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The word looks so small. It crawled around my eyes,
making me uneasy, difficult to see. “Skeeeekkseegski.”

The sun has yet to rise, the rain falls, water rushes down the
alleys of my mind, temporarily calming the quake of my apparent anxiety.

I crawl down the stairs, through my apartment, struggling not
to smoke. My hands shake, my heart palpitates, the past
starts to animate before my eyes, like ghosts crisscrossing
back and forth between realities.

Smoke enters my mouth, burning holes in my throat. The
sun peaks above the horizon, the horizon, the horizon.
The birds begin to sing, the perfect music for airport whispers.
I tumble into the wonder. “Good Morning Skeeeekkseegski” i see.
Unable to answer, I begin to fear the destroyer.

A strange rage wells within. I hear a heartbeat like an engine firing.
Blood rushes to my mouth, a siren sounds, horns honk and curse.
Where am I? Who is this reflection I see?
“Sunlight, why do you fear me?”

The mind begins to rotate counterclockwise to love.
A dark sun begins to rise over the crescent moon.
Voices, between the past and present, ruminate ugly and weird.
Peace breaks to pieces, so as p  ..    e     …. a    … c     … e
give in with a gutter howl.


step outside your self for an instant and observe
a roller coaster upside down
clouds grey eating at work boats
an elastic so tightly wound,  not a slippy dream can get through.

the paranoid imagery of anxious ants gets a guy giggling
giggling gets holes in his anxious atmosphere
wonder is let in by way of radiant light


everything. is. good.

just like that every changes.
perception purified.

wisdom received.

“the most difficult times, give birth to the best of times.”
aint that right dad 😉



It’s so white and blue

its gold.

what a grand adventure.  what giant leaps toward wisdom. what a joy to share the time with you. deja-vu (wink).

I am speeding by a field of white flowers. the sky is littered with monarchs. wheels rolling with the still beating echo of a fearless little bird i call (courage).  when one boards the train to nowhere, one cannot help but let the imagination drift. am I the baby bird? maybe we? how bout she?

“let-go!” she sings. casually tossing it off her tongue.  unaware of the reverberations sent down to the soul. just as color spills onto the floor. all eyes wild within the everything change. remember?

the baby bird does not hesitate to jump. yet she is caught cautious by time. a curious concept conceived within the whirl. “the whirl” yes. the gap between what was(the known) and what is(the unknown).

there are two tracks running in parallel.  one leads into the careful hands of (protection).  whilst the other. death, lurks under the guise of 37 flowers. counting off patience 20, 19, 18 waits… until…??? how many more?

who knows?
I wonder.

as the baby bird flutters toward the sky. his minute life has already lived  much within the timelessness of her pristine adventure. her little heart ingrained on another; larger, scarred, matured pulmonary pumper.

as protection wanders. her little heart is undecided. she has learned much now, from what was. he sits above watching what is. find. form from formlessness. she understands choice. sees with his own eyes the journey through death, into life. yet something new has entered the equation.

what is this hesitation?

all is silent. only the beat of her own heart now keeps him company. he. face to face with the train, the tracks, and the adventure which will lead her either back to the pain of the known. or the jubilation of the unknown. wonders to go. .

I sympathize
I understand
Peace is agreeing
can I sleep on your floor?

yes I know its late
I’ll be gone this morning.

so i can search the road
for something to set me free

something pure as gold.
she is calling me.



Twenty-five sixty, twenty eighty-five, eight ounces to the twelfth night day eight eight eight. Motion Control, in, Motion, out, confidence, confidence goooooo.

I woke up again, outside my body to determine the question. “Was I just visiting?”

