To You Whom Be the Reader Now

To you whom be the reader now,
My love is vast and real and I aught not be a comedienne but I am sending this love out to you. For my thirty-first annual Me Being Alive soiree, I want to send love letters to the inspiritators of my heart.
You who have shaped and supported and given of that big ripe smoky moon to me, and all your screaming delight of being alive and Revolutionaries, and sweaty rock concert velvet swoon cabarets, and wild forest candle-lady lass singin troubadours we are, and bonfires and scarlet fevers and swashbuckling tavernesses, and tra-la-day we be youth the state of mind!, I love you alls so to foreverland! We are the ones who laughed and swang on swings in the face of our disgruntled families and the shaking Man finger in our face saying "you! ha! you can't change the world!" Well look around now Mister. Oh girls and saviors! Thanks be to your sweet hearts of poetry and vagabond dreams! You are the ones who taught me to love the river AND the gutters and the coffees of the rues and the rails. You are the inspiritators of my heart, whom Heaven-Sent, brought me out of oppressing violent life that I once knew ( in the ignorance of first love). You wore party dresses and velvet suits and then we Grew and we Grew, and what made us stand out is still what makes us now a growing revolution of young and wonderful madmen lovelies and grown-up kids and children of the western widelight. Our good souls, our good song, our good love, our true hearts to each other. Remember it! To not lie is to your own advantage, now and forever!


Early-late after noon. The bright yellow flower squash I am eating is so lovely. And coconut rice... I think (right now) that forever is a long time to be alive. But yet it is what I am made for! I love breathing,

This is How I Got Here.
Breathing!
Feeling,
dancing and running,
through the courtyards up the stairs
tis I who looked for you. (and years!)
I searched and pried for you (the tears!)
I searched and scrounged for you!
my dear!

I read Walt Whitman's scavenger tales
of hours of madness and joyful trails
i died and i died and million times
but my ghost was still employed
by life
and by one dream of magic
that writhes through our tree veins
receptors of neuron brains
adenosine- caffeine trains
skies breathing blue jangles
angel and city bangles
too lustrous too leave and too
real to believe.
and dark arms were to hold me and
wanted to hate me
but my love is too greatly
my love is too greatly.
and dark arms were to hold me and
wanted to hate me
but our love is too greatly
our love is too greatly.

Winds come and blow
the dresses that I knew
those trips of the exhaustified
unto the memory black holes.
Where the past becomes ice
until it melts into now
transcendental glory-man
comes emerging to glow.

beatist buddhist buddy priest
take this year and inspire a feast
take your past to drink with wine
til all is devoured
and the hour is divine.

Currently listening : The Times They Are A-Changin' By Bob Dylan Release date: By 21 June, 2005