I predict that sometimes you can predict things and that sometimes you can't, and that sometimes things are as they are all of the time, that we are always trying to catch up to now, and that now goes on and on forever, that eyes are made for seeing and that sight is limited to the rest of our senses, that perfection is an immacculate accident, that heaven is niether up nor down, that infinity can be encapsulated in a finite space, that directions are signposts for somewhere we already are, that leaving comes before arriving, that arriving is constant, that words are sybols for more complex enteties, that complexity is simpler than it seems, that circles are not round and that squares have no angles if they contain things, that emptiness is always full of stuff, that contradictions are boundaries between similarities, that suffering is awakening, that awakening is the beginnig of awareness of both that which is and that which isn't, that all good things come on the crest of a wave of desire, that to desire is to suffer, that to suffer is to live, to live is to die, that death is not finality, that round things roll, that light things float, that heavy things attract the ground, that pens write, that thoughts happen...

Listening to the music without really hearing it
walking down a path without seeing its blossoms
thinking of what I need to acccomplish without compitence
in phase and out of phase like a wave of attention
that's smashing on the shore fresh in from the sea
salty and full of life, acceptant and patient,
the breeze blowing the birds,
the birds painting the sky,
art surrounds the senses,
and always will be even if the eye isn't looking for it,
even if the ears are deaf to a roar,
even if our fingers can't reach out and touch,
it is inevitable that creation will abound,
even if writers can't put their thumbs on it,
the poets will spit it from their mouths,
watery with the built up angst of it all,
So don't be depressed if it isn't happening now for you,
you've just become the sight for the audience,
they are encompassed in their own awe,
you are your own imputation,
the song had to be heard to begin with,
and it can mean many things dependant on the attention in your moment

Patience is waiting
it has been all along
from the start
just waiting for the leaves to blow
waiting for a chance to explain something new
to anyone who will hear
it doesn't care
it feeds on anticipation
annoys anyone who doesn't possess it
it isn't even stopping when tiredness retires us into dreams
in fact dreams possess it
and crest and crash on the shores of thought
the sand on the ocean and the breeze
all act in accordance to the passing of time and energy
in a way that patience understands

Think big, 'cause if you're not big... mothing small will fall, Start small 'cause if not start you're nowhere at all, Fall to the sky and fly to solid ground, If you don't lose, you'll never have found, lose what you want and find all that's kind, you'll end up finding the neccessary state of mind, disreguard and reguard...

When my eyes paint out the space before me
So I can see where I plan to step
Sun reflects off of every surface
illuminating thoughs and minds
leaves bud on new branches
stretching, reaching all in new directions
like signposts to our expectations
and our dreams are leaves
budding, growning, falling
all in good time
so let things happen and wait a long time
a long time is like a long branch
strong and with direction

Perfection is the inability to be perfect
without knowing what the mind is really thinking
those who are confused become the leaders
pointing their fingers to where they've never been
guiding those who can see... towards the darkness
tripping over the obvious, feeling emptiness
the sincere seeker is really just bored
he's heard it all before and can't find the rhymes
the books he's read are all by the same author
and the author is long dead
he's so old and can't find his car keys

Fractal remnants of artificial life
scattered like trash and broken glass
livid eyes of birds scan for crumbs of sustinence
while hunger is a force as great as gravity
directing wings through the air

Stone pillow
rainwater thirst
bowing cedar tree
steps through the carpet bark floor
damp bare feet feel the vegitation in a midnight run
white moon
splashing waves where the wanderer jumps in
swimming deep under the dark
deeper past the living room of the salmon
sturdy tree braches where we climb
up into the confused canopy
branches
fractal branches grow exponential
fractal roots growing and mingling with the dirt and stone floor
along the path
a photograph on the ground
of the ground
is damp and decaying
but its image is not so distorted
the developed product of the chemicals in the film
polute the barrels of toxic waste
that leek into the mouth
of the thirsty planet

The shpere of the Earth
the heart of a raindrop
moving with gravity from the lightness of the cloud
with a splatter on the ground
like a particle splattering on a minute piece of itself
and gravity crumpled like a piece of paper
to be diguarded in the trash can
a love letter that wasn't perfect to the author
and the lover could care less

inner rivers flow
planets sprout and grow
we don't have to know
where it all goes

if the rain turned to snow
on this day I'll go
out to take a stroll
in the white until night
all along the winding road

the winter will smile cold
with frosty brow
clouds drop soft like blankets
making the bed for the ground

and all the plants underneath
safe in the sea of earth
rocks, the stewards of the soil
ice and water pierce the crust

