it's time now

Strung out on love I remember you when you were perfect, All night long I’m the liquid sky seer, Bubble eyed against the atmospheric barrier, Up town to have seen the professor, And not be related to, Looking for her notes of my constellations, Pictures she drew the night before, I knew whe had the perfection of the universe, And I was blistered, betrayed, bungled by not belonging, A tongue on cloud nine, Tuesday mornings paper thin truth, The gland of a spore in an empty of hand, Every moment a million enzyme melt down, The primordial spawning, Daisy lilting, Skipping lenses magnify, Trimming windows on the lighthouse, Slipping them into the middle season, Splitting tributaries in soft minded self matter, Pale mazes seldom scene, Angled into into childhood again, Polished appetite, Prayer with a solid presence, Strung out through time, I was a serpentine crawler, Little dna dust bowl tea pebble, Bleeding destinies wounds, Half worn best impressions Of a desperado who said I love you. An embroidered uniform capsule, Little dancer blowing in the wind looking for the answer, In need of a sharpshooter for the afternoon, To the gallery to see if really has the imaginary friend up and running, And they will hold hands together for the number cruncher, And enter the uninhabited essence, And then not recognize each other ever again, And give up looking, And days beginning to evaporate, leaving nothing in there disappearance, and that became their solace, the falling rain of silence that came down around each other, that became the hidden context for their connection, the rain of such a quiet breath, it was as if time stood still to listen, and all they had of love, and they wanted to perfect themselves for it, now finally what the meant to each other, to learn the quiet way that gave all its attention to listening to the sound of eternity, and its release, the ratio of closeness and unchosen the depth of time broken at night pulling in closer all the remaining dizzying heights of half truth recitals, and touch and breathe once again in the melody that was never theirs anyway, wasn’t mine so I could relax completely, and be properly crushed into vapour, and the mirror is closer to the air, strung out by a look from crowded stranger of a clouded danger of closeness unchosen it was another time I mean, full of ammunition and dreams, strung out in a quiet dream rain, the sign of eternity and its release, and the depth of time to touch and breathe again the sound of the machine, that trapped our light, an experiment with the speed of soundwaves, the earth just a pore in some inter-dimensional membrane, breathing costumes and a cup of tea across the deathless, seeds and pollens push and pull, veils and seals, footprints in the grass, a handful of leaves in the wind, and in between we dream of each others wings and their flights in white cliffs and ice cold light they tried to touch and then they turned to hide their own echoes, by holding the sound with a very heavy breath, to touch the primordial and they got between each others meaning, the shadow of every thousand centers, a hundred thousand centuries carry the virgin bride, asleep in perfect trust, sunset in her shoulders, put on all the afterlights and I can swim away, a half breed in the southern wind, rubber gloves a bow tie and a twist, I think of you waiting back there on the shore, Signal towers puttings lipstick on her armies, Lost in time and other organizations, Her tight rope I’m sitting on a pile of sand, Funny strings rain the veil, Secrets of the desert matched for a decade, Strung out in time, erasing the dawn, Back before their were tomorrows, And any shape of the night seemed like forever, Held together by a snow angel, the white Madonna, The river of my belonging,. Has too many heart beats, Under the quiet thunder, Outside the whisper, And hope for a magneto change, But the locusts paint my face, And the hands of the clock out of reach, I make them look like techtonic plates, And I thought I heard them calling my name, The night mare turns red, I nice ripe aged, Lilacs a loose wheel, but I didn’t get very far, copyright david ruther

