oh well I was talking about my yoga routine
but the text was lost oh well
the text was lost when I tried to upload
an image and got confused about the legal
ramifications
good morning!
good morning soul of all that's well
good morning weeds and other plants
good morning tightrope walkers k the "Edit" Link to add HTML to this space.
and Wednesday morning mall walkers
and mistaken mailmen wandering the streets
and lace porticoes concealing desire
and the demented placement of togethernesshere on Earth
all over it seems except where it matters
in the mattresses
in the memories
in the marble hallways
of the heart








Tempe Evens Calendar
LA Plants Company
what ads do you see here?
pray to the ads
write poetry about the ads
the ads are all you have
the ads are your drones your desire your heart
said Rumi to the man with his hand in the mailbox
the mailman
the man who excels at memory loss
that man!
that man! there:





but she is not a man at all
she is the young thin woman (small bra)
who stood in front of me at the Ratdog show
in Santa Barbara
with whom I felt internal correspondence
she was me, I thought, she was me
she is me
her navy shorts
her athletic mien
all made up a kind of me

that was feminine
and that I felt comfortable
stepping into because she was me
she is me
and I saw her shoulders
as shoulders like mine
golden shoulders
the best sense of the word
if the word of God was shoulders
goodbye monotheism

maybe a memory of my Bar Mitzvah will save it
no
maybe a memory of love beyond, supreme, inserted
will save it
no
maybe a moonlit night of ordinary repute, reaching for silver archaeology,antagonist to my characterful life, full of promise for the divine goodbye, the spacing of night into distinct periods of depression and hilarity, and the hundred times I've listened to this today http://youtu.be/ziD42mK0AJI
it's pasted above for easy access
can you make the leap, the jump
now it's an active link
by which you can say goodbye, goodbye
as I was forced to do
when the Ratdog concert was over
if not before, I said goodbye
when I went to dance
in the upper reaches of the Santa Barbara Bowl
to Dark Star and The Other One
flowing into and out of each other
I was forced to say goodbye to the girl who was me
and her tanktop just like mine
and her shorts just like mine
her underwear surely like mine
and my memory of her is her memory of me, we twins
of twilight psychedelia
in the patterned memories of palms
in the ocean breeze burning through our armhairs
in the mad-hatted mystification of birds silhouetted
against the dusk like spare weeds
whistling through the roots they so easily scatter
and scared squirrels listening to once for the rats
listening for them so that they can prepare for rat lectures
about what it means to run the whole fence down
and in the darkness that has arrived
when memory makes its little leap
to places unknown
I hereby relinquish this memory
I allow it to become my present
I allow her to become me once and for all
in the places I am
like this quivering garden
and not the places I can no longer be
like the Santa Barbara bowl with Dave
in the meandering darkness
of Bob Weir's distmantling
of his own warrior spirit
for the benefit of those who insist on following
what's left of the Grateful Dead
like me









I find I miss the moon.  I find I say goodbye to it when I haven't even had a chance to say hello.  I like this little delay, when the moon is barely old enough to perfume my native plants, my carefully curated selection of invasive species––welcome to my invasive species garden.   I've worked so hard to keep it clean.  And now keep groovin' friends, to your friendly voice comin at ya from the weird reaches of the combustible universe.  You heard that we live in a little peanut-=roasted shaped bubble?  Believe it friends.  We beamin in from the bad reaches of a bad town, from a bad blip in space that no UFO will fly into.  So check it when you see them lights fly by, those shooting stars of American rapture--they're the best chance you got to give away your guns!  








































beautiful specimen cacti spiking their way through the wisdom of the heart
of the heart, she said, spinning around in her glass of gin.  She had been drinking for a year or so, following in the footsteps of her father.  His faith had gone when her mother left, but he was already drinking anyway.  Her mother drank too, but not so much, mostly, except when she did and then she REALLY did.  Her mother liked to drink in fantastical increments.   There was one time, when Randy was in college, when mom had to go to the hospital because she did it to herself really good, the gin went down like dreams and she kept dreaming them, swirling misconceptions, like night was made of nightgowns and capable of giving us everything we need.  As if there is no day!  

But day indeed there was.  Randy looked into the spinning gin.  She was reminded of a scene in that Godard movie, 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her.  That famous scene with the coffee cup, you know which one she means.  No I don't.  Yes you do.  No, I REALLY don't.  But you do.  But I don't.  Never mind.  Anyway, she was staring at the weeds all around her, the invasive little beasts, so green and seemingly lovely, and she acknowledged that her drunkenness was all she needed, no moon or sun could replace its splendor, and as she sniffed a little at the cacti and invasive plants, she put her foot down when it came to water usage.  She would not use any more municipal water.  She would let the weeds die as they may.  









that was Dorothea Rockburne comin at ya from the biosphere!  Big ups my friend!  Now for some babblin and bitchin courtesy of yours truly!  Custom used to be you would start drinking when your shift was over, but now you do it all day if you damn well please sister!  AND I THINK I WILL.    She was short-sightedly chomping on her nails when the next week began, just like that at the stroke of midnight like it was supposed to do.  I have no time for other people's ideas she thought, yes you do, a part of her said.  No I don't.  You don't?  No.  Ok, and that other part of her huddled down into its corner like an immigrant burrowing out a space at the bottom of the ship.  These other bodies inside her, these people traveling so far from their native land, she hadn't accounted for how beautiful their voices sounded.  She was sure they would be shrill components of an otherwise disgraceful geopolitical situation, inside her.  

How'd you like that little ditty, honeys and half-steppers?  Hunted enough of your own dreams yet tonight?  Cause tonight's the night to do yr dreamin chile, tonight's the night to tell it to me straight.  Coupled with the disappointment that she had to move on quickly in order to tell it straight,  otherwise it was all circumlocution in thrall to the head and not the heart.  



















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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