Groups and Singles

The difference between MapQuest and sushi
Is that one is the means to the other
Groups will say this is random
Singles will say: What isn't?

Groups are struck by the order
Singles strive for the chaos
Yet life is the same substance
Life is a sand pile of snow

The difference between silence and wisdom
Is that one is the means of the other
Groups never want to be restless
Singles are restless always

Groups are struck by decisions
Singles decide in a moment
Yet life is the same substance
Life is an endless show

The difference between blue and orange
Is that one is made of the other
Groups will say that's the point
Singles will not even bother

Diamonolog

Moving along the tangent
Barely touching the surface
We feel lighter. The problem
Is that we are actually lighter

You see, in this conversation
There is no dialog.
Voices, through time
Talk to each other.

They talk about perception
They think of special problems
Claiming the right to survival,
Listening to the music.

Melting, floating music
Of Simon and his friend Garfunkel
Looking for threads and needles
Actually looking for nothing.

Saturday night. The fever.
Throat hurts, and you know
Voices are stronger and dimmer
Voices are longing for show.

Close your eyes and listen.
Listen, we know nothing.
Voices whisper: Who cares?
Voices dissolve in the darkness.

Seattle - Portland

To New Yorkers
The clouds leading to the mountain snow
Look strangely beautiful
Even Marcian
Because New Yorkers are used to
rectilinear order

To them
This fracta-natural geometry is a taboo.
And the entire Pacific Northwest looks unorthodox.
It is quiet, floating, yet questioning
The very essence of the boxed order.

Perhaps everything New Yorkers fought for
All these years
Might loudly fall down
Right here, on the 35 minute flight
Between Seattle and Portland.

Indian summer

The Indian summer
Feels like the beginning of summer
To those
Living in the Arctic Circle
Of yesterday's thoughts.

These thoughts
Float through the ancient sea
To the strange Nice
Were the journeys through
Cote d'Azur begin.

Most thoughts are frozen
At the top of the Cactus Garden in Ez
Where the mouth is full of Rioja and gnocchi
And where the feet hurt
From spiraling around
The majestic Barcelona.

As the airplane clouds over
The Indian summer feels like
The beginning of summer,
Yet we know that
The warmth will fade
Like a memory of a place
We have never been to.

On the plane Geneva - New York

I am stuck in an empty bottle of wine
Yet the life outside seems perfectly green
I am running
I am spinning
I am screaming
I am crying
Dear Devil,
Please let me out
Or take me in

I am stuck in an empty bottle of wine
Yet the sky above looks perfectly blue
I re-read all my books
I re-thought all my thoughts
100 digits of Pi
I computed last night
Dear Devil,
Please let me out
Or take me in

I am stuck in an empty bottle of wine
Yet the bottom below looks perfectly black
I have made up my mind
I am leaving behind
This bottle of wine
As soon as I think of escape
Dear Devil,
Please let me out
Or take me in