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

SONGS FROM THE HOUSE

There was a time when dance parties were enough...

Grace with no pressure...

Pressure with no constant...

A flower with no leaves...

Dried and ready...

I brought them to the house after work...

And a sneaky pluck of another's guitar...

The wedding photos also sing...

A melody...

Memories of the vows taken...

The do's and don'ts of a maintaining a happy home...

We keep the imperfections in the yard...

My children love cutting the lawn...

Watering the lavender patches..

And chasing butterflies that chase nothing...

Blowing fragments of grass...

The oxygen is so sweet...

Cheekbones and mouths fill with smiles...

Merely an overflowing water bucket...

Yes we all drink from the well...

It is a fresh drink...

For travelers that have no speakers at home...

For nomads that hear nothing but heartbeats...

Our home is open for all...

So come with me...

Sing while you sleep...

Dirty your feet...

Filthy your hands...

Make the bed, if you want...

doM

RARE SPECIES

Only one in the entire rainforest...
New colors...
Different traits...
Same qualities as the rest...
Used differently...
With a choice to take life...
And another to give it...
It is a galaxy in the universe...
We've never seen up close...
Only sightings...
Mainly rumors...
Ancient tribes know of it...
But they cling not...
Mycelium giving birth to the fungus...
But never preparing its shape and qualities...
Not before the raindrop...
Not before the dead tree trunk...
Not before the sun...
Not before the projector is plugged in...
And the image is revealed...
A sworn enemy will follow...
To eat the remains of its meal...
No two light bulbs the same...
But a socket is needed...
A symphony vibrating on the same wind...
As that produced by the tree...
As that produced by the rare species...
Sacred is the song too fine to hear...
Chirping and roaring...
All are still confused...
As good as dead...
As it has never been heard before...


doM

CARRYING ALL INTO NOTHING

Everything that I knew...
I dumped into the garbage...
To find philosophy and science...
Resting in empty containers of raspberries...
To find alchemy in a rotting banana peel...
To find the Sun in the stench of feces...
Regurgitation is bound...
Stimulated or called upon...
The Mother will feed her young...
A call to be recieved...
To save our ship from sinking...
I returned to the Nile...
They know the body best...
They know of God...
In so much that the word...
It is but a pussy pimple on the lip...
A nuisance...
Only for he that has forgotten...
Watching the rooster dig out their own stool...
The children will bite toenails...
And when it serves no more...
They will masturbate...
To the sight of a holy river carrying death...
May a bottle of water refresh the thirsty...
And aggravate the sick...
Broken bones and immortal flesh...
May her body eternally please me...
May her body carry my children...
May her body carry my all...
And teach me nothing...


doM

EMPTY BAG OF FOOD

The grassy areas of the park...

Filled with those eager for a picnic...

The flesh of the illusion...

And the potter's clay

They make the sunshine real...

A warmth only truly known by intellect...

The soft touch of a wife's hand...

It brings a sweet smile to her lover...

Her husband approves...

As he is the base element...

A sheet between their skin and the Earth...

Enough food for everyone...

Sport for the child...

And no defined game...

With no shoelaces or belts for the prisoner...

He eats from an empty bag...

Eventually finding food...

Sweeter than the soil of figs...

Nourished with answers...

An oracle in the senses...

All is told...

The tongue never moves...

Except for fermented grapes...

Timely season...

Perfect region...

Stainless cuts of fresh cheese...

Nibbling gently under trees of stillness...

Everything became new...

So says the shape-shifting ancestor...

Born from the womb of tree bark...

doM

MY GRAY HAIR

The disc jockey played...

He vibrated sweet studio one sounds...

In that moment...

It was Jamaica I tasted...

Rocking and moving...

Eyes half closed...

The red wine made love to my saliva...

I reminisced on those that have come and gone...

The room was provocative...

Mixed cultures, Luscious lips...

Long dreadlocks, wholesome breasts...

The continual spats of flirting...

And of course the wine...

But the Drunken Master is always aware...

Rice wine was never too sweet...

To break his concentration...

To break his grip...

To break his meditation...

But all was loose for the night...

God retired for the evening...

He let me out to play...

He took rest on my behalf...

Yet together our organs sang sweet melodies...

Entertaining thoughts of cigars...

And seersucker suits...

I stand to watch my horse cross the finish line...

In my immutable seat...

The body sings and dances...

It plays with precious care...

A love that no longer be defined...

Like hands on her thighs...

I stroked my gray hair...

doM