THE DEW DROPS OF MONEY

A mighty leaf...
Female lambs grazing around...
Nibbling only when the time is right...
To make paper...
To make books...
To sell knowledge...
To sell sunlight and dirt...
Digested elements made firm by the coin...
Where the driver of the bus...
He picks up daily...
For the higher authority...
And without the immortal presence...
No eyes could ever hug those divine arches...
Of all holy buildings...
Ones containing blood and organs...
And bells in the shape of alarm clocks...
A slave to the grass...
The mother prepares one meal...
Feeding billions...
So they may snatch, beg, and borrow...
So they receive plates with golden rims...
And black coffee from ancient lands...
Hands washed to be filthied again...
His hair styled to leave an impression...
To make an attachment..
And preparing to feel pain...
Like distilled and fermented fruit remains...
Tearing through livers...
Tearing through wombs to give birth...
Baking is but a mere technique...
A fashion both bought and sold...
Remembering the day of banana leaves catching water...
But now towns are washed and owls are blind...


doM

A HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

Cutting the mustache and beard often...
It grows back quickly...
Some hairs longer than others...
The razor is dedicated...
The user has a choice...
Votes must be taken...
Two parties with strong opposing views...
And the hues of a painter may change...
Linked only to the mood of that Great One...
Brighter or darker, or a mixed variety...
Water changes taste...
And taste, also, varies...
Tired and weary when doubts are held tight...
And bored only when actions are few...
The boatman, his day is filled with politics...
Watching nature...
Feeling wind...
Criticizing and analyzing life as law...
Once unwritten...
But a few notes to make reference...
And to abandon and pick up often...
Maintaining authenticity...
And a Mayor needed to take care of...
And support a city...
A businessman liberated from much corruption...
Bows will be taken in honor of real power...
Lifelong techniques of priests..
Acquired long ago from completed apprenticeships...
For now it is time to rebuild such a titanic...
No room for manic depression, as energy is channeled...
Up and down the river, playing with Fortuna...
Great God wants all to know themselves...
And represent themselves in this unbuilt mansion...
A kingdom not of this world...
May the Congress be seen inside of the cabinet...


doM

DREGS OF MY CORPSE

I thought I sent that body down the river...
I thought she carried it all away...
But she left me the dregs...
The Ganga wanted me to bow more...
To the threads and fabrics...
Of a suit now ready to be worn...
Born again and coming into the light...
And out of the shadows...
And into a place of more shadows...
Realizing that I'm still a shadow...
Casted behind...
Sometimes in other directions...
A constant inspiration...
A reminder of creation...
And destruction...
And that sunlight touches structures...
Like architects that sketch...
A dog will fetch anything at his master's request...
A short journey of nothingness...
Embodying master's something-ness...
My nice warm shirt on cool fall days...
Where a woman may need comfort...
Or a reminder of her own black power...
A power dormant and powered like the sun...
Revealed in due time...
Childhood rhymes to inspire drunkards...
Those that crave death...
And also crave happiness to sleep quietly...
To dream of white cranes and blue herons...
Remembering the nature of the limitless...
A star unaware that it is indeed a whole galaxy...
Resting at the bottom of my cup...
I drink up...


doM

CUTTING RIBBONS

A couple throws of earth...
To celebrate the grand opening...
A leaving behind of the old...
And stepping forward...
The buildings begin to rise...
The structure no  longer a structure...
But now and continues to be just that...
To leave behind the blueprint...
To put aside the T-square...
And see what has been learned...
And see what comes out...
Missteps are necessary...
Setbacks essential...
Five back and Ten forward...
To prepare for the Grand of all Grands...
Beyond basket weaving...
Beyond creative visualization...
The Director sets all parts in motion...
Moons and Oceans...
Synchronicity of cities and planners...
Of plants and power...
Of threads and fabrics...
Moving beyond all that the farmer has taught...
Taking all that was learned...
Ancient to New Landscapes...
Where abstract is non-existent...
Let the builders build...
The craftsmen and skilled laborers...
Helping the chief...
Of the village and of the firm...
Of the land and of the Grand Design...
And a beautiful ribbon worth cutting...
A toast to designing the impossible...


doM

SEX REQUIRED

Opposite behaviors...
Always inspired...
Understanding before he writes...
The deeds will be done...
Elephants listen carefully...
They digest fully before they give birth...
Pineapple eaten whole...
And when nature is known...
The unknowing begins...
A sweet fuck...
Between the sky and the cloud...
Elliptical positions required for the sweetest...
Of tastes and torments...
Of climaxes...
Planets striking nothing but space...
Nothing...
But nothing simply for the eyes...
For the sake of real illusions...
Where children run everywhere...
A supreme testicle...
A womb filled with golden walls...
And plenty of rooms with stained windows...
Painted with a beautiful phallic symbol...
The whole world craves just a taste...
To drink every ounce...
To bathe every tooth...
To visit the booth and confess...
Fresh catches of fish for the starving...
And mercury for those seeking longevity...
And two wholes coming together to create another...
And not losing themselves...
Engaged and addicted to daytime sex...
A place where the left and the right created a straight line...


doM

A MOLECULE OF CHARIOTS

Where there is a design...

There is an eyeball...

A petty one...

One made by another one...

To which all speak of an immortal one...

Using words to describe no words...

The child moves to the mountain...

To cultivate his silence...

To silence the chariots that drive everywhere...

It is a large kingdom...

Infinite and unseen...

No longer is he satisfied...

Seeing only the outskirts and landscapes...

And in taking vows...

Every hair is cut...

The roots grow deeper...

In the ocean so soft...

A destroyer with creative hands...

Molding the land...

No observer...

No technique...

No leak in the ceiling...

The home remains perfect...

Going upwards to kiss grass...

Grass that kisses clouds...

And clouds that kiss a clear way...

For one and not all...

But for all a balanced molecule...

Broken while stranded together...

Making treasure out of the junk...

And drinking water from the moat, in the kingdom...

doM

GONE TO THE START

From the tail to the mouth...

Naked to clothed...

Buttons serve well on double-breasted overcoats...

But alone the possibilities are endless...

A tendency to be soft or hard...

Mothers lean towards discipline...

And the Father's demeanor is quiet...

Saying everything in the quiet...

After he speaks...

From marathon to olympics...

The suit is jettisoned and picked up again...

Feathers are everywhere...

A bird still performing functions...

Because love became obsolete...

The Lover did it again and again...

Pinky up on a tea cup...

For old times sake...

Long time lonely times...

Straining and purifying the herbs...

So that the tortoise may beat the hare...

While riding on that serpent...

No bigger than the spine of an ant...

Utter disgust for the book holding truth...

From the nothing, and into the bookshelf...

The student reads to learn...

Only to unlearn, learn and unlearn...

Touched by the words of the song...

He craves peace and clarity...

Perplexed...

He carries his ignorance back to the start...

doM