We must clarify ourselves

what are you doing with my love

you are staring at the sun
and missing its reason













what are you doing with my love

you are dwelling in the rain
and forgetting the season

Do we know what love is?


is it the final question

I had a conditional idea
but now its unconditional

Am I naive?

I create a rule and watch HS break it,
then
lovingly twist
and






turned it





I allow her to do this instead of the ego. I have let her in.

I needed a new idea another way to live

A superstar; hard to resist.

so it seems when you are loving; when you are finding new clues to who you are. Bringing illusions to the truth.

Do we know what love is?
Because they love me--they do, all of them. Looking to see where it comes from I'm sure.


"is it my sex?" They ask themselves

still offering, spilling and unsure of their posts

I have created this atmosphere as the dictator to the unknown land.
A fucking fumbling isolationist who jumps on stage with an idea.



I have drawn those too distraction by their own discoveries.










all of us looking to understand what we already are.

she straighten her skirt and laid prone in the grass
I slowly positioned myself next to her
The park lights poured onto a pitchers mound and gave us ambiance.

I last saw the Dipper 23 years ago at my grandparents house in Michigan.
A jar of fireflies cradled in my hand and a pocket full of misgivings to quickly reach for.
here it is being pointed out to me again and I try to get comfortable.

"When things don't look the way I expect them to, it's time to stop questioning and start trusting."











Gary R. Renard "Your Immortal Reality"

but you have

could never give that up









the fresh flowers and house slippers.
freshly squeezed and its stainless sanctuary.


could never give it up for the coarse world and its beautiful cousin the unknown








*but you have

why must you know?
sounds like my old God

So many
and you must know

you must know who comes to lay an offering.

You must know whose mortar you are continuing to loosen
you must know whose life you are sacking


the allegiance destroys ideas
sucking magnesium from the bones
sounds like my old God

she sits across from me with every apeture closed but one.

Should I be?
Should I be honored that the *Queen is dreaming of me?

I am hovering in the shadows of your court



Oh Great Queen
shot from many angles
admired in all of them.

The *elaborate one

I am a mere fodder in your abbey
one who just smells your smoke not kisses its source
walk on me dear jewelled one, with your turned ankle and your yellow buckle shoes
so I can at least feel your touch.

yield to the willow
all the loathing
all the desire of your heart.

-BASHO