Monday, April 30, 2007

Sitting in red velvet pantaloons by the side of the ganges

with my new laptop. hey 2 jack. the imac
died an ignoble death, flickering screen it could
tell me it was on but it couldn't move anymore
polio and blindness its fate. i am taking it to work
pulling out its guts but i doubt i can resurrect it.
sadly. sadly. everything go boom.

since i had my income tax i decided to buy a top of the line
on clearance pc. it's very nice. my son can play all manner
of online games on it. now if some emergency comes up
i'll have to charge it. but that's what cards are for.

day 4 of the breakup and i can finally cry.
but i won't bore you with that. i'll smoke some pot
and pretend things will get better. love is waiting
somewhere in the future, unknown, unknowable
so i move thru this present toward the unfathomable
balancing just above the flames.


i love these pantaloons. they were given to me
by my mentor upon her deathbed. they never
show blood she gasped as i peeled them from her
sweating body. take them and godspeed.


the river is muddy this time of year.
rains in the uplands wash mountains
to our delta. i watch the swirls of yellow,
cian, other reds and browns. over and over the smoke
rises from a bidi, then moves on. cast a stick
into the water. divine a message. play it back.
occasionally a dead thing will float past
its body bobbing and humpy in the water.
human, animal, plant. they all look the same
in death, missing volition.


on the bank, shallow and wide, a tree
branch is becoming a woman's face.
her nose is noble. her eyes are open
and staring far above at the silences of clouds.
i see her glance at the red on my legs
then like a bull she rises and dives into the water.
comes up a nymph. i want to follow her
past the flow of grief but the pantaloons
hold me back. i always prise what they give me
too much. let it become the memory
instead of a face. i don't remember what
she looked like. just the feel
of her pen
as i copied the alchemists
symbols onto parchment
then burnt them.


once by lover took
infinity and turned it on its side.
the necropassage slipped right thru.
the zen masters prayed to the priests
the priests intoned to the masses
and the masses became the master
a face so fly eyed it flayed us.
into seperated. one for each portal.
no wonder she can't believe in collaboration.


the army intelligence officer
walks the top of the rise.
below him , slightly and to the left
is a group of beggars. they
seem to be dancing around a small
patch of green. he pulls his binoculars
from the pouch on his hip. focuses. yes
there's a small patch of flowers in the circle
he notes the type, daisies,as the legs
flicker on the lens. he will report this to his
superiors. he notes the time with voice pass
into his comdevice. curses the wanks at the emperium
for not supplying him with the proper tools.
if only he had a vidrecorder. if only he
had a satuplink he could show them
the thing theyre really fighting.
the patch of daisies elongates.
grows eyes.
a woman rises from the center.
she points her finger to the sky
then directly at the center
of his binoculars.
they melt in his hand.
he will report this to his superiors.
his weapon finger twitches
but when he reaches for his gun it has become
a snake that wraps around his fist
and carries him back to the battle.


there was magic in numbers.
sixes, three, nines.

look enough and correlatives
swamped the mainline, no express busses
come thru.

now there's 3 cats in the house.
pure white
pure black
and striped.

soon they will all be gone.
in my dream this morning
i chose two kittens
to take home, by gender.
i left the females.
too much to fix.

i want to see what finds us here
in this roomy house . what kind of family
can pass thru this time. they complain
about how i always want them to go
move on grow up be
without mommy telling you how.
i want love and sorrow to flow
like rumi said as she broke the final lock
and barred the river from the sea.

drinking what used to said

orange bacardi and coffee. look me in the eye.
i'm drowning. how did you pour from the sky
over my head drenched and stoned
with words

& memories of what never will be.
my palms sweat. i grab the metal.
after that fire.
coals at the post office. poets
sliding into the chamber.
the ice of a bullet.

prelude to afterward

i am still living with your ghost.
you goose. moving on and out of here
making it to the bad guy's sleepwalk.
stealing marina docks in the thick of the night.
all those sundowns coming back to us
as the world dies. i'm still dreaming
of your face. where were you when i could
have been. i'm the bad guy. let's get this over with.
the world past the breakers is full of water.
fire on the surface doesn't burn
but here we are, ashes.

pictures for an unwritten poem

Chinese astronomers called the five
major planets by the names
of the element they were
associated with

Venus to Metal
Jupiter to Wood
Mercury to Water
Mars to Fire
Saturn to Earth.

born in an odd year i was all yin
dark and full of holding
you tried to empty me
but i was too full.

i brought chaos home
Each year on the seventh
day of the seventh month birds
form a bridge
across the Milky Way.

born in an even year
you yanged and banged
my head against my whole.

i tried
to take you in
but you were overflowing
with departure

it was up to me to make it grow.

left in space like stairways to an emperor's tomb.
now a dragon curls its way out of its egg
carved clouds of goodbye.