10,000 lakes

simple find lines drop simple twine start of yarn weve got simple music, simple gifts keep thriving as spines sing like hairbands, record stores, dropped into some kind of order, hands shake on creational planes, eyes unclot, we house slow movement in half time, expanding like pretty stains through simple meadows, repeated energy throughout, it was liquor stores, porches, stoops, laughter with friends, pretty much anything to keep it turning where it went blue, went alarmed, what felt like alone

what could we offer the night that is clear as teeth chatter and memories that shift a hundred times, agitated as if to say we made it, and as for how long, has it ever mattered, but for what we lingered as in each others eyes, it was continual surprise, sometimes inspired and it was beehives in new trees, it was just trying as we coughed through in triple proof, and fingers danced in the air, we gave ourselves to concentrate, turned older, went half jaded just to stay with it, but still crawled through the words and the effort slow sung into a reluctant possibility that only half expected itself, and as for the rest, well, what can we say but what there was to do, and meant to, through birthday parties and classroom, through school lunch and school bus, as if we were always in search of what exactly wasn’t us.

as kids were playing catch, jump ropes, just passing time, while later in life we came to revolve more passionately, came to acquire more personality and bands formed, movies happened, we went through it all something like a witness,

charged into battle on horseback, burst into rooms, burnt houses, lost car keys, in the names of belief and general confusion, as if we were here and didnt know what to call it or do with it.

as if all along we were just trying to deal with the times we went crying out and found no one, or too many, and the pulse was too faint or we couldn’t read it, or we didn't need it, or needed it too much, always some kind of balance, always some kind of trying, always the flowing rivers in unstilled color, unstilled ether, as if the correctness of beliefs was anything to the story, generally, of what we dreamt to consider, as we spent time together, close proximities danced and laughed to familiar songs, formulated lives that could move so fast as to have us feel left behind somehow, as if when we finally showed up to ourselves, half the light time had already passed, and maybe its that it had to be that way, life on the freeway, and how is it for anyone, truly?

borne into this, whered we learn reluctance doubt and fear, how’d we get this far and develop such ornate intricacy when up close everything seems to hang two steps away from unnammeable brokenness, and i guess that’s where we come in, i guess that’s where we lift,

something like a mountain slope in the alps cowering with a paperbag in a midnight city alleyway

as it goes to speak slow in clear water make sense and laugh true, have anything, with nothing left to do but build and restore houses families and buildings in the center of town metropolis and village, find some harmony between agreement and arguement, harmony in harmony, harmony in just trying, open tables, open minds, open air, open cells just in time as it rolled down sleeves into simple journeys dreamed for, as if we could repeat ourselves, again, something like eternal restoration, something that lives harmonically in easily accessible places, and when we pay attention, the world laughs crisply with us, and we give in fractions, speak in fractions, to the energy and distraction is beautiful but im not sure there’s any such thing

but the feelings that come over us, as we get to know each other better, and its where we break through freely, running through wide straight hallways, that we align with the levity amidst the calamity, when we are three steps beyond just trying, it seems that gifts we gave to others were the closest to having we ever got.

and it’s hard to be sure, or really anything at all, but thrust into a world we didnt make without a choice but to deal with, and later came to laugh at the ways we did, as if anything clings to us, and we were what we said or try to say.  isn’t it anything or it isn’t anything, but beings trying to be accepting, while bats imagined necessary or real circle over stone castles and paint peels on sistene chapels, as if having gone so far into acceptance we turned again just to keep it moving, trading energies, trading energies, trading energies, as we write and read stories, to tell ourselves what we need to hear to remind ourselves, refresh ourselves with something like water we let spill out of ourselves with shared intentions never mentioned.

and its funny to think of everything we half know or didnt know, between attention and reality, wish and actuality, what clung to us, what we clung to, what we may or may not have asked for, and the twenty billion prayers in every single earth breath for life to stay living, for reasons outsidely recalled, it is the times we surround so deeply in feelings of love and fertility that everything becomes so healthily overwhelming, that light and life spill into other light and life, something like a light beer in the summer.

as we worked for old age to memorize poems, as if when we didnt know what we were saying, but felt it, that is when we said it best, and there wasnt so much something to make sense of, as something we gladly trapped ourselves in, to give limits and definition, though it was still energy swimming, and trying,

and its kind of amazing, what we come to believe, sometimes.

And the ways we found or couldn't find said something about what we call us, as we kept it afloat like buoys and it isnt that there isn't evil, but so what?  theres work and help to be done theres meaning to be had, guidance to be found.

