram 26

He's still trying to be his first girl's boyfriend--
She left him years ago.

Devotional

I


Steps echo off
the still air---

proud gaits
marching against
day


Parhelion!
Astride your
bright master,

You softly shine
greatness passed.



II


Anoint your lips
with honey,
Diotima,

And tell us
about love.


Give us
oblivion.

'Til morn
teaches us
to remember.

Essay 1

Love is the Law and
the law is not love.
Love of life brews 
the strongest drug.

Love is a space 
where time's dust 
cannot touch us.

The Gravity of Infinite Possibility Subdues Day

We wake in judgement.

Dream drains
down sheets,
drowned by rays.

The gravity of infinite
possibility subdues days.

Idle hours press us to legislate solitude
with the rigorous precedent of distraction.

Forever drawn.
                          Unable to sprint
                          or spread wings
                          to soar above.

I Am the World's Face

                          I  

In a thrall of mirrors I scream, 

"There's so many of me!" 

Dance and understand we are one, brethren, 

our motion orchestrated reflection. 

                         II 

Our locks fall lustrous down parallel napes.

No longer do we envy boys named James. 

Our desire unbolts doors,  

every threshold it conquers.

To Explore Without Breaking

To gently stroke a face
and speak words
that create a world
of strange bonds
which set free.

Where we explore
without breaking.

To the Head

A glass your lips pressed...
marred by
mirrored hemispheres

Head drowning
in wine-dark seas

Take me where the red cheek 

of setting Sun fades slow 

as a first kiss.

Birthday Thanks

"I started out younger
At most everything
All the riches and pleasures
What else could life bring?"

Gram Parsons, "Hickory Wind".

1. I would like to thank all my family and friends who called
and sent me cards or gifts today.

2. I would like to single out Oooolijay for sending me a wonderful
assortment of gifts--a "Poop My Pants" doll, a Mullett Air Freshener,
Jesus Fridge Magnet with "Whaaassuupp!" on it, a whoopee cushion
and a wonderful card.

3. Also my co-workers for singing to me and buying me cupcakes and
cookies today. I appreciate them daily because they make my job
a labor of love and enjoyable to do! My happiness at work on their backs--
and all of them so good natured---so funny and brilliant.

4. I am very lucky and happy to have a special loved one who will remain
nameless. She keeps me on the Royal Road.

5. All Honor to my close family members who have passed and yet still touch
my life daily. You are in my heart. Your voice in my ear-- in concert with my
conscience--most of the time.

6. Lastly, and certainly not least, all love to my parents beyond anything that
can be spoken for being so patient and loving. If they were not my parents
I would still be amazed at their goodness. A great blessing and honor to be
their son.



Sincerely and With Love,


DAS

Apology to the Button Lady

Ascend warm tones
to the porches
of her ear.

Fasten a smile to the Sun
  with blue sky buttons.
                   
            Dispel clouds dimming
                   clement eyes.

Spring

Reborn. 
Even if a love leaves,
life shall remain sweet.

Sing praises and let lips
crash heaven with tender kisses.

Hold hands to arouse such warmth
as to set Persephone free.

Bloodless Liquidation

Parttime masses stare
at the Sun passively.
Dust and exhaust
coat lungs.

Argent kissed land...
scorn the beggar's hand.

Cardboard signs
cry histories of penury--
some broken by war,
others malady.

Cars pass still as death.
Drivers shout at the air.

Waves of debt
crest like tsunamis 
over western shores.

Triumph of the Hope

"What's life? Not anything it seems.
A shadow. Fiction filling reams."

-------- La vida es sueno, Pedro Calderon de la Barca.




The pageantry, the stadium sized video screens, the rock concerts,
the cavalcade of stars, the breathless second after second of
the 24 hour nationally televised apotheosis, and the once modestly
attired muse of "History" decked in the gaudy hues of Hope.....

Newscasters congratulate themselves on bringing this nicely packaged
show of "History". Honeyed promise drips from the screen. Gather
around Citizens of the World. Witness the Triumph of the Hope.

Abraham Lincoln has come again! Every gesture in his shadow,
even the actor's clouded face. Tall and thin he stoically shakes Bono's
hand at the Monument. Stoically wrapt in thought he listens to Celebrities
read lines rehearsed from Nursery Books. At times he cracks a satisfied
grin. All is well. Though times are thin, Lincoln, my fellow Americans, has
come again.

The secrets of History are charmed.
Hope, from the Box, leaps fully armed.

Pandora! Don't turn from the flashing bulbs! Drink full the license of
unabashed celebration. Forget the masses are surfeit with trepidation.
Ask for more lucre and pull off the show.

