Sleeping in the sock

Uneven steps have left me holes to fill
with light that will only peek into from above,
it is warm all around but the darkness breaks it asunder
into a biting envelope that has cold muscle on all sides
It is like sharing a dog's hunger for a piece of meat,
the assurance is calming and the fight coming
Every now and then i find myself sinking through the hole,in still water
and there in that separation of the clod and my last beating sinew
i wish for the heaven's to be aflame
and down,by the places they were raised
as i surrender my eyes and breathe into this final temptation

In vacuum,and still

The world,now has silicon galaxies
hidden under their desks,
The drugs have become too slow
and the guns too quick to run away from
No longer can you walk into a room
and look into someone's heart,
They list you bit by bit
like dissecting you alive ,
Everyone gets numbers,you get a number
a code you wish to write down but never have,
Their screens blink and billboards are the only memory
they take home,to feed their children
Children who are stuck at one end of a clipboard
with nothing being written upon,
their brains tossed into a meaty bowl
of confetti some might find themselves fall under,
They would ask their mother,eventually
if sex was generally dangerous,
there was talk at school,at tutoring class
and even in cartoons that suddenly had breasts and penises
pixelated to neat indexes that confused their heads
but aroused their otherwise weak senses,
The mother would blush,look at her husband
who by now would have heard none of it,never will
his obesity sunk into a chair
and his shoes still hanging by the toes,
"I wonder why...I wonder why"
she would whisper to herself..

9 pm

I see teenage girls run to the curb
in transparent shirts,
A man slowly crosses the road
fending off the burning lights
struggling to breathe in their heat,
Our tongues dry,maybe the throat too
There are unformed breasts waiting to jump out
and there are confrontations we avoid
As slippery as the tongue might be
No word is smooth enough to be true
when whispered to a man who knows his way,
It is 9 o clock in the evening and
most people know where they are going..

Lonesome traveler..for jack kerouac

I have no consolations to offer,
To far away places i do not come
to lubricate your life,
missing from the last winter i was here
and the day you no longer will be

You sit there with a questioning face
staring at my shoes,
with years of clay and colors of earth
pouring out,
And their age showing on your face

Man in the brown jacket

There are razor blades in his pockets,i'm sure
For he needs to shave the brightness off
of the circular glow
above the lamposts at night,
It has been years and that jacket has not had
enough pockets to shed
as the man has had years climbing his spine
There are ways in which i miscalculate
his presence in my life,and then there are the ways
he lives by

It is discomforting to walk around in the evening
without him flanking the alleys
with that brown ghost like visage

just as it would be, to have
gravestones with no bodies to put under them,
but that is just another miscalculation

Another day,Maybe

The sierras cough up the uncherished feeling

of my presence just below their throat..

Wthdrawn from the decor of life

I climb miles,up and down

these hills wondering why i do it,

I was destitute only in faith

faith in your plans,

the irrelevance of most of them

Perhaps i am

the only coin at the bottom of a wishing well,

With a heaviness not entirely my heart's

I look around and i feel we live in it

You have a lot to wish for,

But another day if you take that leap

The oceans shall lie still

and resonance will be universal

Meet me in my journeys,i will talk to you like

a friend,like a lover 

and then there will be two

Mahabaleshwar,India

Outside Mrs Kimble's tea store

As is not my nature,
i was waiting for Mrs kimble
outside her store,
I think i was in love..
She sold tea bags
the kind you hadn't heard of
and you wouldn't really want to drink
As i rolled around in my thoughts
dolled up as fine as i could
a hawk helplessly hovered in the sky above,
i did not notice that
but the little girl,probably lost
pressing my hand firmly
Her hands too cold to be as sweaty as they were,
I realized i had been standing there for too long now,
Mrs kimble wasn't going to come out
so i walked down the road with the girl
and we had a cup of tea,somewhere
She said we would meet again,which we never did
since we were in love with the same woman,
She looked just like her mother
who had now been missing for two years..