There is absolutely nothing more important than being alive. Than this journey of discovering what it is to be alive. Then sitting in wonder and awe at the existence that you are. Than being present with this unending, ineffable presence that surrounds, sustains and plays joyfully with your strange bunch of cells.


nothing and everything and everything again. the soul of your soul of your soul exists not merely within your body, but within every cell that bounces between this jumble of consciousness and the huge vast breath of the breadth of the universe that spreads expands like herculean lungs and sends shivers down the silvery spines of all that stands, shouts, reaches towards the beginning and the end and the ultimate, unending union we are, have and have been. we are the reaching. the unending feeling. we are the nonsense mongery. the word beyond all the words. the trust beyond all truths.

we are rooted, we are flying we are fleeting and we are everything and nothing. we are hungry and we are raining like every last word we are. listen to the words, to the intention, to the direction of directionless floating and flopping.


don’t you know what you are? don’t you know what great rivers run through your blood? don’t you feel the quake inside your shaking underside as the mouth of the moon touches your silver sweet skin? don’t you remember the womb of words that pushed you through the branches of your limbs and lingering soft smiling secretions of sound. the great yalp that crashed down around you as your tore your spirit out of the trees, ripped your heart out of the sleeves of meadows and surrendered your infinity to the new voice of temporal time? don’t you enjoy the tick of the clock as it bounces around your brain, making shapes out of sand and clods of clay and creation? don’t you want to feel the furnace of boiling, building blocks of new thought sandwiching your skin between the ground beneath your feet and the grounded earth laying flat and foundational inside your great hurricane of a body? don’t you feel the sides of your eyes crack open when the light filters through the sound of morning? don’t you feel every inch of your knowledge crawl towards your flesh like a spiderweb of screeching and searching and seething? doesn’t your blood turn milky and wet when you hear the echo of your voice hitting pavement…the sheer weight of being a sound? don’t you radiate through your ribcage every time time leans over to give you a kiss- to force your head back into the hurricane of being powerless to the power of poetry, prose and the perfection of being part of a part of a particle of the sun. don’t you ache for the quaking, quivering voice of love to rush through your spinal cord of connection and creation? don’t you WANT to be ALIVE? burning and breaking and seething and tasting and twisting and twirling down the tongue of time? don’t you WANT to feel the want to want anything at all? to desire to dream to pulse to devastate to be laying in the middle of the street covered in bloody ruin and disastrous, disgusting truth? to taste with your whole stream of wind? don’t you want to do ANYTHING at all for any reason at all? don’t you want to be infinite?

find, follow, and EXPLODE.


I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am.
I know that I am not
a category. I am not
a thing — a noun.
I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process — an
integral function of
the universe.


Only on condition of a radical widening of definition will it be possible for art and activities related to art to provide evidence that art is now the only evolutionary-revolutionary power…to dismantle in order to build a social organism as a work of art.


As our minds will attain the non-linear associative powers that will do away with the static mold of analog information we will finally break through the speed barrier of thought.

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We need the tonic of wildness…
At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things,
we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable,
that land and sea be indefinitely wild,
unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable.
We can never have enough of nature.
Henry David Thoreau


let the life come through you. let the world drip fascinating rivulets of rivers of birth and life through your skin. let the words write you let the air speak your wind through your breaking muffled ribcage. get alive, get awake, get aware. get loose and wild and mad and forceful like a pounding resonance of thunder. get round and shapely and fermented and earthy. get muddy get gone get grounded get your head inside the stardust and your feet inside the magma core of the earth. get your grass all over your body like arm hair and little remnants of every thought that has ever pulsed through the clouds. get watery and wishing and wells of weird whimsical longing. get ferocious and vigorous and timeless. get green and gold and colorless and creamfilled- bursting at the seams with seemingness and the sighs of surrender to the sound of the surplus of serenity. get into and out of yourself at the same time. get into the notes, the rhythm, the music…but most importantly…into the SOUND of it. into the resonance of it as the music experiences you experiences it. get into the taste of your tongue against the tulip of time. get into the rose colored wind of knowing absolutely nothing and everything in the same cloudy clod of a breath. get fragmented and foolish. get grey and old and withered and see the world from atop the perching purple mountain of perennial wisdom. get youthful and burning with vivacious virtue and vibrations of love and light. get everything through the earth of your body. get growing. get air in your lungs and fire in your brain and eyes up your sleeves so that you can see with the whole of your body. feel through your spine. rhyme through your dusty antarctic soul. live from your soul. act from your soul. make art from your soul. feel through the whole wealthy body of the universe the great ancient soul that you are, will be, can be, always. always always. the word is fearless. faith. 

believe in everything. 

especially magic.


