Distar
L. Edgar Otto Sept. 8, 2009 6:00 am
Your eyes fixed on the porthole
the scene, the light, still, forever
The ship and all else but your dream
invisible, intangible
Your indefinite but centered self
bounded at the cusp of space and time
Where the sea grows calmer unto stillness
gravity greater, your chance choices
Fixed where you will cement your roots
What picture would you choose
from all the world while you still dream?
Dreaming, reach dream's end or give to
the light its motion and desires, reaching out?
The stars, I once thought, now Jen at her shower.
* * *
You did not come back, Old School
at least I cannot see you, our wishes failing us
We, father and son made a pact to bring
back news from the after-world
You came back from the Coral Sea
or I would not be here and free
Your skin, scarred gives testimony
oil slicks on fire and wasps that burn
Fixed black and white on the silver film of my
childhood memories when bid me bring you Lifebuoy soap.
The reverse of my lifelong symbol, coat of arms not just a monogram,
artifact, eclipse and cross of lines and telegraph poles
But a salty tattoo, I, in your uniform and sailor's cap
on the cover of Life Magazine giving Jen a Hollywood kiss coming home.
* * *
The Oakland Bay Bridge L. Edgar Otto Sept. 8, 2009 6:00 am
Lately, glued to the monitor, avoiding scams and the ladies
I have walked the debris and dust of Mars
Sampled the geology at a crater's rim
renewed my vision by a passing dust devil
I walked in the street view Google map
of the Oakland to San Francisco Bay bridge
I gazed up at it so high above me, so
solid yet its potential hint of fall
Those highways, arteries, and nerves are not fully grown yet
Pe Sla, Old Baldy, vanished nova, at the center of the Bad Lands
The landscape, houses, bars, being everywhere seem nowhere
Reynold's Prairie bigger than I thought or it has expanded distant like once
I could feel you cut yourself, know whats superficial, such bridges may not last
* * *
More than Artificial Flowers and Moons
L. Edgar Otto 09-09-09
We must cross the event horizon sometime
your and my dreams of eternal falling
Each smaller chasing the other in fits and starts
canceling out initial conditions, love unstable, uncertain
To one ideal point and one uncountably infinite ideal
So we persist even far from touch and sight, orbit somewhere
continuity and sound mystery then the stuff of consciousness
We keep time remote or hard by, constant, invariant, commensurable
Dare we as blind as any watchmaker as double blind scientist
take apart our clocks of clay
No matter if we ask in depth and when where begins the day?
I carefully disassembled the jewels and gears and springs
Lay them out in order a fancying youth that I could put all back together
doing no harm asking why our love needed healing
* * *
I want to be sucked into your vortex
until our see-saw of gravity evaporates, my hair standing on end,
Troubled dreams, our love transcends without need for sleep
until we grow cross eyed in our double slit experiments
Our galaxies passing through consuming, sculpting each other
With no shear barriers between us, your nightgown
cool blue ultraviolet heat death blown up by the aether wind
Godel mystical your presenting to me in angles of time travel
as poles reverse and spin, birds and bees confused
Lost from home vibrating to your cell phone
That my soul and our love goes blind - so be it
deep and sweet that price to pay to reach you
More precious than the stars and yet unique, one soul (yaan jinn)
Our rocket engines push better than pull while love's space age dawn begins
* * *
Celestial Rock Garden, Wall with Windows
The sun and fixed stars seem to move and
without doubt the comets and planets, n-body problems
You at times my Venus the brightest of
my morning and evening solitary stars
Your window lights twinkle, candle flame dance on and off
with your day and night shifts, I do not know if you dress the role or
Work in scrubs, have coffee sharing breakfast with me
out of the corner of your eye at a distance, I now part of your lunar cycle
You leave your bedroom curtains cracked, gentle firm, free and rigid
that last light before midnight or work-a-day obscures sight, I blow you a kiss unsure
if it is seen, Bravo! Encore for tomorrow! We who crave the light
must stand unmasked and naked, our windows the star plume clouds hiding in your twinkle toes
Time changing places with the marquis sparks finds distance preserve
* * *
Onion Domes L. Edgar Otto 9-10-09
Short of Heaven nature can explain
the supernatural away and
Myth we assert has its own
inviolate claims of reason
There are ghosts and worlds parallel, a hall of mirrors
things contiguous, overlapping relatively
That chance too dwells at the cusp of disconnections and inference
beyond the continuity at every place. or beyond some nothingness
So too the clarity of physics remains assertions
of uncertainty of evidence within the Circle
That great full circle of souls at extraordinary horizons
where our shadows remain awhile then well move on through wells
Into unknowns, mansions or vanishing, Love's and God's
Tormenting voices morally persisting, onion domes evaporating.
