TIME TRAVELERS

Break the bonds with more bonds still to fray, as you are gone only this day, of which no time remains. Because now is yesterday, and forty seconds become sculpted as years of clay, as now i speak, now i scream and whisper the same. As we file through these fractions, all the while we fill the blanks and say, spelling out our arguments with underlined words and punctuation. I exclaim as you refrain, become pixelated in your face, water buckets in the well, swimming, we detain. Chiseling our quarries still, fills me with much disdain, I am spoken, from whispers I refrain as points and abbreviations come to claim. I am you but where are we, as filled with eternal marble debris, pious porn impeccable peach by which we are beseeched. Still I look on feather quills with weathered eyes of where to be, what's to come, and what's to say, because for you now is yesterday.

By the vibrate formed irate swallowed senseless form of guilt.
Wallowed up inside the duct tape scraping at the mouth.
Your face is pixelated, silent echoes are reverberated.
Icicles anticipated with spaghetti on the brain.
Parched in pieces, spare but one penny for my jar.

So I know that soon we will conclude, just as this spice still eludes
I am me and you are you and reversal of us
plus two is sure to never make it through, sidewinding seven zeroes, equals my embrace.

Up to par, we are far, hours of pennies in my jar, a chance, I may have this dance, with some sergeant sold, and spent.

Take a second out for goodness' sake as into the glass the copper breaks, as I am last in line again, you are third, as we combine the word. Vocals become text as I was last, now I'm next fulfilling backbones bent and spines tangled, the wires of our brains become a mangled mess as we are transported telepaths through squares and dare not ask why. The filaments fry, embossed with curves and scents that cost us cells.

You tell us so much of what's inside your spaghetti's recipe and such, from the place that has been carved out of your maple face, grains I trace in ellipses on their axes. Converted mixed and sniffled rosemary, a rhombus hazel craze of 'hope'. Tourist, why did you underline navel, put a dot next to a less than sign. These sine wave ripples never end, frequencies of the LFO's bend, we all follow the robot trend, desensitized from hours as they turn to seconds.

See you tomorrow in five years, dive into the blue planet with open ears, see you in Venus' hollow sphere, contrived, a castle, forlorn to hear.


-2008 performance piece.. "HERE IS THERE"

SOTO & us

sleeping poet

on the phone with souls

stolen from the sent away

mastering the art of Volume

the poet is asleep, external silence

where she can become nothing

visiting death's cousin

time to awake and re-dedicate to now

to the infinite language that 

is spoken very well

good night, and thank you

good morning

good and bad

want what you do not want 

do not want what you want

want not, do you, what want

no desire

no suffering

connections of all

placid and peaceful

for the poet who is asleep

visiting death's cousin

everything becomes a blur

now, for focused times

infinite gratitude for opposites

forever sound endures

At blue 7 AM Father rains from the sky
To Mother in every Unseen crevice
Uddhamsoto born this day
Contemplating his first
The phases turn again
Lost here, found in now
Each brick lift Broken branch levitate
Changing EQs Goodbye for now
Succumbed to existance Partial to it
Embers, remembrance Up with the tide
Expansion wide Pi Eye L.O.V.E.

my long lost spaceship

heaven is here

jian'ai

universal love

兼愛

questions

what is this?
what am i?
where are you?
why are we?
what are we?
when are we?
when am i?
when are you?
where am i?
why is this?
what are you?
why are you?
how are you?

questions, questions
not to be answered now.

making music...

is beautiful.

imbued by the spiral

i am a wish/fish come true

swimming through existance,

splashing with my eyes.

ink and symbols activate,

as sure as i am alive.

whatever's meant to be 

is simply meant to be, 

and who's to tell, but we;

a living symbol, free.