insects in freefall

ground cover under the climbing fusion fruit
covering ground over pearls in aqua caves
send e-mails to any hidden camera shy
leaves falling from books in a laundry chute

eternal round of life and retort in a quark minute
the barbed spike and water green rose’s palm
mothering square feet of decay
breathing on the face of everything in it

around the world zephyr harmattan and sirocco fly
in local time little bugs in the biome
pruning the wave that curls space and crashes
the horizon and seeps upward through the sky

then the insects sing of a legendary carapace
retaining the memory of their fall from grace

sacred effect

driven by fear to walk in the night
I found the grace to get back there
on the morning of the first day

when I was immortal
I had love
I took refuge

and then in my dream
a fox turned into a small girl
it's all I remember
but it haunts me

my ardor was pure on the first morning
our humanity spiritualized
goddess everywhere
too much for one man

now I look across myriad revolutions of mystic hearts aching
and I see our daughter has grown up meantime
with gold eyes to gaze through space
where her life lies beating

mystique

in equal tight ears
I can move peacewise
inside cloud-water though

from here in arrears
and pregnantly pause
wife and daughter go

and the short-waist seers
from cigarland with canes
arrive and beat me so

when the former appears
I'm holding my sides
they split when winds blow

dense fog covers the pretty things
step on one and it stings

gambler’s date

drizzling a little in Needleswood
light blue greenly lit gray where the bettor stood
I had half a mind so never spoke
yet when it came to save myself
toyed unwisely for a joke

it must had to do with just such rot
night brain finally frightened chance so the leaf caught
upon a fir branch where it made a home
the season sent a harbinger
kindly beaming from a tomb

but all the good in the world fell flat
unwhole and hollow and meshing nothing
but the head and cap
this one uses language for a gap
and stoves in against the faultline
'til time emptied the hat

Everybody's Talking

I have been amazed lately at how many people I run into who are conspiracy theorists. The whole crew of carpenters on a job I was doing last week were checking out the chem-trail cloud cover and postulating various agents, motives and purposes, but not doubting the basic fact: planes are intentionally spewing chemicals into the sky that make it a cloudy day. OK. Maybe. I suppose I could find the opinions of various cloud masters. I don't know any, offhand.

And before that, I was attending a cookout on the 4th and got into a conversation with an inebriated octogenarian, famous in certain circles as an old anti-communist, and as such, denied political conversation with his loved ones, who avoid it. As he rambled on about the communist plot to take over the everything and shackle us with a One World Government, I realized he was talking about the Bilderburg group. I said I'd read a book about it not long before. He lowered his voice and said, shifting his gaze, that bunch you just named, like he didn't want to say it himself, then he nods and looks at me. I said, yeah, and the tri-lateral guys and the CFR and Rand corporation, and on and on it goes.
The last thing he said to me was, please, don't vote for Obama. Well, I couldn't promise him anything.

Then, talking to my friend, K, I find out about the plan to tank the US economy and unite the Americas in a union a la the European one, and make a new currency called, of course, the Amero. This sucks because it would be another victory for the Fabian Socialists, and their creeping disease which becomes full-blown when guns and national armies are outlawed and we are all protected by the World Army. I used to think something like that might be a good thing, but K has planted the seed of doubt in my consciousness, which according to one of the carpenters I mentioned, is being bombarded with low frequency vibrations by the HAARP, which is a mind control/ psych ops experimental techno-devil, that is also a biological weapons delivery system ( in conjunction with the cloud-seeder planes). It's up in Alaska, I guess. They probably have an official website. I don't know if I'll check it out.

Just yesterday, I saw a spare tire cover on the back of a small SUV that displayed an add for the local moped rental operation. In big letters around the top it read, 9/11 was an inside job and in the middle, the name of the business.

And Aurora issues from her bower in the east, heralding Phaethon's theft of his father's chariot.