Thursday, September 18, 2014


SphereFarmer I
* * *
If ultimately, SphereDoctor, we speak the same language of nature, where at the frontiers of the spacetime continuum, we vindicate so as to expand or transcend our mentors; we chimney sweeps made of and looking at the soot of our dark tunnels of vague discoveries that we follow gladly in sacrifice of what given in one lifetime may consume us; our magic carpets rediscovered, retro-engineered, to ride the universe as we ride the Earth bound sky; hoover there somewhere at the unknown borderlands where or how our gloves reverse; the mirrored centrifugal and centripetal forces from a Gods-eye view inside out, some end yet eternal fall; some half Klein's bottle divided thrice to give two interlocking rings; in the higher translation you honor me that I, but a poet, stand among the theory gods - as all of us may so aspire; whatever the game of snakes and ladders,  favorable or indifferent, we hunter-gatherers of dreams and farmers of the spheres.
* * * *

 SphereFarmer II

* * *
Along the barbwire fence
farmer Yow's dairy cows the
Kids gave names
our drafty house was Gingerbread
By the mud dirt road
On the wire perched songbirds so on it
Plums, apples, wild grapes and cherries growed
Doll heads, rusted firetruck parts,
wagon wheels, plastic planes and rattles
Toy soldiers, indians and cowboys
rings and daisy chains of babbles
New fallen things after it snowed
they named it Broken Toy Road
Their world black tractors, field mice, turtles, toads
* *
Through the witches' wood to old Watt's store
I carried them, they loved to sing:
"Blacktors are very, very black
they can give you a heart attack.
Blacktors are very, very mean
they are infra-green..."
All through the witches' woods
the shadow cows chewed their cuds
The owls at night silent, swift robin Robin Hoods
with pairs of yellow eyes still and
Distant beads from my lantern light
A gentle rain of autumn leaves or
an acorn falling on the tin roof echoed
Brisk October healing past random fright.

* * * *
SphereFarmer III
* * *
The SphereFarmer, far from the city lights
that all the stars and milky way seen clearly
Did not know life was hard, nor that
in this incarnation of the Sagicorn,
Born Octember 42nd, it was paradise
Oh, the traveling salesmen made their rounds
country doctors, itinerant preachers
Nay saying SpherePeer bureaucrat tax collectors
liver salt merchants and
Snake oil salesmen like city cops on the beat
they could not understand how this SphereCowboy and
his Sphere-Sweetheart-of-the-Rodeo lived
Or the Freddy Electric utility linesmen how the lights were
on as he used mirrors and lit a thousand candles.
* *
Angels and Goons locked in mechanical clocks
like the hippie commune neighbors became
Alarmed separately or together or in a
spiral of happiness downward found in their loony tunes
Yet all felt archetypal, three bears and
their Goldie Locks partridge made of private stardust
Time like Japanese glass bobbins breaking free
lost at sea from rotting macrame fish nets
To roam the bounded currents as all who hide
the face to pumpkin keep the mystery of woman
Our imaginary friends and demons staring
back at us with grins in a fun house mirror
SphereDoctors in the name of her creative freedom contain her
those fire spitters, sword swallowing carvers, toxic sugar tinctures
* *
After the city riots, wars, myths of acts of God storms
Sagicorn in reluctant  triage where nothing
Cold can be declared dead, became light,
having learned a little of love and forgiveness
Thus he uplifted with this world those
he met on his soaring flights not too
Late for those forlorn of hope and healing
But he had to sit down on the ground to write on
his Poet's walk, so capture a deep thought before he forgot it
* * * *

SphereFarmer IV   (Latin Lovers)
* * *
The Aether wall is masculine
 the door feminine and
The roof is neuter
His the garden, hers a pear tree
but the body, it is neutral
Continuous the guys, gals
of oceanic continuua, Plantonic nulls
One, the Good, balanced continuum
yet sad endures their tragic love
Hidden, unrequited, two bouys and two gulls
all high walls and new doors
Break, decline and fall, our great empires
as if we never touch on all fours - I, we, and they,
 strong and stronger, strongest deep desires
* *
Yet we need touch more than food to thrive
develop by fetal dreams a cave, the womb
Each cell and work assigned, one soul the hive
one strand of fire holding up the sky and her new moon
None hopeful monsters trapped, still born, a tomb
nor their five-fold twins that would be cloned, conceived
Before they're too one whole, upon a self to believe
* * * *

SphereFarmer V  (Faces in the Newspaper)

* * *
So tired of broken people, half lives
who let the candle without rest
Burn and melt so bright, broken toy universe

His face I recall, ten years since
the coffee shop playing chess he
Nodding off, not kicked out, I moved for him

His crushing meds and snorting everything
myself a one horse shay, minor decay
Though timeless we shared wrinkling speed of light

I am surrounded by bearded ladies and
Buddha breasted gentlemen, to late
Their brittle bones, receding gums, creative teeth

The end of the worlder's, slow, catch up
Beauty in our beastuary, at breakfast read obituaries

* *
He  looked so good, his face in the paper
like Echo, I let her go, wrote her off, met later
Her needle marks red spots in years will fade

Take the edge off they said, her choice and
between accommodating cops and her sandman
She was convinced she'd die before I do

The turnkeys do not know they'er mentally ill
Oh they monitor the blood, add to the pills
To prolong, not make better, slaves for their bills

I cannot whisper at your wake we'll bring you back
Love's fogs and urns, dark clouds of smokestacks

* *
Passion's fleeting interval, superdetermined
yet degrees of freedom set our energy of orbits
My words awake your child in your silver hair doubts

Mirrors of each other through the roundabouts
to want me to want you, but I am not unfair only
You can say to those telling you how to live who's demon

Stand up for yourself engagement, wedding rings too big
sparking think of me, junk gumball jewelry my cosmic
heartbeats, our bus rides together, sweet words, no regrets

Yet in the best of world's would that you could be my
Cinnamon, and I could be your chocolate.

* * * * 

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