there are days when painting is a divine call
and days when i paint to assert myself
either it is between me and god or between me and I
painting keeps me away from people
and i sing
artist-artist-artist
find your way to people
! ! !

unshared part of me
is catching up with me
like shadow that i cannot cast away
when i invite my friend
to share time with me
unshared part of me i try to shed
but it is oozing
and i am using pretense
and loosing myself and choosing
to be what friend may see in me
unshared part is indivisible
it makes me individual
while pooling me apart
unshared part of me
may grow more than me
the greater part of me
it's greater than the whole
and all i have in me is growing ballistic
and wants to blast and kill unshared part
unshared part solidifies in bullets invisible like art
my art
it's all i have
it's all i have become
unshared part is highly egotistic
i cannot stay apart from my unshared part   

my therapist observes that i escape from real to imagined
while taking place in my imagination
he sits across a prayer rug from me and looks me in an eye
my eye is warming up and brims with tear
i am alone i sigh i cannot make you real

in the boat of life in the river of life life
rocks rocks in the boat of life
in the lifeboat
in the boat of rocks in the river of life life
in the blink of an eye
sinks sinks

awesome to be able and easy with group chat
awesome to be able to dissolve without a remainder
awesome to become a flood
not a part of a flow
not a particle stuck in the throat of fleeong generation
future
you are not!

where is that place where every eye long lashes
like my dear lord forever dead?
dew runs through temple dropping on the floor
the hour is late
attention's trained on error
that moon above the street that bears my address is moving in the same direction as the pupil

Today i fly over the sea too loose newfound ground
two nights high brow oversees the tear in my eye
eyes tear space apart
the sun that slapped me on one cheek has torn another face
the moon lost faze
my gaze is blazing through the sea still still
i have arived to see my past alive
my mother waits me at the door to hug her sagging shoulders
i have arrived to other self stowed frozen safely on the shelve of her refrigerator
i've got it minus future
collect the dots to trace the constellation

please take away the world
i want to see your eye hike up towards my chin
the lake is still
the boat rests on its reflection
but when i take a real close look
i notice that they don't touch

on the victory of the local football team:

we need a defeat of the other and a human sacrifice of our own to feel connected

my foot falls in love with pavement rejecting soil as mere dirt
my street is coming to an end
and must endure disconnect with solid foundation
my brain is pacing through the night in full attention spinning around stop sign
the season comes to change
the only thing not changing is the forecast

Remember silky cold along the narrow thigh?
The folds:
they knew more secrets than the night and memory could hold.
It's time to draw a line.
Who keeps the guard when dreams are in full bloom and ready to discard the juice?
The dealer at the bedside applies a safety mask and opens sterile gar.
There are collectors and potential buyers.
He knows them and can smooth talk a few without getting lost on paths of lying.

a wave is crushing on the sand
and part of it becomes a mist
and part of it before the end
reflects on unobstructed run of pitiful retreat

it's feeding time my friends
gloves off utensils on
and waitresses in line along the stucco wall

what makes us so sure?

the desert is behind
the mare dragging feet despite the yawning
we won't be late
the cable from the lamp too high to change the lightbulb
is still plugged in
and we are keeping schedules

the mask is safe for radiation from within
the source of image is unclear
sunset has wiped the pretty from the skin for hours to touch the darkness in the air

and now that we found ourselves forgotten
our slogans sound shallow in the swamp

like extinct birds we all rely on insects
with feathers weighing on the scale of fish

but i keep hoping for answers to my calls
that fade away before they reach the goal

stop knowing and thinking
keep a nightwatch
search in a dark
keep guessing

is there canvas large enough for me?
my words are few
eyes are wide open for horizon
meaning is an anchor

my body used to be a shrine of lurking lives
what i was to do with that?
all lives are gone excapt my own
where is a sanctuary for celebrating birth?

look at this picture brother
we silhouette against the sea like skinny twigs
let's throw pebbles and ask our mother to tell the winner
she is a never fair referee who always keeps us in a tie
we will undo it

before i knew it
it was absurd
but now it seems banal
my thinking is a world away from living

i want to set my foot into the dust and wonder over prints that dissipated there in many twisted ways

at one am a dream in the shape of a miniature screen touched my face
and the captain of the Boeing started engines on my flight towards the morning

love broke away from words
their sound
their meaning
it dropped like pebble into a sea

on the bottom it didn't find connection with other sunken objects

it feels like seventy two according to the forecast
it is seventy two
i feel a little hot in my deserted bedroom and still a little wet after a bath i took
but it is kind of strange to tie these feelings to numbers 7 and 2

fast feet are falling on the cemetery ground
and everything around and beneath
each resting bone and every restless teacher on a lunchbreak
are rooted in this soil as i am taking heed

exposed to the elements of science most forms of life will drown in the sea
a memory of self in rising waters will morph into a memory of cells
and in the lines of an unwritten scripture what kind of lies my eyes will never see?

memory was lost and found in controlled environment

in a room full of people the words are five six tall and placed so close together that i can't see what's behind them

what does it take to change the way of doubt into a wake of boat

i pray that I can spell the syllable of silence and spill the ruckus back into the sea