longing

longing
walking through
douglas furs
forest paths
ancient gothic
stone architecture
carved
into the rockface
oxidized copper
misty mossy
cavernous paths
entwining stairs
darkness peering out
onto stone balconies
overlooking
mountainous
river valley vista;
another
was always there
beloved woman
saddened
about her son
or about me
or relieved
at our escape
of something;
like others
like us
our age
we sat
atop and amidst
those vistas
and felt
our miseries
and ecstasies;
old man yonder
sitting alone on the bench
watching
longing.

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we are where the wild things are…

we
are where
the wild things are,
slight hesitation
acceptable
adventurous
margin
of change
a connection
to/with a larger
sense
of stability
a streak
sickening
if controlled
this uncivilizedness
fuels
our civilizations’
reason
for health
birth
and tolerance
of unsatisfactoriness
again
and again
and again
wind
rustling the leaves
on a tree
a silence
sits beneath
the forest
behind the thousand sights
thousand eyes
thousand thoughts
unwatchable
blinding
sun
hyper human
the temporally
cylindrical eye
amidst
the swirling
hurricane
of conscious
and unconscious
silence.

time forgets…

time forgets
how to speak
how to love
how to think
images sleepily
manifest
the moment
drunkenly
stumbling
into crassness
or beauty
worship
o worship
for none
but the hell of the
boiler-room brain
glared back at
cursed at
imprisoned
oranges
gliding
tempting
commands
accidents perpetual
recompense
for the twisted
sadism
of the non-smilers
closed closet
dark room
dark cave
singly lit
and lounging
intensely
intent
upon some such thing
as gardens
or war fields
rippling ripping
your poor sickness
of a mind
made green
render blue skies
infinite
watched atop
the firs
all of the
private things
of love’s rolling over
daisied
focused
it’s easy
too easy
intoxicating
benevolence
not captured
really
in tin cans
slogans
and phraseology
one minute
a thousand
of habits
and denials
i’m forgetting
slowly
soon
i hope
i’ll forget.