Below the Tower

Out of the dream machine, far
from my parents' daytime haul, out
of these mirrory blank smiles, far even from
contraband nights of metamorphosis, unplug my sight;
out of the screaming pass & fail, no longer below salivating
billboards, beyond values bartered and sold, far
from the scramble for value, far away
from the famished addicted wired walkers
of the fattest cities, away from the obesity
of replicated sameness, utopia's five-dollar whores,
  release me toward
    an elixir that nourishes
even men and women who anchor themselves
to encased hearts, whisk me past
oasis of freedom by shopping, past
where the shut-down towns are turned
into plastic and steel theme-parks;
  phoenix-heart soar
     through less — quirky
        and wobbly as any close friend —

What thin tower is this
and where are the magicians
among the lines at the monolith's foot?
I hear the people grumble, impatient,
sleepwalking through a chant
they barely recall. Whose ziggurat
winds up toward speechless skies?
The shamans have been slaughtered
  and the hum of their hints
blows a distant breeze

elsewhere. A nation of talkers
mobs airwaves with gossipy tongues —
  remote on —
  remote off —


Field

Dreams of underwear cannot hide my nakedness —


Always time for song.
Don't wait too long.
Teased by wind? Why pretend?
Listen. Birds praise
Alphabetless days
Of the sun's clock
Above the tick
Tock. Grassy toes,
Curled up nose,
Summer's rose.
Crying eyes
Of a lover's smile
Pause a while.
Invest my heart
For those cave days
Roseless
But not afraid.
Love, prevail
Amid the tales
Until words fail
For even you, dear,
Must burn and fade
(flare anew)
But not today.
Fade, song,
With autumn's long
Shalom to winter's
Shanti of snowfall.


Youth's the time to fly, why cry yourself
dry, slide to the beaches where sunrise
melts to sleeping bags full of wet and dark beginnings,
ride to the basketball court to dunk dreams, jet through
chattering cities, late-night parties, backroads, who knows?
You'll join us, soon enough, old men in closed rooms
where we decide where to sign the document
and to whom it must be mailed and copied,
inching the social wheel forward, comma by signature,
from "confirm the fact" to "confirmed fact"
as the kids dance around a mandolin of images.
  From fire, life,
     From experience, char,
        From the char, knowledge,
           From knowing ... gardener.

Green desire, sustaining sun, take me too!
The universities employ paraplegics of the heart,
geniuses of computer programs and robotic bombs
who publish explanatory books that dwarf the wide world,
but I have drunk too much of light's fragrant pooling
on a summer sunflower's heavy head drooping
toward the good soil, yet erect and still waiting
in the bright meadow blaze for the symphony of bees
to be made so sober.

Wait, I have to check my iPhone.
I'm not your brother's keeper, but here, keep the change,
homeless dude, wasted hippie kid, hip slacker who clutches coffee to stay awake. Bring
in the big trucks, dozers,
  huffing excavators, replace trees with box stores,
     dig deep down and level.
Haul up the earth, thirty feet below, and process
it into component parts, sell colored gravel
for landscaping, and fill dirt to pack the cleared plots.
Let's frame another suburb, join us.
Use this coupon. Plant private gardens.
Call it yours. Where did the birds go?
Buy more. Who took the worms? Lock doors.

What did you do today, honey?
It's hard to describe, my duckling,
Everything I did can be fit into an idea.
O sweet spicy duckling, I fear I am fading.

Who wedged the universe into an alphabet
within a computer screen? Scroll through
all the way. My homeless heart cannot fit
into any safe deposit box. It just left town.

Look, here come the birds, here come the butterflies.
  They land on fences, on starter trees.
     They arrive.

Behind your tears,
  The past, behind your
     Past, this dirty web,
        Behind each thread, ants
           And spaceships, dinosaurs and
           Hurricanes, a baby's smile,
           A sky of feeling, swift flight
           And beautiful falling.

Fuck the man and his motherfuckin' plan
Who I am? My mind goes back to Abraham
Understand — I ain't changed by brand names,
name games, sold lines, bought pain, time schemes,
dream chains — not rearranged —
Put yr hands up & say, HEYYY!
  Rhythm rooted
     Get to it

  Turn time
     Into music
for there ain't no escape from the mindscape
  Ain't too late to dig deep and relate
     Don't wait for
"Payday Holiday"—
      "Gotta change the diaper"—
         "Pass the remote baby"—

Fuck the man and his motherfuckin' plan
Rewrite the scene
  Ancient dreams!
     Gotta scream
        Baby-boo stay true
           If you bruise, search too —
           Well, who loves you?

JAY-Z was a hero to most
but he never meant shit to me
selling the bling bling death race CEO-mask tool-faced
money-strut circle chase loud-noise light-blast
to erase history "for once a pimp,
always pusher —"
  I don't need gold watches to tell the weather
Fuck the man and his motherfuckin' plan
How long will it take to understand?
Why make the golden calf loom larger?
I'm heading inward
Gotta be a dodger Just holla!
All in no chaser Let's go! Get bothered
  Universal seeker
     Mind slave never
        Nevermind the sellers
           Be your own weather
Fuck the man and his motherfuckin' plan
  Shut off devices Heal and get better
  Faith is a vision Love through the never


Street Scene

while you
are walking,
your head cradled
in your phone,
your ears plugged
with plastic,
there is no way
to alert you;
while you are
walking, cooing
to pictures of yourself,
there is no way
to warn you;
while...