Into the quiet night, light on the triggers of motion control came first the terror.
Six xis, thgie eight, I sit at the foot of the bed over-looking my paralyzed living conduit
between controls, control, nine enin, neves seven aint nobody home. The body is lonely I thought with the ghosts as they entered into this terrible space between beings. Her with her, memories seeping out of the bodies brain, over material, innto the present space.
Each her wearing striped black and white high collared shirts lengthy way down to the toes, eager and angry I projected forgetting onto them, her her eight thgie her seven neves, gone gone gone almost out, almost new.

On the controls again, buttons begin to light, body bending under sight, six six six blue blue pink eighteen twenty-two another universe arrives just as the other is … Tik tik I turn the tables big eyes as the machine makes my body wisdom. In she comes out she goes, pain under the nails pains through each individual trial all gone to sea. Still by the sill wondering as i gobble each color pill, blue, red, pink blended one a quarter inch seventy sixty two. six back at the controls time comes to take the body, forgetting tired outta here, i’m through.

This is when it begins to be really interesting. I hit at the controls six six six seven times to coagulate the unevenness before body and between where I am and where body was. Music begins to play on samples of poison memories made warm you wouldn’t believe. The transformation is taking place with the weapon you aided me with. Little yellow squares rise up to orange unevening tree green faster then white could come, five five five up to nine nine nine waving at ten up below the between above transformation happening its happening, here we go.

Sik, the police are aware of the awakening alarms heavy on the hands. I bite before branding bakes me into skin again. “Not again No”
Wild at the controls under the radar riding light fantastic outside the window we real, the real happening begins, his ashes hot through the noze. I exit
to enter the kinda question I had always known.

It looks as I describe the eight lamps leading through which forgetting renews.
She’s becoming me to keep dancing crazy,… trance one one one won won won
two to march to march without moving, we go nowhere to evolve in here just to drift. thoughts are silent noiseless beepee’emming nowhere into the eye of noiseless magik letting … waves… waves catching love. great colors wash ashore where wearing a body begins, and the origin of decision is made…

Dad which adventure will it be this time?

He decides as I wake up reflecting upon amnesia.
alone he borns again far outside of here.

so it goes.

Screen Shot 2015-03-29 at 7.38.44 PM

Dear Tess,

A radium sunlight feeds the connection of my lifelong desire. A weeping strains with my surrender
into the love that keeps me out of darkness, beyond light, into the coming back for more.

They say Jean Paul Sarte sat in a cafe contemplating the meaning of existence.
I sit here dans la Cafe Montreal looking out onto the busy street, watching the week-end passerbys
busying themselves with five days of errands rolling backwards. And all that comes to mind when I start to contemplate the meaning of existence is “We’re fuct”.

I said it out loud. “We’re Fuct” catching the attention of a little man with a red face, who stinks of gas and grass starts chewing the flesh off his wrist like a ravenous wild dog. I posture out of attention just as I begin my prayer to the moon God ‘sin’. This odd little fucker
begins muttering spit-babbling words which resemble those political institutions I read about
after the island graffiti shipwrecked into the alley walls some time yesteryear.

This cosmic idiot starts into my hope cloud, bent on breaking my spirit, really
rallying to resuscitate those fears my decomposing skin-sack fought hard to forgot.
Instants before I open my black hole bag of magical content, I begin to pity the idiot.
My pity allows him another million moment to light a cigarette, take his shoe off, and change
his white sock into black. Signalling he knows what is bound between the magic bag
and his shit-fucked-grass-stained-reality.

He stands up to charge at me like a battalion of beasts, savage and wild. Raving like
some asshole I knew who dragged with him a trailer of gas powered absurdity within a two ton tractor of seventeen hundred regrets circling around
a codeine habit which sourced the blood from his thigh to bleed black back behind both
his left and right eye.
I recognize the demon within.
Standing above me this monster is,
I knew I was drawn toward death again, to the end, to insanities. Fear flowers from the cracks
of the cafe cushions, darkness moans out from the baristas structure of affections. I lose my
shit into a panic my pen can’t catch up with,… “this is it” my moment mutters. “death has me.”