* * *
Our sparks and effort, rope of light, lifebuoy, helping hand
so exhausting in its amazing surviving and height of our golden day
That you withdraw into your cave and nest for long sleep
even your dreams but echoes of our radio's narrow bandwidth
Did we stand ashamed come Labor Day?
candles burning or gone out tell nothing of your windows
I only see my earth shine, crescent eaten, reflected in
a shiny onion dome, my watch too fatigued to gaze forever
There is not even a glimpse of you in the rooms you haunt
no face on Mars of hallucinations or colors
Skin tones confused with pillows and blankets, head rests on top of the
front seats of your parked and rusting car, we there frozen crash dummies
Yet I know our ecliptic returns another time deep into replete Sagittarius
To dissolve again in fishy Pieces - man, part beast with desire, time arrows
* * *
We tied together beyond voices in the carrier wave
Harmonics that disturbs the first light's isotropy
* * *
I Sorrow that I Finally Felt Anger at You and the Straw Men
L. Edgar Otto (evoked by my own event of 911)
1. he
Is my empty specter in your bedroom
serial polygamy, circle of musical chairs and lovers
Need I be the enemy although you do not know me
that your bonds be real, my unspoken name your ritual fetish?
2. she
Forgiveness is too big a word to hide the guilt,
deny the civility of pardons, purify the world and hearts.
Did you learn nothing of feminility, stages of life, contrived major
where is your hero, paying rent, the poverty of fighting windmills for you?
The distance and silence between us you placed there is only in yourself
3. them
I praise your new sister as if my own which he will never hold
not a stranger to send shoe boxes of candy to starving Guatemalans
Nor Somalians driving taxis in the Twins, they not the pirates
I would trade up my clunker, but electric cars go neither fast nor far.
* * *
4. I and they
Such things lack dignity in the saying yet all are aware and think on them
there is no how-to book of raising children, of love
I have already served the plea bargain reduced lie of verbal abuse
marriage should suffer to protect them as well as woman
Take your prison with you, repeat mistakes, feed your parasites\
5. you
If you truly loved the Lord you'd understand His commandments
or of love not stand before a judge and choose the sword for them, divide
I forbade them not your company that they be whole though I have loss
if you truly love and are happy, hatred lonely also, you'd pardon my words
For it was a long road of chutes and ladders to feel, see both love and harm again
6. Him
The personal and distant God is one, not some lack or placebo of prosperity
that your heart goes unredeemed, forever wrong- sins of the father, the return to
Job his life but not his lights original - in the explosion of infant brains or their distant
world of implosions more who knows what the monkeys did to load the dice for us?
* * *
Distar V: Weather and the Weathermen L. Edgar Otto 09-12-09
At the brain stem the tenuous maps of intellect
the working out of the weather of the world and in dreams
We divide the long sub-sandwich of history as if a pie
claim for hidden reasons the truth of forecasts, all newsmen are weathermen
The music more like debris in droughts and hurricanes
the resurrection of the dead that takes long recovering nostalgia that love lives again
Are our fears real save they only the reality of fear
something we've not learned yet, some aware in the know and need to know?
