smiling gods are better than leering

i'm going on a trip in two days.
for the frequent flyer this would not
be a big deal. jets take off and propel
themselves thru air many times a day
but i'm not on them. maybe i'm
the gravitational well that
knocks the engine off into yesterday
a donnie darko unbeknownst and deja vu
is the alternate
life beaming parasitic harmonics
into mine--- and perhaps, also into those strangers
who were in my dreams last nite.


i'm editing already. pragmatism
has rooted insidiously and is fuckin scared
of any indetermincancy. let it all fall as it would.
that;s what poetry sez
pragatism just won't learn that learning
is not what it sells itself as. i mean, look at the
improbability drive. it picks up 2 doomed
hitchhikers based on a telephone number. why
wouldn't god play dice, einstein? you're
basing science on nothing but probability and you think
god ain't a gambler? you make me laugh.




so enough talking to the dead icons
let's be silent like the turtles at the pond
with their ninja hoods awaiting or hobbes'
jump onto calvin's laptop where the a & q keys
fall off in homage to the dark side of dare.


still, it's only a warning. they are placed
back on the keypads, somewhat off center
so that a becomes harder to type & possibly q\
as well. entropy steals another piece of dust soulaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait's just a mask
of the possible. the designator doesn't really need
to be there, any more than ergonomically.


anyway, i tried to take it off again and it got all pissy
says look i'll just hang here, ok? i mean, it's looks pretty
lost down there where all that dust is hangin out.

the cat chases her tail even tho i tell how her cliche that is.
the joint's burnt down to happy hour.
i have a lotta packing to do, some other miles to go.
that plane better have me on it.
i have a fire to rise above.

sequestered

sometimes i am in the place
where i just want the pain to stop.
anything, die, comatose, brain dead.

the sky is blue and white
as seen thru the slats.
i mourn belief and hope
as memories never to be slept with again.
even weed doesn't help.


no one is to be trusted
least of all myself.
is this my way of procrastination?


heh, as if i need help on that front.

the things on the horizon are unclear
as far away things generally are.

things nearby loom and block
why can't i be untapped and pristine
or a marble in the machine.


lyric? this is a problem? then don't read.
i am a lenz of god, as you are
only i can see how it would be impossible
instead of possible. i need some inversion.

both my children sleep. all my children
will remember me. fondly or not
i don't care. the frozen drink place
holds the last of my communion.
from there, you're all on your own.

nothing sticks. everything pierces.
good luck with your worlds, i'm holding mine
in cotton and spandex blend.
final shape decided when i slip it on.


what do i want?
to be.
well then, sista
have at it. these words
aren't typing themselves now
are they?





when i come back home i wonder how the java joint
will be. they were forced to insist on minimum purchase.
sadly , this will be the death of the place.

wonder. wonder wonder. when that goes
you can freeze dry my ass. leaning into learning.
where is the something new, novelty on the back
of a dune, the sand painting
set in resin.

the rain it

i love the rain it
turns the day close
whispers lost
and found in the hush i love
the rain it runs over gutter lips
regurgitates goneness,
whorls into fibonaaci insides i
love the rain how it
falls
the same way twice
on all the varied land.

better

like blueberries in yogurt sauce
with ricotta cheese.
the way the drums sounded, as played
thru, not by. fifteen years
sleeping under a beard
the academy of living while life makes plans.

better. cuz a kiss is not blue.
the light outlines shadows that run
into faces the melt into shadows
of what's coming, some day. this time
the pool is clear

trying to get it

i dunno. life moves
but stays in the same place
the edges crumble, your smile
filters into indigo
then bayous. i reap the midlength
rope over the halyards and the futon
is once again our bed. a tableau
of broken lamppost, large fan and bad latex
paint is pointed out in the slide.
you rise above me and say listen
you can't call yourself a pirate unless
you put it in action. i have to hang
my head in shame. another child
showing me how to live.





yet, later your piracy becomes the same cow i am.
is it me, am i doing this? comfort and country cooking
and a poke in every pone, a drip in everybone.
on the dating site, the memetic behaviour of wasps.
brittle barnacles with a mosques intent. large lumps
of flesh pushed into tiny tight spandex. the ex
is always a good way to seem sexier but really ladies
there are better ways than whips and chains
tho i've yet to see them tried. i've got the smell
of cheating in my atomizer. there's a half moon on the outhouse
and someone's peeking in. synchronicity and puck, having his laugh
on us. yes, us. don't pretend i didn't see you there.
and moi? qu'es que c'est? too many apostrophes , apocryphal in the apogee?

