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Poem
Jazz man of the mill suffering atomic verse
Born of the waves, air-raids of sound 
Moons  to profile the edge of weather 
And sun to light the way 
Inside the cliffs and black holes beyond 
Above the clouds and into the grey, above the darkening that schemes the rain 
Existential thoughts float through and around 
This soundless web of universal cradle 
Spiralling like a cloud-like paradise bird 
Parting starlight to make a whir
Then sending great voiced energies free to cause change 
Through spine of sea to waiting green 
And once on land seen but not 
Till moonlight afforded its care to sleeping windows 
 Seen but unseen the entwining senses unite 
Above the thatching groove of roof 
Underfoot is under the hoof 
Hoof gone heavy sunk in rust 
Thick with despair and lack of trust 
Husked and strewn along the ridge a bridge undone 
To traverse is to teach and to teach is to instruct 
How to balance it all on the head of a pin 
The head of a pin is larger than the ideology of a needle hole 
And the beginning terminology of a black hole
Ever decreasing yet increasing in momentum 
Threading itself through the mirror of the eye 
Passing through ledges of core controls 
Inside the cliffs of inner was
To release a tide of change 
Under an evermore rainbow spinning well 
To dwell in such light is to bathe in radiant auric chambers 
In symphonic wave  of where
Locations linked in time and space 
Registered timeless as the face of cloud 
Meeting in eras time and time again 
In skies worn along the edge of what?
Like the rim of skirts placed around a ceaseless twirl 
Akin to a hem on a mountainside 
Of whirling rains that skirt the towns 
Enveloping all in mists of green hue 
To touch and re touch the blandest  frames
To ignite a system under the flames 
Where shifts toggle ramps to turn 
To elevate the human mind 
around and through stubborn matrix bubble 
Exploding fires of truth to burst 
into sudden unseen forseen 
Prophetical mystical journies colliding 


Snow holes of cellophane home and search lit garden 
In which great powers can be found in the eyes of buds 
A plan so nodular to rig a such of beaming
Streaming thoughts collide 
and told again to hold as a riddance 
By candle and flame and combustible chain 
pulled tantamount to needling poles 
Onwards, upwards and over the ridge 
pronged in foot falls of wherefore  and why 
A journey of dust over the sky 
comes about nothing and ends on the rib caged fender of man 
But nothing is a vortex and vortexes shift 
only through till and its drifting 
Ending and beginning in endless drifts 
Like tidal-waves of invisible snow 
that sifts to bent knee of shoe where everything comes to nothing
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