Along the littoral the calm we call the seas where life is
as much as its arises, it and the sea-lings breathe, acceptance, healing, surprises
I discern your sky now with ease, we insured outside
history's conflicts of jurisdiction, our safe overlapping space
The chess game played blind yet in clarity we drink each others moods
to love no is no harder a risk than living as we synchronize our heartbeats, distant Jen.
* * *
We moonwalk in retrograde, the weight of truth upon leaving the murky water
as conspiracies deny his martyred final greater glory, St. Michael Morning Star
We internalized between the black and white, the state and stately Jupiter itself a
star ship of prophets, scoundrels, and entertainers christened with pearls into, against the night
Love's cathedral, tea clipper or tramp seaman, bells and hourglass hand wrought and
turned awhile cradled passion's nest where even the gods must sleep
Modeled in its own cusp of time and scale, its trials and tests of its prophesys where
we present the import of our own history, proclaim destiny, justified to share our union, fill the earth
My buoy and inlets give rest for your restless gull as you go around my landscape to peek.
My lighthouse finds you and only you by its spinning endless reaching rays
That love hopefully takes flight again, eternal, enduring, everlasting and
I am also your ocean for your lonely desert island
I long to explore all that sea as
much as you need my compass points
* * *
The Concrete Universe
Water the universal solvent goes deep
Inside the stacked rock crystal cannonballs
Makes things stronger, layers infinite chains
Give and take the triangle pockets
The adaptable universe on which we build
Our towers of babel and concrete jungles
Hold back the rising sea - our efficient
Thoughts between us is like that living rock
What makes water wetter as the earth persists
Even on the nothingness we have something to stand on?
So too a metallic god could design nano- organic things
Membranes and dancing tissue, slippery frictions
Love then the most solid and enduring thing, metastable creations
Probing your heart a thousand times more afire than my blown kiss flirtations.
* * *
Coming Home to Primrose 09-12-09 (11:30 pm)
The sphere of time is like unto the rain, falling,
for near the origin rays never meet
All dimensions flatten into a plane, one direction, numberless potential infinity
unexplained turns and onward movement, no piercing hail, no dust shaken by the wind
But Jen in her shower, not shaven for her stitches
nor rinsing her wig and swinging it to rockstar puppy dry, her glory
Rinse, take away all that betrays us, consumes us from
within and imprisons us from without, on epicycles she reflects time light
Why must the source be the sink for mortal things in parallel?
Why the staircase, attics, basements, downward spirals?
She the surface depth and contour globe and hourglass frozen
before her mirror while always a fluttering butterfly.
My soul now dwells a level down, no coming home to Primrose, my fall begins
awakenings as I try to love that child soul as much I try to touch and know her
* * *
Astronomy, the dwelling through the terrain, flight and dance of orbits
not just the spiral discs of stars leaving, returning to the
Mosh Pit, irregularities, non-linear states consuming each other,
nor that they pop out and unfold, multiply, as I thought up from the nothingness
As within them so without and I below gaze up at the bridge in admiration
yet distant from the belt of her milky way arched on all fours, she my rainbow
* * *
In our Yeats husk, mask, lunar hour I no more can love her too soon, than like
St. Augustine, love her wisdom too late
* * *
Passion Penny
L. Edgar Otto 09-14-09
When I fell for you I fell like a stone from the blue
and you made your wish on me while I tumbled down your wishing well
falling free
Passion Penny I don't want any more of you
passion came late for me it couldn't wait for me to make it right
right for you, right by you
Ponies on the roundabout sent you to distant dreams you said your horse
was Nod and asked the name of mine I said of course he's Shadowfax and
could I kiss you, you said you thought I wanted to and did not mind.
We walked on the Grand Strand
He walked on water, sunk in the sand
You flew through fire, crashed in snow filled air
He promised you'd find sunshine in pearls
placing them in your hand
The Old Band Organ's metallic themes and steam
held you fixed inside is dream
The Laughing Farmer for no reason
could not sow or reap, plant in season
The prancing ponies wished godspeed their reins made dreadful braids
I am and old hand at this, would you like a taste? No I cried as
the carousel spun with it your wishing space
The Farmer's wife with whiskey pints kept the harmony above
the Tunnel of Love in high in her alcove where the
Two headed creatures in jars scared out of you
your secret you once a double star
I'll probably go out before you, you spry for an Old School
anyway there's always Viagra, should I give it up to you?