And its in the world all around, continually, thoroughly woven even when it seems something like scarcity, and when shes closest of all, heart beats syncopate, and we relax into records, relax into sounds, relax into whatever aboundments draw us and so that we perpetuate them, and they may perpetuate us because what is meaningful to us, we are compelled to share, and sometimes it can be more or less than we wish, a rough symbiosis, sometimes there isnt anything to do about it, but the engine of love drives the current of survival beyond mammals, and what we had to offer, at times, just beyond nothing, as if the closer we were to supposed edge or turn, the sharper the hope, or in any case it was just trying anyway, to move with the world to help.

  as if energy swirling continually eventually culminates into some things in some bodies, waves hello, moves along, and if we could swell it deeply and sincerely enough, we could breath into the far corners of Earth and Space.


Sirens and streetlights and frailty, its hard to explain, hard to read, and give language, to the frightenings, the general inabilities, short sighted or long sighted misunderstandings, that make up even simple day-to-day interactions,  as if we grew in conflict and live in conflict, and found ourselves lost as to how to control it, but we try, and find outlets, regardless, and loop abstract in klein blue, into neon engine energies in the name of seven diamonds that float like veins in eyelids and we try in our own broken ways, to find love and be near and we can get so wrapped up in our fears that we deny ourselves health and other things, and search for continual years some codification of mental sequence just to be releasing, but the truth as she screams to me, is finding others to share and love with, to show each other, that life can be beautiful and easy through what might seem, but isn’t, more than we can handle, and what’s there to do but trust, trust that others want to help, trust in the general goodness that abounds in corners and shadows.

and its so hopelessly tangled sometimes, but then it goes as simple as bar stools, as simple as diving into water and grabbing a floating piece of cardboard.  or ice in a beer after yardwork, sharing a simple moment of being in similar places at similar times, with people we love, that may not even know us.

and all the things we confront, the degradations of various nature, what power but what we give them?   as if we couldnt sing deeper into some essence, if we couldnt stack thin cards so close high and strong that what we believed in each other came to be as near to anything as anything itself.

and it’s been said and done simpler clearer and easier, but heres an addition to the porous chorus of happening and im not sure how anyone plans anything.

through flavorous years of supposed failure, half trapped in minds and cells of various size, oversensitized, intellectualized, but we do, we do, we do

And it isnt to say there isnt pain in waves of extreme almost unthinkable severity, its just that sometimes it seems so far away, that we could do anything if we could attach ourselves to each other and look past it, look through it, and settle minds through confusion, and try to remember that understanding exists on the way to what might as well be always

and if even the melody seems to have dropped completely, it is turning, it is working to right itself,

because the life force is strong, through the tension and threats, and when we find calmness I think we approximate this oneness.

And what can anyone say, its all the gasoline, its all the pretty lights, its all the hopes we threw like dice that rolled off tables, its everything we lost we didnt know how to save, and its a shame, its own inflated sense of blame, but so what but whats here?  So what but whats near?

At times, the pores and nerves wound up into a colorful confusion of voices stacked so thorough that we really lost any conception of a way, but we have names for that, dont we? something like darkness in a labyrinthe, something like experiments on lab rats, its still silverware and coupons, hendrix chords through national forest

It’s still suburban strip malls and nice driveways, its still kiddy pools and hangliding

its still apologizing for what didnt even happen, or what did, but in the end didnt even matter,

as if it were just matter making matter, matter making matter, and what we had or had to have,

here, life in abundance, friday nights where we connect to remember the essential,

And of course it isnt forever without some weaving, of course it goes off course, as if thats why we have a word like search or any course at all, but what im saying is sometimes it all seems so neatly prismed, so inspired, that all of that seems rather pale to the comparison as if what we build in any instance echoes and informs continual nourishment

and we cheapen the words as we trade and sell them, and id like to say we shouldnt let them,

but the point is that hope and dream are close to everything,

and what we’ve got is enough in some moments,

while we burn close to the world then float way,

we give each other a hand, when we can, and its the one time we do today that means more than an eternity of fuckups, mixed signals and confusions,

its the sistene chapel, the southwestern stone castle, its learning how close we can be to still be settling,

as energy picks up and we came to drift through it, eventually.

clouds that look like saliva and glands,

hovering with fast lights reflecting something like spotlights,

and what was the trueness that pierced through,

to say that we dreamed of each other,

cared for each other, loved each other,

and how lucky, how fortunate, to have shared that,

as if when you truly love something, the song doesnt ever stop, because it weaves strength and belief into every other thought song and mind need, something like polarity

and whats a missed call to that,

but taking pride and love in the people we surround ourselves by, are surrounded by,

as if it takes a hundred years of night to have any idea how nice a single slice of daylight can seem,

and good deeds are truly rewarded, we know this

and goodbyes arent anything but hope twisting as if to say

it turns on regardless if we honestly try

it turns on regardless if we honestly try

Works