double taste

Baby makes times tethers in square midnight exposures, It’s the unknown soldier again, she’s not in the mood, but up on the scene, I make up an excuse and go try out on the tiles mythology, Somewhere I am sure I’ll find out how someone put this valentine into the end of the kaleidoscope on Friday mornings window side glow widow, Go out for a nomad we ignore, They are crazy and stupid, It’s purple lavender sun ups and sun down shadows, A bright orange fountain pours up through silky iridescent haze in the deep shades out stretched along their horizons, The mornings inner ultra raptitude A hint of honey and citrus glowing here and there through lavender obscuitities, The true tests of presence, The stretch of static pressure boundaries, Thinnest threading weaves through scales of blue indigo holdings, And their promises seem enough, To meet the wisdom or flashing metal voices, At the cool end of our procession, And if you wish, A perfect wind will flow through your broken cup, That says I want you to trust, A shapeless tear for a place to rest, And with no trace of remoteness, The fevers of treason will bless you, I hate the open hand but I can’t do it myself, I don’t have the time, And I want it my way, It was counter to breathing but I knew it was for me, So I was sucking on a castor bean, Listening to a dirty screen, Got me a potion of nights lonely proportions, I can hear the curtain call, and I’m about to fall. Like the dust that blows around, blacker and bushier, and joined a burning web as went all along the sides, and she was born again. An oily covering, Changed sides again. And couldn’t put out the fires, And as payment they had to put in an extension, Linked up the sand and laughed at my cracked feet, I stumbled on a volatile substance again, I just wanted a taste of something,. But I touched her inside, And I slipped down and I got squeezed Loose An easy wheel, She was a steal She didn’t know I was watching, I slid so silently up her thigh, Just the cry of the flooding of insides outing, Warning of the ghost butterfly, As she turned away, And the reach of impossibility Her laser shadow I wanted something I could claim and personify, Corrupt fragments of poisoned laughter, I became a lazy doubt. Flipside appetizer, Midnite analyser, Whose was chosen? Mine or hers? A pile of feathers left behind, The sign of a lamp hid behind a stamp, The tribe made the sign, And I had to tell her good bye,

easy baby

In so many footprints, I’ve changed forms so many times, Melted in so many fevers, Wasted ove r the whitecaps, I been pinballs and chessboards and an all night video game in outer space, So many nights turned to eternity, And the chance of dawn like a warm hand in a dark alley, I’m an airport, I’m a sensate in the wasteland, Only got foot prints, I turned the link inside out, Through the mornings slow burn, And touched without a trace, I been called number one in a super fall on the digital debate court But they wont feel me anymore, I have different eyes now, Clear cutting but no proximity, A clear room I’m all alone, I lie for my weak heart, Can’t stand on its own Can’t feel Face the distance between us directly, The shortest route is trust, I cry for the only chance, Lies with honouring my fear with conditions, Making into a preserve, For the abandoned army of friends, Each battle they tried to reach me, T Of true liberation, Only lacerations of my withdrawl, So many colors in my sick bed, Alters fanatic visitors induldgences and wishes, I dream for a depth of a green tinsel covered sea, My breath fills an empty room, Squinty eyes hold the other side of light inside out, Space and time in even increments, Wild spaces of revolving doors, Self inside self genetic conspiracies, Stop watch perameters, My hearts just a little slower, But a direct descent, I lie for the distinction and freedom of my perceptual body, Resting in itself, And make my comfort capsule, () but actually My pain is separating me again, With furry lines, Cross fall pollenating potencies, Baby talk and a clean taste, Sizzling honey cup, Where I lost my night cap, Heady rumors listening to radio waves and a foreign accent, a straight line back, And they call me the ghost shadow, Roulette or surrender, Feels about the same, I been a limelight saviour, Dressed for the conveniences, Collated and collected, Vulnerable and free, Spread over the wasteland, By vines on my arms and in my mind, Breathing pulsing grasping, Hide the train whistle at any cost, In the loss of a flower, And tell her her lips don’t matter, I been spreading the star associations thinner across the blinding white witnessing, I been the awake bouncing in between, But a to z I never been there before, Shorter range than an angel can fall in, Dropping and cooling too fast, Stranger than the land itself, The light mimics the aftershocks, Light Last nights collapse, Reverie on one trail all alone, Trapped by footprints of forgiveness, A brief pretending for belief and launch again in the pristine blue, Dustflake deliverance down the hall, is all I have left, Sticky I/she don’t respond to nothing, Turning and disappear, Right through the heart of the accordion, Trusting in the carnivorous, Listen until the fall,

