skinny-dip falls

every tree of the chautauqua gorge

has naked birds sitting on branches.

birds of a thousand different shapes

and sizes. each with their own song.

beautiful voices and ugly voices.

humble songs of a coming winter,

victorious war songs over the

peregrine falcon.


rain fills its belly. waterfalls maintain

a constant rumble of serenity

through the day and night. rainbows

waltz in the pale mist of the falls. a

quiet riot of butterfly wings are the

cause for the cool summer breezes.


this place has never been cursed, has

never lost its grace. the spirits have

never been frightened. a faraway

symphony is the breathing of a

sleeping milky way. soon she will

open her eyes and smile. a full moon

has been caring for her as she

twisted in a picasso vision of god. a

connoisseur of dark skies exploding in



there is no existence beyond the

walls of this canyon. at the horizon

all things cease. this is not an

exaggeration of heaven. this is the

province of lumbini. run-away slaves

hid here from their bounty hunters.

spiritual treasures are buried

beneath the shale.


never is a kiss contagious. this must

be what poetry is, written by

flamboyant poets. the year of their

birth and death eroded away from

their stones, like the appalachians. no

one will ever die here. long after the

death rattle is silent life continues like

rolling thunder.


madness brought me here. there was

no main street to follow, no road

signs pointing me in the right

direction. a fever grew ferocious in

my brain. my clanging speech gave

insight to my disorder. the modern

world was my impediment.


like the birds i have removed my

feathers. in my naked splendor i sing

songs in different tongues. there are

no angelic verses of tomorrow, or of

yesterday. their era never existed.

no longer do i practice the art of

deliberation with myself. beautiful,

natural and bold, i swim only in my

gaudy flesh.


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