The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses
are still truly adjusted to each other;
who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood.
His intercourse with heaven and earth,
becomes part of his daily food.
In the presence of nature,
a wild delight runs through the man,
in spite of real sorrows…
Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Love calls – everywhere and always. 
We’re sky bound. 
Are you coming?” 


“The truth was a mirror in the hands of God. It fell, and broke into pieces. Everybody took a piece of it, and they looked at it and thought they had the truth.”

― Rumi


Light and love and form and formlessness and words. The wonder of exquisite, dancing, perfect words. And anything you do today is right. And everything is true. And every bit of love is present. And presence lasts forever. Just love. Live for art.

and why don’t you care, why don’t you radiate from the base of your hair
from the follicles of your flesh, from the momentous molecule mass you move through
why don’t you pulse with presence and persist with resistence against this
motionless war being played on our youth, on our truth and on our testimonies of being alive
why don’t you call out of your quaking questions and respond to the resounding
reverbetations that are raping the very air we breathe. just slicing through the segments of sound
to reach you. why can’t you hear it. why can’t you see it.

well she’s got coal dust in her soul, doesn’t she

well she’s got moon shine in her heart, isn’t that what that is? the little boxes of burning truth and time and the new path you burned you boiled you soiled and toiled and rubberized the rain.


maybe we all know these things all within the collective unconscious and we just can’t remember them. maybe there are a thousand different realities all happening at the same time. maybe it’s all so much deeper and SO much more profound than i could ever put into words. maybe my words are the music i see through. see through the veil. the only thing i can know is that i know nothing, that most of what i see and feel is illusion and that truly…the world is just playing, just experimenting. that somewhere there is a divine voice laughing at me for getting so caught up in the words.

jolt jolt jolt yourself out of your patterns, pretenses and premonitions to find this organic EXPERIENCE that is happening and sustaining you ALL of the time. every moment of everyday. learn learn learn and then EXPLODE. and KNOW that you KNOW nothing. 

remember it’s just a dream. get far outside of all the things that control and contrive you and be free, floating and on fire. 

be SOUL. 


so so so always, so forever so i am here, writing now reeling wrapping trapping and turning and i can only say that i love. i can only fight for what i know. i am forever.

drink it in drink it down, drip it through, drag it up, drown it in dreary droplets of odorous rain.
today i feel like fire.

i am creating a huge wonderworld made out of undershirts and pounding flesh

you can hear what you are you can feel what you square, what you share, what you need what you feed what you filter and tilt and create.


Now I know why I sometimes find the buddhist guru hippie stuff to ring false for me…because they are ALL the same and they all have the same experience, words, thoughts, smiles. It is wonderful, but seemingly unoriginal. And what is new, vital, connected, creative is always ALIVE and changing and in flux and vitally responsive to the world and how it is glowing NOW. To the wind of EVERYTHING. To letting it ALL in and having a myriad of colors. 

“Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.”


“Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star…” 

 – e.e. cummings


“My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, and I intend to end up there.” 


“This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.” 


“This being human is a guest house. Every morning is a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor…Welcome and entertain them all. Treat each guest honorably. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” 


“And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself?” 


“Inside you there’s an artist you don’t know about… say yes quickly, if you know, if you’ve known it from before the beginning of the universe.” 


I’m dragging my soul through the sound of the universe now and it’s miraculous.

become alive because it is the only work you have to do. my life is a journey towards my own living. my expression is an exploration of what it means to expel emotion through a big breathing chamber of life and love. my life is a tunnel into a hurricane through which all words i have ever imagined or wheezed through my heart attacks become sense-ful, meaning-less and big, bold and juicy. 

use all your energy to awake yourself from the inside, from the outside, from the side of your side from the in of the out and the WHOLE in the circle.

Trust that it’s in you. Deeply and truly. Internalize what you deeply and truly know and know that is it ALWAYS accessible. Right there sitting in your skin. Recall it, but don’t force it, don’t crush it, just breathe it. Don’t drown in yourself. Just let yourself be and become to absolute totality of you that you are at any and every given moment.