It’s in the ambivalent
sense
of the word
terrific
that I encounter
the
ordinary
the plain
matter-of-fact
objects
that surround us
like fences
of yesterday
the external
inanimate junk
that seems
simultaneously
a reflection
of the sublime
the objective wasteland
that is
proportional
to the subjective Edens
it is in that sense
of duality
that
I see all things
as
the nascent
finite infinity.
learn meanings
asphyxia
coated roughness
in tender existence
panic so beautiful
you call it
god
learn the noise
behind the word
lurking behind
a search
so silent
you call it
drums
learn abyss
a fall
inevitably soft
dismemberment
asunder
you call it
peace
learn meaning
holding the concept
explosions
ready to kill
the unity of thought
you should call it
jackpot!
Happiness
is the fly
on the tip of my nose
that with the slightest
twitch
flies away
Happiness
is my beard
made of many individual
studs
always shaggy
thus never uniform
Happiness
is rebound love
a one-night stand
after I met Joy
before I knew Grace
Happiness
is my tongue
quiet and sparing
but drooling
for the divine
Happiness
is happiness
a rare antique
from my childhood’s
sleep.
The books
of
Alexandria
are
burning
but
the script
of the
world
is
still
intact.
When I wake
the day
is
a wide-open eye
I had a god
under my fingernail
but onychomycosis
got to him one day
I am a connoisseur
of nothing relevant
by night
my
vessels
are empty champagne bottles
waiting to be full
I drink red, white, pink, yellow, black, eerie
wine
still looking for a fermented god
that even a nihilist wino can love
still looking for the wretched divinity
that will close the eye
of
tomorrow.
I wear thirteen-year-old T-shirts
but I spray them with the most expensive colognes around
I don’t buy them, only use the testers
I’m socially awkward so I might come close
to touch your hair without asking for your permission
you’d probably punch me
but I’ll say that I’m weird and sorry
I’ve never punched anybody in my life, please don’t hurt me
I’m not afraid to write a poem
when something beautiful touches me inside
I see my drunkenness as a preface to wisdom
when I drink a poem I become a mystic
when I peruse your vodka I become a breathing metaphor
I use my sadness as a dictionary
to decipher the language of modern civilization
I do not wish to bore you with my autobiography
when you are done, burn up this poem and use the flame
to warm up your soul.
kneel and pray
humanity
sit in lotus
on the highways
fill the fields with prostrated bodies
till perception becomes only vibration
cease action
we’ll go extinct
but in exchange
we would have the supreme reality, bliss, timelessness –
these no longer words
but palpable facts,
enough calm to abolish the despair
of another millennium
of 20th centuries;
decay in silence
till there is a pure core of beauty
the entire cosmos
as the tingling of an approaching
eternal orgasm
Beyond Language 
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