lost again

Margin error touch the other keys, (Words dissolve into experience,) Wear new masks of witnessing, Hidden lines, time slows to a forgotten dance, In gourds and marriages try to hold that breath forever, Purple celaphane voices Pure wax drawn landscapes, Fast stains in a lucky grin, spinning storm curtains, I try to cover my eyes ears and mouth and wonder how I will last out here, I get my love from pushers, I’m aborted and perspired, experified, Covered in trash and all I can do is laugh about it, On call atrophies, Live on green tea, lemon grass and zinfandel, I’ve run out of carnivals, schools and institutions to trust, All the sacred places are covered in grafitti and no trespassing signs, Swing pop soda top, Give us a twinkle for a night cap, Only a mile to go before I topple, No more reflections I’m the ghost of a vampire, The dutiful where we all get our mojo contracts, And the impersonal meets the personal, Mandarin sugar fringes and fancies, Pretty daisies, easy thin wall stereo kaleidoscope parachute sister, We all fall at different gravities see each others grace, And scared of the tears and untyings, Frogs to the waterfall mist watching, Blast the white thunder, Rattle out the seeds of change, Pull out little strings of deception, Does that thing ever fucking calm down? Just in passing a glance for eternity bounce At what depth does your heart spin? In what territory? Over meditated coffee fusion, Funny butter Is it just each others pain we touch? Snake skin seal pacts of separation, And make a life out of it, deflated castrations, Out of the rain, Notes on pillows, Remains of the days and nights, Her pansy spilling out over the sidewalks sundays, liquid black manganese whispers, I lose the words one by one, layer by layer in the atmosphere,

who boom

Soundings, From a rogue anatomy, On the outskirts of a lost origin, Scared little connectivities, Got a little universe of its own, That spits and sputters, And in little touch points, Little sparks of pure iris,’ (of spikes and thorns) (cause there’s no line it should not cross Soundings, Of little pulses with the heat of blood, In hands and high cliffs of concrete corners, Crowded parking lots and caged up commodities, With a childs eyes, still, quiet, alone and distant, Just an electric grid, Soundings, And the whole wing shook, Took a bad look and was frozen once again, Left one supposition unnoticed, A bunch of words with out names, Soundings, Of blow dried beatitude, There was something already burning underneath soundings, Cause it is new years eve, And balloons were breaking between their legs, They made exploding underwear, A lullaby that lasted forever, Soundings cause reach over and over, Until they believe in Sundays, And get a big shift to begin again, And then they just give, Hard, hot and heavy, Lemon eyes and a dying heart, If you carry it softly enough, You can just stay plugged in to a lonely rex ray, And be another hole in the universe, Sourcing the chemistry that seeps down another’s throat, Just keep your nose, to the grindstone they say, And keep up with the jones, Soundings facing the mountain early in the still pink morning, Waiting for the air to untangle from the night, And settle all around me, And we slowly become strangers, Telling each other little stories about broken dreams, When we learned to whistle like the wind in the trees, And we listened to the coming of new languages in the Age of Aquarius, Deep in our throats, tongues reaching out for syzygy, I am your twin lingering, Of water drainage and brain damage, Back water seepage, and cloistered sentiments, Float myself flat for the corners, I make little chewing sounds of a small animal, A place to keep the sun free from shadows, And still breathe under my feet, And I get aminos to change their name, And go forth without a new spoonful camera, Only touch water, Soundings, Heart stronger than foot, One path, many days, A train in my bed, A skeleton left on a string, In a state of lust, a state of trust, Pumping out dark red blood, Blowing out a candle, No handle, The sun is up, Just another dose of weather changes,