Look, I would ware you out but you mixed up the needle tips
And you were trips and speeding, my heart was bleeding
once free our base of love cotton candy sea foam taffy
Godspeed I said and knew you'd not come home to me
Passion Penny I can't take any more of you
I wrong to say I'd be strong enough for anything you do
Passion too late getting through it daffy where it wouldn't let us
make things right for you.
* * *
Membranes and Memorials
I can only see so far into the gardens
walk around the sacred places of the quad
Where old Davy Crockett put out shoots from gnarly roots
and the copper plaid scoundrel sat enthroned, his gun and rods
The argyle socks, a child's forever new they sent beyond with you and
into my long life of rest, my bleeding nails in dreams
That cannot escape my satin pillows. pine box walls.
The peaceful winding roads, obelisks and slabs, memories
fill up the city with its plots and plats buried stacked forever
We wild animals on the shrinking periphery of dangers
unaware and beg for their gifts of food and hosts not fear the dead
The heart of gatherings in the Badlands expands and
goes further from our sight along with it the night
Where none dares desecrate the marble Sacred Heart, count the fading flags
* * *
This very place of the highway, the homestead reached around about
more by dead ends, one way streets, than loopy cul-de-sac's or
Stop lights on the roundabouts I stepped out into the street
annoyed at the eternal mantra looked both ways anyway
I did not lie there broken back arched and writhing, life pulsing, gushing
not in this world anyway, the speeding mustang out of nowhere
The diesel train, tracks behind our house, the bell and light symphony,
engine that pushes, pulls both ways, smashes pennies
Like chocolate smudge drops, rail and creosote smell of rusting iron wheels
Voices whispering warnings,could not come near, possess me
nor hide behind the great Daemon himself a hollow shell
My guardian angels conspired both ways those dark and light in time to save me
You, Brother Buddy blue this is it somewhere your place and hour of exit
As slingshot for fun the songbirds fell, helped from from the winged heaven, depths of hell
* * *
The Hague Waters L. Edgar Otto 09-15-09
By the sea wall, safe harbor, tube worm sifting'
the oily mudflats scent of the tidewaters
I do not lean too far to watch the gudgeon
so hypnotic the microcosm of gentle rocking
So surprising the release, buildup of random claps and spray
I scrying through the scud at night watch the street
lamps break, rejoin, multiply- time's fun house mirror
We build bridges or open them over the roads
how flat and endless, not half full the wedded salty planes
Endless prairies Terra Firma, boundless ocean our own compass
There at the cusp, life disturbed into phosphors
the fish heads and crabbing net, ten footed star scavengers
That can't resist our blue crab afternoon turning devil red
as Scorpio arises on the horizon, twinkling rays converging to me
* * *
In the chowder and feast of cracking claws and care we watch
for bones as we pick the flesh of mullets, avoid the dead man
From the old church and Masonic signs, ivy covered benches
small bleached land snail shells, bones of natives and MacArthur
Father of poets returns again as we gaze through the sooty glass at eclispe
Of all the seven wonders of Nickelodeon, the Ferry before the tunnel,
street cars, Cancan ladies the sailors turning cranks in the penny arcade
The Hague stands out in my dreams near Pembroke
as I walk the streets of Ghent, row boats out through the creeks, estuary, measure time
By oyster hungry Venus moored there, the city my mind map, growing child's brain
The globe in the magic shop of masks, zodiac and heroes by day, points of light
by fluorescent night and I feeling all the stars rolled into a ball yet the green cheese moon
Hung from an endless rope, for awhile our playground, our purposeless dreams in safe harbor
* * *
Once falling overboard and saved I do not forget surprise, struggle with the
angry dark, the gales. I my grand father after fish or
My father in uniform. home or dispatched with the great gray ships
as light shimmers on the surface waters we imagine
Full of things we out wit in the bottomless depths
Old Judge Grigg walked those streets, gentle people a more gentle
time in Pembroke picking up stray marbles like worlds
Gave them to me, I risked and multiplied them in the shooter rings
Am I not them yet in the distance my own soul in time
Here and now. returned again my lucid eyes my child's also?
