Just displacing shit…
Cover the bed with papers, hard drives, clothes
useless shit that is created and will be
always
eventually discarded
whether in this life or after our death.

I feel a change happening inside my…my…everything
mind, body, spirit
I feel a unity developing
I feel that there is something I can see

or something that is unknown still

but something that I already experience
something that for as long as I would try
as many pages as I would write trying to describe
the epicness of thousands of volumes…

it is something that involves not this society
nor these words I write
nor anything I knew existed right here on earth.

I feel it now
using this tool as a medium
for my gravity helping to draw me closer to the center
of the balance I have lost for too long
so that this energy
this true, real energy
can take hold
properly
like it has always been meant to

To walk, away from the past
and onto the present…
thirty five years have been about yesterday

It is time
soon
for me to take that next step in this journey

…don’t miss me too much…

af

(written on typewriter)

It is our habit to look past everything we have
and want more
more

but think about it

you say, “I’m freezing”
but I say you have no risk of death this evening
you say, “I’m starving”
but I say your cabinets and fridge are stocked
you say, “I’m bored”
but I say you have an imagination and shelves of books
you say, “I’m poor”
but I say you have everything you need and a means for more

and if you say, as I have said most of my life,
“nothing matters…what for…too late”
then do whatever you want because you have no need to worry
because nothing matters
because there is why not…because no reason is why not
because if you’re too late to be great,
then you have permission to embrace anything

af

(written on typewriter)

Overcome

artist by artist
the hourglass empties the cafe, fills the street
artist by artist
I await my turn to read a few poems to a diminishing few
four comedians and a dancer
silence even a poet is not used to hearing

a few quit and I cut my set
gettin’ late, don’t wanna bore, keep it light
second guesses and excuses
two unhealthy mantras I have overcome
yet I always seem to live by in times of pressure

cue soundtrack

staring at the same faces…
do they genuinely dig it?
or is it just mock reluctance?

I cower, read lost within a few poems
apologize my thank you
and take my seat as everyone honestly reaches out

back to the corner
feeling like I had a few more minutes a few more poems
wondering why I was so afraid
why I felt they were mocking

no one conversed yet they all acknowledged
me
this turtle who refuses to trust the world

whether it is a full house or an empty one…

Did I shy away?  Did I get arrogant?  Did I get ignorant?

…it is a performance

beginning to argue with myself
right as the comedian begins to argue with the host
the greed of all of us
the beauty of communication
the art within an evening going as an evening should go
chaos, poetry, laughter, music, passion, drink

Art is art…that is what I preach by live by
make fertilizer with the shit I am given
pilgrim of one

a blade of grass finally poking through the soil
my back a little straighter
reminded of who I am
two steps back one step forward this time

but always at least one step forward
happy for being self
for being energy, a mirage, an experience
alone with the wonders of the world,
the mountains to the coffee shops,
to a lonely few alone on a cold tuesday night
trying to be something
trying to say something
trying to overcome

af

(written on computer after an interesting astoria evening)

It slips away too easily
without even knowing it has happened

It’s the vhs imagry in my mind
when I rest my face in my hands
rub my eyes to remember;
Those little side-glances only I see,
thrown to be felt only by me;
the tears that come to the eyes
watching this movie in the front of my memory

It’s the giggles
the pure joy
the terrorizing fear
of wanting someone else so much,
knowing that this one-and-only life I have
now belongs to her;
The panic knowing how quickly
how blindly
it slips away
and then feeling that shaking come from deep within
growing and spinning and ricocheting off my organs

still wanting it
still wanting more

It’s pages of poems clung to the wall;
humble nonsense scribbles on cardboard cutout hearts

It’s the scent that stops me still in the middle of the street

It’s clinging onto someone so tightly
because my breathe isn’t mine anymore

It’s knowing, only years later,
that it is something that cannot be helped,
something routine, habit, necessary,
something that will always be a part of my life
regardless of my intention;
a team, a pact, a promise,
apologies, guilt, forgiveness, acceptance

It’s being allowed to be different weird crazy unbalanced

secrets of passion, secrets of trust, secrets of bonds,
secrets of immaturity, secrets of the most fragile foundations;
It’s the kingdom of heaven and the nine rings of hell

It’s the skin, the shroud, the invisibility cloak

And if this writer does not intentionally cease this indulgence,
then this poem will be hundreds more pages
line by line
of what true imperfect love really is…

 
af

(written on typewriter)

Levon after Levon,
west coast blues dreaming

energy takes what is needed

sunrise, and secrets revealed:
a civilization disappointed by the summit

yankee rebel drifters

pop pop pop pop pill pill pillows
escape is easy to digest
light burn puff breath hold relax
endgame is all the same
fightin’ a life for a goal that plain-ol’ sucks
fortunes that are worthless

hitchhhiker’s dreams now packaged
…not much seems to matter much
when trapped in disneyland

fascades for fascades

we all want something else
pop puff pop puff don’t really fight

you have your plane
and I have mine,
grown from earth to become ash to become earth again

we control time together either way

 
af

(written on typewriter)

“But how do you do it?”

I don’t know…Just figure it out for yourself

    Stick with it
        
        Dare to be insane

            And whatever you do, embrace doubt
            but never let doubt decide for you

“Do you really believe that?”

I suppose I do
    as much as I am capable of
        at the times I am able to

Either way, it is better than the other way around

“I just want to have adventures.”

Know what that really means
    what your responsibility in saying that is
        the boldness or/and initiation or/and
            willingness to be corrupted from
                what you’ve always known, always learned

“And you do?”

I am talking to you
    drifting in wanderlust delusions
        thirty-five and refusing to be sure of anything

What do you think?

“I think it is time for a drink.”

af

(written with pen on paper)

everything

in life

is a mirror

and sometimes

I have no idea

of what to make

of my reflection

af

(written staring and staring)