Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

a w3rd third force
of artistes
mime sublime crimes
intransient as
subliminal criminals
swaying says course
until lint navels home

i hear rumor of
a rin tin tin rescue,
wild dog wolf howls,
full moon lures,
scavenger tricks
by a universe creator.

later, the sundance.
later, the throng a thousand
miles wide, bareback riding
on stallions

extending skin beyond sin
pause abstracting plots
inhales exude breath
heartily hung on hooks

I am the goat
I brake for indian drunkeness
splayed fingers wylde with inquisition
wired on the horn of Africa
hooked on the kabbala desert
which weighs more? wind or light?
only the spirits between the leaves know for sure

there have always been
a multitude of course sways,
ways to play a wand wave
atop the iridescent pull of fate,
transient cravings, subliminal
disappearances of heartstrings
beyond ravines and cliffs,

but if you lift your face to face
the moon, soon comes
the blessing of radience,
skin slick with the absolute
cadence of midnight.

leaves rustle presence
like longhorn lonestars
dressed by a dancers eyes

to paraphrase tanita tikarim

*kicks my twisting sobriety*

leaves rustle cattle
meanwhile back at the Lazy 8,
the hands are all hungover
from hundred-proof coyote ugly
and late for breakfast toast
(and the jam)....

filling out new profiles
taking the time to realize
I am but an infant continually
aspiring to be on a mountain top
scale the steps constantly making
sure my walking stick is that thang
called experience.................................................

what is the sound
of one word lacking?

a koan that speaks to one
speaks to all

to quote an unquoted hero
god is the center of a circle with no circumference

inference - zen
lotus ponderin

a late date is better
than a missed date.
potatoes do not plump
when cooked, but mashed
to a splendiferous pulp
help fill in wholes drained
from a day spent manning
the gravy train.

a quick break to our fast.

.

steps spire onions wrung
between fingers
no mutiny nor bounty
blunder bus emotes
prick prodded by pokes

I kept missing His face next to mine
on my way to church.

i kept asking for help and never heard a thing.
I offered to help and he's never stopped
talking.

.

on the way to meditate
i stop and think

missed fire
lost spark

my mudra
hangs unformed

if you should see
my halo floating by
send regards

silence rings ripples hung
over moments tongue