We spent the night,
talking about thinking about thinking;
about how humans think.
Because we were waiting for the action to come.
The world of ideas—
The world we live in.
We try to see where they coincide.
Because we are the introspective animals—
The waveforms that compress other waveforms into patterns.
Because we are the thinking animals,
Because we are chattering monkeys.

Two Laysan Albatrosses
spin and wheel, looping spirals—
two kites with invisible strings,
connected.

Their light and delicate flight—
white slash through blue radiance, the sky
is overpowered by monumental and diffused;
directionless? or too reflected to locate thunder of
Military jet planes’ afterburners’ billow of combustion.

Only a fool tells everything, for: An honest man knows no peace.

I have a blue china lion
a random tchotchke
as a memory in a knickknack
of a long lost uncle passed away
whom i did not know,
or could i possibly remember.

It sits on a glass shelf suspended
with a commanding view of the apartment
surrounded by Homies
and photographs—
glass vases and toys,
as a remake of whiter shade of pale moans and whispers on.

Pewter sea, pewter sky
an immense but close
gray pewter glow
flows across glassy water.
Shines and shimmers surround the shell.

To the north, the sound
of breakers on the breakwater,
the cry of a hungry grebe
waiting the hunt: It’s hard
to spot the chum
through bright, blinding mist. Soon

sun will wrench
effulgent fog from water,
Insinuating
a horizon line into wholeness.

I rub my hands, get a grip,
then scull hard and arrow straight
toward the heart of the numinous cloud
up current toward the source
of Ballona Creek.

Myself is not myself

this embodiment feels like a distant crude robotic corpse yet so intensely personal.

Winds rise and bellow bullying fronds of palms and insects roll and weave.

Poking the bear again
with just the right pointed stick.
To go to hyperspace—
and to see into the next few dimensions.

Poke, Poke, Poke!

I feel tingling in every atom of my being
which, while fully outlining and highlighting
every neuron and fiber of sense in the physical body
then— extending beyond the tiny physical manifestation I live in
then— my conscious moves beyond this little piece:
Into occupancy— into the mind of the cosmos, the body of the universe.
My face is every face, your face, my face—
My body is every body, your body, my body—
This I is the instrument of goddess
That you is the instrument of god

Everything is everything, do you understand?
Allow to be, of course! — do not judge or define, of course not!
No forget.

Expectation brings sorrow, do not be sad my love.
See the beauty, and you will worry not. The complete
complement will be there, whether it is
seen or unseen.

I see all shapes become smooth and flexible, and running off into 8 dimensions
I see every single color as a shimmering spectrum of all component colors in each color.

Please universe, tell me what to manifest. I am your instrument.
Really? Just be?
Everything is everything, that is all that needs to be said.
Being is the only necessary action.

End transmission.

Mussaman curry originates from the south of Thailand. Similar to Malaysian curries, and with some similarities to Indian curry, Mussaman curry has an abundance of warm spices such as cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. Often prepared with beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions, and peanuts, I also add mushrooms, greens, etc. and switch the beef to tofu.

Ingredients:

* 3 shallots, sliced
* 5 cloves garlic, peeled
* 2 red chillies (seeded, or leave seeds in a spicier curry)
* 1 thumb-size piece galangal (Thai ginger, or ginger), peeled and sliced
* 2 stalks lemongrass, outer leaves and bulb removed, then sliced thinly (save upper stems to throw into the pot )
* 2 kaffir lime leaves (available at Asian grocers – usually in the freezer)
* 1 Tbsp. coriander seeds, ground (grind them yourself in a coffee grinder, or use a pestle & mortar)
* 1 Tbsp. cumin seeds, ground (grind them the same way as the coriander)
* 1/2 tsp. nutmeg, preferably ground from whole nutmeg
* 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
* 1/4 tsp. ground cloves
* 1 tsp. ground cardamom
* 1-2 Tbsp. sea salt (use fish sauce if your not vegetarian or kosher)
* 1 tsp. shrimp paste (Omit as I did if your vegetarian or kosher)

Preparation:

1. Place all paste ingredients in a food processor (or blender) and process well. To make a sauce rather than a paste, add coconut milk (1 to 2 cans).
2. To use immediately, fry with oil in a hot wok for a minute til aromatic and then add coconut milk and veggies.