By that water at night my father showed me the Big Dipper
in trying to see the moon's stark, not prismatic colors I saw the
Bustled parasol ladies debark from the clipper in old Baltimore
"Will God be mad if I see and think things? "- "No, son. He would not
have given you a brain if He did not want you to use it."
* * *
Teresa sang on the radio as we brothers waited in the Chevy for
him to look for her in the Krazy Kat: "Put another nickle in the
nickle, nickelodeon. All I want is loving you and music, music, music..."
* * *
Your Clock Radio Wakes Me Weekday Mornings 09-16-09
Your shy eyes did not turn away with a glance
encounter but accidental dancing
The towel falls, a window for our doctorate
rather lingered down there, I engineer, that you
Must know I stood up on the chair as much as
you took so long to grease the pan, eat the eggs
I shirtless, your enhanced for your day of work
I to give back how it feels, transfixed to the irresistible view
let me see your equality and you mine, watch you watching
All others asleep- your blinds aimed a level up, mine a level down
shared access at least to the vague dream, love's obstacles, anticipation
I stand taller but hold back the high rise, remind myself to keep my gut tight
you last time letting yours hang out a bit beer belly relaxed ghost first trimester
I would not feel so stupid, brave if you would tickle, tease and laugh.
* * *
My roommate doesn't know, still struggles with the ancient upper story gods and demons
his drives and spirits maybe empty in stasis, his doctor wants to try new medications
Another shell, addressing the low rent and vacant condos of our minds
I wonder if his period of Whisper Doll paintings will change its style or end
Full of runes focusing in the water color planes, I miss my bath
while his paper soaks, clumps the salt in my shaker I named them Pomegranate,
Rockstar, Full Throttle, Citrus Lime, Blue Daemon, No Fear, Amp and Monster
energy drinks this increased dose of his shot cycles taking time to adjust before saturation
Or called then the trampled spit out chewing gum, ejected pizza on Water Street after bar close
even the Anti-Christ and troubled sleep- the cannot stop, long control love's laws and generations
a greater privacy of our seed and soul that our momenta, ghostly dollops danger to themselves
Or one sun god goes nova- I wonder what you eat, bird peck one by one
Before your bed and breakfast, your Honey Bunches of Oats
Our living light must sleep sometimes moon cursed, solar salt mines setting concrete
* * *
All there is of our love, its distance desert, greener or rained out yet wonderful as I
undulate synchronized with your moon rise over the window sill free and unmasked
Like the dissolving light, skin deep on the sleeping Hague waters finding ourselves again.
