Handel's Messiah

Inequity exalted
                                          (trill lilt lilt lilt)
          and up flapping flip opening
                      Glory of the Lord
                      Reveal led to
                                        gether
                      the mouth the mouth
                                        sonorous

Shake shake the
           windshields
                                    eyelashes trembling
            span gold thin stains
                     clear spearshaft
                              sharpening sky
                      gilded, the children
                              waves of wheat
                              straws of floss
                              beat toward North
He shall                     the grey wind
fury he shall                    stoops them
fa fury fa
fine china
fine.

            The signs of heap
                   heath under moss
                             under sand.
            Thy woost
                   in threads
                   cities of tuna
                             behold!
                   raisins & marmalade
                   surround the ranch
                   Arise!  be hold!
                             Switzerland on a pony!

One more shore
        upon thee
                    by charms,
                    incantations
        routing passwords
                    granite alcoves
                                pristine in flight
                    drop down and
                                                  glow.

Unto us
         a sun given,
and Government upon his shoulders:
         Wonderful!

Strolling out the land
        velvet winged years
                   scatter shadows
        over the well
            long lines,
                   o'er my widow
                   a salted sea
                   a puff of brass.

*          *          ----------          *          *

Shore leave! Shore leave!
          Sheave glass from foam
                   and with these wraiths
                   sirens trolling, creeping
                   and 'neath his eyes:
                              sheathes
                              reticulated weeds
                                        like sheep
            We have turned,
                  a weed like sheep
                              gone, gone
                                                                        astray
                              wings of toad
                              we have time!
                               beehive turnip!

Amble road.
            all day all ways.
Sailing. The fit of night's
                     flat dim.
              In the livery, in the livery
                  three shots, mashed & dim.
                           Light. The hymn.
              by the fount,
                   we bathe in evening
              clense our
                   raiment of sorrow
              cut off our weights
                          unstricken
                          unswaddled
                          enraptured

Who eats the stream of glory?
                The king of hosts,
                the thing of story
                           staircasing
                           anonymous
                           his, a thing of glory.
                 These impossible beasts:
                 beauteous joists of peace.

Their sound is a vowel
          and their words are
                 true salve,
                        and of the Word.
          Far true: the visions -
          flight through the pigeons
                        like a potted vessel.

High arc,
          keys of tulip
          risen in hues of Chardonney
          sit, sigh, porous legado,
                         un-die, un-die
          sewn in Christ,
          all been made alive,
                          no twinkling thine eye,
                          unleash all the dregs:
                          We shall be changed!
                          We shall be changed!


                            Ah           men.

Blanket Junket

Deep mist, frozen feather lofting
          eye blank mind shroud
          overfilling every glimpse
          supersaturating light nerves

                            yet nowhere visible:
                            only dense scattering
                                                                     clear throughout.

Beyond gone:
   the canyons of artifice,
           hard and painful corners
           jutting thirstily
           carnal fiestas
           60 Hz crickets
           operatic waterspouts
           methane balls
           drunkard piss
           a stale clamour roars,
                      heaving acrid breath.

Supersize Me

50 Billion pores:
     unwind
50 billion central points
                 vast and spilling
                 eruptions of white
                 each brighter than one
                           thousand billion stars
coursing through with
      unkempt roar of
                     pure vibration

Blue heat
Red thunder
Clear fire

                     incinerating every

Instant Reckoning

Nigh the day the hour:
                 o b l i t e r a t i o n.

            Still we dream of reckless shouting puppies
                 and toss 21 dots twice
                        cross green felt
                                 gladiation theatres:
                        stiff sipping
                        ash dripping
                        hope fearing
                        chance leering.

       A great heave, ruptured earth
                     or violent deathwash
           could hammer us
                     crush our dance of dots,
                     set chips aflight, clattering,
                     drown the sky in razor blood ice,
                     split our femurs,
                     knucklebust our vertibrae

                                          any crappy instant.

Starry

Orion's Dagger splashed
         fire-whipped a strew
                      of gem shards.

                 burned holes through
                      the black.
                 Skeltered sparks,
                                              every hue,

                 piercing
                       lungs of lead
                 shattering cairns
                       across the dream ridge
                 brilliant spills
                       uncloaked.

                 The sword tips
                       still
                       blaze.

