a moon and some honey

triumph

so the king died

so the king died & was brought to kala & they buried him there

they washed the chariot at a pool in kala

(where the prostitutes bathed) and the dogs licked up his blood

king

yellow burnt life : silence

no beginning of days

no mother : no father

no end of days

red :: ash

echo

i must lie down where

all the stairs begin

and then the truth has its play

lamb and lion pursue my thoughts

intellect judges the deep selfishness of my body's drug

while waking the echos of my imagination

dogs

the wounds divided into the night

the bloody floor : table : bed: a bitter end

king is dead : an unstatisfied throat of pride

dogs recognized the musical scent of blood

death takes what man keeps

prostitutes

an empty stain beside the pool

where lamb and woman climb into paper forgotten oaths

whispers from soldiers : feathers : brothers / forgotten

the pool : the moon : the birds

no banners for her / no bribe

a.

she bent her body to shape dust and dirt

and her air of immortality

blossomed into a kingdom

a copy of clay and power

the prostitutes made their demands

spade the dirty hand

some confused others took the lead

b.

the king's ghost / lightening laughed

she sang of lust and rage

unbegotten to the new dead age

c.

their souls constituted

a freedom of dried frangrances

a language beaten into their shiva moons

sing me a song : break stones / battle one

(Please play audio + write your hopes on a scroll. Place the scroll into an envelope : go to the sea : barefoot : walk to the mouth : placing your scroll into her wave : smell her scent / remembering what it's like to cry tears) x:w

Notes:

Shiva : in Judaism, Shiva is a ritual meaning

seven days of mourning for the dead.

On day seven, Shiva ends in the morning::

Inspired:

Biblical scroll: First Kings / a murder

Sound:

Camille Yarbrough

Little Sally The Super Sex Star

Iron Pot Cooker

Visual:

Found image

a vessel of oil is sitting on the shelf, and that is all the woman had to give. she had talked about it with him late into the night.

road of mystery

harvest non:chalant papyrus

tender moments of water trickling down

the slopes of the atlas

my heart has room for you

i know that you are coming soon

toronto morning must be near

the candle is burning on the path of uncomprising : bitter/now

follow me there, young but getting too old for this/now

there :: tomorrow you may stand

furrowing into that distant land

for you and i only had that which is past

and like life, you must always make

4. some

3. part of

2. that

remnant

1. last

Happy Birthday to my love Ayan!

abundance : life : beauty : love : sister

happy birthday

x : w

journey of light

Thank God for another year.

11 : 10 : 1975 = 36 years young.

And while I don't focus my thoughts on things that are seen, the eternal love and light of gratitude causes an abundance of love and blessings. For my birhtday, if you would like to send gifts of love and light, please send them to Maria and her family.

We are troubled and oppressed in every way :: but we are able to find a way out. Maria and her family (baby boy 6 months + 11 yr old daughter) living in a phone booth in Bastille, Paris. I gave her one of my coats, took her grocery shopping ( diapers + baby food ect.), then we went to get her prescription filled. She just had a miscarriage. Did all this for 100€ (then gave her 100€). She was so humble, she didn't even want to accept the gifts.

Next :: I want to get her an apartment and put her daughter back in school. But first, I would like to place her in a shelter during this transition. Lord bless them :: no one should be living in poverty. Selah. Thank you family. Jah Bless

Give Love Here

Fable : Money is good, and a girl might be better

a young man in the dark am i

things hid in their marrow-bones

from time long passed, their bodies lay.

daybreak and a candle-end

all men live in suffering

you make me real

i know as few can

fluid

dense

whether they take the upper road

or stay content with the low

you say everything in advance

you spoil the end

fall in love with your children

our abuse, you disclose our fall

you were wrong not to hold your tongue

betrayed

intentions

you spit your nothing into the shadows

you proclaim color,

you can not hide the strings,

the high tower of fear, climbed by noise and clamor

or whisper that man is a fool.

a man had six mortal wounds

violent and famous, walked among the dead

she looked through the tree branches,

she thread the needle and made an ancient rule.

she was driven from home, and left to die in fear

they sang, but did not have human tones

though all was done in common as before

they had changed their ancestors and had the throats of birds.

he thought ::

all i ever wanted was a touch of everything

i sought for it in vain

i sought for it for seven days and seven hours

he loved her in secret

enslaved, they layed under the color :: casual flesh

she stopped him, round, covered and fought the

wisdom of memory and found herself never looking very far.

written at home

inspired by the music of icebird (i'm green :: 2011 abandoned lullaby)

and poetry of William B. Yeats (1936-39)