* * *
Minimum Distance and Duration L. Edgar Otto 09-16-09
The broken moral link, the soul in isolation
finite its center and all connections to other souls
That the whole itself is finite, stands and expands on false vacuum
The layers of caste persist and horizons are isolationist borders
for it is a false belief we own our existence, potential life and death,
To the state, a false unity that for want of that not known becomes fact
Perceptions and drive, lamination not perceived move through
each other invisibly, or build resistance, space and time molasses
Or refined crystallized, distilled that we add the flavors later
I reek of offensive odors and relished musk's after the
honeymoon of innocence, the equation neutral stands on itself
All is masculine position, feminine comfort, zero or infinity on top, faces in the moon
Yet the observer changes what he sees from his era and location
Even at the constant distance once set the chase changes she observed
* * *
Our rings and watchbands, wrist bands, arm bands, prophylactic, bangles
against the spirits or evoking good, vaporous fire walls against evil
Are but our myth of infinite view, loops of string by interpenetration, covalent dependence
We learn from our place and circumstance, crave fame in exhibition
despite the passing, publishing, enforcement and compliance to laws
In the game where4 we try to make sense, voyeurs changing ourselves
All strength appears lost and we accept it often irreversibly
no knowing in the end the definition empty of love taken beyond with us
Yet what is left after the potluck, derelict buildings, harsh window light, no people
The fairy ring exhausts the soil, lightning, crop circles, not striking twice
its truth a limit of its symmetries and heat, maximum diameter of energy
We missing the ship, coming close tragically failing love, left in the world evaporating forever
I know our dance was not in vain, love's gifts and sacrifice, action-reaction somewhere in
Depth and surface the same stories and directions, structural art's dimensions everlasting
* * *
Could Our Lives Have Been Otherwise? 09-17-09
A point can be seen unique and in that sense discrete
it does not know what dimension or differentiation it is in
The path over its existence wherein it can move in stillness
goes either way in time, all tangents around one excluded distant ray
That the separation of values natural or complex in jumps
may not be a legitimate operation now accepted dogma
What cannot have been otherwise is a stronger principle
than light's invariance over non-locality, time travel over flat horizons
The interpenetration of multiple worlds and paths cannot be
just a matter of probability no matter how intricate, nor of determinism
Any existential moment and region, spacious spacetime
relatively could not have been otherwise, Love conserved in this world too
Thus we have internal and external aspects of general flat spacious dimensions the pillars and
levels of boundless but finite four space, in this sense the universe viewed as a singularity.
St. Juneau Sanatorium L. Edgar Otto 09-17-09
The sanatorium on Oxford Street
is remarkably free from wandering spirits
There are no elevators, just three stories of stairs
My artist roommate sensitive to other worlds and other selves
sleeps well there, no windows boarded over, no locked doors
Nothing to banish by hopeful science, ritual prayers
The students and workers who rent the halls and divided wards
do not know the building's history, Ole Ole Olson
Keeps up the pipes and green, filled me in while changing light bulbs
Miners, trappers, seamen, cheese head immigrants, lumberjacks
came here to heal and breathe, or have some comfort in their dying
"That apartment has a number but is empty, used to be the morgue."
I gazed down at my songbird, stark walls - did she move out? - I understood,
She who never knew her fist love, her needs so long, far away too painful now to dream
* * *
Evidence Beyond the Shifting Fringe L. Edgar Otto 09-17-09
Evidence, witnessed or of circumstance
is itself extraordinary if science changes, evolves
For no place keeps its whole identity over time
nor of space for the criminal who transforms guilt even
That the lingering unexplained rime never happened in fact
Nor the source of things pinpointed as every place can be seen a source
as if the Evil Iron Buddha set the fires of hell upon the earth, if we look for
Reasons, our idols made of clay, cat whiskered, pigments ceramic in the kiln
Nor at the Pacific Rim, baseball curve trinity of crust orange peeled
No separate ages of the earth where changes end or begin
Shifting poles without rigid patterns, Love's hollow laws of dynamos.
* * *
Rather than the ascended hoop dream the black hole in my heart left behind
my blood's deep rapture as I here live, not his heart mummified, persisting among
The crumbling walls, black forests of fading marble slabs, distance only
Far from equilibrium our talks to the cold case dead, short and long equal straws drawn
The dust can't break down enough even on the carrier waves of Satan's laughter
my consolation that time runs out, accelerates, sands of sea shells burying shells
Cities built on the rubble of forgotten cities, the puzzles and confused parts of fossil bones
where we still play in sunlight, spread the fallen robin's wings
Feel the gravity in intricacy of its gone life's magic as we hide from, fool the lesser gods
a new earth age in a sense that I have never seen you as beautiful, tonight,
Bedecked with babbles and frills, costly hair style concrete your wispy ghost
we doing our work with all the light on and open ocean views, I feel worthy beholding
Your expert work and commitment, yet am so of your faith and love you seem to know and
Include me, your well earned relaxing. What is love that it begins with our exile from the garden?