Diamonds glint and the eye catches the light
soft and piercing like a star in the night
your jewelry gold and silver flash
wallets and wristwatch and fist full of cash
dance down a road of decadence
or sit high upon the top of a wide fence
looking out over the sprawl
laughing at the face of a tired shopping mall

flash, swirl, decline
hatch, sketch, underline
color, apply, emulsify
lamintate, aggregate
polish, buff, and shine
dust, wipe, spline
tentacle wood branches reach
spider feet attatch to the beach
footprint grains of blowing breath
underneath the rain and dry
woodsmoke smell of sweet food
canopy of green leaves and flowers
dreaming of a summer night
with stars above the sandy stretch
water embraces the floor
melt away the permeable pourous grains

River of electronics wire and chips carving canyons of informative purposeful complex flashes and beams. Remote control triggers thunderous sensational pixelated renderings of programs uninstalling the spaces the space they don't occupy. Wires of all colors watefall down the streams on circuit boards laden with transistors and chips. Technology is spawning in the streams. Fishermen cast for devices. Magnetic fish hooks glam onto media of all types and dimension... until the off switch engages and blackness takes over and the organic rises again.

We became so intelligent that we lost all wisdom. The newest software won't protect us from the cold winter wind. Wires frey and bend... Electricity flows like a flash in the matrix of transistors that crumble like rocks when the computer is thrown out the window and smashes into pieces on the concrete. Even diamonds shatter like glass shards of mirror pieces and transmit light through the muddy path of our feet. How smart do we have to be to just upgrade to the newest operating system patch in order to keep order out of the chaos which is order. Not that I want to smash beautiful machines, but to see them for what they are and do.

How do I write something that would melt into the cracks of the woodwork without impending significance for the moment's lull. A broken window with a dusty rosebud peaking through... Like an old friend who had lost your number or even your last name. Petals that have already blown away revealing the rosy heart. Wanting to reach through and grab on without the sharp glass edge or the thorns. But glass is sand and thorns just plant. It can all be blown away when the wind is ripe with change. Cataclysms and cataconbs trying to find the way back to the way things were when we were all just there for the first time. Memories of then like the architectural structures of a grand schoolhouse conservatory. Foot for foot and inch for inch finding the locations of the doors and where the light switches are... The goal of feeling fingers to lighten the room... And when they find the mark, the switch is flipped and a flash of light awakens us from our dream... only to awaken us to another where we shake hands with the architect smilling as hands shake. We discuss where we plan to travel next and to how the sun shines there, and what waters we'll be able to swim in.

Infinty means something without a beginning or an end. Is my life like that? Did it evolve with this fading consciousness from the building blocks of the dusting light of a comet to the complexity of a nano tech computer engineer in the evolutionary flash of a second where light years are like seconds in the life of a redwood planted on a mountain on a young planet? A fragment of an endless fractal... a leaf on a tree... a color in a rainbow.. just waves in an ocean small pond... a breath in a raindrop... a fish breathing sky... a lung feeding night... eyes eating the scenery of a photograph... ink from a paintbrush... drumsticks from tree branches beating smoke signals... ears hearing fingers touching in a chimney... grey clouds clearing the blueness of the afternoon sky... airplanes flying accross fields where farmers grow farmers... screatching wheel on hiway rivers flowing the blood of the land... lapping on the shores of a lake in the high hills of a day hike... feet wander on walking past the accomplishment of years... books read, books written... song performed, stories forgotten... memory of a wind that bends branches of time hands grasping for inspiration, creativity... collecting like pebbles washed by tides, shinning on shores, pages to novels that are tactile like sand...

Rocketship ambitions. waiting to blast off but the spaceman ain't ready. Twiddling thumbs over the ignition switch with a steady head but hands that twitch. Soon the atmosphere will be below the glow of the heat. Incredible speed and G-force and rememberances of childhood sitting before the picknick in the backyard chasing some dream. And soon the guests will be arriving with the baloons and the frosted cake. and the sun will shine. And the leaves will dance... grass stains on the jeans, a football flying past in a fury of neighborhood friends using up the rest of the long afternoon.

Get those expectations past me, until I expect they won't come again... but they do... I just expect them not to bother me too much until my mind settles back into its sea... with waves on the top and calm down below. A fish swimming through hungry and tired. The darkness below and many dark things swimming past. The clouds above the ocean disperse and the sun sparkles on the tips of the waves. A fisherman in his boat with pole in hand waiting for a bite... waiting in serenity while reading a book. And then a bite and the world turned upsidedown gasping for water in the breath of air... then compassionately thrown back into the water of home. Matter after wave of matter and time has its own wave. Wind breaks down... second by second the clocks tick until time braks down itself into whatever comes next... like breath disolving into the lungs of a higher being. But who cares about who is higher or lower... right or left... before or after... seen or unseen... just blazing past like a meteor hitting the atmosphere... a piece of spiritual comet that shows itself every three hundred years... like the blink of a tearing eye behind sunglasses... A monk arises from meditation with a smile just remembering the punchline to an old joke that explains the moment's reality in a comfortable and subtle expressiveness. A comedian with a sacred mantra that is spoken so wisely... laughter as bright as a sun ray hitting the top of a flowing wave that has never even known significance.

