optimism
Category: Writing and Poetry

optimism is not
a writ
that all will be
progessively perfect
bradybunchtidy
these days
do you believe those rules?
then
you are stupid or crazy
better you hustle,
get in on the joke

choose
(pardon the cliche
or, don't)
to take a deep breath from the guts of
a rose when
you are allergic to it

knowing that
the headaches
tight breath, burning eyes
are indeed
guaranteed

but what the fuck
smell the damn thing look
the opal sunset flaring
like the rose
its last orangepink recital
the green unease
of the night ocean,
damp black density of the coastal sky
approaching, punctured
with an occasional shivering star

it's

trusting in one more
rose
lover
good joke
whatever you want

knowing you'll have
a second or so
with your definition
of earthly perfection

other than this
nothing is granted
better than death
or
a lit cigarette butt smashed in your face

this, but no more
that's it

6:31 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

dear john
Category: Writing and Poetry

our plans for a  walk to the beach
snapped in half by pain, again
i sank, conceding

sulking on a bus bench
waving buses by
waiting for you
to drive me home

it so happened
that each car driven by a man, alone,
slowed down. he'd check me out.
i'd ignore him
he'd drive off

some streets are called
the boulevard of cars
our main street,
the boulevard of hoes

when you drove up
i acted like a ho,
an odd one, in sneakers and headband
dressed more for weeding
or using a hoe

you were puzzled
when i leaned on the door
stuck my head in the window
as if to talk business
nodding, closing the deal,
jumping into the car

you laughed when i told you
and, as we know,
we made that deal long ago
you pulled over and i said yes
a lifetime assignation, nothing less

dear john

1:30 AM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

cataract world
Current mood: thoughtful
Category: Writing and Poetry

the moon plops,  full
like a yolk
with a runny clear border
on a rainbow platter

in L.A. there are christmas lights
all year long
mostly white but

now
not sharply discrete
they glow like fireflies
sitting in a tree
as if we lived in Tivoli

the road in the rain
is a water maze
even with wits as eyes
nothing is clear
where the road begins
or the lights end
where the horizon
is

the doctor knows what he knows
symptoms outcomes cure
the how and all the why
but i know the beauty
the watery sky
oh
do
i

6:09 AM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

ants

god's been bored lately
plays too many pranks
tells lots of bad jokes
that he does
nowadays

hey up there
you're not funny
we're not like ants so
enough with the game that goes like this
the one that kills the most
ants
wins

the argentine ants of summer
look up
and say the same things to me
i sweep their bodies into the trash
and don't care

it just depends on
who you are

7:02 AM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

memo

that messy xerox
tossed on my seat
was a slap in the face
to this habit i have
of winking at death

wrinkled, it stated
to all:
frank passed away
date and time of service
and i will never
see frank
my friend
again

no flirtation this time
sick of playing games
death up and grabbed one

don't fuck with the great motherfucker
death said
fantasies bore me
so
don't

you could be
the subject of
the next memo

sincerely, death
bcc:

4:34 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

then and now (revised 8/27 10:26 p.m.)
Category: Writing and Poetry

were you on the steps of Sproul
and did you think
that in forty years
people would forget a war
when a dance show came on

that Sproul would be a skater park
with people flaunting logos
and four-dollar cups of coffee
rushed MBAs with phones in their ears

the fire that smacked me at Sproul
was the sun not Mario
a  valley heat wave
the cement shimmered silver
and all was a mirage 

a long journey it's been
from an angry spring on the steps of Low
to the caffeinated summer
of not love not rage
the summer of unearned
peace



Sproul Hall, Berkeley, 1964
Low Library, Columbia University, 1968

5:28 AM - 8 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

gone - revised a bit

somehow you fell off my earth
off the horizon
without my say-so
farewells or best wishes
i didn't notice the event

just about now
i realized
it's been a while
i'd forgotten the sound of your steps
that you sang, laughed
or even had a voice

i know how busy i get
but it was like a mug broke
there is no broken glass
i guess you cleaned it up

looking at the shelf
at the unbroken ones
i would not have known
one was not there

i fill a mug with coffee
the air in the kitchen is still
i read the paper
in the silence that is
as if it always was

9:24 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

the june bug

if you were a lacewing
or daddy long-legs
human-preferred
i'd save you and like it

but there you are
brown potato body
thick spiky legs
crawling on my floor
a living invitation
to squash, so what
just a bug

i get a piece of paper
i make you walk on it
it's like herding a cow
i put you in a jar
and shake you out the door

i look down
my whole body
is covered
with goosebumps
i shiver
feeling contaminated

your beating heart
brain
eyes
make you my equal

i can read and you can't
you can fly and i can't
you're ugly but never started a war
you never take more than you need

we're not star quality, either of us
we're scuffling about in the world
making a living
both of us
and
i don't plan to change that

