Celestial Seasoning


I don’t know how to write this

And make it right

Then again 

the perception of wrong 

is not mine to own…


So here it goes, tea spilled:

I rattled off years, 

While pointedly exposed 

And then afterwards 

in its hilarious, delicious digital retelling 


To the owner of those years: 


1990 something again and again 

2000 something again and again

Dates transposed 

With as much accuracy as possible

With the subconscious in charge 


In each cell vibration 

Its universal return 

Like simultaneous sunrises  

On different continents

Sublime pleasure-scape

Over and over, over the years 

Pinks building to hot pink

Orange, Red

Until the sun peaks, 

Mellowing the sky

Lulling to satiated rest  


… Knowing in all this exposure 

This isn’t the first time 

My escapades led me to The Southern Cross

To escape each of those years

(Even the ones that hadn’t happened)

Yet…


There is no deficit, 


I have gratitude 

Man-I-Festing 

in dampness

Sweat, quiddity, and breath

in and out, out and in 

over and over and over again


So tonight I will dream, 

(I usually do) 

Maybe faces will blend together 

But it won’t  be awkward 

Astral paintings 

Where fear and manifestation 

Rock worlds into 

Sexy, abrasive existence


You can ask Dali; I am right. 

None of this can be wrong. 

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