The silver bird sliced icy air

while motors droned with ease.

A canopy of blackened light

stretched up beyond it's fleece

consuming stars and galaxies

where illume as if exists

lone lunar orb tho shrunken,

full and bright

eclipsed the deep abyss.

Below lay muffed a sea of clouds,

reflected from it's gift

these eyes could see no end

of the beauty given to them

on a flight to Magadan.

              AM

Down by the licorice sea

Laying languorous and sweet

My lover dreams of me.

I lay my head between her sighs

And breath her musk

And believe her soft sweet lies.

  Mike Butler

Who owns this thing called language that can dictate what we say ?

Show me your fuckin' license, if you can't, then go away!

You moral bastards like to poke your noses in our midst

tell us all the evils of the world began by someone saying "Shit!"

Convenient, you can put the blame on others that you hate

for expressing an opinion to which you can't relate. 

But I forget from definition, yours alone not mine,

hating is forbidden, don't exist, not in yer mind. 

Practice is a different bird from your perspect and mine,

We both make accusations, falsehoods over time.

I believe like hell that you mean well,

Your concerns deserve applause.

But leave me to my dirty words

Or cover up your balls!

  AM

Murmurings of Parys and Friends

say your name

but

don’t do it in vain

while tree tops talk

their branches are like gossip

spreading to outward mouths

with lips waiting to inhale

and then

your name becomes stale

P

we have standing top of the mount

hopeful & happyly

because,

we want to say:

sun is for all & earth too

the earth which demands peace

we can to be

with an effective

we can penetrate with sun in our hands

in deep darknes of earth heart

in that there

many eyes, have set anxiously, innocent & deprived waiting hands full of peace & life

we can

as we like

i, you & all people

like peace, living & love

we like our children

with but those who are black or white but deprived

we are " webists "  Habib Aghamohammadi

a place where nobody goes

to sit in a pool of dreams

waiting for an answer that

nobody knows

an unwanted mishap

that lives on it’s own

never to be fed

never to be owned

a sacred sadness

in unsettled partitions

dividing a scene of segments

waiting to be owned.

P

“ calling

    cards into the mists

  of zero.”

Calling.

Dddd v’mmmm da kcsej lof du

B v’mmmm dakc seau of du

Uld d.j. c vujk b de afso

U ud dacm fek vo sab

Bavsk moecd f.j. d’lu

Ofs dea u ak buc v’ mmmm dddd

B v’mmmm d’lud fosa kejc

U ud fo sab v’mmmm da ekc.

Mists.

Ef calb suj nac dox

Eoca uts caea un fx

Ef c lu abjes Nnnnn daox

Ecuo u ad c tef asax

Euc flyd c b noa sax

Eo cuca tau sed a fx

Cud jo elnaf bac sa

C sota euex afed u team

Efca sax od su

Eola saxf du c.

Zero.

A c ewlf jox uf su

A c eeux sof c xau

A lof c fx sejucw

A u ox cxfa escue

A c le fowj x fusc

A c u exoes fx cau

Wel ja fulx c osf

Eec sax cufu o ax

We caj flux ocsf

Eel as x u c fo u ax.

Noji.

plexus breath

vortex in astral fields

exchanged 4 petals.

Mepen ur essst ce

Heg ull egin ertoth I de

Naiad yof nd ke-er ouru ole

E – in or one

Bird ate you                  aler

Yoth bet to yosh

Yospi liha life ne

Rhy a go thaas

Caofy cont blenop

Thits the sfo.

Reyoble you situ

Do deyo

St.bess urpof ha-aft

An will an fin.

Noji.

For this:

Each moment passing

I forget your name, your face, your list of entitlements,

the strange things you did when we met, and the way we connected.

And this could be anyone;the artist, the activist, the video guru, the poet, the intellectual,  the person I momentarily fell in love with at night, after beer and shots some whiskey, it could have been on the phone,

in a car at a party at an opening: it could have been anyone.

And it's these little moments.

Each time I forget someone, it's a tiny rededication to connect again,

i rededicate you to be the one who shows interest in the things around you,

the one who reminds me of the people i know from growing up,

who seem so down to earth, so real somehow, who remember that school is not as important as the person on the corner:  college for the lived.

I rededicate our shared moments and our shared existence to this:

A silent, shared, peripheral but whole understanding through totally unrelated words;

but we understand that we are  committed to each other in one moment,

passing through this with so many other people but that right now, we share it here.

I again, rededicate this to ourselves, to raise glasses in times of shared confusion.this is isn't a Who are we? Where are we going? How did we get here? understanding,

understand me.  This is rededicated, in everything to giving everything.

"We" will not ever exist in more than  one moment. "We" do not go anywhere,

"we" did not go anywhere, we were here the whole time, moving through, wading through where we were, stopping on tiny new paths, discussing it with ourselves.

James Mayhew

www.ikatun.com/mayhem

Parys St. Martin