Conscious Language

October 30, 2010

“To be a poet at twenty is to be twenty; to be a poet at thirty is to be a poet.”

“Language explains us to ourselves and conceals us from ourselves.”

Referenced in Donald Hall’s Unpacking the Boxes.

“A poem is a porthole of consciousness and experience whether opening to the feeling of blood pulsing in the wrist, or the taste of a red-black cherry, or the sound of a rock being placed on a table.”

Michael McClure – Intro to Mysteriosus


Lost in Idaho

October 30, 2010

Your words stick
in the lumber of my mind
like sap on my hands
reaching out for someone new.

They’re so big and bold
Sequoias don’t stand a chance
in the fire ravaged forest of memories
deep in the heart of Yellowstone.

The lake of tears you left
fill a caldera so large
people don’t know its ridge
had it not been for your constant reminders.

As day falls to night
the moon’s spotlight
records shadows of my every move
for your Fort Knox memory.

Those memories are now tucked away
in an orderly method of madness
somewhere between Iowa I and II
lost in Idaho.


October 21, 2010

Energize through
Devotion of
Truth and
Answers dedicating
Time for


October 1, 2010

a dizzying dizziness of dizzy
floats in my head
light like a cloud
wondering like the wind
lost like  a dog in his own neighborhood