WEBVTT

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Now, I'm going to
take a drink of water

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and read a little longer
poem if I can find it.

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Here it is.

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There's a large park in the
middle of Vancouver called

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Stanley Park, and it's, I
don't know, some hundreds

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of acres of forest, and
ferns, and animals, and bombs,

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and all kinds of things.

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And it's beautiful.

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And before I left Vancouver,
I took a nine-hour walk

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around this park.

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I reach out and
nearly touch the fern.

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The rest of touching
made by my eyes.

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Ferns, great ferns flipping
my neck on a long ocean side

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walk through trails
in Stanley Park.

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Great ferns made me asthma
to my eyes, beautiful miasma.

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Nothing ugly in Peyote Park.

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Green slugs, beautiful.

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Mushrooms, beautiful.

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Dead fish, beautiful.

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Swamp smell, beautiful.

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No death.

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All death is life.

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All dead things, living.

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I can feel the dying cells
in my eyes ringing into life,

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looking into the sky,
seeing gulls and treetops,

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clouds above the blue
Kaleidoscope Towers in the sun,

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great red saw wheels rolling
at me across Los Lagoon.

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Beautiful.

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In my hand, a
cigarette, curious,

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glows red with webs of gray ash.

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Initials on the
trees, beautiful.

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Eyes on the trees, watching,
hundreds of trees, watching.

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Letting me know I am there.

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Sharing everything.

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Water wiggling up.

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The sand splashed
against my nose.

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I reach out, nearly touch it.

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Cute little water.

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Edge of World holding ocean.

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Walk with moccasins
over bumpy ground.

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Soil on my legs.

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Sand in my socks.

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No itch on me.

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My eyes wide open to sales
dipping at the ocean.

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Ocean boat skimming
top of water.

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Men dangling from
Lions Gate Bridge,

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banging hammers on the sky,
climbing towers, waving bridge

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into the sky.

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Three red berries
and palm of hand

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rolling nudging together,
focusing the park,

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burying dust, dying slowly
into life, puckered on sides.

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Round berries puckered into
soil life, falling among ferns,

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rolling in the sky, glittering
across forehead of my brain.

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My brain, a living thing to
look into a top Kaleidoscope

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Tower and air, comprehending
the park umbrella descending

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on park.

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Striving with branches
from the ground.

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Dying cell by cell.

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Popping into life with
peyote explosions of color.

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These are veins in my hand.

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These are sunshine webs strung
face high across shadow path.

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Oceanside rump beside handrail
turned green by the forest.

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This is the forest
growing, doing

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these things every second
of wheel turning time,

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stretching seconds
to spend hours.

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Showering Crimson Waterfalls
of seahorses over yellow sand.

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Starfish is throbbing purple
stars in the glass filled sand.

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Old tap water bulging
and sprinkling over

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very holding hand.

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Flower between the
teeth, beautiful girl.

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Flower between the
teeth, beautiful man.

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I almost touch you.

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My eyes complete the touching.

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I gather you in the
arms of my eyes.

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I see you in sun.

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Explosions of brain.

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I caress you with
tongue of orange petals.

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I see you in eyes of the trees.

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I hear you in thunder
below the wobbling bridge.

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I extend my hand to you.

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I feel the skin holding my hand.

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I feel you warm in
the pores of my skin.

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Your color is lapping my skin.

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Greens of the Forest
Park lapping my skin.

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I taste your life on
the roof of my mouth.

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The silver rimmed
contours of the day

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hold you art parabola
of your love tension.

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Pin to the edges of the Earth.

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Pouring the Earth full of color
blasting me with gentle color

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burst of soul in body.

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With my soul I rub your chest.

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With my soul I breathe and
the Earth breathes back.

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