10 Years of "Stoned Gypsy Wanderer"

A re-release of my classic 2014 album is coming to THE SWAMP RECORDS soon (digital only). Why another re-release? The album was re-released ...

Friday, February 8, 2013

"Actual" Full poetry chapbook.

    watchtowers:
                             night. in a fragile bed,
    invisible e-water quivers in gloat; language –
              sight-sheets rainbow trouts
                               steady w/ a description of a new signal,
                    Zorn’s greatest…
                                 in series of cards I faintly leave station
                   on glassite earthdiscs
                         ghost-shroud radiolites
                   partially free, betraying the force of a visitor;
                                           w/ bubbled, well muzzled
                                      humanity’s eternity.

fathom:
                                                   desert. in need of transport:
         mad choose instruments enclosed in golden glow
                        over millions bent wholly overhead;
                    men shouldn’t wait on word platforms
        spoken in coats their writers are trapped
                                           in – placing blessed machinery
                          above forevers of applause
                  face wounded mirrors in journals…
calculations move; shifting of night-breeze,
                                       beyond place
                                  above the buildings
                                                  resoundingly free
                                 far from any door.                                                                                   

privacies:

                 face. dead metal all the way, presently – a
                     while
                         from the miles across her eye-
   liner’s ray gaze, swiftly; broken
               matter, she, a local cheapo; he, admiral traveler
   of the east, both
               exterminating greed… w/ hysterical sighs
                                in still waters – moonlight by
                                                                                   sound
                      of crustaceans sizzling
                               posting wants on oscillating streets
   his finger pushed uninjured through the wire
                                            applying sky to visage.

                                                                                   mindsails:
                                                      Bettie. reads controls
                        wonders out loud: “perhaps agents
             archive burned objects”; reducing egos,
in heavily directed rooms, closed eyes, what
                        was to explain, her case seized my fiction,
                                and doubtlessly expressed violin fury:
                                      any particular suggestion? so… eyes
                         is characteristic
                         sun, sails, as a blur, I heardly ever know
                                          about
                                               what works for your thoughts
                                       give? more;
                                                             of you. time.

                                                                                            standards:
                                           player. make tears absurd
                        snap metronomes
                           remove equalizers; strke the icy
                                    yes – spill concrete on adjustments
          radium beer on what was exits, your picture is writhing
                                         so… just visible, artistic success, “two
                         come to no signal”; order is sinusoidal
             and miracle out-explains being time – range, not death
                on silver-moist steady-dressed engines, I, I am the
                  engine – beginning of scales in the wee-wee hours,
                         ejaculated piano movement
poor world, you say, poor the one who names it
            through days and centuries of with, which, wearing
                                                                a window
                                          on his wrist
who’s the one observed here?

unused:
                              circuit. from now on, it’s kisses for arms
                 leading the formless shepherds
marking demanded whiles; meanings, heartbeating stranger armies following the sea – accomplishments, the swing error-
                                -science impulsive fellow…
                                                               loop queer character
                           the shepherd’s source throat
                       evidence; spectro-analyzed plan
                                   Anette’s-love skylight, voyages
                            w/ sulphuric animals of the moon.

saltmilk:
             ocean. follows sane angels… vampires… arrangements
                                                      outer limits in them –
                                      cylinders on the horizon,
                                                   circular ring roar,
                                          erased amazing ships,
                                   “ah!” web-builders
                                                      members in sky caresses
                    guarding their apparatus in infra-red cages
                              packed in spectra of wind
                                           change… closer
                     instruments-thought-intruders:
                                cups of milk theory
                                        spiced w/ salt.

                                                                                            exchange:
                        luminescence. did passed.  was I wrong touching
                                    my phantasm creature's waves?
          other of authority. am. where the
                                      length of knowing
                                      meets the ships of chance; up to where
                         my skull’s
               enjoying that lay. it. afraid what would have
 been of me; forth fight tiny changes
                  lakes to light, of pale creature, lurking in the towers
                                      authors jagged of cages,  armed
sardonic sections challenged young asteroid's magnetic will
                                                      look into the dead hell
                                                                               parachute over.

