and so i won't
be taking anything back
that i have ever said, ever thought
for
or about you.

in ways that bodies
time, or names cannot
explain, you just reached
out through then, silently
into now, took my soul
close to yours, kissed
it with mist and mix
of breath and lips
gently
across the tremble of cheek,
and how fascinating to look at
the twinkling pieces of
this puzzle-story
like a star fallen perfectly
into unexpecting
and open
palms.

and thank you.

and so i won't
ever stop
talking about you, thinking
about you, i won't be taking
any of it back.

you have given all of this to me, this
telegram tapped out
unconsciously through
the alleys inside of hours, and around
the echo inside of the ticking of cities,
you have sent this to me
this strange song without words...
and i had fell to believe
it such a silly thing
to even still listen.

and so i won't
be taking any of this back,
anything that i've ever said
anything that i've ever thought
for or
about
us, or
for the rest of all
of anything too.

and in the great story
of this life, great in terms
of he who must live it, it's
always so much and not at all a surprise
when the world just up and bursts
into gardens of fire
and to always find
a bottle of suicide red
nail polish next
to the matches.

every great time, every great
tearing down and rising up, of
self, of knowledge, of grace, of
pain and want, of joy and giving,
every great life and death
has left this flattened
and gasping from the concussion
man-boy, looking up
at the radiant
blinding silhouette
of the great She, who always
with a new line, a new
design, always appears
in every act in this
great story of this
life.

odd how such power, such magnificent
force
can be so soft, so difficult
to detect.
one more reason why
i understand why adam didn't do anything, didn't
try to stop Her from taking that infamous bite, he
was utterly fucking frozen, watching
her in the awe.

and you asked, " why is it so easy
for certain people to get the best of me
when I can crush others with an
effortless blow?"

and i don't know how to answer that
except
that because the question came
from the lips of a woman, how bout
i close my eyes
hold my breath
and lose everything
to try
and find
the answer.

the sharpest smiles start in the dark
slicing through the wide curtain
cutting into your deep space suddenly
cutting into your deep space greatly
waking you up from the great
weightless womb-float through forever
ripping their way around the quiet
witness of the moments and planets that pass
breaking their first flash of light
around the angle you never thought to see
the three hundred and sixty first degree
and then you're all sorts of fucked up
and spinning in the brilliance.

and you just tore my night open,
(like god
unbuttoning the clouds)
said peek-a-boo, yea
I know me
too,
and
what are we supposed to do
from here? and even though
we know better
we know it never hurts
to ask, and that
we won't ever
stop.

and all i can say is
that the sharpest smiles start in the dark
and perhaps that's why
there are so many stars
to wish from.

Ha
damn,
you did it.

my most dear
and precious Alexandria,
and we're safe to use that name here
as it's been slowly wrapped
into a whisper over many moon
rises and settings
of the sun.

you
just
traced a circle in the wind
around 17 years, tied
the moments of that story
into the most amazing bow
and with a laugh the world will never hear
gave that back
to me.

so here's to you my
hardest and favorite fascination, my angel
in a crowd of thieves, my emerald pennace,
my porn star on a harley, my sweetest
little girl waiting to be loved, my brave mother
with a halo, and how much
you used to hate it when
i'd call you out
on how lovely you truly
are.

and look at how and where
and who we've been, with this
this incredible little life tip-
toeing underneath the blades
of grass, below
each and every of our confused
and clumsy
footsteps from then
to now, but with
and, don't forget
the swagger.

and it's been years since I said goodbye,
to the ghost you left
lying next to me, and what a delight
and honor, what a great amen, what a
right on right on, to know
that everything I've truly seen
truly is
everything I've truly seen.

wipe the smear
of the moonsuns brow
exhale the holy
shit laughter
and hell fuck wow.

amazing that
a good pinot still floats
under ten bucks
amazing the bouquets managed
after the ashes
and prior to
the dust.

my cat purrs curling
tornado coil and whispersnore
while alone I giggle
in the brightest light-
how dumb we are to wish for more.

while beneath the velvet gauntlet
my heart is stirred like concrete
generic compounds from moist to solid
and I still don't know what we call it
the image behind the comet
while in one gulped gasp we saw it
this fleeting grace that haunts us.
such fleeting grace it taunts us.

this vast great grace still wants us.

Don't expect to be understood.

who I am right now, burst
violently
out of some strange cocoon when
I was twelve
years old.

I had just lost my virginity, was
madly in love, had my heart
broken almost
immediately and then almost
as immediately found
"letters to a young poet" and thank
you RMR for that candle threaded
sinewed and titanic
hand from beyond.

at times I wonder how
I survived it.
such raw and terrible
beautiful everything erupting
from the inside out and the skin
of that shaking burning boy gasping
to somehow keep it
in.

it almost brings me to tears to
go back
there.
It so decisively informs me
that if any god does truly exist, how immense
the loneliness in such a soul, loneliness
in such a certain way.

I've been trying to make
this understood ever
since, and in
delirious and brilliant
and self-comfortilluminating
amusement, and
there are not millions dead
in my
name.

and I know my friends
know and
love me, and I know
that my friends do not
know (to) and
love
this.

and to be awoken
in the thunder and heartbeat of infinity,
to suddenly come to, in full choking beyond
full conscious in the birth and streaming veins
of eternity, can be
a mighty and fucking
startling experience.
and then, to have that
experience pound and stomp
in the echo and marrow of your molecules in every
limitless moment since, is a quite
and obtuse existence to sufficiently
express or adequately manifest
to the world or external
perception that is purported
or painted to be
life.

but, I would not trade this
for anything, it is my
and it is all
of thing(s).

so fucking strange though,
so fucking strange, if only
I could share the passing rushing
of this and the destination it achieves
which are both subsequently simultaneous, in
when ( the ) I look out out from, and am in
myself, in that quiet of myself, locked
and blazing in the utter-such being of this.

and
if any of this makes sense, you'll surely
notice it when I peel back from the breathing of my
presence in the present, and smolder soft in the
paralysis in the overwhelming
all surging of this, study
me as I meander our here, and
you'll see it, I
hope, but
then again
no shock and nothing lost
if you don't.

J PHX

dude
dont do many
of these, talking
about current
shit current
people, but
what
up joaquin
phoenix...

lets not forget
a bank account - that when checked
says
dont trip - is
a nice place to start.
bukowski never minded
money, be clear
on that.
he did mind
those afraid
of its absence.

so back to joaquin
phoenix
2009 ( in case
anything in the future warrants
research into
what the fuck i am talking about but
my gut thinks
that is highly unlikely )

he grew a funky
grizzly beard, wore the lady
shades laying
off eye witness of any
sort ( my guess would be pedestrian )
decided to rap
and the world
is waiting
for the rest.

i LOVE it.
i
absolutely fucking
dig it.

i get it.
ALL of us get it.
or at least, i think and hope
WE
do.

I
take it as this:
homeboy recognizes that
at best, in anything WE do, one
sentence, one phrase may
HIT
the center of the soul
the heart
the love
the life, and
STAY.
and if WE can achieve just
that stanza
in a poem, or that scene
in a film, or that spit
in a bar, or into
the whisper into
the ear of a moment
than WE can be
done.
and burst
in flames into a smile
goddamned confidence
fucking bliss.