New Grass (for A. Ayler)

                           I

As if it fell with ribbons red and knives danced

chandelierswarm shiver near summer

world of beautiful wounds stirred in car exhaust

sprung conventional nutrient essential of attention projected therein

yellow orange citrus whiskey light

maple light carbon japanese cherry white

sky over dark cold water,

indebted to others of like and before

and you’re indecent in spring and I love it forever

here the open doors of the goddess, regardless and honest

augmented but still there, open and bare

to the spare flame that we are sharing

as she strives continually to uncomplicate

through new faces that occupy spaces in new ways

as she laughs to put the world at our back

explains to give way exhale and dream clear

imagination in thin air as we wander through

external internal devastation

without a clue as to how

without a cloud the light pours out

sidewalks awaken, perception of shadows darken

perception of shadows darken

commanding navigating or begging

ecosystems forever changing

waves of easy laughter, looking for laundry change and joint ends

fresh plants in new soil integrate with the toil,

cellular phones, retina screen memories

As if it started without choosing,

landed or flew wove truth with zero need proof

labor in action a voice thorough and tragic

something like honesty and integration

and with a sense of boldness,

thin whispered above it all, apart enough to stay safe

It could be anything

it could be anything

it could be anything

it could be anything

it could be anything

II

T-Shirts, bare sleeves, empty bottles, bicycles, opportunities amidst plastics

that swim with the fish in the river,

in that mix of oblivious reckless needful and half considerate

that seems to make the human race

as we deal with scales, musical change,

energy erupted, energy unchained,

some mix of gift and forget, grasp and let go

as if its a twisted mess trying to be free in spite of itself

as if its a twisted mess trying to be free in spite of itself

As when we fight through it and find ourselves some desolate corner of abandonment, something eventually gives back, like hands lifting to reveal

symphony, always

melody, always

as if all we had to do was believe in positive feedback energy,

all we had to do was believe in positive feedback energy,

moving through to future navigations, future plans

future walks in pocket parks,

through tear gas and colorful agents of destructive mass marketing

as if whats essential to being seems here repeated and pleading,

repeating through depletion, faint twisting through strangulation of pollutants and potentials

repeating to a whisper, repeating in searching

repeating in repeating, repeating in circling, repeating and inviting

inspiration something like resuscitation

caught between the forces of governings and power chords  

digital cameras, synthesizers, buried pipe organs,

rediscover, reclaim, rediscover, reclaim

human hands are the connection

callous and blisters on perfection

freshly made, freshly farmed, talked about and now formed,

cast iron and bone,

chicken fat and vegetable oil,

still pollen, still floating,

great grandchildren in combustible engines

century torn feast on compressed photosynthesis

how is it?

against percussions of free jazz and punk rock

concussions disturbing sediment

what we said and meant,

at least in sentiment,

so it went,

tennis shoes, polyurethanes,

fluorescent glow, glossy vinyl

as the sun expands and radiates through cars and bodies

invisible wavelengths, hidden insects

ultraviolet buds of reception

alternating in sexual chemistry

something like psychological alchemy

spilled through blood ancestry and carapiece

red through closed eyes, dimmed with glass tint,

as we become elastic, chromatic,

learn to breed and grow on metallics

preparal bacterial trust orchestral

wandering from whatever conducter

yawned two hundred thousand years to chew wood pulp

recalled rainy bus rides brown naughahyde

something like a miracle,

just laying on the bed

offering, giving humanities and sleep,

film reel uploads to the great brain,

hungering like a newborn for a clear goal,

clear goal, clear goal

and sometimes it seems like were plowing in the dark,

waiting to abandon day jobs like seashells on open shores,

opulent harmonics of false emptiness,

it can probably always be helped

it can probably always be helped

it can probably always be helped

new dreams, new places, newness in general

Works