Il Miglior Fabbro

"I am-not who gathers up the wind,
And chases the hare with the ox,
And swims against the torrent."

Wild Is The Wind

Wild blows the wind
(Frisch weht der wind)
Mein Irisch kind,
Where are you now?
Awake and none-less,
Retiring among the brushes.
Briar famous, Friar
Tuck got brought out,
Lingered among the
Brothers but nothing
Could hide him now.  My own
Fucked-hand or a mid-summer's
Night of fun.  There
She was, standing on
The balcony with
Her red dress on.
Looking like a fighter
You are ready to talk.
Well everyone's a walker
But they wanna be the dog,
Can't let you walk over me
You got it all wrong. And
It's an Amarillo sunset
With a neck-brace on,
Grateful for so many things
Glad that others are gone.
Well everyone's a walker, babe,
But they wanna be the dog,
Everyone's a talker they
Been talking my ear right off.
But don't you let
It be my place to tell
You what you know.
You know how we all got
Questions about the soul?
I can give you a few suggestions,
Whatever's logical.
We are all creatures of the wind.
Wild is the wind.
Chase and trail away.
Love me, love me, say
That today.  Take me
Back to the coast, take
Me back to that day.
Just pass me over, just
Pass this way.  I will
Take to the shoulder, I
Will be grateful for this
Day, I will be grateful
For each day to come.
I come undone, my
Sweet angel, so help me
...

Smiles And Cries, A Comedy of Rakes

"Smile then."
"How..."
By light of moon
Be spoken.

         This thorn has caught my arm.
              Threadbare and worn
               My shirt is now torn.
                 In the heart of the
                   Matter, largely
                    Lying within
                    The Motion.

"LASCIATE OGNE SPERANZE, VOI CH'INTRATE."

                     The same I

                Haven't got a care
               Except a new ware
             Perchance, like a rebel
            Once again, a feather to
           Be, splendid, plus a side of
        Reason, a palmetto-weave woad.



Is it how I appear in a blotter of
Names, intricate father-markings of Mars.
Dominus noster, viable diction of stars.
Red-fish, two-fish, training wheel, no-car, and
Now, in living view, presented on the page:
Our Hope's New Benedict Fiction, The
New Found Pope of Fate.  Treason is
A desirous dish of fate's hand seasoned
All the same.  The cards were spelled out
Right upon the table, I even saw how they
Rained, the light caught them so able-like in a
Slow-motion picture.  A fluttering of frames before me
Whispering the same, clang, clang languor: the clatter
Of the chains.  For alms the poor linger, this old-spoke
Announced what has long been named, inveterate passionate
Mixture, salamandra-esque games, our intermediate leap-frog team
Lingered.  Ante up, enough, We know Our True fish has much hue, not to be
Brusque, not to be afraid of that stuff, as well, but not to be falling off, the King is
Just, fly high by night you Jester, make sure to call the bluff, say my room is unimportant
While the moon lingers tune a shadowy ash hint of a darker mind's stuff.  Drink aggregate
Drip tinctures of a brighter
Midnight to come, remaining an apex to
Really rely on, an asymptote of love.
Always the big picture when
I'm peeling back the husk.
Anyway,
Allow the alloy a 'once-over,'
It's galvanized by dreams
Much much stronger than
Aluminum or anything
I could really even think of.
I'm raving
Unkindness' of
Dark thoughts
That I mean,
Underneath,
Tidings you bring.
A claim raised it's
Fist, a feint
Failed smile of
Hell hath no-hounds,
No-town, no-more
Known today.  There
Is no 'devil-town.'
All my friends say is,
"Goodnight Lady
No-land, goodnight Lady
Lay, goodnight
Lady Good friends,
Good night to Our
Fate."  Our Moon
Is the same.

Two Little Eyes, A Head, And A Ship Like A Spoon or Nod Off, Shut Your Eyes As Mother Sings You A Tune.

Everyday will have its end.
"As I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Morn my soul to
Keep, and lay me down into
Deep, into the ether, either
Way, I'll go dumb and blind,
You be my keeper."  A key
Is hung above you sleeper,
Ours is the urgent, ardent
Reaper.  These birds were made
To kill.  Tempered steel is like
Rajas to wield.  Enough is enough
In the yawn we trust, an argent
Chrysanthum Trump.  Belly up.