Death. Who wears the mask of the idiot I fought all winter forever to forget to know. I can’t believe
it, I refuse to be taken by the conjuring of my own self-loathing.
I burst into a similar spontaneous rage the goof gakked before slipping on the oil spill
trap set by the game April fool inherited.
Good bye gone gapes the magic sack.
Good bye Death and Evil, Black and White, Grass and Gas ends on the same theme it all started.
That of “seeing” with which it began.

Tess, Sarte giggled to realize what creates these sunday afternoon coffee shop adventures!
What declares that fighting the common fate(death) of humans is futile and diminishes life’s joys?
What is the one lie that separates us from each person?
I reread your letter again, it sings out ego after twenty-seven words which wizens the dream ritual inducing
my imagination. Real fear is to let-go into the imaginings one will wishes,…& the other shares.

Time to leave, the sun is setting. I leash up Gods dog Kinderdijk and make my way to the baseball benches
in Laurier Park. I think of the day you left. I think of how I am at my best when my roots are cut, when I drift and sway, when I am falling into the great swelling void. When I get glimpse of the really real reality, so crisp and so clear, lit up by a universal sun heaving life and love at us Tess, twin stars. Falling, rising toward the sun which desires us. We fly into a womb of warmth, giving into
its tropical sorcery, bleeding magical content into the river giver, this is the end of restlessness Tess. Movement and Place becomes infinite.
I and We and Symbols and words, and memory are exhaled by the absolute breathing of wholeness.

Giggling out of our blood-wrap, rooted in two undertakings, we detach!
Outside us we watch this concept, this us, these devilish I’s twisted, obtuse, stuck,
trying to solve difficult questions.
Pieces of a puzzle that does not fit into the pattern.

The sun dips under the horizon shooting out color and convalescence.
God’s dog hungers after adventure.
Life is sleepy from imaginations consistent desire and strain.

You asked me in your last letter “are you ready?”
My answer is yes.

(full contentment)



We return to
stranger balancing on the edge of tears,
‘neath the light he digs his fingers under his skull,
hallowing out caprice to consult the oracle.

He has lost the path which will lead him home.

He feels for her resonance,
“Being! you are not connected to the earth!
What let you lost, forgotten. How high you arrived, how unaware!
Sutured being,…smile, allow for better waters now.”

He opens his eyes and unties his boots,
so to wander the way by the rivers edge.
Lying in high speed, he shuts his eyes, meditating
on the oracles vibration. allowing for the symbols of
his world to attach themselves to her precise rhythm.

Under the hood he penetrates a trampled black rose.
Thick within the ambient fluid of her foreign demise he
recognizes the first meridian
of a bloodless transformation.

“i reject you into nothing!” she cries

“Fuck” Awakened in the middle of nothingness,
Everything is daffy, obtuse and oblong.
The strangers symbol machine works absurdly
within the sanity of the one dreamer.

Aware in the ever-dimentional-infinity of all,
everything is illusory, like a holograma intelligence
curiously hypnotized by a functioning miracle.

Momentum inhales,
The stranger impregnates the great orbit by releasing his bag of dreams
not beyond it, but in it.

 Oh I Remember!
He decides on a palaver with a planet, he will ask his way to return.

“blackened spirit, follower of the light
I welcome you into my house, enter.
you are my unspoken memory
you are the humiliated dead,
you are the birthweight I burden
you are the unexplained reason,
for this choking sound.”

The stranger approaches another fragment which
begins the wonder if I am dead?

This wonder is like walking into a lung, where women
walk with little hats carrying sewing sticks, mumbling
band-aid wisdom, in and out, in and out.

Around this moment the strangers spine straightens to silence,
he grows ears and begins to listen.

”  You live in your head
Seeing the real in things,
Really seeing the real
No bees, No honey.
You are lonely describing
the exact actuality of what you see.
or what it is you seem to see.
You really seem to see the real
& the exact & actual reality of the real. ”

The next transformation arrives rapidly.

red honey or crazy honey, I care not!