ok i'm listening

I keep my dust with wet brushes, Clay gloves and paint, But you people got synergy, And hidden rules, All my wont’ness Backed up against the dawn again baby, My green marrow flooding, Gas balloons, Places that will never be touched again move around inside them, Left on a lonely place, Northern lights in Saturn skies, Little layers they showed each other little truths, They talked about time and fed the little spider webs around their feet, Misty its’s early and I need a place to start Dried flowers turn to dust in the morning sun, Who’s in my garden, Oooh just let me just tuck in my daisies, The night hides the light of day, Messages crawlers what would you like to know? Passages prowlers, They all have their own kisses Pictures of longing, Night, I wish we could talk about your loss Is it worth talking about? So you wanted to be known? The skeleton wants to dance My sweet habit breaker, Paper boarders, Cash clown talking, Wishes and approval, Pictures floating in her bed, Basket weaving for my pillow, A hollow star, Wings and roses for the alter, Cleanse me gently with the lightest touch, It rains inside, washes everything in muted melodies, Spinning spitter time splitter, You change the fucking jitters, Into off line injuries, It’s the push and pull of romance and intrigue, The way I see you coming back to me, Snap dragon wrinkle bait, I search for hours in firecrackers and thunder clouds, Temperatures and time signatures in the pressure bump, Burning at different weights, There’s a beat on the other side of each bottle of heat, First they take your wings away, Pull them off in little pieces, Let you hang in vulnerable spaces, A touch of wisteria, I got used to the high wire, And when they tell me of their diplomacy, All I can do is cry, And refuel the jet stream, Keep every bodies secrets safe and clean, And after quiet my hands and face, In the fantasy of a broken promise, Flashing in the motel mirror, And after all the chains have taken their place I had to pack up and leave, It’s all lost so why not now, And so we began, Super impressioned, Neuro bionicated, Watch powers of isolation, A guest sits for a long awaited rendez-vouz, His eyes painting the walls with untuned pockets, His pulse irregular, Loosen up the airwaves let them do what they want, Cause the undertones just a wrinkle in the day, Where the raindrops stain the ground, It was silent, Just honor and forgiveness, Ask my baby about this,

stand up stupid

Just between us, Mist and vapour breathe, Soda head, Get me my numbers, After they’ve soaked all night, She made me bad, Just between us we breathe, The morning is still and quiet, It passes right through me, I like the little black shadows full of life, Some kind of inverted emptiness, A silent hum of inner workings, Just a little shade deeper he dug, Drugs and avalanches, Hide the sky in their leaves, Little round flying pictures, It was all just a set up, The spider and the web, The bubble was supposed to spell, Cheap story in the dirty part of town, They took most of what they could get, Cloud fifteen in the ground, in the desert, under the elders, Fingerprints on the window pane, The haze looks the same on my eye, on my thigh, sinking, I forgot to turn if off my friend, The killing fields, Is was all just a dream, But it knew it was, it knew there was seam, Somewhere, maybe on-line, Take it to the extreme, Put back the bubble again on the big screen, An odd little old bottle of death, hanging from the new tree, Desperation to delight, Halls on the brink, Drink it in thirds, Golden eyes, Leave fingerprints on the windows shadows, Hide and seek, Track it with words, To squeaky clean hideouts, They don’t last through the night, Another day on the trail. The wind in an open field, The refuge for all, The soil, and the bitter shadows of early morning, Weight with last nights reset whirlpool waiting, The haze of Africa to Asia, settles in santa fe, All the layers come together again, The new spruce, fir and olive, In last years decay, A wheel with in a wheel. Appears still for a moment, It’s the same time between us, Between when we met, And now, Set the clocks back to zero, Shockwaves baby all over the scale, I push for the beauty, Another garden in the sail, the rain is singling like sleigh bells, The dreaming crickets give me a sign to believe in, Am I seeing more than just the periphery? Peel or press?let me guess, Set the hourglass up first, my little starry eyed staircase girl, My burning rope, A garden of blessings, Silence and stillness making love, Another innocence begins, Ample skin free hair, All along the watchtower, I’m up to my ears, In fur and fishes, Spurs and kisses, Fault line skips, Backwater bridges, But not for indigo, Or the quiet side of soon, Baltimore Alexis, And wait it through, Fucking stick to your fingers universe, And on my ass, I boil but never burn, Learn to turn faster and faster, Hairs turn to ink, Colors rearranging, Changing baby, I’m adaptable, Mobile,

