Dynamite comes in small packages.
“Quiet”
Never such peace as after the click of the door. Heartbeats can then expand in soft empty air.
“Home”
Missing pencils and half-used cakes of board wax margaritas mid-afternoon on an old blue-painted porch the dog is sick but the vet says he’ll be okay “Do you ever miss Los Angeles?” Yeah, some friends, memories trouble is held back by the rocks protecting the bay. for Dave
I asked three times
for this affliction to be taken from me.
“But it’s your brain,” God said.
Fuck! I guess I need that.
“Jump”
He hovers over Jung’s deep pond, seeking a measurement: How deep does this go? Are there sexy monsters? From a coy-formed mouth (new, just for him), the water speaks: “Come in and find out.”
“Visiting”
I wandered over the border today, sleep-walking into OtherRealm as the gods murmured: "We've got to fix that gate."
“Road”
Your body, Sir, pocked and hard like the road you walked leads on to gentle water.
“Tyler”
Yes, I saw -- quite by chance -- you dance, mastered by music, singing its spell, and now seek the siren in a world of clang.
Did you know…there are books?
Greg Beckman 