The Antimuse

In the orchard
On that dreary, dank and dark October Night
I met the Antimuse

Creativity dressed in its most destructive form
Dressed in thrift store finery
and scented of the fields after harvest

She hid her face behind the mask
of a younger woman
(the only hint
the emotional immobility of the eyes and lips)

Her willing servant girl
gave me another name
an inspirational sounding moniker
More an aspiration than a lie

In the orchard
On that dreary, dank and dark October Night
she released all manner of angels and demons
calling out that name to the night

Lilting voices
Acidic Voices
Bleak, warm and magnetic voices
Tiny voices of crystal
from the stars beyond the clouds

Warning me
Pleading with me
Defying me to make them sorry

She turned to me and asked
if I’d like them to stop

Never my Lady
They are the fluid of the Universe
And I really love the flow

The Dream of 2019 ~ Epic

Some nights I sleep
On those nights
the zephyrs of mist are busy elsewhere
and I sail a dream on a bay of tranquility
and awaken hungry but rested

This was not one of those nights

Having walked the day
under a cyan sky where everything seemed possible
Pausing often
Pausing by gurgling streams
Wild blossoms in the stillness
Bird-cries in a small wind

I drifted into the arms of night
in a bed by a crackling campfire
after a fine dinner

I was in a darkness
and it just gripped me
released me
and gripped me again

I swam in some dark chamber of flesh
A gigantic dark heart


My hands looked like primitive crabs
clawing and grasping
and I thought “This is very curious”


I looked at my body and thought
“Whaa. . .
You know
I’m a strange thing”


My consciousness. . .
fell away and I witnessed myself
having this experience
where my body slowed way down
and my mind expanded

I walked a vast flat place
a godforsaken desert floor or maybe some kind of wall
I wondered if flies see the world this way
Gravity is there
but it doesn’t really pull you down
I looked at my feet
and I couldn’t define the boundaries
the separation of my body and the wall

No longer defined where I end and the world began
The atoms of my feet seamlessly blended
with the atoms of the wall
Everything was. . . Energy

My scream was a sonorous
in a high mountain valley
A quiet
A mute button pushed too hard

I have never wanted to own a silent mind
but my concern abated
washed away
faded in the brilliance of an energy multiverse
all around me

Like a drop of ink in a stream
I became galactic
yet real

And again
I thought “This is very curious”

My internal narrative no longer connected me to an external reality
I’m not even sure I had an internal narrative
I felt light
Made of light and energy
I mean I could remember
but somehow past/present/future tenses
just didn’t seem to be a priority
My eyes saw everything as really high resolution pixels
and all the edges fractal spiraled into some poorly defined distance

I did not understand words
linear time
the boundaries that kept me ‘in’

And I thought “This is a trap”
My expanding mind popped like a bubble
My expansive universe curled into a fetal origami ball
that fell apart in the rain
Rain that seemed to be come from no where

I felt like one of those oil on water special effects
you got back in the 60’s
with bands like Iron Butterfly

Somehow the plumbing of my body
began pipping input into the part of me that
knows dimension

Rivers of fire and light
coursed the newly dredged river bed of my shrinking soul
and sound
Yeah, , , sound

I’m had to squeeze the infinite me in that body
but. . .
I regained dimension and time

I gained something I must have forgotten
I am two cognitive minds
One linear – a river
One parallel – an infinite ring
I am a river passing through an infinite saturn’s ring
I am that singular intersection point of both
The speaking part of me flows from past to future
The magical part of me radiates out in all directions

I remember
I make the choice every moment of which I am
The finite, logical me that moves through time and space
The infinite magical me that touches the universe at all points

and though I feel somehow smaller
I also feel expanded

Dreams make their own kind of sense

To Be No Longer Alone

I’m always uncomfortable
when first meeting women of Aspect
Afraid of what they’ll see when they look deep into my soul

I am to understand that I am very spooky
Most women of Aspect become uncomfortable in my presence
Removing themselves from the room before they even get past my eyes
Some brave souls who ventured in
but chickened out before they got too deep
And who can blame them?
After all. . .

Somehow I know
without knowing how I know
that this one is strange, beautiful
and totally protected by her naivete

Perhaps the thing that has broken the others
is the lack of innocence they bring with them
I’ve been told my mind is a circus fun house of distorting mirrors

She stands as I enter the reading nook off the main concavity of the Library
Someone has talked with her so she doesn’t offer her hand

I step back a pace
straighten my posture
lift my gaze
We eye-lock and all the hair on my neck stands
This one is not running away
She is totally present but holding herself in reserve

This has not happened before

I hear my mouth say, “What is your name?”
Her faces becomes a Hindu Mandala
A kaleidoscope of Sacred Art
An undulating universe of Sacred Geometries in collision

I can see hundreds of fractal energy collectors reaching out into the nook
curling into the surrounding quantum flux
but all staying a respectful distance from me

This has never happened before

I feel without knowing that I am becoming
a rendering of a Native American Sand painting
Something along the lines of a vortex of fire

Two complex
ever convoluting works of art confront one another
A thing I once knew as my voice says
“Why have you come here?”