Panang Tomato Basil Chow Fun Recipe

Kosher Panang curry paste to taste
3 Thai red chilies, sliced thinly at a 45° angle
8 stalks lemon grass, finely minced
6 medium ripe tomatoes in 1-2cm cubes
1 bell pepper in 5cm chop
800g firm tofu, in 1-2cm cubes
400g coconut milk, equal amount of water
Dash soy sauce
Salt to taste
800g Fresh Chow Fun (wide) rice noodles
3 Thai basil sprigs of blossom tops and leaves
Dash grapeseed oil

Add oil to preheated wok, and fry curry paste, chilies and lemongrass briefly. Add tomatoes and pepper and fry a bit more. Add remaining ingredients and simmer for 10 minutes.

It is easier and harder to be funny than you think. Comedy is telling the truth in an original and (hopefully) artful way. This is true of any medium for expression.

Create an unique perspective and style that builds on predecessors with insight and wit to dissect a subject. Any subject is appropriate, but it must be something that tugs at your soul so deeply that you feel it in the pit of your stomach.

We laugh when there is a fact of life that is far too painful to take seriously. Allowing yourself to tell jokes about something people are uncomfortable with brings a taboo subject out into the open. In this way stress is relieved, by laughing at the realities of life.

Misty rains of liquid sunshine waft across an azure ocean. Blue melds seamlessly with gray, save for occasional glimmers of definition. Machines, motors, servos whir to accompany the myna birds on their morning sojourn.

A distant jet rumbles through the clouds.

I sit on a raised plane, 20 meters above the ground.  Some call it the penthouse, but you will find none of the luxury usually associated with a penthouse here.  This is a much simpler, deeper joy compared to comforts for one’s body. Elevated here between earth and sky, I let peace take me.

Suddenly
My shadow and me break up
Through the surface of sleep
As children of sense,
A bright beating sense repeats
in our brain
in our brain
As children we ride the backs
Of large luminous pearlwhite birds
similar
singular
Flying up flying up up
We reach round necks, hold bills
Keep quiet and keep the birds
Quiet. Great
Beating flap of wings, clap
Of laundry on the laundry line, grate
Vibration in the heart of sheets,
One of us wakes completely
In the night.

Silver moon, Sirius
below. And there, Betelgeuse
winks the far black red.

Jesse breathes easy beside hot water.

Moonlight slides down the dark sky,
covers him and he lets it. Pale
Krishna blue irradiates his skin.

“I’m getting a pale, Wyatt.”
Growing older, bluer by the minute.
Faint smell of chlorine.

Moonlight smells of earth,
hot at the root.
We let it.

Steam from the hot tub exhales in clouds
toward stars. How sparkly the stars,
the midnight blue dark, the slight
blue glow shimmering off his body.

And how clear his thought,
it makes the night clear.
“Wyatt, the Racing Car Constellation!
See:
The Man in the moon is the driver,
that bright star underneath,
the rear wheel, and that blue star, way
over there, that’s
the front wheel.”

Dog star patches out,
drags a quick quarter
through Orion to the left toe
of where blue Rigel
used to be.

I hunt, I hunt
a response,
all my adult knowledge
constellated, wheeling
uselessly
around my head.

Rainbow rings shiver street lamps. Breath,
My breath, makes unfigured shapes, blown
Plaits in mistful air. Jesse scamps
Choo-choo, choo-choo down tumbledown
Damp streets trailing choo-choo smoke.
“I’m a train, choo!” a poke at quiet night.
More pokes: dogs’ harsh barks herald our way.
Behind curtained bays, quiet folk in
Incandescent light grip guns against enemies.
(One false step, we’ll put out your lights).

By and by, farther on, the lamps end.
We chug lightly, lightheartedly,
Into the future, into the dark.

Good Friday
our Goddess of the flowers
sweet scent of peace,
aroma pervades space
we are in paradise.

some arms stretch far and wide
to touch the other side of the world
but the sweetest arms are those
that are wrapped around you already

how adept are you at manipulating the hologram?
look as closely as you can
you can see the man behind the curtain
if— you look between the pixels.

