trp trp hmmspsh
hmm tkp tkp
ck-ch-ck-ch-ck-ck-chhh
haah-haam-hu/
haaaumm pa ta!
ck-chh ooowph
t-t-ttttt-chhh-a!
hmmm paaah
tkp tkp hmmm
tkp tkp hmmmspsh
mmmmm

Look what you can do

Like cellophane
sticking and smothering,
the poetry and photo-etry
strangle the wrinkled
center of my nervous system,
paralyze-yzing me,
then seizing me
van gogh style,
going to cut off that ear
and paint a bright red beard
and swirling china blue skies
like his eyes.
A crazy casual stance
dyptich with vintage
wallpaper sucking
the soul from the wood
in the walls
like you suck the soul
from the marrow of
my bones and streeetch
it out of shape and
smash-ash it back into
the mold
of me
so that it forces that
flexi-copper mold
to make a new shape
something you aroused
and I impressed
and we manipulated
into unrecognizable
and even better
soul shadow creature,
a new admiration of me
or myself or of you.

THIS along with that artist's other photography and POETRY inspired this and some of my other poems and, indirectly, some photos. I feel like a psuedo plagarist by not linking to him or at least giving him some kind of credit.

Supernova x 2

A Star unadultured,
a mind unmingled
nighed its Doppleganger.
Two, overcome
by the euphoria
of their conjunction
prostrated themselves,
enormous, amourous,
growing, grooowing
across the Universe.
They grew, grew, grew,
amplified, bourgened.
With the light, love
of the broadening,
enamored Starsouls,
the Cosmos shrunk,
no light, no love
like those two
unblemished ones made
can be caged by the
confines of the so
slight universe
and 'neath the burden
of such-so-pure,
Gravity collapsed.
Supernova Stars!
Two at once!
Whether out of grief
stress, respect,
or I-Can't-Handle-It,
Macrocosm
shattered, shuttered,
shivered, split,
mushroomed, oomed.

How can you shake
from reading words,
watching movements,
viewing images?
Digesting thoughts.
Knowing someone
exists like that.
On a higher plane
that the rest of
us earth dwellers
ground walkers
straight ahead lookers.
Intimidating
making me, shaking,
exasperated and burdened
but at the same time
free, free, free
so thrilled
that that mind exists.
Can you love just a mind?
Enamored?
Covet?
Appreciate
but not understand.

Your words stain screens and paper
like fresh blood on hotel sheets.
A cut so deep that the cold blade
cools the marrow and air seeps, seeps
into my bone.
So it feels good, but so good that
I have no way to say it
but ouch and wail and NO.
Too much blood and
too many words to fit
in one body
so you bleed
and I double over
in whatever kind
of pain or bliss it is
or might be
or was or something.
My childish mouth says my
head might explode with the
wonder
wander
at the bloody beautiful words
and images
you birth and free
AAaaahhhh
a scream at exasperation
at how good
red looks smashed into white
How?
I just don't know.
You're the only happy complexity,
aren't you?

I am so overwhelmed
with your words and images
that I'm sick.
My stomach turns with imagery
and my blood is ice.
Sternum anvils
and liquid knees.
Mercury stomach acid.

But I don't mean to offend;
this is good.
Your little word worlds
invoke a physical response,
though I don't understand how
they bleed from your head.

Watch and watch the character tick
like he is counting the flying minutes
that trick me and have tricked me
for six years of forever.
I only saw one man
that knew my minutes were tangible
but now maybe two.
They didn't buzz me like I thought.

And words don't belong
because you've used them all
to paint portraits
of "What?"
and "How?"
And "Oh my God!"
And I'd be damned
if I disturbed them.

Tears trace the lines
that will grace
my face in a few tiny decades.
Can you please tell me why?
And how?
And Oh my God.