Deadwheeling

I struck the wrong chord in my mind
a chord made out of doubt 
I used my weapons and my resources
I've hung them out to dry
I've lost myself this time

Spiders stagger up the walls of my mind
laid with oil too slick to climb
Much too illogical to believe
Please stay don't leave
I'm sorry if I scared you.

Eye to eye I see through you
you've struck the wrong chord
played this game too long
I still see you sleep
this time on a wooden bed
You lay so still perhaps too much so
but you struck the wrong chord

No it's not okay it's not alright
Subconscious suicide
Deadwheeling again
straight to your grave this time
So much more to see
than what they have shown
I'll never see you again
not this time at least

MM 1992

High Holy Days

Hijacked 

pulpit

entombed in smoke
beggar's hand broadcast 

signs of electric 

snake

Black 

shock 

persecution, hung 

from a cross

high water mark

draining

Bullhorn 

flock
exit en mass
spread righteous 

terror

    Construction path
spike on the road
buzzards circling
combustion debris
mutilated animals, lying 

in route
plastic salvation

ties
    blood-let contribution

God, why

have you led

us this way?

MM 2007

The new season

I’ve got a name and a place,

maybe shame within grace

It’s flowing out of outstretched arms

It’s welling up in a twitch

A gasp that speaks in stoicism,

of tension drenched in cynicism,

bubble-wrapped layers of protection

Cargo dripping with death of supplantation,

out of its element

When things go awry

it’s there waiting outside the door

in conference with its quashed thoughts

Under the table it lies,

ghosts of the dead moments

expressed in an activity report,

quietly brewing up a new plan

to move this spike from the table to the grave

            The new code

MM 6/2013

Effective presentation

Projecting failures out into the future
Stacks of cards lined up across the table
in rows you just can't make them straight
Rationalizations in the key of existence
and heads in the damp dark clouds
The scanner shows it sinking
but logistics surely lead the way
from the show into the storm

On legs all wobbly and loose
this table holds forth the half-baked plans
The epilogue is a shame faced red
for the silence in the story
and the motions are of a steel-toed boot
kicking the shit up slowly and dutifully
churning in silence biting your lip
Waiting through the turn

MM 4/2013

The great god-like projector

The great god's projection is upon us
The great god's projector never lies
Solemn light and shade and heat
breaking upon us
I've never met a moment so clear as the moment I see in you
Alternating and turning away, breaking free 
is understanding the gravity that we are subject to

Books and tablets are carved in stone
prescribing the past the present and future
It's just a meditation that we have
He and I she and I and we wait
We watched undulations kicking across the surface
with such intensity as to say "this is that which you will become"
We watched tension boiling over and we agreed
that the surface was buckling and would have to explode
We walked as to know ourselves
with delusions trailing behind like menacing headlights

MM 9/12

God's Cave

Billows from a canyon
in shadows formulation
a god-form pervasive and dense

One gigantic clip or chapter
it can literally suck you dry
of life and of inertia

Shackling or piercing or nailed to the floor
but when eased and prodded
and carefully peeled back

Harnessed with such an extreme degree of concentration
it begins circulation
It casts light again

Gray shadows become nuances 
within them lie beginnings
upon them forever and ever

Lead the way then follow

MM 7/12

It's Time

It's time to start something
It's time to start something akin to unraveling
It's time to begin to being
It's time to knock off the rust
When time graces and when time sprawls
It's time to start mending menacing moments
It's time for breath and healing
It's time for the great unwinding
It's time for the great unwinding from the sky
Breathless in an ocean of infinity
It's time for waxing and waning
It's time for waves upon you both warm and jarring
It's time for resting upon the tops of heaps
of motioning rumbling unrest beneath you
It's time to realize that the morning creeps into your room
and shakes you with an anxious sigh
It's time to pass between a stage
and know that life and death are interchangeable words
It's time to pass the rung to the space below

MM 4/2012