Yellow Legos

Regular installment.
An ardent call dashing ahead among
The wreckage, this must be, must be,
A leaky, leaky ship.  Lovely, more fodder, which
To spin?  I've been rifling through those folders,
It's fire and fire, remember?  My soul formed the
Tinder, then timber, look-out below!  Empty hello,
'Poi s'ascose nel foco...'  I walked down Mulkey
Avenue with an angry, angry bellow.  A quick step
Sends me up 16 blocks, either way, I'm just like them.
I get so mad but I am no different than them.  Every time
I have conspired to hurt my friend, every time if I just pay
Attention I find out the one I have hurt is myself again!
Every page must have it's ending, the words run down and
Drift away.  A potent sword is swung in full force, a lance
Glints red then spins away—
Effortless riposte.

What I Think Of Lying In Your Place

Yawning again, the morning was in waking
Revolvers and jests.
Revolvers in vested instruments of less than
No man or woman,
What no man or woman
Could ever hope to replace, or recommend, I won't
Say it, not ever again.

"Say what?"
"It sounds too stupid."
"Is it?  Or is
That just the wit's end, the fount-ain, popping off, popping off..."
The pen is more a good friend then some.  In some and
Some say.  A Ten.  O Perfect
And
Again, imperfect,
Slid but shine. I am want to begin:
A fane.  The country music player plays soft
But it's nothing really, nothing really
To turn off.  It's just Marie!  Marie!  There in
The mountains, there you feel free.
I reap much in the night and go south in the
Spring, tongues with no-names.

There she sits at the top of the stair admiring.
Wake me up some cold December morning, early,
Before the sun comes up, both us wake slowly,
At about half the speed, at about half the pace. Out
Into those rooms and streets half-pouring into
The entire city's potent sorts and sorties.  The states
Of emotion, the contests unknown, the comings and goings,
Into a room where the women, as you're knowing, you know then—
It shows them, far more than you or I can, far more than
What we could ever hope to attain.  On the shores
Of a private beach in Michigan, I can connect one on one, fain
Searching for the same dance or beast we reckoned
With, whirling with purpose that day.  Overall, the last year had been near
Perfect.  The Bruin's had not won at all then but
The late-summer air was returning autumnal and my
Crisp memories often recall, neither here nor there,
Miss, neither near here nor there at all, but I don't miss
It enough just to toss up some hurdle.  Let it simmer
And mellow, left up on the wall, undressed and en-veloped,
The echo of sea-gulls, the call.  The marching-mans
Stance, give em the 'ol one-two, one-two hand—epiphany!
Elope then,—what plans?  I have surrendered my purchase.
On the brink of possibility I sat down in the sand, "Where is
My peace," then, "Where is my friend!"  And then my peace comes in nigh,
Right perfect, I say, "Let's begin."

Enjoy Brightly.  Fuck Coke.
The Empire and the Surface.

I'm not scratching,
I'm the shadow you see beneath you.
So tell me something I don't already know because,
In my sense, the bells of freedom must be ringing, my ears
Have long been true!  Break glass and exhume please, fuck
A purchase.  A sheaf of coincidence is buried deep within
This page, watch it settle as I will set the pace.  A
Marker made me up, this isn't funny.  It isn't perfect.
I make things up to tell what's perfect.  I made this
Up to tell someway, a way I came to know what must be Perfect, and I'll tell you
One thing must be if just one thing ain't.  Now I'll muster up some courage,
Enough is enough, this license is given to be frank.
Now, have I given you enough lumps of gold here
Or will the dross just entertain.  Dwell deeper, dig
Deeper, lover-fear.  You are all the same here, you
Will not remain.  Would you like to sit and linger
Or be drifting off each way is, now then.  I have my
Finger upon the trigger, "Pulse," it says, "Gunfire again."

