ISSN 1551-8086
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  November 2004
volume 2 number 4
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Matthew A. Barraza
  Tom Berman
  Jack G. Bowman
  Quiana Briggs
  Tony Bush
  Joseph Camhi
  Velene Campbell
  Michael Ceraolo
  Rosemarie Crisafi
  Dan Danila
  Francisco Dominguez
  John Feins
  Daniel Garcia-Black
  Ursula T. Gibson
  Larry Jaffe
  Donna Kuhn
  Marie Lecrivain
  Sharmagne Leland-St. John
  Laura A. Lionello
  Harold Lorin
  Rick Lupert
  Stosh Machek
  Kelly Ann Malone
  Terry McCarty
  Tim Peeler
  James Pinkerton
  Beverly J. Raffaele
  E.W. Richardson
  Ken Scott
  Wanda Vanhoy Smith
  Rev. Dave Wheeler
  Robert D. Wilson
  mailing list
Rev. Dave Wheeler
November 2004



    Reverend Dave Wheeler is a poet who became addicted to words at age 14. Although he frequents PA meetings (Poets Anonymous) with several fellow "poetry junkies," he still wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat searching for pen and paper. Remember, the addict has to want to change!
    His main focus these days (aside from stumbling down the 12 steps for poets) is helping poets to preserve their work in the digital domain. He has been able to produce about 80 complete compact discs featuring spoken word artists from the Southern California region. Some of these recorded words have made it to national airwaves and other interesting places. For more information:
    Yes, he is legal to marry, bury or baptize!



The House is Still Standing (a.k.a. Impromptu Poetry Party)

The house is still standing

After rocking waves of words

We buried things in the back yard

Like bones and truth to preserve

The transient is no longer interesting

But is

Like wine or words

The light is passed

From each to next

Roof top confessions

Burn in their simplicity

Sacramental water anoints the throats

Of thirsty travelers

We dance on swings and waves

Spinning in wine and sacred flowers
I want to become more pious

But don't

I want to sink into the depravity

Of other peoples minds and my own

And do

Spitting rhythms and conversations

Basking in all that is sinful or shameless

But is neither

I want to taste the labia

Of your mind

Sucking on ice cubes and beer at

The incense altar

Candle lit carcass of every day that has ever passed

Or will

I want to reach infinite wave form

Perfection of chaos and singularity

The moon is full on the lips


Brightly shrieking tones of approval and


I may come back to the ground

One day

But not this night or any

Life soon

This manic mayhem of colors

Is pleasure


Colors of we dripping down mirrors

In clumps of pigment and oil

There is a cup at the edge of

A table

It is empty, fill it

With sand or wine or beer

Or sacred flowers

Of hope or piety or innocence

Or what ever you have to offer

Spill it

On the floors of our minds

And smear it with fingers of tongues

Swirl it in paisley wind-blown patterns

Of madness

The clarity of madness becomes sanity

All saints fall into hell pits of

tobasco pools

I reach for insight

You grab my hands

Guide me along the guard rail of freeway traffic signs

Pulsing and bleeding directions

Only to the lookers

We all are looking

We all are seeking

Madness or

Clarity or

Insight to guide us through darkened halls

We burn double edged candles

Gray matter is only ash here

Until insight springs provide the lubrication

Necessary for movement

Movement is necessary

Touch is necessary

Touch me with clear thoughts of


I will kiss you deep in your heart

Sucking the puss off a malevolent

Corkscrew patter infection of

No feeling or cruelty

I will pull the nails

You will become only stigmatic

No longer crucified

Free to move or stay

Return the favor by listening

Or telling

We are truly in this together

We are truly part of the same thing

I feel waves crashing at my feet

We fill the cup from many wells

I love you

copyright 2004 Rev. Dave Wheeler