nature surrounds but it no longer fills
boots rubber souls form a synthetic wall too thick to
allow for the longed for primitive osmosis
what can fill this void that nature once
occupied
your televisions and electric can openers cannot
fill this emptiness,
this insatiable yearning to feel an identity complete; in touch
with life
the wall is growing thicker
but only man can destroy synthetics
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

what are magic words?
they are words, but not in the sense of semantics
they are magic because they need not be spoken
you have felt these invisible expressions of sincerity when you meet
someone, and awestruck
you saw in their eyes the same passionate desires you imagine
an exchange of passion; the energy
surge of craving
  rippling
  shivering up your spine
 
 then touching your neck so genlty, you have heard these magic words
and understood the beauty of simplicity, intangible communications of the
primitive self.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Coyote
is everywhere
then silently vanishes
leaving everything in spirit
nothing behind
stares through the leaves on the bush
in your suburban back yard
mouth watering at the sight of your garbage
turn around, shoo coyote away
only to return to what you were doing and find your garbage
torn and strewn
across the lawn

magically mischievous
coyote returns
watches us and instantly understands our "complexity"
trots away, amused
we look but he is gone

a tuft of coyotes hair is left on the bush
a child gathers it in a baggie
places it under her pillow

she dreams of coyote
she is coyote
in her neighborhood
gallivanting over cement curbs
chem-lawns and under green chain-link fences
knocking over cans
sneaking burgers from backyard barbecues
teasing german shepherds
then returning to the woods

the woods
bordered by highways
the most peaceful place for her is our backyards
she sleeps under the briars, leaving another tuft of hair
another remnant
proof of her existence materialized

she up in her bed as the morning sun warms her face
squints
in confusion the girl ponders her dream, as we all do, debating
was it a dream, or reality

she hears her father laughing as he phones his friend
"..that damn coyote stole your hamburgers right off the grill!"
the girl stops
shivers
no one will ever believe her story
that she was coyote
and she suddenly encompasses the wisdom of coyote
her mind is silenced

coyote is magic:
hair remains on the briar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

you dont have to move
you no longer have to

you lie on a bed of air
each inch of your body comfortably suspended

your brain has in it small electrodes
connected to a higher force with each thought
as the electricity of your brain activates each respective node
sending a message in wave form to a main computer system

the system is massive
thousands of people like you are connected

the computer reacts to your every desire
with such promptness that you hardly even notice
needs or cravings
anymore

a caramel carbonated beverage wets your palate
before the actual notion or recognition of thirst

the drink materializes in your stomach
only the taste in your mouth
you are spared the diligence of swallowing

you shut your eyes and images appear
the ultimate dream
virtual relationships and life-like circumstances
experiences of this virtual reality in your minds eye
stimulating all senses
created in the same manners that night-time dreams used to develop
entertainment is life

life and virtuality confused
virtuality and the needs for human contact
beyond what you think is there
is confused

you sense that there is supposed to be more sometimes
then you are overwhelmed with images
of war, violence
bloody interaction

you miss people
but the machine helps you forget
helps you leave it all behind

but the question still remains
and you sense captivity

then you are surrounded with raging seas
violent earth

through these automatic
installations of fear
you long to return
but it is lost
you can no longer think
for yourself

these impossible desires filled with images
sensations
experiences of pain triggered electronically by the machine
to make you forget

after all
this is what you blindly strived for

but there is a griping, regretful, turning twisting pain
it seeks to erupt through the violent programs
wishing to make you forget

as there is no way back now

you will never be satisfied in the way you once wanted to be
indefinitely longing for impossible simplicity
living in permanent sadness for what you once were
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

our machines are driving us into the future with an imaginary compass
out of control with a power all of their own
hidden behind twenty foot crops
peeking out of smokestacks and inedible fruits budding from nuclear soil

its silver like steel is cold as ice in a hot time
unforseen
invisible to most
innocent, amoral bursts
of bloody death are the result
the end an unrestricted release of
bile
all over itself
ourself

drowned in our own goop
melted
by accident
decide what you want
 or our ignorance of the broken compass may eventually ricochet
and swallow us
whole
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

crack my physics book
id rather be singing and
flowing through other
vibratory transmitters of
feeling
 making
  invinsible paintings of otherwise
     untouchable patterns
   of music

     in space

 they suddenly appear in a
  three-dimensional air
 
   without the help of equations, explaining
    the "physics"
     of why.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

take a walk
in the park
at sunset
with a radio as
music rarely greets
trees
meets trees
melts them to dancing
flowing, swallowing life
whole
at dusk, this will lust
for your desire
of that heavenly image
emerged, illuminated
to you
in all things animate
and still
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

there is an evil, barbarous brush that is eating itself alive
more consumed,
more death.
prune the brush
cut back its proliferation and the only byproduct will be peace
a result of simplicity
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

technoelectronic spirits sensate audible self-realizations
soaring, randomly pitched bursts of melody spiral into droning whirlpool
confused energy exchanges accelerate the cacophony
until systems self-annihilate
into a steady pitch decline of all spirits song

argylic splinters of reality rush through the air
sirens shatter peace revealed in afterthoughts
survival realizations lend to real purpose
responsibility to see flattened civilization reconstruct