Hearing yir brethin next to me
is so comforting

I don’t even have to
touch yir delikat skin
a warm peach

Just knowing yur lyin next to me
makes me melt, were I to touch you I
would turn into a pud’l and
soak the sheets, shower or no

I love you so you, the other half
to my puzzle, that your little intermittent semi-snores make me happy to know
that you are alive! And resting well.

I love you my compliment, my companion, my love my love my mate

Hearing your breathing next to me
is so comforting

I don’t even have to
touch your delicate skin
a warm peach

Just knowing your lying next to me
makes me melt, were I to touch you I
would turn into a puddle and
soak the sheets, shower or no

I love you so you, the other half
to my puzzle, that your little intermittent semi-snores make me happy to know
that you are alive! And resting well.

I love you my compliment, my companion, my love my love my mate

O blue sky so blue,
rouged with clouds
gently blown across
your fair face.

I love you like that sky,
with a warmth that
lights up
my face and heart.

Such sweet enchantment
do I feel in the warm
smile of
your laughing gaze.

We live only briefly,
and stay present – only for
tiny fractions of time.

Golden Domes shimmer
in emulation of the sun
soaring above gulls and ravens.

Blinding flashes
reflected by lime and glass
pass through…

freeway traffic whizzing
by the perpetually foggy
SF police lockup.

A lone cyclist
passes by below
the interchange of overpasses~

Hazy dazy de december—
Light shines obliquely
scattered by Pele’s breath
of sulfur dioxide and ozone.

Dew softly rising vaporized
In the warm solar radiation
thanks, La.

A calming humming
of energy waves pervades.

Progress can only be made now. The past is forever behind us, and is what it was.

Today is yesterday’s future.

When are you?

Now is the only time in which any action/inaction can happen.

All paths contain the sum of a multitude of waveforms in n dimensions.

Balance and Harmonize energy
Heal Focus Reflect

klēr blū skyz
ûv d’sêmbèr

plūmêrēa blàssûms stíll
fāll át my fēt

fādêd frum fûl pōwr
ûv sûmmèr

ðûh mynás sérêńād
ðûh wínz ðāt wîspèr

lûv állwāz

clear blue skies
of December

plumeria blossoms still
fall at my feet

faded from full power
of summer

the mynas serenade
the winds that whisper

love always

Mooo

mmm warm me gentle giant my love
powerful hands needed to knead
the muscles as they begin
to petrify.

sweet soothing solace
moan my man
release rape of remembrance

Fear, like expectation is unfounded.
Entertaining fear or expectation, feeding it in your mind will bring naught but pain.
Some may savor such pain, finding a kind of solace in its passion and familiarity. If one would only break free of self censorship and repression, then the bliss of peace would make such pain trivial and useless; forgotten like a hair shed in infancy.

The clouds have cleared
Low the December sun warms
my back under the bright
starry sapphire sky

I am alone in my being
at one with the universe
and what ever runs the
core of the hologram

some call life

Palm fronds whisper
to the wind
and sigh in its caress.

Dove coo seeking
similar affections,
but only go alone.

November rain on the mountain
blows down with the wind
to the sunny sleepy city.

Warm rain of

November—

Ebbs briefly,

To dryly allow
Among puddles
To hasten on the

Path to home.

Praise to Lono for
This wonderous blessing
—Makahiki Season aloha

I am nothing
I am everything
I am God/ess
I am a speck of soot
I am creator and destroyer
I am me
I am you
I am nobody

the blue sky does not care how I feel
it will never confess why
you were born just in time
for the summer of love

so now on your fortieth year, you mourn the loss of youth
but fear not for life can only be lived right now

my mind needs a good washing
of layers of cruft and fuss
theory and belief, skill and know-how
cloud my perception in dense fog

desires and fears; ambitions and hungers
give my spirit dis-ease

as i cycle to work
in a refrigerated concrete coffin
the Goddess of Traffic saves me from the miscues and swerves
of garbage trucks and large white BWMs

as i spend years endlessly signing, copying, filing, calling
it is easy to lose sight of any value in my performance

i now attempt to follow advice
which i always thought self-serving;
that to love myself is the beginning of mettha
for self loathing can so easily taint love for others

both on the teeter totter must balance
for the fall of one may cause the partner’s fall

Love the endless blue sky which so delicately covers our heads with a thin membrane of gas. A delicate veil shielding us from the bottomless pit of outer space, providing the breath of life.
Love the giving earth and stone supporting us, giving us security in our footing. A wealth it is of minerals nutrients, from it springing the bounty of our food, our metals, our homes.
Love the deep blue ocean from which life springs, the vast medium of our beings. Liquid fabric of life, gentle and powerful, water is our very essence.
Love the sun, our very own star and giver of our light and warmth.