* * *
What nailed to it belongs to the earth, but things screwed to it can take flight
I wait long through the night we reading at a distance together, your smiles over some line
Read me - I did not tuck you in as I must fall asleep before you.
* * *
Naked Ape Singularities L. Edgar Otto 09-20-09
We once dwelt in the sea
because we are the sea, carry it within us
The tides do not just shift
intricate the gears in its prediction
Our eyes and probes to the origin of stars
half foward my vision to seek you
Making do with outlines, shadows yet
seeking finer definition, clarity and
Certainty brought home, half be it so touch your perfection
For the sea is give and take more than a
luxury of love and violence vanishingly trying to reach
Your hint of wisdom, naked and pure the
seaweed returned to the shore from the depths,
Elixors that renew and heal from the rain forest of the bottoms
* * *
Deeper than the preternatural garden, vertigo and
white out, blinding light, hysteresis in the poles, ley line triangles
The feathers and furs we long to paint even more than eat, to spawn
unto exhaustion in the pools and wetlands, begin life high in brow
That sweat and tears from the sky do not burn our eyes
while life grows longer with the learning, defeats hollow eyed
Winters, investment in promise - save those vultures
themselves enslaving creativity, the immature but not innocent
For at the evaporation of their dark seed heart such light disgusts them
with no explanation otherwise than vague chance or natural selection
What to the wise and they discard, wisdom accentuated
at the triangulation of dust, of fire, is God-with-us
We long to return to the ocean's garden with greater intellect the hourglass sexy
To meet in the battle circle, naked singularities to command from our see not it us
New worlds of inflation's.
* * *
My Hairy Chest in 3-D (Yours a Stained Glass Window) 09-21-09
I
do
not know
the colour
of your downcast eyes
* * * '
Love tires, out grows its old songs
where to more once at the top of mountains?
Beauty cradling itself into a trap
at sunrise indiscernible with sunset and
We fear the end a fall, nowhere else to go
How small the towering empire, how weak
our shackles in the shadow of the twins
Time's arrow moves, foolhardy Anne Darrow
songs remade, cleaver laughter of our day
Upgraded the sleeping beast, dragon slayer special effects
The masks of tragedy and comedy dim as curtains fall
in the background, our epic not worth the writing about after all
I cannot give you, deny you your Love's great grand illusive expectations
as I bow to the audience's award of praise, and down before you, kiss your feet
* * *
We leave behind, miss the child we were, found abused and wanting
Worth what our story in the writing but unknown tunnels as we walk into the light?
* * *
I
see
your soul
Love through your
rose colored glasses
* * *
Distar XI - Avocado, What a Pair Production L. Edgar Otto 09-22-09
What are we, awake in a world of no preferred time
or that nature is as it is, we the center and being there
If not that center standing out all the more a mystery
far from the stringy plankton scales and symmetry, crystalline?
The hourglass, cones of light imperfect radial spin gaining,
losing weight, multi-image paths, time's arrow, z-axis invariant, unstable
Only the wise chimps in deed of pedicure, full of gorilla lice
imagine the quasi-verse as multi-verse or only a one God centered origin
Only they can swing, fly on vines through dense jungle who fall
too many times, walk awkwardly free will asserted on land
Conjuring a determined but empty world, seething micro sea-lings
in directed flux as if that the reasonable central logic fuzzy bottled light
Our love in this world spins silk fabric, the rising sun on mulberry
we twins, freckle mirrored freckles, zit for zit, that's the big picture of it.