Drinking the dripping nectar by
the black rose river. The ferryman
wicked in waiting. Bravery,
Courage, Bravery. I board
the boat, pay the toll, to repair
my repentance before the journey
begins back to earth.

“I need a world, or I will fade away.”

The stranger feels the burning of what was on his back.
Moving forward with the handfuls of light he has incubated from
the trauma of the past.

“(Da ima misla.)” he mutters.  Hope; she welcomes me.


My eyes were wide within the weirdnesses
shifting all around us as if suddenly all of my past had changed.

The party ended or it was time to leave?
I couldn’t remember
anything but the feeling stomping around my guts.
A feeling that shouted “Everyone is screwed!”

I began to get worried I didn’t
pay my human dues, I began to worry that I might change back
into something secret. Something no one could accept, something that
could be seen as a wrongness within this very present reality.

Hurrying to say my goodbyes before I fell into the color I knew was coming,
my feet left ahead of me
and I stumbled
before I could catch-up.

(What happens next is a retelling of my yesternight after I left the party and entered the parc.)

Stumbling in the dark under the heavy memories
of the worst kind of monotony. Winter arose
like a crazed survivor from between the cracks of the
blackest pavement.

It felt as if the weight of the world was upon me. It felt like the mystery
that sustained me for so long, was fading.
I fell under a sleeping oak tree.

Here, under an oak. I sat between pure luck and the dream,…
It was here that Nothing was happening.
Here, I could listen. Now, I can hear.
All three of of us begin to laugh at this,
as if we uncovered a secret.

The warmth of our asses burned a direct

path into the frozen soil so we decided to press our lips to the frost
crawling around the earth
naked worms dancing in a mud puddle.

Luck says to me “she’s talking to you, put your ears against
her belly and tell us, tell us what she says.” Luck was trembling.

I was not sure if luck was frozen or became hysterical by all the
beautiful things we experienced the day. So many beautiful things,
strange things.
“Do it, Listen, tell” tried the dream.I felt as if I was being split in two and my two
halves were pulling us into a unifying realization.

In between I lowered my head into the tree to listen.

I heard the words of my lawyer return as a hollow echo

“everybody is screwed” she said.

“Fuck!” I exclaim as I  understand that the words
remembered by the tree will awaken a monster of fear under
my belly. I have no choice but to exit my body and begin to walk
up out of this world.When a world gets weird, there is nothing to do but walk.
Walk out eternity,
walk over cinder and smog.
Walk until your soul falls off.
“Never stop moving”
I spit- out the stomach sickness one gets
from traveling between worlds.

“Do you recognize where you are?” asks dream walking towards me

I tried to speak but my words fell to the floor, empty of dimension.
Here I soon discovered,
life was speaking to me by/through/with
images of the dreams… i(had/have)
Here thinking about an idea like “tomorrow” made
me tired. It took away from the great joy I was living.

In this world everything is transparent, here we see through EVERYTHING.

Our senses are one.
Opening and closing,  able to witness the birth of each individual imagination.

“this is my world” i answer to dream.

I, the slight figure below watches the sky change as his other half, her,
calls out over discomfort to tell him that
“The dream is peaceful, reality is the nightmare.”

 I enters into the wonder to see what it is to be as strange as you

Now, the other world is calling out to me, sounding a pathetic whistle. It wants me
back. I look back, to see fear comparing what is and what was. I look and laugh!
I laugh as fear burns holes
between my organs. I laugh to see that there is nothing in the dark that is not
in the light.

I laugh because everything is and will always be alright. I laugh
at all the times you had to remind me.

(You would be laughing too you, if you knew that one glance from your eyes,
& my life will be yours.)





Let me tell you a story…

It runs out from underneath; these bursts of madness.
Happening, without me.

