Loose Jargon of the Shaman

Worried willow

keeps me wispy-eyed

in its spotlight, by and by.
Magic Mister,
wire blister,
how my fingers fly,
fingers fly.

This night I'm gathered in my battle dress,
my quiet gown is simple.
Nonetheless, I'm open toe'd and feverish
O, now I am,
I am, I guess.
Let us sit and find an alien muse awhile on the springy lawn,
the earth's envelope.

See now, this goose is grounded in her doubts from
crazy silt
sidelong glances,
contact,
brushings,
sleight of hand,

where do I stand, man?

When all is boiler perfect,

how pot belly can your kitchen stove be?

Hop,
stew your gaze upon my power windmill salute,
juxtapose the funeral march over my quick Budda star-
I'm weightless and defining,
suspended from threadbare elastic lining,
dangling from the loose jargon pocket of Mr. Mojo Risin.

Collect the leaves
and we "Roll, baby, roll"
like a divine trumpet scale of old,

but not before the fireworks of offset lunar light
shady stories,
captured cloud visions,
Ferric ringing,
"Waking Life"

Mad juncture,you leave your needle track marks
on the bruise-easy flesh
of my good-time loving soul.
You are my smack,
my flow,
tall man's big celebration
stomped in the icy melt snow.

Again I capture the fuse of the floating negative,
lazy white on my dark lid hinged,
The words replicate distance,
better used
at the time
when this porticus indian will skim my news.

Then it's the bright sober fish belly,
flashing white and supernova,
cornucopia of the color-wheeled projection we are audience to.

Through one billion window'd etchings,

I have seen the exacto-edge of the morning,
boldy jaundiced eyeball, blink
behind white puffy lids.

I have seen the peripheral puncture of the rising,consecutive blaze of the blurry-eyed
surruptitious sister star,
red-rimmed spectre of the native man's fount.

I have seen the polished armour peak,
the quarried silver mount.

Now,

I have seen.

And how now, Horatio,

my breath-checked diaphram's harpooned me some control:

I recollect the gaping toothless maw
of a friendly boardwalk demon,
a lazy serpent log,

pickwicked lighter,
cigarette fingers,
barely believable three-legged dog.

And through the pinioned tumult,
these pinwheels we've over-thought and undergone,
I've known the light fandango-

Incredible Night,

Incredible Dawn.

...

From 3/27/07