Stir my cesspool of random thoughts
That hold each of my ears wide
Collecting bits of random chaos;
Ricochet through a knotty web
Like the tangled mass hairs on my head
Have spun about my brain;
Shift my gears into 5th
As we barrel down a dirt road at midnight
With the lights cut.
Stir my cesspool of random thoughts
When I was a little lad
I can remember quite vividly
How I’d run around in wool:
Jackets, mittens, and a toque.
Rosy cheeks would rush between
Piles of raked leaves
Exploding as a shaggy dog may
Tongue half way to the ground.
I remember putting my nose
Pressed right to the ground,
Smelling dirt and grass
And observing in minute detail
Leaves turning from green to brown
Crackle them along veins
Once so vibrant, so alive, fresh
Now so similar to the dirt
Squished between my fingers.
Busy in the dizzying mirth
Of all such decay.
Here, I would stay,
Madly fascinated with stacked flower pots
Textures of clay now everywhere!
From where did they come?
Every Autumn was fun,
Chopped logs and canning jars,
Hockey sticks and Halloween,
Snow banks and toboggan pulls.
I can remember the dying sun.
When I crawled to the edge of a forever span
I got so close to a miracle
I laid my nose right down to the stone
And breathed in the dirt that was my heart and soul
When I reached so high from the up most top
My mind was scorching in an unbent sky
With rainbows and eagles far below
I was a full thought in a twinkling eye
When I caused each leaf to rock and sway
From an ebb and flow in my very glow
I sent my prana to behold the world
To return double-fold, with such secrets that’d never been told.
Sweet dirt, my soil;
Great bounty of life.
Breathing and heaving and turning delight.
You break down my blossoms
And decompose your own waste
To help nurture all life
Balanced, and full of bugs and worms.
Your kindness is forgiving,
Your consistency is staggering,
Your patience is humbling,
Your vitality encouraging.
Even your air is enlivening –
Quite literally in fact.
And if until forever I had
Betwixt my fingernails and toes
Your rich presence to look at
Your heart in my hand,
I’d forever be full
Of everything I’d ever need
Until the day at last did come
For me to join thee, forever free.
It is remarkable how
Even with our last clean dirt
We remain entitled,
Oblivious to our learning
To remain pleasantly
Your heart rings on the bars of my faint memory
Tingling windows that never seem to open right
While lights flicker from unknown sources
As if silent messengers in night’s sky.
I touch my lips and think about a sensation
Once so familiar to my heart that it left an ocre mark
And scalded the new moon twice since
Leaving rays of blood light shifting my reminiscence.
I cannot wait here long, for leaves follow my mind
Upon a downward spiral to freshly rooted dirt
Awaiting new seeds of our ancient memory
And lifting lines that varicose their way back to my heart.
Crispy wallows and snakes following ancient trails down spirals, leading only to a perfectly spherical, blood-moon-packed dirt bubble where one thousand and one perpendicular lines scarred concave smoothness, remarkably resembling an eerie odessical scene of Labyrinth, David Lynch infused simplicity and snakes. With an omnipresent light leaving no shadows, even in such depths, that echoed with every heartbeat snaking it’s way downward, downward, downward until the downward was no longer downward but stuck in a simple sphere, simply circled as if snakes and ladders were suddenly trapped in an empty crystal ball bubbling with misunderstood and toppled (read:shook) reason that inhabitants were too impatient to digest, leaving perpendicular marks in frightened terror as retraced steps traced their snaking along ancient trails back into the under-root of an atmospheric tragedy they had become familiar with and called home.
I put into words the last drops of sunlight
That left my supine soul wandering alone
Face up on an old two-track dirt road
By a rusty water reservoir
Near the outskirts of town.
For me, I couldn’t understand the capacity
Of one single ray of sunshine
That drifted on from that barren landscape
Of my calmly coiled fingers.
I drew a large circle encircling my two nipples
Nearly touching my navel
– Which had the mark of an ancient blood line –
In order to continue calculating
My numbing heartbeat’s instinct
That would lead me from this enclosing darkness
Into a fiery nether region
I had witnessed during a tremor.
Tunnel down this deep dark hole
With an un-handled shovel;
Unmanned I’m blinking headlights.
I lost mine up to my knees;
Life and dirt is blowin me.
Change is seasons we cannot see.
Two dollar bills and my coffee’s cold.
Dusty love-note’s fading mind,
It’s a dusty love-note’s dying time.
I’ve got a spotlight memory,
Driven by a crazy dream.
Unmanned headlights flickering.
White roots ancient soul
Climbed purple seeds of weathered soil.
Long lines, dirt and grime
Dance on forever time.
Earth deep to sky up high,
Moon climbs upon bent back.
Cull at last indecent mind
Make heaven dirty faux.