What gave me the strength to get through the darkness, was the knowing that you did it first.

Stirring honey into my coffee, I heard you between layers of flavor, asking me to dive in.
So simply I  joined the swirl.
In our black cup of camouflaged countenance,
we removed our masks, lifted our veils, shed the charade, and slid instinctively down
the curvature of our slave masters spine.
You turned to me and asked if I was surprised that this dark tower monster was constructed by
three billion mouths speaking words that would never ever be understood by anyone.

We felt them though, didn’t we Tess?

The weight of the chains. The disease of the slave.

Tess! I remember! Our moment of ecstasy, our lips inviting all our inhibitions inside.
Inside! your seduction chanted “Swim” and so i began to paddle, didn’t I Tess?
Like a puppy. In what
I thought was only a puddle. The puddle grew, slowly, seeping over the arid landscape of dormant energy.
I saw you dancing above the clouds Tess! Carrying me, enchanting this puddle into a tidal flow, I had no
choice but to swim Now! Swim with the current of mystery, toward the light, the light, THE LIGHT!

You spoke from my doubts, my insecurities, you spoke them so as I could hear them aloud.

Listen! you said. They’re dancing!

“am i getting stronger or will i disappear ?
will my heart be thicker and less full of fear ?

do i have to leave and admit defeat
and do you love me sober, when i land on my feet

and could i be wiser, i’d like to know
and what fate do i miss if ever i have to go

and will i be better
i’d like to know!

and will i fuck up again, in a similar way
and will i lose all my money
and have nowhere to stay
and will i lose my love
when morning comes
or will i have found the one
this time next year!”    your words, our brain Tess.

The light again grew distant, and the ocean filled with fear.

When my thoughts and words became heavy, you came to me in white, inside the inside…

“Lightly, Lighter, lighter still.” the best advice ever given to me.

I let go, I began to float, shining, void, inseparable from the great ocean of light. I began to see the lights and shadows of the sea, the blue spaces between the clouds, I was finally able to see you Tess. Finally able to take your hand in mine, able to feel,  able to stop swimming, confident, I  gave into the dance.

Tess you helped me get out of my own light, to understand that the wholeness I was seeking demanded that
i become one with yours.

Tess, the clear light out of which we were born! I see it! Inside our skull, outside space and time. It is always there.
It has always been there, like the setting and rising of the sun,  Pink sky below the steadfast orbit. Everything living and dying, dancing together, all laughter all desire, all the uncomplicated happiness, is right here, right now! Tess! I feel it!

“Now you can let go. Let go!” you demanded.

“Go on”

I did Tess. I am here Tess…. I am here,… now.

“fuck” I whispered. I surrender.



Words written over a toddlers crib, abandoned, smoldering, alight in the alley below my perch.
i read it with curious awareness, my lungs, my breath on fire,..

“So long as there is fear, there is no love.”
Ohh, the resonance!

Can we love if we are consumed by fear?” Whoa, that one is a doozy.

Did she love me? If she told me countless times “David I am afraid?”

Am I without fear? Have I ever been?

I laugh a hearty russian soup chuckle, a strong warm cackle that could win a war (if a war could be won).
“You bet.” i bleed.

Dancing along the wet sidewalk I continue to read out loud the writing on the wall.
“Peace for Earth, you wounded baby mother.”
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may and do not go gentle into that good night, (You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)..”

“Maybe after: During the peak of all this madness man will finally be born.”

I Make my way into chinas western market,  buy a couple beers and decide to sit
at my desk, wipe the dust off and think about how to arrange words into a map that might
lead one to understand how fear deadens the mind, plunders the soul, keeps one from “reality”, the moment, NOW!

“What are you afraid of?”
The darkness?
maybe you are afraid of your wife or husband or boyfriend girlfriend. Afraid of them leaving you.
Social standard pressures, maybe?
Afraid of your sense of loneliness,
the emptiness of life ( the boredom of a meaningless existence that one leads.)

