Conversations with my Wife


I’m not insane!

I am just begining to become sane

as Im dragged out of this hell hole

you call modernity



A table
A single light
illumined faces
dark shadows
deep colours
strong drink
Christ walks in

Psalm of the Good Life  

Look here you stupid little gods

Your shiny plastic is garbage

Your lifestyle is empty loneliness

Your duties are laughable

Your people are dumb pigs in shit

Your people are weak weeping starved bones

Your people are frustrated castrated men

Your people are shallow little creatures

Your people turn away sad

You have every colour in rapidity morphing, yet

Your repetitious ideas bore all living


But o look to Yahweh all ye peoples

His glory is astounding

Full of hope and light

Community of right relations

Fullness of health in their mind

Originality and beauty in eternality

In darkness we shine

In nothing we grow

Smiles in sadness

Love in hate

Augmented simple power

Actualizing without destruction


All shall bow

In recognition of His majesty

And all shall be mute on that day

And all existence will quake

Shaking the very being and soul

As every particle boomingly cries

“Holy! Holy! Holy! Is the Lord God Almighty!!!”

At first they told me

There’s no value in the things

Things are just many small particles

Hanging together arbitrarily

Quantity and numeric’s.

So now all things are zeros and ones

And they tell me it’s truer

Than my love for the wife I hold

And more true than the

Subjective signifiers I write.


Poem to the Four Horsemen

The Four Horsemen rage and rave
against my door
screaming ‘open up!
Why so daft you fool!
Wake up you blind man
up on your feet and fight!
Have you never a doubt?
Then doubt! Yes,
Open the door and see,
the closet you’ve been in is cramped
do not fear your untethering
even whipped dogs wish not to leave their chains.
If not for eternity than leave for a moment
so if you wish you may return.
Just dip your toe into the waters
you’re the master of your own fate”

You doubter call me to doubt?
I am the doubter greater than thee!
Greater than St.Thomas.
You prisoner call me to overthrow my chains?!
You who are Sisyphus tell me to cast my stone?
I have done so long ago while you yet toil ceaselessly
I am my own greatest critic and doubter
I have balked and curdled as I thought my whole life was a lie,
That prayers were served to sick egotism.

Though these doubts toss me
though masts splinter and sails rip
and though I am loosed upon the open sea untethered of all
I cannot escape the Beings love
and willingly do I return
down to the ships hold below
where the spirit is dwelling.

Though I travel to unknown waters,
waters Nietzsche has not seen
My name lasts in his book!

Though silence pervades the holds
and no winds whimper or waters shift
My name is written in his book!

You who are Sisyphus tell me to cast my stone?
You prisoner call me to overthrow my chains?
I am the doubter greater than thee
Yet this I know with all my heart
My chains have been broken
My stone was placed on another’s shoulders
I am free
For my name is written in his book.


oh my dear heraclitus
why have you plagued me so
driving me from the centre
to the edge to look below
into the dark that girds all
the dark within me
the dark in my family
in the eyes of every soul
in the dark of dirt
the dark that spins like a top
accelerating to dizzying speeds
as I dig my hands into the mountains
the nothingness pulling at my feet
my handholds turn to rocks, sand, dust, dark
flying, drifting, tumbling
into the shapeshifting objects
melding dark into dark

A Real Trans-supermarket in California

I went to the supermarket today
Where multitudes we’re gathered
Milling about the isles
With cellphones over their eyes
Looking for something
But something they knew nothing about
They swung their heads with the cellphones over their eyes
Scanning for something they knew nothing about
So they reached for this and that
And other objects
And they placed them in metal cages and moved along
Grabbing this and that
And other objects
And placing them in metal cages
Hoping it was the something
They were looking for
Sometimes they would grab a dozen or more of a thing
In the hopes that maybe the something requires a couple things before the thing will become the something
And the multitude milling about
With cellphones over their eyes
Scan the things within the metal cage
And display them for the viewing of the eternal nothingness
And the eternal nothingness
The mist
Provides water for their hoarding
And these cacti whoreders
With cellphones over their eyes
Kept milling about
With their things
In metal cages

surrounded by friends
enemies all around
turn around for help
darkness surrounds
reach for helping hands
clay walls in all directions
covered in acid that burns
it’s dripping down.
I speak to a shape
but echoes return from another
lies lies lies
whispers in the dark
kind words
rebound and warp into barbs
one says this
but whispers he meant that
I don’t know what truth is
lies lies lies

Clouds and Aeronautical Flight

silver shale
Overlapping scales
Solid topography
Sliver sheen
Ocean surface
Soft curves
Light beams
Dipping beneath
Crashing through
Gliding down
Floating resistance
Crashing past
Holding breath
Silent terror
Muffled sounds
215 thoughts
Buried beneath
White carpet
White moon
Lost sight
Sees surface
215 thoughts
Strike rock
Sparking flash
Match light
There gone
Not 215