America! The endless promise is renewed. Two million throng the
Capitol. They chant like Corybantes. "Thank you Pandora!" Next year
they'll whisper, "We were screwed."
The cameras and stars will not be there to catch their plaint.
They'll be too busy admiring Pandora's face paint.

Change indeed-- On the back of the dollar we will murder Greed.

Hope, like Pandora, is a whore for all seasons. It, like she, holds out
a hand, never troubling over reasons.

She triumphs. But no crone whispers in her ear, "Remember you
are mortal. Hold this day dear."

The Oooliad, Book I ---The Fair Maiden and Her Menagerie

Book I



The Sun sprays light gen'rously over
Suburbia's sprawl. Its rays gently hover
In our heroine's green eyes.
She turns slowly and espies,
'Tis noon and lazily sighs.
The room, hard to tell, if be an abode
For a maiden or a foul toad.
In the corner a proud Parrot
Guards her repose. A carrot
In his beak and unnerv'd on the perch
Opposite a giant lizard, still as a church.
He licks his scaly maw and eyes slow
Seven turtles in an aquarium's murky glow.

This the fair maiden who stokes Hera's hate?
This the fair maiden who invokes dire fate?
In the fields south of Dallas she dwells,
A land of hillbillies and proud yokels.
From Olympus Hera's aweful gaze
Follows our heroine and then stays.
"What can I essay to bring her woe?
The ways infinite, and the ease ill dispose
My decision must be weighed with craft.
For Zeus has eyes and is far from daft."
In counsel with dread Alecto She issues
A plot, deceptive, to assail inner tissues.
"Her bowels I pollute with Avernian dross!
Sulfurous and deathly, creeping, it shall cross
Her e'ery second and make life hell!"
The Heavens ring with Hera's curse
Lesser Gods scurry, to Her anger averse.


And what, pray tell, has our maiden done,
To deserve dire curse and Hera's shun?
All Zeus' ennui we, the blame lay.
He is a God, so He cannot pay.
At first her green eyes and fair skin
Caught the Thunderer when she, at Gym,
Gracefully climbed the stairmaster
And ne'er looked pained and marched faster.
Zeus' heart sped as her lithe legs lifted
His loins burned and His passions sifted.
Dalliances past He contriv'd artful disguise
But Oooli is strange and full of guise.
Our Heroine's nothing like maidens past,
She loves guns, reptiles and things aghast.
And to her girlfriends winks and simpers,
"I've climbed the fence but never leaped over."
How to catch such a slippery wench?
Zeus cannot find a perfect cinch.

In desperation, at first, He tries
The tried and true element of surprise.
As a rat he leaps on her snow-like shoulder
In her garage, in darkness, but Oooli, bolder,
Slaps Him away and screams bloody murder.
Back He goes, shamed and plots further,
Zeus is a God, undaunted He again endeavors.
Doubtful yet proud He questioned his powers
"Have I lost my touch, no more Golden Showers?
But lost to things that creep 'neath fallen bowers,
The Golden Age is gone, I must new method try."
He lifted His proud head and in distress a cry
Cleaves the clouds above Olympus and then a sigh.
Days passed and alone Zeus sulked.
The Gods all noticed and on His throne Hulked
In thought, no God or Goddess dare inquire.
Hera knew what pained, her jealous eyes dart fire.

A second stratagem He, at length, employs.
In the light of her room not darkened decoys
Which only affright and cool the ardor.
Proudly He smiles and applauds His sagacity.
"I'll become a harmless mouse, blonde and pretty,
Creep into her bed and climb the Maiden Mound,
Nibble in and lap the nectar like a thirsty hound.
Then fertilize her with my heavenly load.
And she will bear a God's brood in her wild abode."

E'en plans of Gods are subject to fickle fate
He became a mouse and learned with regret
The weight of our Heroine on his little shape.
Crushed and without breath he labors
'Til Pallas, His favorite, sensed the dangers
And to the rescue She descended.
Too late, our Heroine her honor defended
With the thrash of a broom luckless Zeus sails
Across the room, landing on the Iguana's scales .
With hungry, cold, eyes the Lizard licks the air
And tastes the Mouse's scent and shifts his care
To eating the rodent tickling his palette.
In time Athene snatches Zeus from its gullet.


Athene with a mouse in tow up to Olympus sails
And Her disguised quarry to the throne avails.
"I dare not try this Maiden again! She, like dread Plutus,
Has a den full of Monsters and weapons to smote Us."

Here Book I ends.
Book II to come at the Kalends.