Maybe you are afraid of the future, the tomorrow, the unknown!

To understand anything you must live with it. We are all very much living with fear. Yet how many of us actually
explore what fear is? Have you thought about it? Fear, a runaway train of insecurity, dragging with it heavy baggage cars of worry.

Who is conducting this train?
Anyone,  a programmed conflict robbing us of the light of life? Maybe? There aint no moments on this train, there is no now.
Only a shitty ride from past to future.

I have the feeling that we board this ‘train of fear’ to escape. Escaping from every challenge, we use our imaginations to take us away from what IS.  We make believe that we are living in hell, that life is hard, the world is terrible, civilization is ending, everything is getting worse!

The fact is, everything is good!
Everything is in perfect working order, it is only you who are fucked up.

When you finally wake up to this fact, whether you read it on the wall of a strange alley (which you were always curious about, but lacked the courage to enter.) You are able to see which part of you is frightened and why you were frightened. Which frees you from that which you were afraid of!

Maybe some of you were lucky enough to experience a shock to your system!
And by some miracle a dam broke free, and you finally became receptive to what life is shouting at you every day, every moment, every instant.

The person who finds the inner strength to step off this train and live their own life, will be without fear.

Without fear you will be FREE! You will step off that God Damned train in utter awe!
You will  begin to laugh, you laugh at how ridiculous your worries were, how stupid fear looks from here, how shriveled, how old and decrepit and ugly it is. You laugh as you realize you have been living on the edge of the miraculous every minute of your life!
NOW you see Life for what it really is. A Fucking Miracle!

Try it, face your problems, your challenges head on?
This is the real adventure!
Its free. You can do it right now, right where you are sitting, when you are walking to work, or riding the bus, or driving to a bar.

“The miracle is within us. & it blossoms forth the minute we lay ourselves open to it.”

I can do that.

Of coarse you can.





Oh God! I feel it. Do you?

The tides of change. Waves between the known.
Death giving way to life.

“It wasn’t just a long winter”, I tell spring,..I loved her still as

I sat on a driftwood
beach log watching kids create giant bucket bubbles.

Us kids laughed together, deaf to parents
fears “You’ll get bubbles in your eyes Louis!”

” you’re getting dirty with soap Kevin!”

The farts found their way through the cracks in
my ass laughter often frees.

To-day I graduated with the changing seasons.
You know, found my place, and was given a gift.
I  “name it Joy!!”

I dee I. Be praised you are alive in the eye. Get together
and rebel against the mind-binds.

Break the glass, and drink  the drips of the life bringer.

We are not afraid of death anymore!

the fear of life fades.      She is laughing at me again.
my cheeks turn red and then to steel “real men are lovers.” i roar



Friends with kids, I urge you to let them wild in the womblike walls of creativity.
“There’s something about creativity whether it’s building a house or making a little 4×6 drawing. It’s good for you.” says the wise greek from lucas.

Their survival depends on their adaptability within!
they will love you for it!! recycling  life by ridding the roads of noise; replaced by music. Aleksander taught me that. (not that one! the real Al)

Oh-cha oh-cha.

Only beauty from this day forth, a last let-go was given to me.



I try and I try to run and hide.
but  you just can’t run from that thing called love.

Believe in make believe
trigger the alarm and leave.

Tell the tale to set sail
head spinning ’round and ’round
it’s such a crazy crazy feeling
that thing called love.


“the longer she is dead, the more blissfully she lives!”


The theory of entanglement
weak in the knees

limping toward the edge of doom.

It doesn’t just come fast,
it’s already here…
…to you whom are afraid of your imagination.
With half-closed eyes you realize
your sick in the blood.

So you set out to find Love in the life,
you heard it was paradise.


Before you decide I must share a piece of wisdom = one does not get healed just
by living and loving… if it was so, I would be healed.

let we go down and down and down …