Alaskavada

farfromit            prop glint spindles
                          sparkling cloudfrost
                          the hurtled blur
               and leatherbacked rows of
                          hair danglers

                                  flither
                        chitter and skreet
                                   drub

                         page flipping, wish tripping
                                      it's a giddy, starry day.

We munchers, chewers, kgnawers, trailbiters
                teethy folk
                          tongues clacking
                          chops clapping
                          bending whistles and
                                         presto-digitating,
                as we saunter cross heaven
                          bound for heck
 
                          expelling one long grey-brown
                                          groan the whole way
                                                    home.

Oasis

Yesterday's mirage:
                   azure sky, turquoise lake
                   emerald spruce, diamond snow.

                   Now vanished.

And great grinding, churning, belching
        swaths of manscape surround.

Alpine valley, flocked in bloom
                       wreathed by sharp slopes strewn
                                            with copper and slate,

                       wavers. fades from imagination
                      golden shadows dim, grey

As pulsing human wants
      blare greedy toils across the land.

But the half-remembered sphere of clean
      still lifts my mind
      tugging intent like balloon on thread.

Samvana

Pink 6 Black Tux
      We trammel glades of glass, steel,
                                          crystalabras
                           pinstriped trovescapes
       as richly, we flick a tress
            and totterprance on leopard stilts.

                     - erstwhile -

Scrabbles on a red dust range
Scrapping cans, bin-to-bin
Scraping scars on iron viper fields,
                                                          sharpened rust
        thorn sliced
        flesh ribboned
                                   for one day's dank bowl of
                                                grey paste and gristle.

                           >but<

We, blinded by these baubels
shamble comfortably
              'round  blythe acres,
              dream grubbing.

Malloma

Fabri-clatter.    Plasti-special.
Metalli-faux.    And steps and snaps and
                         weaves and fumes and
                         pose and dangle
                                  big bags,
                                        name tauting.

Yes, we want it!
        we love it so.
        I'll gild my snot
             sarong my sallow
             wrap my glistening guts
                            velvet viscera
             in a happypink kittybow!
             Seehowmywants
                    drape so stylishly
                    exclaim the truth of me:

                      >>AM what I Want<<
                      >>IS<< the smeared-on
                                          cruft of
                                          thing beast
                                          centre.

- Rhapsody -

Down draw drain a long slow
           strain    -    melodic
                             beneath
                               caverns of stone.

           Hum
           Buzz
                   strum
                   trot trot
                   clip clop
                                   red sandals wag
                                         tap tip
                                   puddy tat
            Trombone posse,

                                   giddy yap!

Eehjooh's Mendelssohn

thin siren
       crisp    stairleaps
              flit the quavering
                               zenith

       ivy flocks
             repose
       and amber glint
             etches
             vanishing
             imprints
                          of
             gull
        on an eggshell
                          heaven

        soars 3thousand fathoms
                   aloft the
                   plather of
                   dull lumberers, we.

Suppé's Poet & Peasant

On lawns of bright
      young peacock
                          a clear swan of
                          aqua mirror
      rolling in clever pipes
                  trickling, trembling
      a great glowing

   concentric
   circus
   tintops
              horse-go-rounds
              waltz mirrors and caliope
                        sparkles in a
                                      dusty reflection

               chang
               stride
               flag
               Big brass
                      champion!

Splash Music

Bell                      Paddleflip
  Strong
                 Overandagainandover
                         and higherover

        Cry the rails
               trumpet from
                         every wavelet:

                                   ding!

*                      *                      *

clapclapclapclapclap
         onetwothreefourseven
         eightninefifteen
                     Marley tattoos

slideslip an orange oar dip
          twinkle of white-gowned princess
                     and red-capped brawn

123fourteen cherry tarts
          and maple drizzle


                 Basking. Goldblue.

Splash Before

(Awaiting Symphony Splash)

File pacing, two leggeds
       glance and pace
       through hats and
       dangles of white yellow brown
                                                                 hair heads

       nod, bob, poke some, check
       poly phony
       anti  cipitating
               the sonorous
               the lilt
               the thrum of heartstrings.

And aloft, a single float plane.
And below a hedge of kayaks wharved.

       "So proud, once again!"
       "An incredible event of
               the hashtagsplash2012!"

