free falling into winter

nights are getting colder, the sun

turns on and off. corn stands ten

feet tall. deer are dancing again

and eating cemetery flowers.

more birds than a hundred are

waiting on the wire. dew

dampens the soles of my feet.

old man winter is being born

again. taking his place in line. my

love is ready, sleeping closer. we

dream about palm springs

california. a new coat will keep

me warm. what i longed for,

there is now no desire. every

snowflake is my friend. i will

rename them. don’t be blue my

love. i am each new stroke on

your canvas. i chant out the

turning seasons. our harvest is

good. my sweet grass is plenty.

we stockpiled dry timber. your

kiss will be my fire. we will

protect our bones from freezing.

release our frozen fears.

embrace each season as holy.

make gifts of art from a forest of

a thousand hues. gray clouds lay

heavy in the sky. heaven will not

disappear. we have not damaged

our spirit. hollow trees will be

drums we beat in harmony. we

see each breath inside each

smile and laugh at the chill of

winter.


Foster Home by Maya Kazantzis

Love is like a well built home
You plant roses with the certainty that they’ll bloom
Cook dinner every night if not to fill the house with the smell of a warm invitation, then to find an excuse for the silence
Never break bread because why be grateful for something as natural as a kiss or a hug
But you always wanted a family of touch
Love is like a dingy apartment
You can never make enough to live comfortably
Silent nights don’t need an excuse, the once aroma filled room is stained with arguments while your reasons sleep in a memory
Love is a divorce after eight happy years
The walls you hid behind have crumbled
What’s the point in building us back up
Love is an abusive relationship
So many bruises you don’t know where they came from
Chocking off your airway
Ignore the screams behind closed doors because
If you try to get away it will only get worse
So you lay in the broken glass
Hold hands
Embrace the cuts and paint each others names in Blood
Love is a lot like a foster home
These silent nights after a storm
You wonder
Will they ever want me?
Am I as broken as I seem?
What did I do?
How can I change?
No where to go
No where to turn
Love is a lot like a foster home…


queer gone mad

i wish i was brave as i want
to be. dress myself in hero
drag. join a gang of trapeze
gypsies with sardine eyes. be
smarter than buddha. have
more magic than jesus. never
be fooled by war or peace. i
could swallow a twister. put
donald trump in a cardboard
box. get stoned anytime day
or night. be hard like iron, soft
like poodle’s fur. so fast no one
could see me. break circles and
heal bones with my middle
finger. dream meaningless
wet dreams. my cursing would
be holy scripture. i wish i was
brave as i want to be. i would
be a poet with a mustache.


brian, i love you

the sky is dark and deep tonight.
where are you when i need you
crescent moon? i only have mars
and jupiter. my freedom is in
danger. frustrated. chinook
winds blow me to an empty
space. i protect my silence
where my nirvana hides. i play in
forest fog. falling leaves are
chimes of winter. they sing with
lips of static verse. foxfire
flowers losing their bloom. the
love for my love is twisting. he is
nature growing young, growing
old, growing young again. we
sleep together under ice of a
frozen allegheny. ravens whistle
sweet lullabies. our desert is
drenched in rain. rainbows crawl
over pine trees. everything is as
it is with no reason why. tears
can be from happiness or
sadness. being healed or
hurting. i am dying to be alive.
living to be reborn like you.
name me for what you care for.
feed me what i need. we can be
butterflies or snakes. behind
clouds a shining sun. my wages
cannot buy you anything. i want
to kiss you. be your stars on a
moonless night. if that’s ok with
you.


my politics

i don’t want to be white.
i want to be black, brown,
red, yellow, maybe green
or blue. on bad days i
believe in god. on good
days i thank buddha. i
have two faces. the
brightness of the moon
and the darkness of the
sun confuse me. i eat
hamburger, spiders, french
fries and snakes. i float on
cumulus clouds. drink
from dirty artesian wells.
everyone has someone
they want to see naked.
every morning i give
my enemies new names.
i talk to friends on the
phone. we promise each
other a cup of tea. i put
all my desires in
alphabetical order. at
easter all hell breaks loose.
i will see you then.


sometimes i sit by the highway

a big bus roars
by on highway six.
followed by sand to
cut my eyes and
black smoke for
me to swallow.
they think i’m
charlie manson.
i know i’m woody
guthrie. i watch pickups
chased by american
flags, pickups chased
by confederate flags.
i sing there are no
shinning seas or purple
mountains anymore.
my heart desires to be
full and empty, sad
and happy, sour and
sweet. my soul is silk.
my soul is steel.
sometimes i pretend
these things.
sometimes they
are real. jesse james
stops in a rusty falcon.
says get in partner
before it rains, where
you going. nowhere
i said and thank
him for the ride.


Bob Dylan & Allen Ginsberg – Vomit Express.mp4


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