Friday, April 3, 2015


this machine dreams that blues and whites are grey
reds become brown filtering desire through lines of code

she looked at me across the counter, a white plate in her hand
a blue stripe around the circumference of heaven

the fallen called out from the shade, through the holes
of an old coat, their song a switchblade in the wind

this reverie is more blurred than usual, but it gave me hope
light extended even into the night where my innocence wandered off

the next morning the sky was gold but the motel window gave it grit
and the power lines defied the horizon with their potential

on the bus homeward, the city’s staccato sirens giving way at last
to the highway’s hum, i found her message and anointed it with tears


The Last Sunset

Machine Dreams


the eye of the world opened and brought with it hell
the whipping winds of the pilgrim’s descent
lovers untouching pits of tar black cities with iron gates
an icy core where escape kept you trapped feasting ravenous
a demon of despair no princes no darkness
just enough gloom to see beyond your fate
a small break in the hurricane to hear your guide whisper

this is not where we find her go further
traverse the emptiness of these souls they are not here
for penance or the miasma of iniquity they have
fallen through the ground and paid the ferryman
to enter these barrens lands of wind and shadow
because there is no light there is no sound
there is only the echo of life in their cries
their thousand lamentations but a sigh

with this wisdom, you took your first step beyond
the umbral plains towards the summit of your desire
crossed the verdancy that cast back the empty
that part only before you hands shoved forward
a heart lusting after its own ideal, dripping
with the will to do what the shadows fear
their thin chants faded with each step
and the quiet voice of the forest took up the tune


voltage, amperage, ohms, watts, dead men and stardust 
push their way through the remains of world-smashers
those vishnus of the void that once burned the air 
cigarettes of the heavens whose exhalations unfurled masses of death 
and then life upon the roiling red surface of the world

even after armageddon, the sea was red at rest
it carried stagnation and its waves could only dream of greater crests 
reaching, reaching, reaching for the moon
aspirations lunar but gravity pulling harder 
towards hot nickel and iron spinning within a gold and granite cage 

this blue sea, this new sea, covers its depths with cool serenity 
fills its widths with giant-songs that travel miles before they fade 
peoples its darkness with blind monsters lighting their own way 
without the resistance of men forcing teslas through 
circuits that cannot bear the mad genius of the universe 

and thus release light


a swath of blasted dunes stretches the horizon
returns only a mirror of half-forgotten dreams
a beat that brings a stirring in the feet
in the lungs of the traveler before the road that was
before the awful emptiness that longs to be filled
the rhythm that may overwhelm its potential
wind dips and croons a missing melody just over the next rise
just beyond the next turn the future whispers
across the barrens where pale bones lay exposed
they augur missed steps beyond counting
centuries of treble clefs and accidentals
leading to one final phrase of joy and sorrow all at once