Strung Out

Creamsicles – vanilla – beneath cotton
                        candy parade as
                        chatter scatters in the
                        back
                        ears swelling
                        eyes scratching
                        wings dipping
                        teeth chawing some
                                 slippery cinnamon
                        we drifting home,
                        heron gliding
                                                                 this bright day.


The longshort trek to South Cross

                        is
                         finished.


                                                Obrigado!

Barra Shopping

For favor, open my doors to
                 Malltown!
       Price me! Scan me! Liquidate! Obligate!

With license, mill about
       Smell a test, swipe a card
       Slurp some moats of coco.

We want it. All of it.
       get
       get
       get
       get
       get.       It.

And the babbling avenues don't mind.
       Only feetshouts rise above the din.

                            sit a bit
                            quaff some matte
                            gorge on weight plates.

Then shop again. 
        I want one of them
                            day-glo pink redeemers!

Shit Head

OK. Rio was not poetic.

        Now, silvergold filigree slide beneath
        cities, hamlets scattered cross
                  Brazil's night
         starpoints swim the ink.

                            *

Pulmonary artery got ruptured here.
      Got me all dressed in my best
              Idiot suit – fitted.
              Sewn into my skin
              stitched in nerve threads
              zipped my throat
              zipper teeth chewing my eyelids.

              The dumb shit can't rub off,
                     It's stained straight through
                           my pores, stapled into
                           my brainstem.

Not trickles. Amazons of excrement
       jostle my bloodstreets
       clogging like a honking belching
                      18-lane jam.
       smearing every tongue-slip
       infiltrating every do-plan
       suffocating every borrowed sky-gulp.

The toilet of my mind
       swimming floating swirling
                         overflowing
       liquid stench drenching
                          all my half-ass.

So, I trudged loathing
        head bent
        niggling.
        hopelost.
        snuffed.

And all the wheres I went
         still reek of me.

Wen Jia Bao

(at Rio+20)

I wish to express warm congratulations
   we are heartened
   on the other hand,
                                       gap widens
                                       acute.

Preserving is the only choice
      especially common but different
                       developed should honour

      no green uniforms
                     make their own choices
                     models for green products
                     refrain from
                                                 protectionism.

Without limiting development.

Zhongguo yue fada
                  bangzhu qihou bienhua.


xiexie!

Throng Clouds

(Rio+20)

Sequins, silks, suits, synthetics
Clothes of all flags.
             Voices of all tongues.

                                  "Solutions must go beyond"
                                  Intensely discussing
                                  consensus

              "Need to get the economy back on track"

                                  Major groups at the core
                                  so involved at this Rio.


Draft document charts the path
Sure we will all make the best decisions.
Realize important commitments.

                                   Progress achieved
waters of March mark the end

                                   ...of Summer.

We need action on a scale that matches
       the magnitude of the crisis.
             Inexorable historical


                                    trend.

Over the Grange

(35000 ft over Brazil)

Breakfast parade just tootled by

          the waftings of roasted

                                   toasted

                                                         allure.

          and without,

                 green and brown crop circles

                 stud the earth, sparkling

                 waters bejewel:

                             t'is a BRIGHT MORN!

                 (even with the blind down to mere crack,

                  the sun explodes from my pen's silver tip.)

Now rumpled parapets splay

         twixt emerald farm rows

         patch piece in forty thousand shades of

         green. And an ocher dusting of erosion.

It's a vast landscape, 

         but manprinted.

Now, a village with pink streets.

Now, a spindly lake bending through 27 narrow channels.

Now, a fire hazing fuzzy white across the dawn.

Now, a mud river snakes past porcelain

             settling ponds of a hilltop mine.

River Journey

Eye hooks   nag us as
           dimly roars the craft
    Fingers. Ears. Fidget. Nod off.

           whiling,
           we knit wool webs
           grasp hoping

                silver slivers
                splinters
                digging, teeth first
                biting trenches
                brimming in sluggish
                   slurry froth green grey
                   moats slopped fullof

                endless

                      moreget.


     How? Now renounce it?

Large Ensembles Concert

Bubbling swaggle - a brook of youth
                pattering down the
                               arcs of cushion

     and a wharf of String Chambers,
                docked.

                                Hush descends...


               *               *               *


Now is the time:     soft, smooth, warm
                               song of eagle
         kilts, ties, grey slacks,
                               flipping white music leaves

"Don't make it bad! Make it better!"
                               Hums from the bones of my
                                                  lentil-hair-hippy-candles-
                                                  kefer-Hey-Jude-60s!