Absolutely Sweet Marie, A Relative Sibyl or Freedom At Four Four One Two Belle Vue Via The Multnomah County Reader's Review, To the Tune of A Square Helping of The Stone, Dear Invenies Occultum Lapidem, Te Deum, Te Deum (Obviously Five, But Believers? I Believe You No)

The kids they are playing dust on the breeze,
Our record of failure, our catalog of deceit.

Sam I am static:
A stationary gun,
A pencil scribbling,
A day within the sun.
My knees they give in,
Lost now to their ways,
An empty painting or
A blank page on display:
A giving teacher, a guarded vein,
Crimson and saffron, ruby and galbanum,
The spiral of my jests, seasoned like a
Hallmark, an ally, in a way there won't be much
Else to say, 'All is spent,' nothing more or less,
All black for images, grateful to all that lives.
An apple for the one, or an evil in my eye,
A distant witness and all the chatter in the night.
A full moon flag at half mast, teeth to bone,
A handle of conditions.
                      A terrible reprise, some summer child.
Kali to the halls, ruin's Mother.  It's no small wonder,
My room torn asunder: sweet pea, belt of fire.   Might as
Well be a thorn in the side or falling under, et tu? They do
But god forbid there comes the day I follow that bid.  Our route and
Refute for that deluge was a sunken fate, wisdom bringing in while I
And I are being brought up, musing on the king, my brother's wreck
And on the king, my father's trump.  Before him, before her land is
The terrible trade, these hands are my hands and these hands
Are my cage, these hands are my hands and these hands
Are my name, my names-sake is haeven and my names-sake is
Pain.
         
            "Stephen Dadelus is my claim,
             Ireland is my nation,
             Clongowes is my dwelling place,
             And heaven my expectation."
           
                           Read that once in to get ahead further, it is practical, and
I'd say, my good sir, if you're fervent, in the sweet breath from the student, a
Perfect tribe to be named-in like there were, a search, er, upon a perch, ere
A moth within the flames.  Now to persist after a fixture, This song handed down a
Call, 'they're up from Cain.'  That dolorous note brought not what was known, but that
Which no one ever could know, something more than, 'If there ever comes the day.'
But may you live long, sir, while silver-birch trees still whisper, as speech is best done
In proper-frame.



A Prost



My happiness would roll and then only wine-thought between worlds,
Too almost.

After this moment, in love,
I let it be.

I could say Namaste and light my spring will to dream
But no happiness radiates from where my heart beams.

Like essentially
I find some make do as each can to live as above and unto you 
& as they said of him, "Know full well if our life-like comfort feels 
Too outing, use true every moment shouting or feel warm together."

Share,
How?  By sense, 
Why?  You
Here—A friend, sit still, there is no where!  Nowhere,

This trusted flower-grass girl has got my hand, and by no
Measure of just a little, A small note, but this is no small
Stone—smile you blue-bird, I am no small man, and this
Is a matter of great significance, and of great importance
Time and time again.  Blame it on his A.D.D. but I heard
Those words, maybe...sail.  Inhale, exhale.  Exhume, we
Unfurled his Rainbow Kiss, The Dance of Whirling Death,
A dervish in distress now locked inside again against the
Winter's tides against Shantih (Shantih, Shantih), against
Shiva yet again, the thing was, it was for fun (from her breath)—
Tickle-y woman,
Which Cup?
Sun.

[bering straight, scale picture—timeless gate]

X
Calypso, dancer,
Dashed upon the rocks.
Above hope is puppy-wonder and good halls.
Enjoy the barefoot tumbler, for she who loved him,
You know that she ran on,
So there—
Jump about all ecstatic or whatever.  The weight is fucking gone.
A consecrated or re-tooled belt.  There are all these stars starting
To form from the back of  the dark-room and we don't even know
What they are.
When you laugh, you bring anything,
[possibility, sunshine, positive vibrations]
Simply bloom.
Follow me, more than little comes with that happening.
Giver Time, the taste of my world before the positive way.
See today, always did believe we'd surprise them, man,
A haeven, day-peach.
By the rivers of the sound
I sat down and wept for countless
Un-told, untitled endings,
"Were today only happy..."
Shine alive, attest ye friend.
He lived and then he died
In a shot
Echoed
Tonight.
AM AT AYE ARE
But no more
Alive.