Candybugs and cataract water –
spilling into one small moment
large brains and puzzles
saturate with the distraction
of a ticking daydream vigor.

Reflectful moments of reprise
with apes following into the gorge,
the essential small moments
that perform the needed function
of a holy spirit in our brain.

Twitter as Graffiti

Twitter is cultural graffiti. In other words, don’t dismiss it, even when folks tweet about the sweet potato pancakes they had for breakfast. And if you do dismiss Twitter, please conjure up another adjective besides narcissistic.

Voodoo Universe (Golgotha Beats)

I manage time but still loose heart,
my brain vertigo hemorrhage of gravitons and gluons.

Hands whirl on a silver circle on the office wall,
timing the heart beats until Golgotha.

I smell the stench of veneer and hide in the cave of your atlantis.

Yet I cannot stop the goose skin death ticking of apollo’s paycheck.

Time itself is measured in sticky melted wax drawn on a wall with a smelly grin.

Yet, I always will wonder if your music will stop breaking tone and find the pitch to sit on my wallowed mellowed soul.


Mystical moist night air
points me to the cavern
on the green hill
under the shadow of the birch tree.

Hearing myself speak,
I turn to wrestle the Jabbok
on a river of self penance and blame.

You touch my hip and I quake.

You spit in my eye and I see

You burn my lips with coal and I taste.

You clasp my head and I hear.

Just then when the earth spun, you left me here –
on this dewy wet street sweet spot grass

and I cry at having been maimed by my identity.

In Between

Between us there is a pen and a paper.
And a spider web of neural pathways fired by electricity.
And tendons that moves bone that move flesh.
And keys on a keyboard that are depressed.
And a spider web of wires fired by electricity.
And pixels.
And photons emitted by bulbs.
And nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide.
And a lens that contracts because of the photons.
And a retina that filters some of what I have to say.
And an optical nerve that carries the message like Hermes.
And then you, somewhere in that Grand Central Station in your head, read what I have to say.
Between us there is a universe of time.

The “Real Time Web” is as valid a construct as creationism. Both are hopeful ideologies constructed on a misguided theology of poor literalism that misses the beauty of what lies in between.

It’s the in between time that is important.