Across oceans of time and wind
something like her voice says
“What is the proper way to address you?”

I say
“Speak in any fashion that pleases you.
I am fascinated with your command of Aspect.
How have you come by this level of control?”

She giggles
And that strikes me as hilarious
I laugh for the first time in a century or more
I know that our mirth is fracturing parts of the nook where we stand
and those around us can’t react fast enough to protect themselves

I weave a shielding around us before any more damage occurs
I say

She says
“I have traveled far to find you. . .”
And the entirety of her different forms and the places they’ve been
plays throughout her image.

For reasons I can’t fathom
I convolute my image to show some of the places I’ve been
Some of the things I’ve created
Some of the battles. . .

She is reeling
She is frightened
She will not allow me near her

I pull back to a respectful distance

We will crash if I fail to act
I change the space we occupy
We are floating above a world that reminds me of Jupiter
But we are very far from home

I remain quiescent while she recovers

To the best of my understanding
this has never ever happened before

Her human face congeals in the center of her form
I follow suit

She says
“What are you?”

I say
“I have no idea.
And before you ask,
I have no idea what you are either.”

She says
“I always knew I’d find you
but I never knew it would be like this.”

In silence we watch the complex cloud formations
roiling across the face of the planet below
She turns to regard the stars

She says
“May I touch you?”

I say
“You may try
I have no idea if it will work or not.”

A tentative tentacle originates where her hands should be
I watch in utter fascination as it moves toward me
carried like a whisp of smoke on the currents of the Universe

It brushes my cheek
Soft as a shadow

I slip into fast time out of reflex
I see juxtaposed harmonics building within my form
and in the nick of time I change my structure to dampen
the chords building through out me

I am certain that my form has become very complex

She says
“Oh my God
Are you OK?”
and I laugh for the second time

She says
“I can tell that they are very worried.
Perhaps we should go back.”

I say
“Or we could explore the Universe together.”

She laughs and takes us back to the nook

Things look a bit singed
but no real structural damage
No one is in attendance

We return to human form
and it feels strangely comforting

I reach to touch her cheek
and she blushes

I blurt out
“I have been so alone. . .”

She places her hand over my heart
and whispers
“You need never to be alone again”

The First Snow

The first snow
A chaotic
hungry wind snakes its tendrils into my sweater

A greedy wind
that would eat every calorie of my tropical body
And having consumed every BTU i have to offer
it’d continue on
just a hungry as ever

In its windy voice
telling me a Fahrenheit tale
An intemperant little free verse whisper
Wherein i have utterly failed to slake its thirst
That my puny offering hasn’t made a degree of difference

It hurls wet leaves at my feet and pants legs
Rusty insults that can’t sick to wool

I pull my sweater closer
Fuck you old man
Not today

In the Rain

He smiles
sky tears running the wrinkles in his warm
smiling face
he waits for me to speak
“Old man
why are you out here in the rain?”
He says
“My thoughts were a bit dry
Needed a little watering.”
“Aren’t you guys supposed to wear a pointed hat?”
He says
“I doubt it would do much in this deluge.”
A time passes
He says
“You are walking in a darkness
and though you can’t see it now
You are not alone.”
“Old man
why are you out here in the rain?”
He says
“A dear friend is standing in the rain
and she looks so lost and alone.”
“Maybe your friend is cursed
Has no right to happiness
Has no need for society.”
And he laughs
(might be a cough)
“Not this one, she lives on the edge
She is spirited and gifted
She is a swan raised by ducks. . .
Indignant, resourceless ducks with really bad attitudes
but she is not cursed.”
“Old man
get in out of the rain.”
He says
“I’m am far too old to do as I’m told
Never done it before
Not gonna start now
Gentle one, your soul, your heart are not dead.
Love never dies
Even if you resign
it will not leave you.”
And just like that the old fool starts dancing
Dancing in the rain

The Portable Electric Poet


Your portable cordless electric poet
is made with maximum materials
to the highest specifications of oral hygiene

Please be certain to rinse your poet after every use
to keep your poet fresh and prevent mold

Please be certain to store your electric poet
in a cool dry place when not in use

You can tell all your friends about the way
your electric poet pleases you and helps you smile

With proper care your purchase will give you years of pleasure
and very nice teeth

No Longer Afraid


Having spent a very long and stormy night
losing the ‘what if?’ game
For no reason at all
I decide to play the ‘mindfulness’ game

in the trailing days of a lingering summer swelter
I become – unstuck
Somehow this moment falls away
swirling like that leaf

I reflect on the refractions of Autumn
Autumns past
Autumns to come

Yellow poplar
Scarlet maple
Rust red oak

And look
Pathways in the dancing leaf shadows
Pathways beyond number. . .