xxxx - red maple



transformations more numerous than becomings

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The Red One  oil on canvas  2009  56hX56w_.jpg

out the back window which in

the older the house the more certain

you’d be standing in

a kitchen looking towards out

a yard and garden

is a maple named red which captures

nothing of its essence

erupting phantom crimson soul

would be insufficient if

you were one who ever watched a maple red

dance among the chore clean bubbles cutting by a kitchen window


past where floating soul unbridled

we marched yard out to turn our dripping hands

from knives to saws

pruning puckers hands

makes turds from fruits

and is the word we use to cut away the parts that we dislike

like the wild hair of faces

or the wild youth in streets

or folk living solely in the wilds of our city

we prove we are civilized by the way we shape our sights

marched i and jon and uncle rick

to open up the yard

so the sun could bleed in

my maple red had done

its reaching much too low

do not fly too low says daedalus to his son

or the earth will pull you down

to the water, trees and stones

who taught us our invention

do not abide our own

so marched we out to lop a limb

which is as simple as a thought

and incredible as a task

novice and ambitious is a recipe for

failure, destruction, learning, creativity

and the laughter of our mortal nerves when our souls realize we’re near to die

so i can’t recall laughing harder than when maple red precipitated ricky from its bough

and his body scrambled with wild frantic

caught a rope to fuck oh my god down

i discovered then an inside war in the jumble of our oh fuck fumble

of our lungs that move as if through an inside understanding of the outside air

minds move only when they are struck

so such a mix of blows cascaded on the anvil of my skull

reluctance to severe red’s swaying elegant bough

fear to witness my uncle become a crippled mass

and the hidden complexity of simple stupidity

there are butterflies in the up of trees i’ve never seen in the down

as shocking small as autumn colors in the height of summer

when a leaf gives in to drought and gives itself to fall for others

if it wasn’t for what needed be we’d be

a bother if we were brilliant before it’s time

save we glow to pause a drifting moment in the warmth upon the day

who could we say is ready

to be reminded of the cold

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paint is a cast made of the painter’s movements, a portrait of the painter’s body and thoughts. … painting is an unspoken and largely unrecognized dialogue… paint is water and stone, and it is also liquid thought.

James Elkins

xxxix - supposition more accurte than reality



3 + 5 + 7 + 11 + 13

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we are floating in a dangled space washed ashore and wrought to fit.  where are we is what we are.  how to know shapes our search.   identity shifts along experience towed memory.  that it is said, “WE ARE THIS,” gives comfort, with belief, and otherwise offends.  “we are this”, even when we’re nothing is enough to give us ends.  shadows haunt the density of light circling air within our lungs.  what we are, is our condition, hanging in the nothing like a vision.

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Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

xxxviii - perhaps it is



88 - E

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to hell with _________

everything (is)


speculation more accurate than reality

images are from my solo show currently on exhibit at wagner college:


“People seize on painting to cover up their nakedness. They get what they can wherever they can. In the end I can’t believe they get anything at all. They’ve simply cut a coat to the measure of their own ignorance. They make everything, from God to a picture, in their own image. That is why the picture-hook is the ruination of a painting – a painting which has always a certain significance, at least as much as the man who did it. As soon as it is brought and hung on a wall, it takes on quite a different kind of significance, and the painting is done for.”

Pablo Picasso

xxxvii - would you notice?



irregular star

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have you noticed how

the thoughts of others become your thoughts

though you don’t know

how your thoughts

became your own?

and now

you have to navigate a crowd

inside your individual head

just to get to yourself 


you might not even be surprised to find

that you didn’t know where you were

or if there was a you to find

and wouldn’t be able to say the things you think

to say 

should your sayings be spoken 

by another voice in the crowd


everyone would be in quite a huff then

because they know who said what

and said what when

you were just wandering around

trying to keep your feet on the ground


it might really make you wonder then

what makes for what each person can defend

and whether there is a right to thoughts

when everything is mixed and tossed

if it wasn’t for how you’ve set your set

would you notice? 