thicker than blood

Golden reapers reappear, All we really have between us anyway, Which way did they go? With river bed feet, and all our private pictures, A thousand eyes left me behind, A bare and bitter covering, With universal memorials, All in incremental increments, All in perfect time, With the wind that can’t blow hard enough to bring me back, Quiet, My connection to the night, Silent candles and mist, And dust, my answer to the flight, Rubber backed lightning the great reminder of the brevity of life, Ink ages thick pages, A glimpse into smooth rock city, A night pause to catch the clover eye, Feathers carry my dreams, Waiting for me to remember them, To consent my secret crescent scalp, Grains of sand left in every footprint on the moon, Night the great concentrator, I touch you on the bijou, A man with a broken leg, Dialing down the essence into my own immersion, Little missions in the dark, Boiling backwards closely to each other, Offer smiles, walls and wishes, Circles around my eyes, I can’t reach through the evergreen, Now that it’s a tidal wave, Heavy eye twenty five years, Under double shade, Not hearing enough, Some parts live and some parts die, It doesn’t matter why, Or how hard your try, Or if you cry out loud, I don’t even care if it sounds like it could rhyme anymore, Days between days, Ever pleasing, One lost at sea, One lost in the sky, No where can they find the corner of my eye, The touch of the tips of my lips, No taste between, Just days, Timing the unseen, Sip by sip, A wind of crickets and rain, Full moon and incantations, A drink for each splash against the sound, Ask a stationary man who’s talking to who’s talking to who what why or when, River bed of deep dust and midnight crush, They talk to me like I’m already a broken cup, With such understanding and love, This is where the heat comes from, A dozen dull eyed roller coasters dizzy and indifferent, Re used images and the reverse spinal forecast, Clean up the sand, Before they ask for each number, Every one lands, On a little rubber band, What if it’s all about the fall? Everyone calls upon the law, Wordless and less than paper thin, And I ask them to give me something to believe in, In the first sip of water, A seizure soaked seventeen gifted with thin walls, Drenched in the halls, Stop action speed line, The sun turned around and touched me from inside, Let me know where I belong, days within days, Flooding ashes tribe, Trip the candlelight, Overnight, Out on the lake, A different vibe, You can swing but you can’t touch the sound, The snake fish charmer pronounced.

but early

Sleepy lavender mountain, And shade darker than the sky, It’s own special haze Lazy trade buffered woven baskets, The nine o’clock outer track again, Stared so hard it took out the numbness, Even so it was hard to hide, A thousand feathers try to get my name right, But I just keep driving anyway, To the other side of the night, Fire in the evening caught up to everything and took out the missing link and each unfolding had a sense and a connection to meet the blindness, Just the hope A good gift of ceremony It starts to rain and the wind is silent, only the steady, slow, soft, falling current, Realizations too deep to bear, buried memories, Silent wings silent Spanish tango spinning around in the perfect liquid, Fields of salvation on fire touch my ears, One circumstance to unlearn, Looking through little crystal moonbeams, Holding fire and so many ways to burn, To keep the forces of protection feeling fleckless, Thin lines capture subtle scents, I can slow down, Fix it time, Vital life, Get a grip and make it shine, Soda fine. I know anything

