Tuesday, September 30, 2014



I Dwell in Milk

NOW

I AM SPEAKING

I AM ART

THE SKY IS ONE WITH
MY VISION
MY VISIONING
MY VISIONARY SOUL

I HAVE TRANSCENDED
                                                      to what?
I ask the ether
TO NOWHERE
                                                      is [her] answer
WHERE EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING
AT ONCE
I see it all—
                                    or I can tell what's missing
I AM TRUSTWORTHY
                                                           for
                                                        the first
                                                          time
I (EXIST) PURELY WITH EVERYONE
I AM BEAUTIFUL
ALONE
TOGETHER
EVER
EVER

I saw the sun fall past the horizon
screaming out the name

I HAVE BURNED AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

I AM MITHRA

I
BRING
BACK
FIRE
TO
LIGHT





If I don't get out there soon, I'll die II

You know she's calling to me,
great siren of the west,
yellow flower, desert rose,
mountain girl, and I'm
looking for those pacific blue
eyes, those endless cerulean swells,
I'm ready to answer the call,
I need my foot on that pedal,
that white-lined road,

You know I'm calling to her,
golden haired beauty,
pioneers dream, snow
white dress, and she's
looking for me to make it,
singing her song,
blearing that blue sky to heaven oh,

you know,
you know—

If I don't get out there soon, I'll die—


10:17

powers down
blood moon behind
thick rain clouds
soaked this morning
right arm left arm
bandana under hat
waited up, couldn't see
eclipse through heavy
sky, what a waste, what
a har-har-something-somerthing
argher-hargh-argh-sumetin-
hag-aw-well, sleep outside
sleep on stomach dream crash
nightmare see thought like those
thoughts you get moments before
sleep come like crashing waves
images bleeding into each other
like reading a story and seeing the
picture in your head, at night tonight
in the night I am hearing this and seeing
in steady streams what I am believed to see

every morning I look at my bed and think, "I
should cover the mattress with a sheet," and every
night I look at the bed thinking nothing and fall asleep.

Beneath the Bear

Old light, tired light,
alright, I brought
the rain, pour out my
soul, bear rips open
heart from chest and I,
bedraggled, not reading
in that poetry voice but
from that voice in my head/
heart, audience isn't there,
it's like every trip fantasy
I've ever had,
there is no individual reality
in a reality entirely individual,
the bear roars to heaven,
I worry about the tone of
my voice, the whine, I
grab my hat, act it out,
it's damp inside, raining out,
I've gotten through seven pages,
I've said my piece, I
exit without saying thanks.

So this happened.

She asked her
friend not to tell, "Please
don't tell anyone," she said,
watching a group throw Frisbees
out on the lawn, on the freshly
mowed lawn, in the freshly
bright sun, she whispered,
"come on," and "I'll be right
back," she ran out onto the grass,
jumped up, caught one of the
spiraling disks, tossed it back,
there was another group of girls
I couldn't hear what they were
saying to each other, they were
too far away. While she was gone
her friend sat quietly eating her
lunch, blond hair braided in
pigtails, she looked up every
now and then, until she walked
back over, when she sat back down
they didn't really talk, for maybe
five minutes they didn't say a word,
"see," her friend said, "yeah," she said,
then they decided to meet before
finals started, sometime next week,
"I'll text you," she said and then, "did
you see that thing I posted?" as she walked
away, "no," her friend said, then
resumed eating her lunch.

Tom Pescatore