Disappear in the fragmentary space of writing more than you disappear in your own self-grave; imagine yourself as a forest in the morning fog; feel the dust of silence deposited in your ears & write like a wolf singing as the moon approaches.
I met Jung in a dark-wood & he was like a raven escaped from a coffin of loneliness; 'promise me you won't cry at the end of this' he said: Love spreads like a plague; sincerity often misunderstood with brutality; what doesn't exist is more powerful than what actually exists.
Our education system never taught us how to be useful; they tell us unhappiness is fine; a poisonous logic collapsing on us as a living disaster; but let me tell you: there are enough deaths in life to be useful.
In this photograph; I was dancing with a crying dragon hidden deep within the soft throat of the earth weary by all the woefulness of mankind; I found a handwriting letter in blue ink from immortal poetry goddess with inscription: write & live forever.
I live in the shadow of a poem; a metaphor without a home, an echo from a distant past, a living contradiction, conflicted between the remembered & the forgotten, between what happened & what never happened.
Take your inner child by hand & break the circle; dwell on impermanence & thrive on chaos; one cannot be a revolutionary without a destruction of sorts; where there's a violence, there's a healing.
@abstract_moi Hahah, he was drinking his eleventh can, and I was about to fade, "stay with the beer, beer is continuous blood, a continuous lover" he said
Don't ask about the dust & rust that covered everything that was once lively, perhaps there is no difference between beauty & all the wretched things; perhaps this earth is only corpses & endless possibilities that never turn into anything.
in a dream; in 1961 I was sharing a beer with Bukowski after attending Hemingway's funeral; he told me: no one at the cemeteries realizes; all the unfulfilled dreams & desires seep & slip from the dead into our lives, they belong to us now.
It's zero hour & you think of time & the space between the stars; she tells you the sun lives inside your skin, as you are tracing a pattern in her back; connecting freckles like a puzzle; trying to unlock the secrets of the universe.
ghosts sit on her shoulders singing songs from the bones of despair; a taste of apocalypse on her lips, she opens her mouth & sparkles start to spill out like diamonds, my flesh is burning against her fingers; there's a fire resides in her eyes & I cannot translate it into poetry
A girl like a cemetery bathed in starlight; bird's skeleton; hands made of smoke & electricity turning your blood into ink; she slices you at the edge of a soft-dream and you call it magic.
Stop looking for what destroys you, and drink suicide from a girl thirsty for the ocean; reading kafka & Nietzsche love letters with a trembling moonlight heart sharp as a forest.
I exist in several places at once; places that are stable, unmoving, unreachable, untouchable; I exist outside language; I crawl out of my mouth touching the theory of what is dead; I become a blue-smoke touching the black lungs of the sky.