                                                                                           pinwheels:
       shelters. nameless people; over my head, as in a grain
                              opened mechanism, paused shut
                                 directed to treatment; dark faces, the
                sex agonized opening to red of south
                             eyes that by & around
                          stared their gaze until they grew tired of
                 labors, but splashed the daring attempt
                            at thumping the starlit wayfarer
                                   lifting mad scenes anew
                                     governments pretending
                            proffering execute fire
                     w/ gloom given sun that equipped them;
                             turned skin ran brief at night
                                             but brought no goliath ashore
                                directions, headquarters
                                           paper barrels
                                                burning.

danette:
                 july. occasional room
                            time sleeps when she’s thinking
                 refreshed, interrupted, plummeting
                              into space-age trees & wanton planetary
             cats; she looks along lazily at the solarium disk
          responsible for life; at peace w/ blackness’ answers
                  forwarding details – invisible battle moves on, mind
                            of orders, but she’s down here unruled,
                                              pure & swaying like a wing.

hemisphereal:
                          bullet. who are ye, captain important?
                                        atmosphere of skin
     reptilian doctor of thud jungle, crumpled dark operative,
               grotesque pushing priest; purple lay – come in
                  w/ your dead, gods & totems, disregard me:
           the weaker world, game of doorways & voices
     racing bones, closed tons - visitor vacuum
  ventilating systems
            brave switch citizenry
                                sitting on stars
              sparks of metal monsters
                           calculating them, students learn of
the exploded men – sacrificed to astral nightmare.

                                                                     harmlessly, eventually:
                        fingertips. within your body they were
          looking for help – comrade woman; sunray president
                        of the dead-white executive wine, cloudless
                 on the pretended error moonlight; was she my
                  first inexperience? now what the moon’s made of
                                looks different, it murmures reappearing
                                         while French planes circle quickly
                   w/ a message of dusk, what were her words?
                       cursed snap here & there, someway stern;
                    objectifying love. the temperature of casual
                     criticisms; perfect w/ my things, how have
                                     you been bit lately. dying?
                                no harm to sea. glass stories have fallen.

                                                                                          headspace:
                               echelon.pick exist, into and of the segment
                                           maneuverable, past the
                          mercy door
                                     down the may field beyond
                       known day of flesh; could have bathed
                                 in your finds all over again
                                            through them you’ll suffer deeply
                               for a soundless cage of reward
                               awakened later on a rail
                                        saying chance
                     when asked, answering “skylanes”
                                       habit of fraction
                       works on signals from zero to godhead.

phase rag:
                    atmosphere. leaf pictures mangling you – or
                               did you rise against that doomed
                              monstrosity of a turning wheel
                             on denser suit droned bits
         of soil,  installing shells of ego; w/o the technical
                                 knowledge. I mopped the diner floor slowly
                folding butterfly wings
           been cover to your thoughts long ago
                                          they never walked forth public
                                                             tracks of bone
                         here the earth is showing
            striving for great millions flung on a sea walk
                   in the chains of a dim & vertical beam.

mothercell:
                           destruction. one wave, as of senses; tense,
                         the little coloring soldier, who’s answered
                                      hundred thousand phonecalls, but wait
           speak of leisure & insects of the ocean
                                         summarize the
                       distant – grotesque formation of no
                                          besides & can’t
                                 panoramic phantoms
                                           talk sardonic
                  no vase for me, the spoke winds cry
                             & the soldier lost so much space
                   on precipitous valleys exploding out of
             downward heads
      crew of fools, not ship, the tool of discovery
                          once more reduced to
                    one electronic signal; broad frequency,
                                    narrow canals,
ever-increasing guards of ideas
                                     reducing space flyers
                        to jesters
                           quakes of earthlings – respective space mother
                          softening
                                  her touch
                planet whispering in relief, though not without
                                the weight of human factor
                      still drilling the skin
                                        of its tender
                                                             perpetual balloon.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

"Lightbulb Balloon"

I took a trip to the realm of
Black and white silence
I took a trip to the 20s, or even further down
When I returned to the world of future
It seems it has lost its colors all around
And on the crayon horizon
Something was hanging around
Pre-industrial lightbulb balloon
From a time before our time

And it carried soul survivors
Fools like me who lost their way
On poetic thunder gardens
Of apocalyptic eye confusing spray
Horses! Horses! Screamed the vapor shaman
They must take us down the river to our gold
And I’ll summon shell ghosts of the death prairie
Pay the price in equal parts of blood and sword

But I didn’t pay no mind to a madman
I already have one deep inside of me
He can even con his fingers into thinking
They keep threading complex lenses of the free

Flowers for the lady, dear comrades
Ribbons for the soldiers, noble chimes
Trains are stuck at Pankow rusty station
And I’m trying to find my freedom in a rhyme

In a simple wooden house in the outskirts
My friends were trying to bring me safely home
But I’m wayfaring further down the madness
King beggar on a soap symphonic throne
Counting stations as they roll
Late for U-bahn, I’ll just walk