ahhh

Early morning rising heat, Lifting last nights heaviness of wine and dreams, Warmth in floating breezes, An easy, leisurely, soft mixing of cool shadows into day, Finds the scent of the apricot tree, Syrupy, concentrated, hanging fruit in the dry morning warmth, Velvety and sticky clouds of drifting aroma, Green tea in a large clear glass, Clarifying and refined, I take small sips to gently wake my tender insides, To entice them to join in the wonder, Ripe fruit on the ground, And a mostly still atmosphere, I sit with the heavy spreading branches carrying this seasons bounty, Leaves and wings, Here I am held deeply and gently, And here I wait, patiently, easily and still, For my baby told me to, One must go to the gaps at times, And love the solitude there. It is the only place to make any kinds of connection. To find ease in the place of beginnings and endings, And take solace there. And fall through the cracks, To know of ways in and out, To know how the breath works, To find the great tide, branches touch the ground, And lips and tongues can just open to the taste, To greater gaps, Just knowing, The dream into the seed, To incubate her butter bean bouquet.

belonging

At one end, mist pervading brightness that renders everything, All, Into features of gradations of layers, And seems to be the source of everything, From which all emerges and returns to, At the other end, In the other direction, Sharpness purified vision, By edges and dimensions, Astronomical architecture, But I can not talk of the beauty, Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Waves dancing inside, Over perceptions, Deep waves, Unknowable waves, And it seeks to find its way out, Indeed craves to know itself, To become whole, And it will sacrifice itself to do so, The concentrations of Gewa Jones, His story was pungent aromas, Pregnant pneumatic portals, Mnemonics and Peppers, Fate and frequency don’t equal the foreplay, The end falls out of the beginning 2 My body is a bubble, My brain is a double, But I only want to talk to you one more time, Borrowed beauty burning with the forgotten past, And turned over in spring, A ceremony, A covering, Tender clouds inside, Gently shifting imperceptible billowing, The softness of green shoots after a long slow rain, And inside; A hummingbird tongue, And a taste so sweet, Vibrating in its desperation, Flying fluttering fantastic, Dazzling it tries to imitate the air, For fledgelings lost from the beginning, For new borns too afraid to see their new home, For fifteen samples of porcelain holograms, With a life of their own, But they didn’t know, Their clothes were freezing cold, That they were just placebos, Tomorrow I will take them to a real show, And we will dance on the turning points that arise from the gap between absorption and reality, The scarecrow of the fields of my heart, New enough to be called awake, Windows to toes, I only want to stand with the sensual critters between snowflakes, Snow angels and floating sounds of doves, Bestow and below be a tone, Get out your own stone, The sound of water in the walls, And I ‘m sleeping on my eyes again, All my whiskers show, And only my bones know how to tell which movement is real,

old school, new school

The tongue is the final testing point, Of all that is alive, of all that can be tried And then cross filtered with the caress of the mood shadow, My time in the back slide, Jupiter poison zendo, Charge me up again with your spray can, To please the sand in my veins, Her story is written on me somewhere, Close to my lips, All night with the photographs, The final resting point, Of all that was once known, Bless me again in the illuminated playhouse, At the edge of town, And I for her and her for me, I can’t wait for the atmosphere to fall on us again, The veil now covered in blood, And we come through the cheap plastic mirrors and windows, The silence of whatever we could make up between us, The darkness and the elusive mixed together, And do they complain? And what will we say? Anyway, it’s the same time for me, All my tiny lives like little bugs in the super strings, Secret societies, little hives scratching on my bones, All on a Saturday, In the setting sun, And seeping sand, Slide on the beautiful sleeves, Just some tiny boundaries I used to believe in, Jam along trade fish, Thick wish with a twist, Quieter and quieter, Into a vapour dream, Night on the expanding highway, Is it Bombay or San Francisco? Send it here with the burning season, To each breath along the highway, In seasons and in beliefs, I signify my epitaph for all, A butterfly beach, Forever beginning again, Without a sound, without a trace, My high test dedications, Pinstriped epiphany, Always changing colors, Always a challenge to see, In each breath, Birthed in the shape of a heart,