Crossroads (loves insanity)

_____________________________

A sunset drive;
To contain the tension
To spur the wind undressing the prairie
A sound as trains untie the tracks
As stoplights tick the sum of discontent

Think of me arranging the fallen day
Through grim fields of unharvested smiles
Now dusting the faded sparkle from your eyes
Two half-moons rolling across the glass

Looking for truth in dying light
Near the ancient chorus of timeless evenings
As sunset hoovers on the horizon's pedestal
Like us perfectly installed as sculpture

That told me;

A woman means the desert looms
Waiting no more to receive the harvest
And leave a tangled wreath of memory
Burning in the autumn fields

And I feel;

I am in loves insanity
Tell me in heat from a thousand frequencies
To hear the hope of a thousand destinies
Call out to me from the fetid plains

Where I hear;

You are the gleaming
In a dull universe
Of uncounted reasons
Of unknown meanings

Highways End

The light of day unravelled
Drove rain in fists of wind
Trounced the sound
Shrill its shearing fabric

The wet black top hurled back moonlight
In shimmering frantic fractures,
Divided so evenly by the white dotted line
Rolling down the highways infinity.

Until the highway collided
Into the sunset of your eyes
Ground molten pieces of glass
Impacted mirrors a last glance

Emotions warmed the dampening rituals of summer
Drawing first blood from sweated flesh
Love came abruptly like mercury in our solution
But the rolling path of tears
Gave our love some continuity

In mansion of billowing curtained rooms
High above the winding shore
Gulls shiver and surrender
Too close to sail over what beckons
Attempted the barb wire of lies too often

Your eyes more alive than the first dawn of life
Now surge in dense waves many leagues beneath the sea
Feel heat lightning wait in textures of wind
For the crackling moment of sound that never comes

Depth of Field

Out among the disappeared
Light seems illegal and deviant
Eerie and mysteriously still

The flat-line of desires,
The ghost of former existence
Smoke away the napalm sky's twilight

Lenses zoom and point of view
Vacuums up the foreign dust
From rubbles of deaths in New Delhi

Are there enough pixels here?
To white balance the sun's
Avant-garde dissonance and blind noise

Wind chill day of justice swayed
By the vertical jitter of cinema-verite

Light intensely accelerates into the night,
Running like the golem towards his romance

In the damp gauze of moonlight
In terminal Equinox,
In feverish sweat and hot shadows

Streaming midnight movie scenes
The war room glows
Childhood’s unreal world now picturesque

The crazed mixture of drugs and
Money in spindles,
The molting waxen squares of plastique

They ask "What is the caption?"
Is it in color, no more black and white

Napalm sky, smoke black, fire bright
Rushes of deadline photo blood lost in backlight

How damaging art is to the unfocused eye

American Tabloid

Looking for Answers
And denying events
This journey portends
So it begins;

This mixture of love and fear
The tireless industry of culture and sin

Sex scandals and race riots
Fast-food, pornography,
Death among the poppies.

The lone-gunman is adrift
Amidst the communal sea
Of discontent and conspiracy.

Into the green walled city apart from the city;
Its heat comes from another sun,
The generators drummed up.

A city without context;
A free-fire zone.

The line of victims march to resolve
Strange arrangements and relations
In morality's tense denials;
The culture warped, a dementia of fire.

The comfortable fictions we read into our lives;
A quality of being human stressing the gap
Between Truth, lies and the torturors rap.

God's murder is not our distraction;
Slumming and patronizing
Delighting only in His special effects.

Halcyon summer;
Some release from the tense meld
The plastic sex and showers
In ward rooms of the city.

This bitter remembrance;
War is our chaos
We Love how we love
To misunderstand ourselves
Standing behind the gun.

IED's at apogee;
Shower of sparks
At once over this
And all other cities.

Where -

The tracks are lines of rust;
The trains have departed
With the gestating amputees
Into the blistered tumors of range
In the luminosity.

I will listen to astrology;
Can you turn off my TV?

Notes on Pynchon

Like some damp and mossy Tokyo stomping monster
He comes from and returns to the sea
The model cities of lies and paranoia
Reconstructed in time for the next rising

Nordhausen byway of Zoo Station
Bone scattered rocket caves, the crunching descent
Surreal news on reality, a virtual history

Linear gravity grooves,
The roads, the encoded signs, the toll of media
Tunnels through to the falling towers.

It is guileless, your rush from the past
Avoid the petty guilts, the Marx, the murder of poets.

Your rooms are filled like an infobahn architect
The visual autopsy, here you surf alone
And sit the mind, resistor the body
No place here for silk, or women;
The irrational fears of smooth intimacies.

Surrogate and symbol
Remind them; your existence
Ancient forests will burn, rage in force
From your suns distant energy.

You have stellar pre-destination
There are no dreams;
On your empty edge of the universe
All the stars have been counted.