Our nature demands that we reduce some of our surroundings to given conditions, inevitabilities (e.g. when we're babies we immediately start grouping things we can take for granted)

Inevitabilities always reduce, "crop", our realities, even if those inevitabilities are only perceived.

thorns for men

what can you scrub from this skin?

can you take the booze, or the abuse,
the regret or the sorrow?

how about the thorns,
of this deep jungle?

how deep does your salvation clean,
oh preacher, oh prophet,
when can I hold your promise in my hand?

Lost on You

Are my words lost on you?
You're not a veteran ear,
to my sayings you're quite new.

But you have your own volumes.
You have adventures and tragedies.


From Massachusetts and Collegeville they fly toward me, and perceive their flight they do not. Out of Togo and from under the weight of faith, hovering above slit wrists and the descending peer of physics, up from the post-war footprint of a crushed Germany and out from a world that had never heard of Jesus, Mohammed or Buddha, they seep, seep, seep so deeply.  They are my coinhabitors, bedfellows of my brain.

In fact their vehicle is the medium of all importance.  They ride bursts at their backs which originate in infinite and unnamable fuel.  Theirs is the engine of idea, the propulsion of burning curiosity, the immortal bodies of 'concept' that walk on a drunkard's legs forever and ever through time.