               *               *               *

Over and around the joy
         the full strong blend of
                                baritone and soprano
         and gold, red, black, brown ornaments
                                drape upon their blue serge shoulders.

               *               *               *

The whiney strand of thin shrieks, drum streaks
         iron brass, growl pounce
         thunder trounce...
                                                 then file off.

               *               *               *

Borneo - 1 2 3 - paparazzi
         in the lee   in the lee
                          of the islands in the sea.
         Chime the three
                          under green
                                    flow to the west
                          astride a high mount
                                    purple with sky.

               *               *               *

On the field, on the pitch, on the march,
          We sing the true,
          We sing the blue crisp skies of sport.
          We traipse the full throat of spring.

               *               *               *

Coming upon the ring of Palisade Town
          red dust and broken pick-ups
                       a hawk and a bee
                                    a chalk brick diner
          Let's to the drive-in! Let's Big Boy!

               *               *               *

Pull up some carpets

             swing a scarf:

                                       It's Jamboree Time!

             Toss up some leathers

             snap a shag

                                       ONE TWO!

               *               *               *

Onto the onto the onto the

               ribbon of badge

                              the pinned lapel of

                              glorious striding

                                            a procession of

                              huge white geese

                              gold gleaming in their

                                            fierce strong eyes

                Butterscotch Fez

                              tassel of delight.

               *               *               *

On the many paths of stone

            a light    a light    the

                          wanderer     the  strider

                          chime the moon

           pull open rusted gate

                          break the clasp

                                          shards of old iron rain.

               *               *               *

Around the wheels, we roll we roll

             strumming meadows

                               hopscotching sagebrush.

               *               *               *

On the granite bridge arching a

                       dark river,  long shadows

                                         from the approaching coach

                       clopping of the cavalry

    And                              shaking loose a fine spray

  from grey                                      of dust, settling

skies a raiment                                     sinking, mixing into

  of white                                                           black water

pressed fabric                                                               below night.

      starched ice

shuffling upon

      the coach

            window.

               *               *               *

On wizard, rumple trail

                   broad brocade

                             encrusted twine

       whiskers.     wine.

                   long arms of ruddy primate

                           clasp your throat

                                    press, squeeze

        doubledecker cheeze

                   frosted Matterhorn

                   circus cyclops

                              Barnum's Tower.

               *               *               *

Take me to Tahoe

         I'll commandeer the Fairlane

         And roam the Broad Lane

  In tails, my tie of white

               my clacking rings

               upon the wheel

                        dreamspinning the

                                   Ave Nue.

               Bazillion bright lights

                        slide across my

                                shield, my wax

                                                                     fins.

I'm Padding, prowling on pliant

              Good Years rolling up the kazoo

                                   rustling up some 

                                                black coffee,

                                                       ham eggs

                          a dime store soda

                                    and one bright Indian nickel

              Slot me Jack, the spark is mine

                          the cash is kickin and

                                    ditties floatin

              and Wall Greens twinkles

                          on my bright white

                                    shiny dinner plate!

Brahms' 1st

Deep in the mahogany forest
              the motes    the peat
              the sodden scarves of moss
              the bare thorns of oak
         risen from dense clay
              knifing the wind
                                 a black raven
                                 unblinks, sheds
                                                 knittings of fog.
              And black waves
                                  lap shores of night.


       *                  *                  *

I rode the back of an
   enormous swan. I held a
                    silver torch
                              taller than time

                    I poured a rich basket
                       golden grain
                              across the arms of earth.

   I pulled together
                    milkweed
                    constellations.


       *                  *                  *

It is the time to
             build the blossom fortress.
             To roar the pride.
             To glee!



       *                  *                  *

Unleash your bound
              it's dissolving
              it's resounding
                    the purple throne of
                          pure grace.
                    The fine hymn of
                          stepping free and fine.


A brass. A full rose,
     A chime. A season
                         rich and bright.

Mendelssohn Concerto in E Minor with Johathan Crow of Violin

Sweet stars of blue
           sea songs of     spring
           snapdragon chariots
                                   cresting emerald way,

           a great broad path of
                       crystalline milk
                                   orb of brilliant peace.


Race now, dance, trip, flip,
          slip to cinnamon
          vault the castle of joy!