* * *
Our bridge beyond the Cheshire grins. I'm late, I'm late
blue gown down the Fibonacci rabbit hole pairs and quantum tunnels
We in the flesh of meaning and meaning beyond the flesh
I your hero on the silver screen, you De Baby Sitter
Would that magic be enough, your message near, no iron thin skin tight
rayon and aura light between us not unrequited what we both know we want
Such love stable we the center, unique path, blind to warnings it may never be
While I read your cosmic code, roe fixed on the hunter's light and gun sight
Frozen on the railroad tracks, I your milkman and you my baby's bottle
Yet I know how pointless and typical to others appears our farce and comedy
Still, on its ground deep love can be forever lost in tragedy
* * *
How
can
it be
yesterday
thought she was pretty
The
One
fallen
from the nest
feigned my broken wing
Now
your
window
all Love's light
though at a distance
* * *
Thought vanishes into our perception space or becomes
incarnate again, perching on matter, drinking energy
This needs not be all at once, nor every dreamed recalled
what of chessmen lost in battle, mind gains in strategy
We fading in and out doubled, halved, light and dark realities
The spinning filaments and elements, beyond light speed psi-plasm
we forget the metaphysics in the death throes and body spasms
Love constrained cannot be contained in limits, not quasic breaks define us
we never solve where its story begins and end, its shallows or depths
Save we wait for the broken chain of our hand written letters
thinking it up to the other now to make the next move, messages light bottled
The apple blossoms bloom in pairs, one to fall and one to grow
The lineage of amoebas split likewise, drawing in, reaching out
The planets two by two, avocados bearing fruit every other year
If you do I'll be the little bird gleaning gnats from your window
for you my songs, I waiting for you
A comfort I know so knowing truth foreseen like Buddy's fleeting heart
higher spiraling.
* * *
A Beau Geste Universe L. Edgar Otto 09-22-09
You
dwell
at night
gravity
my mass, your frontier
We
like
our gods
look for signs
make empty gestures
Earth's
ground
Heaven's
made of wishes
co-prosperity
Gaze
up
disguised
telephone
satellites turned on
Light
found
condemned
beyond my
clock's horizon
Some
things
Love needs
not to know
spin dreams before hand
All
shown
unsaid
karaoke
day words slurred dry drunk
My
wounds
fiction
false myth fears
worst scenarios
Faith
heals
distracts
placebos
your meds make you sleep
No
still
picture
distant, cold
Love's view forever.
* * *
Love's Instabilities L. Edgar Otto 09-24-09 (11:30 pm)
We can reach the shock front
of the sum total of visible horizons
Accelerating, the pedal stuck, the breaks worn
measure then other souls at the speed of light
In the worlds and ourselves, he who feels the acceleration
Returning here again if the timing is right, if the sea churns
not too far above the smallest dancing germs in
The chain of life's being, each cyclic universe of layered encounters we
each the center, multi-anthropocentric, more like a social economics the model
Coming close to our neighborhood, tree ring indefinite extinctions
I chased after you soul, Little Turtle, our heartbeats once the same age
You and the world now vanished after a hundred trillion years since I left
I do not know what disturbs your sleep, what spirit you hold fixed lingers above you
I just know you rest now in to that ocean far from him, in afterglow of light's passion
* * *
We passed by each other from long ago, marked the calendar and hour
for all time to come, absolute Love's loss and one chance
As if we can find certainty in passion's spindle,
weave a myth that does not change us as does all light
Light viewed and not touched, visitation before your prison window
Evil angels of the night collide into their own apocalyptic vanishing
the poles reverse, accusers become our defenders, protectors and
What was held in sacred trust but demeaned by Love's fickle betrayers
even hatred so decoheres irreversibly, its matter forgotten rubble to build anew
The greatest good and higher evils dwell not in the certainty and uncertainties of this world
Not that we can see into future to the extent we see our pasts do we desire
to map our lineage and history close to the spacious living center of all
But that we in looking back can learn or find the myth of Love
where we can face and create, design anew our own future worlds.
* * *
I wrote this book of poems for you, all of us, you'll never see- as your will
Returned to it as all limited, false cycles I do not find the author me or it about you
So rare Love's light can be in the sober day, so tragic the loss of my drunken dreams
you needed always as much as I where love cannot belong to just anyone and be life's ground
holding back the edge of night, the covered up pain before the creeping nothingness
So rare true love when it is but the ground and image of this world's instabilities.
* * *
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