Don't go and tattoo your name on your soul
Cause' everything washes away in its end
Everything gets washed in that stream
And flows downwards to the sea
Mirrors end up smashing to pieces
Wearing down to grains of sand
emotions of the present change color
and repeat themselves in time
messy mistakes have no judges to pass sentence
everyone goes through tripping and falling
everyone experiences everything every moment
everyone forgets what they see NOW
And NOW is just a one dimensional name
For what just happened according to the witness
Of what will come

A copied picture of the Buddha
A mold of his form making money for the vendors
What does his form mean to the passer by?
Is his form on sale?
Is he affordable?
Or is it a symbol of a well known dude sitting in silence?
Plastic, stone, or bone, or metal
With the same brow the same stare
The same bowl in his hands
Offering his memory, his story
Possibly his words
Volumes penned from his silence
His lack of words
Just curves in a statue of a man
Buddha for sale, a bargain for the bodhisattva
A hard buy for the critic

My thoughts ran away so I tried running after them
Trying to catch them in a butterfly net
To pin them down and document them
To use them in experiments, to test their power
To try to forget them after they die
If I didn't go running after them in the first place
If instead they ran looking for me
And I was hiding away in a cave
Telling them I can only take so much
Like taming a crowd of onlookers
Eyes pierced on a subject, drifting off into songs
Singing the essence of the moment
Without regard for the reason or effect
Books can be written from jotting on the wall
Or from the paintings in a cave
So if you are a high paid author
Or a finger painter
Learn to take a breath

Zooming in on a Mandelbrot
Gradient branches bending
Fingers of light as you go in and in
Nesting in the nooks and crannies of other crannies
Colors cycle in spectrums like the changing emotions of a poet
Valleys open to seas that become mere ponds to other seas
These oceans have calm waters and typhoons like all
They have chaotic islands and continents
And some are much smaller than a speck of dust in an open room
Windows open with turbulent breezes
The depth of zoom is infinite, it's not going anywhere
Just like a computer plotting geometry

It is awesome
The ammount that escapes me every second in the now
Must let go and hold on to predictions
Not create anxiety about what is supposed to be
Flowing down a new stream unto the source water
only to be deposited back into the clouds and sky
flowing through the ditches into glorious fountains
Being warmed in the bright sunlight
disolving and evolving
focusing and surrendering
living and maturing
leaving behind all that could be
in order to keep all that is

Disguarded dollar bill in the ditch
flows through hands of beggars
like warm coffee in the afternoon
untied shoelaces trip the stumbler
lifeboats are full of thrill seeking tourists
sidewalks leave behind footprints in the shadows

Explanations of hardship
Silver linings and hope woven into the same fabric
randomness at every corner
a license to drive but no new roads to travel on
lets take a drive down memory lane
leave behind our plans for tommorow
take a few u turns and get some gas
spend money on nothing important
because all we need is something that insn't particular
and something destined to slip through fingers
that will blow away with the wind
then we'll high step it back home
let out a moan and fall into dreams

If I had a boat to row your way
could I make it over the waves
could I see that far through the dark
or be right there in your heart
would I wash upon the shore
of an island I've never been to
or would I race down a fast river
waking up from dream before the sea
and find you starring right at me
would endless travel make me weary
make me want to retire
before even starting to find a home
will storm winds ravage my sight
could the rain drown me mid flight
without breath under the waves
dying for living a journey
that I may never understand
and my heavy feet lead me to the road
sidewalks and streets with curbs
buses and museums and traffic lights
blinding my memory of now
and leading me to yesturday
before even finding tommorow
reading endless words about nothing
and holding onto books
throwing away the shelves
growing new arms like new branches
hands reaching but never grasping
to hold their real nature
a casm between reality and more reality
music and sound are no more seperate
wind in the same dimension as rain
falling onto gravity and pouring into cups
drinking my thirst away into dream

Love this space directly and with open eyes see the path before you
Pick up the litter of the untrained mind of yesturday's delusions
wander forth in the bliss of hope, never stoop to what you don't want for yourself
live in the moment for the time being as it whirls by like an airplane
En route to a new vacation destination in the tropics
climb mountains of new ideas
hope for what you aspire to
buy new shoes for the trip and get good use from them
lay down on the ground
trying to hear it's quiet sound
deafening my ears
crying all my tears through all my years
giving away all that I once found
the color of an endless sky fades
growing old like a sunset for stormy days
freely gifting me memories and dreams
all isn't as it seems
but even dreams remember such days
twisted roots of my tree reach down
into the hollow years of the ground
grabbing onto the past and growing up all around
my hands touch your branches
and hear your constant sound

I'm just looking for something
That's where all my time goes
It's nothing in particular
Don't even know what it is or if I'll find it
What it does for me heaven knows
I'm driving down alleys and streets
Looking for a store or something
Where I can refine the search