Come, my love!
I want to sing for you the song of eternity, it is a story that has no beginning. It is the blissful silence of stars exploding into novae. It is the deafening roar of air atoms colliding.
It never ends…
Loud and inaudible, it hums in the vibration of any string or quark.
It is the raw magic of energy, a wave, a sign, logos.
The power lives through and through, revering perseverance, persistence, peace, poetry. It is not through stress and striving that one may feel and channel this power. Such effort will only make peace so much more distant. Do not struggle through seas of living, but let go, lean back and float peacefully.
Feel the harmony of wave passing through wave, passing through wave, passing through wave. It is light reflected off water rippled by many currents and winds, reflecting the plumeria tree, reflecting the sky, diffracting the sun, reflecting the singularity.
The power of eternity is bigger than you think. It is not to be imagined, but experienced. Your mind may not be structured to construct an image of eternity, so you must let go of all constructions in your mind to flow into the experience. Let go, my love. It is like falling asleep, you may feel the sensation of falling, and yet you do not need to be caught. Bliss cannot come from grasping or striving. The satisfaction of achievement is as short lived as the stroke of a bee’s wings.
Your position in time and space is irrelevant, it is the position of your thoughts which shall truly govern your place. Open the eyes of your mind and see the endless milky white glow of all pervading energy. Let the light and love radiate through every atom. Remember my sweet divine soul, it is a law of physics that the act of observation changes the object/subject. Move beyond observation, and know light and love throughout all experience.

Stasis is an illusion.

Everything is an embodiment / a component of divine spirit

The air is sacred, beings are sacred, earth is sacred, stars are sacred, water is sacred, electrons are sacred, radiation is sacred.

Everything is everything. No more needs to be said.

Maya’s illusions hide the true nature of the universe from us.

What does the silence tell you?

It has the answer.

Disasters love a surprise
Heart attack or Tsunami,
Aneurysm or Earthquake,
each one can clamp its jaws
’bout your neck
before you have time to inhale to scream.

Since evolutionary fear response
proves so completely useless in such situations,
one would be so much happier
to just remain peaceful and relaxed
whilst acting to stoically to
overcome the unforeseeable.
If all you can do is hope,
hope with the full thrust of spirit.

Nothing is but thinking makes it.

The world is short lived,
And our physical existence spans less than the blink of a blink-less eye.
Fast and slow work at whatever relative scale you wish, so choose wisly the scales at which you choose to view time.

1/infinity
is life size

November light shimmers,
Giving the world the sheen of tarnished silver.
Cold warmth permeates the morning
as ravens cry, scavenging amongst tramps and gulls.

The absolute cannot be spoken.
Reality proceeds and follows the word.
Logos / symbols only point fingers.
If you can tell me what you know, you know next to nothing. Once you can comprehend nothing,you may understand.

Marine layer haze has fuzzed out the world
All vision has been reduced to various shadows of blue, inflected with other colors
The orange of the sulfur dioxide
White clouds, green mountain
Sky and Ocean meld together

The people’s revolution cannot be won with violence.
It must be won with love, with passion, and with intellect.

I keep thinking of all the little bits of experience and habit that define the self persona and restrict the spirit.
Almost all relate directly or indirectly to the requirements of staying alive. Many have become so distanced from their root cause that conscious awareness of them is lost. Transformed into cultural or ethical necessity, they assume huge and undeserved power.
Those physical or intellectual enjoyments of living can become abused/overused very easily. The dicipline to avoid such is much greater than one would assume.

How much control
do you have over your
own brain?

Are survival
and
Free Will
mutually exclusive?

Is the mind just jib jiving
to keep the
shit factory going?

A black cloud is in my head
I feel the sickness down in my soul
A bitter taste burns in my brain
My heart whimpers and sighs,
A quivering and abused skinny puppy.