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the art of being a slave is to rule ones master.


xxxvi - junk food boogie



the sum of integers up to here

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do you suppose we invented junk food?

boring i’ve known

and left

bad company

he used a blender as a goldfish bowl


opinions keep you warm

so you won’t realize

if you’re peeing on yourself


my fav secret sauce

do you suppose junk food is all that new?


some cat

superfly said

you just gotta do you

hey mr bugaboo


sometimes i think age is a proof

sometimes discredit


opinions are like models

zip lipped

we can’t help showing them off

(if we got ‘em)

our collection of mundane oddities


what’s it mean if no 2 know anything as one





we all have different pink elephants

students get told

imagine the old as a fresh stew

so few look new

to know from the delirium


thing about age

will i think it’s important after today?

act before

we loose

at the velocity of days

better to apologize

a funky beat review

cooo cooo kachoo


co-opting lifts the weight of understanding


maybe we can get rich

gallops around in us


hamsters i get it they’re cute and small

run run run


our pacing

i know

our know

what then?


do you ever get the sense


that we don’t think enough


about whether or not


we know if we’re lying?


(a way of resting)


where do you go when there




is a word that sounds like special dreaming

where do you imagine yourself

a dreamer



you know

like it doesn’t stop unless you don’t shine light on it

but we have to keep our guard in the dark

we know

we do strange things in the dark


common denominators get a bad rap

but that’s what jesus was all about

elites believe it’s they open things

cuz they’re special

isn’t it obvious


success is the most popular

(it makes itself and


destroys what else)

i suppose it could be

the other way around


opinions mix best when there’s no way out

because we want everyone to be with us

mostly in theory


maybe someone has been right

is enough

to get it



here’s what it seems though

there is a funnel where everyone lives

with a hopper that’s only so big

it catches what’s left and shoves through a sieve

pick forks and lights flash it spits out to give


it must be the right way

as everyone pays to play

and i recognize you when you say

i could go for pizza


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think and wonder, wonder and think.

Dr. Suess

xxxv - the mantis and the monarch



tetrahedral pentatope

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in the spring of my hopelessness i planted a garden

planting hope to dance my eye with bee or butterfly

and why i don’t know why why should

reasons confound as much they answer


and seasons sometimes turn without we notice turning

it’s better to plant when falls the fall

but no one likes to start

beginning towards the bottom

(even if that’s where your head is headed)


waistbent guise spies’ flowers of eyes

recalled myself a whelpling pup my brood conveyed a prayer

for the mantis pray she stay

(as her kind had grown so rare)

a careful seed then planted there

and seems to’ve grown a sad garden


where hope hoped for the traveler’s respite

from the motions and the paths and the seasons of hearts out of heights

(because we gain with our give) accursed or alight

little did we know that green nun was a shadow in the home safe night


exotic and terrifying poise

flew from her home to nunnery a garden

and stalks an invader would


hiding sundrenched flowers sway

dance deadly deception

you mightn’t know if she was watching

(and you wouldn’t if you didn’t look to know)

spell caught charisma

while we joyed our eyes

our flutter orange bird

at the time, there it was in my sad sunny garden

and was the only one

(i’d hoped a pair, as his kind had grown so rare)

popping out from plant to plant to bubble in a lonely glass of celebration

had learned to leap in seasons

far from here to just now there

each stride a step

each step a stride with reasons

springs summer’s height to winter’s fall

we change to meet our changing

(and such a transformation undertaken!

turns house a home and turning)


spirit suggesting something bigger than a butterfly

like the shifting of a weathered day

he was a lunging tiger burst floats auburn autumn showers

wondrous as wonderful and regal as repose


so many once there was they draped themselves

a shimmering garment tree proud grove

flickering waves a star shone giant

who being so strong had killed to prove it could

and so often done it wore its death with the grace of should

at times i think there would be no tragedy without beauty


the monarchs are mostly gone

we’d named their home a weed

(a word for that you’d rather do without)

and proved the world is made of things imagined

(because imagining without we do, we do without)


so glad my story i was i watched my flurry visitor

light about its unwanted flower home and brood

perhaps the world is a beautiful place

sometimes it feels like we could say for right

there are rhythms we can feel

there are rhythms in our flight

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i lost some time once, its always in the last place you look for it.

Neil Gainman

xxxiv - being the same



so many magic

Durer’s Magic Square

Durer’s Magic Square

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being the same

                                            in the look of a stare

      that i see what i see

                                             is it me in you or you in me


                                            if we say


                                           does it answer

    2 questions

                          or do all the questions stay so they can be


better to avoid it altogether

                                                    death is scary

    and hunger is now

    how hungry we are

                                                    puts stock in our store


we notice differences

                                                             because being the same as we are

 and being everything we want

                                                             is too difficult a thing to be

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If something is good, you must torture it mercilessly until it is either dead or great

Brian Eno