A Young Boy Learns

Series 1: Video Field Recordings From Within

breath

Linguas Diarrheas

You are so beautiful when you spray hateful things from your mouth like a fire hose of shit water.

Better

Everything swept up in the dirt pile. "You can't get everything. There's always a few stray sprinklings of dust you can never get cleaned up."
But we'll see.
And we'll live.
And we'll love.
And we'll survive.

New born, and now the time of Clues. The gems of thought, sight, sound, tongue that stick out in the day -that strike the heart gut with the whim of some potential larger future.

Now things get
better.

clambake

I've been a bit nuts lately.  Shaky.  Nervous like never before.  But still holding steady.  I feel the bottom of the lake skirting my feet these days.  I've been paddling upward with baby T-rex hands. Chomping at passing flies.

"Tell me something terrible."

Rolling grumble review.
Maggots on the kitchen floor –a shifting desert of ants hording over them.
Wiggling little faceless babies eaten alive by teems of black specs.

Somehow I feel like this was psychic manifestation –all of the bile being vomited out in the words of two seemingly good people.
Seemingly.
Good.
People.

"And here we have plump white larvae". Take your share.

Getting this project off the ground...

He took a long sip of his coffee.
Then, "Maybe you aren't running because your legs aren't moving."

going for broke

Bunga And The Deep Blue Sea
Sunset Cliffs 9/6/09

Doomsday Again

Toast crumbs on mouth.
Biting remarks on the chest.
Cloud of gnats around the head.
The kill glance grasp.
The huff-sigh silence.
It must be another day.

PLEASE.

early day

'I'm done' he said. The quiet moment. The kick shuffle. The shoulder rise. The sigh fall. The heart drop. The face loosening. The gut quiver. The mouth hanging. The wet drips. 'It's all I can do'.

well

toast instead of lemonade

It was called the Honesty Of Life.
Like window panes shattered free.
Blasts of glass shards dusted in the breeze.
Mouths open with expectant tongues -
Waiting for sharpened snowflakes.

When it was all said and done
You could stand in the opened room
With the comforting hug of cross-drafts
Coming from all angles.
All angels.

It could drop you to kneel.
Blood tears and blood spit.
Blood tongues and blood knees.
Born again. Pulled into arms.
And lifted to your feet again.

Corrosion to the truth.

Young Oliver, age 2 1/2
Photo #2 found in the damp basement of a burned out building.

Bee Sting Enlightenment
:A Play in 5 Movements

Young Oliver, age 2 1/2
Photo found in the damp basement of a burned out building.

Things Seen While Staring At The Ceiling

The days have been rough around the ledges. Back legs are scratching the itch that might not go away. I'm leaking like a sieve. 'I'm crawling here'. The rickety chair is back. I'm standing up on the edge of its back. And it's being shaken. Just when I had gotten that thing stable. I still think I can reach that lightbulb, though. I can change this.
Right

MAX the PUG

Thank you

In the dream
There's a pain in the heart of my chest.
A terrible tearing.
I lift my shirt and look:
Pressed tightly over my heart just under my skin is a sparrow.
Clawing and clawing to get out.
I use my fingers and scratch from the other side.
My skin tears open.
A flock of sparrows releasing into the air as I begin to weep.
It is beautiful. Painful. And alive with love.

Pit Heart

We've seen these winds before.
They'd be out of season; except that they have no season.
They cloud the golden light that IS
The truth.

diprosopus

We'll take the late night wind down
The night skies open roads
The mind adrift in constellations
Stars and headlights
We glide with rocket ship thoughts

Dirty Pictures Of Food

#7 in a series of 34

soft.

soft..

soft...

like a lost idea
float down stream

Bungalucci
owner/operator
BUNGALUCCI'S DINER

I had a dream about this once.
It looked like tire tread.
It smelled like pipe smoke.
And it felt like the cracked edge
of a glass jar.

That Day

It was slated, declared:
Rejuvenation of Magic Day
: An event to kick off a whole new cycle of fresh inspirations, movement, regenerations, love, and of course, making of magic.

Happy Rejuvenation of Magic Day to you. May it fill your heart and soul and self. May it bubble and flutter and butterfly. And glow. Yes glow in breathing rays. Inside and out. Smiles of small explosions. Idea balloons floating up dangling glimmering ribbons of different colors. And the warmth of whole. The in to out. The open mouth. The full chest. The closed eye twinkle. The raining lungs. The new morning. (s) I can't wait to see it on you.

smiles like coats
vitamin D soaks
you can dance the light glide
we call that the 'Sunday Morning Slide'

wet grass toes
clear headed mows
music from the sunny side
we call that the 'Sunday Morning Slide'

yeah chins are up
and the stride is fine

Shoulder Twitch

The room was filled with a web of stitched nerves.
You could bounce jitters off of the walls.
Your gut would flutter with anxiety to walk in.
And when you left, well, it would take many deep breaths to shake off
the lingering jitters.

"I'm crawlin' here..."

And with that went that.
Tears in the cold breeze.
You never would have know that it was Spring.
***
It takes a long walk.

So we're taking deep breaths.
The days are sliding slower.
The light, softening again.
The heart rolling back in.
Lost and Learned. Found.
Come back around. And different.
The molecules of change are a bustling bunch.
One has to blow them with breaths from the chest.
Sometimes you have to let people know what you want.
And sometimes you have to make things happen.