I feel the sickness down in my soul
I feel the sickness down in my soul
I feel the sickness down in my soul

The sky is brilliant blue
Reflected by the sea.
The wind blows the
Palms to wave at the sea
Endless erratic dance

in the words again of Spengler, “The one who lacks courage to be a hammer comes off in the role of the anvil.”

But he neglects that the anvil is unmoved, unmolested by all the blows given by the hammer.

No limits on nothing.

A dish that is equally tasty served piping hot or well frozen.
A specialty of mine, and quite convenient to make as just about any ingredient may be used.
I like to start with a base of bitter aphorisms. Sour grapes and salty plums are often dressed with stinging rejoinders.
Malice of forethought mixed with envy, seeds of despair and a large brunch of the blackest desire you can find makes a great dressing, suitable for a Gauloises smoking nihilist.

“when you’ve lost all your dreams, there’s nothing like a campfire and a can of beans”

Hope doesn’t matter,
Dreams don’t matter,
Survival doesn’t matter.

Life is a wave in the ocean,
A momentary shape and movement
of matter, brought about by energy that gives form and power to apparently inert masses.

A statue of a bronze in genuflection
Performing a postmodern pre flight hula
Her motions are blue and royal purple, Matching Her plains planes decor

Fall into blue sky
Feel your feet firmly grounded in space
You’re eternal, your character is tripping your wings

What do you want to be

When I was a child I never knew what to answer
when asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Now I am middle aged, well established in a career,
and I still cannot answer the question.

Boning Up On Semicolons

I’m boning up on my semicolons;
finding the crux
of the hard point.

while some might say
the biscuit
is the apostrophe’,

& others the dot,
the period,
the point.

There are few constructions
more powerful than the
joined unity of clauses.

All new all the time. All must be all New! and all Improved! forever and ever it shall be. It is the way of nova that rules all worlds all galaxies all time.

-by New Improved, Oct. 5, 2007

little prop planes
strait across the sky
through openings brilliant blue
between still- a vortex of clouds
pauses to catch final brilliant glow of sun
saying goodnight o’ahu- the clouds
refracting, reflecting- water vapor echoing
the reflective water below- radiates
lavender violet indigo- guided by rays that burn
through to the soul- suddenly filtered by
a passing wisp- only to return for a brief hana hou
in a new more sanguine color, each moment
a new, slightly longer wavelength-
environs of blue and pink shaded with sweet lavender-
bordered by white heavens- unreachable, transitory
fitting the clouds brush crimson before night falls-
the Day’s embarrassed sobriety flees afore the
raw sexual power presence of the beasts-
“Young Brothers – lifeline of the Hawaiian Islands”
sails with iron sail cars and metal boxes-
Sun, the god la asleep snores in a color with romance,
living somewhere between magenta, tangerine, fuscia, magenta, gold-
life in twilight-

brilliant emerald pali are cut sharp
in outline by the china blue heavens
vignetting darker if one looks away
past earth’s gravity pulling pulling escape

Yesterday, lost in afternoon sun ablaze
a tiny pink piglet of plastic lay lost in a
sea of grey sidewalk, stained, patrolled,
by microscopic ants the size of its hoof
whilst teenage lovers glowing
in blush and bronze joked tickled
mooned cuddled and laughed in the shade.

First sun in days of downpour.

Cerulean spray churns
over black rock, reflecting
charcoal in morning

Quickly the swallows it all
whole
but can’t quite close its
mouth

Patches of coral sand
blonde
mimic the platinum
bright horizon

Negative space
is a force field – PROJECTED
from my mind since childhood
it has enveloped.
An emptiness from the back corners of my mind
I am invisible to those sidelong glances-
Appearing only when you stumble over me.
Like bandaging a wound I vainly
attempt to fill it with knowledge,
but it is an addictive hunger that cannot be satisfied.
Are the mind and belly curses of
the same sort?
Vacuum of collapsing lungs
I fall through the loneliness of
Negative Space

I’d like to be under the sea
to come and to play
for much more than just a day
with my friends under the bay
but how can i come to be
down there, under the sea.
Once there, i’ll never want to go away
with Davy Jones I’ll play
day after day.

I see you dirty bitch
rummaging on the bus floor
for a daily injection of blood
and gore.
You didn’t ask for it.
but now ho, you can’t
look away.
caught
in grim luxury, on
A. C. Transit