8:13 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

gladiolas

satan favors the gladiola
if you touch it
it will mark you as one of the next
passengers on the boat
that glides down the styx
the mark never comes out
satan sees it even from hell

at the end of the ride
the newly damned scream
hitting the spikes, the coals
soaked in hydroflouric acid
they're posted ubiquitous
on tv monitors
to keep the minor demons feeling
cheerful  calm
superior to something

whenever satan eats, he always toasts:
salut! to the idiots on earth
our busywork
our comic relief
zofar! to the damned
lazy fat fucks. who
never read the fine print
they'll steal anything
cheat on anyone
lie. best of all
they don't think we're real, heh
makes them easy to catch

before dissolving them
humor them
don't ever forget their gladiolas
they expect them when they die
along with their last mass
their water and oil broken with lemon
they forget the part
when we rip their flowers
off their neck. then naked
they're ready for
spikes, coals
smallpox. acid
barbeque (them)
pliers. red ants. drill bits
etc.

dumber than cows
forward they plod
do you know
they go to the store and
would you
grow your own death wreath
i mean go to the hardware store
use your own money
for the bulbs
and forget
you, hey stupid
you are next
just wait till
your gladiolas
are ready
i guess they forget all the times
they've seen them on coffins yeah
i guess they forget
they're next

afraid to die yet
sucking up to gladiolas and demons
starting the process
rushing  never fast enough
to grow their flowery coat
that they will proudly wear
on the devil's boat

12:33 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

dangerously sweet words

the following appeared in a news article about masseuses given chastity belts by their boss, as quoted:
"their boss locked their pants up to protect them from the advances of clients,
customers with roaming hands and dangerously sweet words"

breathe your words sweet
clinging damply wetting me with mist
all you've got,  favorite client

fig jam smeared on tender bread
spread that sugar
paint with it play in it
close your eyes, eat it
utensils forbidden
only with your warm roaming hands and
don't forget to lick your fingers
twirling your tongue all around
those dangerously sweet words

words turn my lock to salt water taffy
that sticks to my teeth as it tries to confine me
it can't your moisture's more me than me
the more you try to pick that lock
the more you transmute it
to sippable syrup
the more to lick it
i'll help you pick it

locks after all are made to be melted
by magic clients with hands, with tongues
who know  the scent of burning sugar
and what it means
who taste and breathe the lay of the land
of the dangerous word and roaming hand

8:02 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

insect juice

i live in a diorama
always watching
for any change or slip
a stone awry
one extra dead leaf
cracked plaster, a paint chip

a splinter on the pine floor
visible through the fake grass

brittle splitting hides
the exhibit is outliving the animals

next come the termites
next thing the floor melts
and the animals don't roar
and there is no rain

and the fake water hole
was always shellac

9:45 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

short and sharp

soft face
full body
slightly acidic peronsonality

said the label
on the wine bottle

sounds like we're drinking me
no
he said
that'll come later

9:42 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

mary mary

mary mary is all i hear
i know if she eats
takes a crap in the yard
barks too much
sits on the couch

once i heard her owner say
mary knows everything
if so
how embarrassing
for mary

mary mary goes everywhere
in her pink quilted cage
mary travels more than i

i'm left behind in my yard
pulling weeds
cursing at insects
nibbling mint leaves

listening through the fence
to the two they leave behind
unspoken to, names unknown
as they howl the pain of those
damned to the hell of insignificance

9:31 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

still shaking head
Current mood: confused

Went grocery shopping last night. The man in front of me had a loaf of bread in his pile. The store manager refused to sell it to him because it was two days old and no longer considered edible. The man asked if the manager would give it to him, or sell it at a low price, anything except throw it out. No.
It's too old, the manager said. We're not allowed to do that. Both the man and I were pretty upset at this point. I thought of many uses for the loaf, and the man just wanted to eat it. I think both of us had visions of how this incident would play in many places on earth.
I have to find that guy that turned loaves of bread into fishes. If only he will turn 2-day-old loaves of bread into new ones, the fish can live and at least a few more of us will get fed.
Piece of bread and good will on earth...

12:01 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

crows having fun

driving solo on Pacific Coast Highway
towards the beach at Santa Monica Bay
i opened all four windows to catch the salt air

and then a black tornado
of twenty four screeching shoving crows
flung themselves in the back
sat down and faced forward
stoked, all set to enjoy the ride

twenty four pairs of staring black eyes
like riders in an elevator
you're illegal aliens
i said

do you know
in this state we have seat belt laws
i'll be in trouble because of you
and don't you smoke, see
that's illegal in this state too

needless to say
i got pulled over hooboy
said that cracker in tan
ma'am how fast do you think you're going

well, officer, if you had  these twenty four crows
sitting in the back, staring, glaring
screaming in your ear
you might drive faster
to get from there to here

the officer began to speak
all the crows began to shriek
i screamed SHUT UP
turned around.
no crows visible.
not one sound.

sure ma'am i'll shut up
the officer wrote my ticket
said have a nice day 
got on his cycle and rode away

then the crows began to snicker
forty eight merry eyes aflicker
twenty four snarky smirky grins

i looked at the ticket snarled
you fuckers
your stupid magic busted me
not only for speeding
but also impeding
an officer, disrespectin the law
hallucinating crows
other citations who the hell knows

when i got to the beach
the crows were
maybe
gone yet
they may still be there
with smirks and stare

i'll only know when
they  have some fun
with silly me
once again

11:27 PM - 3 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment