BEYOND ATTIC

the thinner has evaporated
paint and words dried up
turntable has stopped playing
canvas no longer dances to the Dead
or sings with Janis
feeling blue
feeling warped
broken like my easel

I look beyond the drips of Pollock
cracked words of Kerouac
closing my eyes looking out the window
visions towards beauty without pain
closed eyes of Buddha watching the creek
gently flowing towards beauty
and landscapes of words
our creek beyond the attic

FUTURE VISIONS

wind on moonlight water
white sand
wild sea
waves
with driftwood on ravens sunset

ATTIC

the odourless thinner is heavy
tubes of paint mixed with dried words
warped 45s playing music convolutions
on a broken turntable
a folk blues revival
dancing on a canvas
with Garcia and the Dead
flying high on the easel with Janis

the attic a multicolored cherub of colors
cracked words splattered on the wall
visions of Kerouac drips of Pollock
separating myself from space and time
my eyes closed in divine pain
seeing beyond gloom towards beauty
I hear the music within
painting poems with landscapes

this is variation of earlier poem "The Attic"

THRESHOLD

THRESHOLD

sitting on the charnel ground
listening to the bones bark back
drinking tea eating brownies
feeling passive to aspects of fate
unable to figure out the meaning
of the organic rectangles
beneath the canopy of rusty polyester
balanced on threshold of life

hearing dragons conversing with cyborgs
talking trash about fusion and empathy
and their physical and mental capabilities
hearing loud Moroccan music
unable to defer the chiropractic adjustments
of the disembodied words
beneath the counter of mental illness
balanced on threshold of life

dancing around the spots on the leopard
focused on peripheral events
drinking a cup of the Arabian Sea
rubbing lemon balm on aluminum foil
unable to hear the muted sounds
of the barking bones
beneath the charnel ground
balanced on threshold of life

LIFE

LIFE

a single apple blossom
holds all the life
of a drop of rain

DANCING WITH PI

DANCING WITH PI

dancing on the frescoed tombs
where the road starts
and the sidewalk ends
shaking and shattering in confusion
to the rhythm of her broken hip
as the scent of roses die
under the transcendental churchyard
she was a dancer

dancing on the blistered feet
where the blood flows
and the hurt never ends
entrancing the strain of lost music
without feeling or pain
as the smell of death arrives
above the smoking graveyard
she was a dancer

DANCING WITH PI

dancing on the frescoed tombs
where the road starts
and the sidewalk ends
shaking and shattering in confusion
to the rhythm of her broken hip
as the scent of roses die
under the transcendental churchyard
she was a dancer

dancing on the blistered feet
where the blood flows
and the hurt never ends
entrancing the strain of lost music
without feeling or pain
as the smell of death arrives
above the smoking graveyard
she was a dancer