Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

coyote hit parade on the desert trail
long lost howls signal kin
foxes swish between sounds
owls pumped up in white
gazing from above
heavy owl breath keepin time

if Einstein was a mystic
if physicks was easy
I would know how to say

Arab and Jew
Black and white
enemy and friend

are entangled
as strands
in a spider web

the spaces that seperate
us one from another
are all in our head

foxes and coyotes
owls and dogs
predator and prey
entangled deoxy strands

building one from two
linking, interlocking, opening
viewing separate threads
in cobra charm
twirling to a tune of higher drummer
flute floating hopes
swaying to sounds that nurture
from two to one
from divided to united
whole is stickin to its path

there is kickin' in the chicken
owl in the rafters
o my owl is blond with purpose
around your old barn
down back at the edge
of the woods the old
rusted body of a '53 Chevy
houses generations of mice
getting by in the presence
of bottle blond owls
curvy milk snakes
bitch nasty weasels
and coyote hoards
O Detroit! bullet-ridden, glass sharded,
ripped-seats, paint faded, & versus all wilderness!

if i could write like that
i would
.
. think i'll think if

judih judih - you're a sweetheart
but my secret is but a stumble in
the darkness tripping over this &
that 'til I just get MAD at all the
bits & pieces and at my flashlight
with the faulty switch that goes off
and on by itself 'til I use the
butt end of it to nail all the rest
to the nearest tree -
sometimes this works out
sometimes not

I start out in hope
falling into the next word
As if the world will still be here
from one step to another

the courage to walk
on water
the trickster rules

the belief of aerofloat
a kayak, to navigate
to watch out for dippers
and orion, the moons of jupiter
trusting in galactic guidance
if i sail at night, all this is true

There are many kayakers
on the mountain lakes
I did not know they were
floating on truth
the oldest thing
or navigating by belief
the child of truth

if i close my eyes
i hear the miles davis of the night
the beat of the aeons
easing in utter magnitude
roaring with hiphop fusion
slyly syncopating with eucalyptus
off-beat, on the up, it's all there

I close my eyes and make a milklion typos and see the the the whirl the swirl the curl the hurtling thorough aeons of magnitudes and feel the solididty of the keys beneath my finger and think of this sphere this womb that existss in this unreal so reel sir real eloctornic web thaumaturgicacal womb that nurtures us each in our meat machines tied to gether my fiber optic copper and sub-atomic sub subtextual quantum mysticism I prepare to open my eyes and wonder where have I been with these keystrokes

My eyes open to a miraculous mundane world of people and computers
a cybernetic community of world wide strangers and friends

if this be jam
Norbert Norbert Weiner is the grandaddy of jam.

This be jam,
like ancient mice ridden Detroit
up against the green.

if this be poetry
i will re (title) this piece
after you reply

still non sequituring