ok, sleep will take me now.
down into the depths of drama where your smile awaited
its leaving, the jungle rot beginning in the cock
then moving quickly to the brain. it's this loss
of love again that maims. you know what i mean.

it's not that i can't feel you.
i simply cannot feel.

stolen lines courtesy of lenmana. you know what they are.

and what if

Except said -- dare
say -- a little

salvaged
Out of meaning by trhe desifire
for Cuncorretc///er/tecorect -ected, Ted, urth
Truht
Ruth tr --








i have a cell phone now. it's just a little one
to keep me company on a strange excursion
into islands made of drowned mountains
things time swallows and spits out for examination
in a vast mazy surge of all elements
but fire
which is hidden, which is buried heartstrong
and broodking. i read the map. look work
in the eye and remind it i should have been gone
long ago. in the mountains are gullies and caves
which carry a world of different monsters.
these quotidian ones lack the element
of surprise but should a bear become a serial
killer, a giant salmon the carp i ride
into the mermaid's lair, the brown seal become eyes
of a once upon a timer lover, lashes
the only cover available and if i throw
these memories into the caves of altimira into the snout
of mount olympus into the yesterday's briny deep, pulsed
apart by magma, well don't blame me.
i don't want to be your past, but i already am so why
not call forth the fifth element, ashes
to ashes and verge to the land.












See how on both sides
It’s like diamond colors inside of water drops on floors
Where
The Asheville sunlight ashes caramel above restaurants,
And, a red taxi cab turns left, signaling first, like
A little red or yellow slave of light



i have to concentrate on making the calls
cleaning the walls confirming all the semi plans
or it won't happen. credit only goes so far.
one foot into the chariot and the next step's
the tarmac out of here. the bay breakdances
under summer plumes, where sun scratches
a loop like dj trancejam on an e filled high.
i'm already on the plane but my bags ain't packed
i swim the toll from victoria but these things
might not even exist,
i might be reading
a map from ursula's earthsea
these may be myths
made up in some

writer's mind. i have to push the pen
over the page to be the one who is travelling.
all the cards point west, each divination
A barren
Nub of a seaside hometown, with its
White-painted pier sticks brown and
Crusty with barnacles. . .















the one who is becoming
a traveler
doesn't have time
to think of the vast
distances between life, death,
and that fatal figment, future.

le morte rides sidesaddle in the catbird seat
every cliff a constant surprise, each plume of spray
a siren bearing a rocky smile. how easy to take home
every thing left which you love how easy
to follow the mermaid song down into the nestling ocean.
life and death cleaving
to the stone instant.

and these journals, pictures, memoires, scars
and souveniers pile atop it, dust in the albatross bar
tapping this out, you are
Inside of a chat room with one god
Or with a giant iguana
or with mothra made of flame.

my topic:loser

did you see the nietzsche?
not yet
well loser, i'll get it for you.
thanx



"if you love something let it go"

i've had disagreements with sages
on this topic; ride memories into
a corral and water them down
give them food for the nite.

i feel outside of time and body
losing what i knew i could not have.

but it's not gone however i want to play it.
it bogs me down, soma whipcrack.
go ahead, vote for a movement
and see what your hand does.



i am not fit for this
and i know it. better to drift off
into some extraterrestrial sunset
with bombs destroying civilization
out there over the gulf, over the desert
that has become a life. and we , two
survivors charged with repopulating
the human race, both of us, fixed.
oh the laughter of the gods
and how we love our own irony.
















*




there is something in common between us
the disadvantage of the easy life
falling into what comes because to strive
for dreams is too much a nuance to bear.
plus also they occupy too much distance
to be part of the sun. plus also
the mind rationalizes comfort.
and i mostly agree.





















*



i read a little of jack's magnum opus
this morning
which began at noon.
jack gave me a topic to write on last nite
but i was busy jammin with vera and rick
dinner, sunsets, sleep
over with a new squeeze.
the sex is very good.
tmi or whatev, i wanted you to understand
that sex is not love because love
requires soul and sex requires only body.
good sex is relative, isn't it?


this is the landscape of my dreams
which are let lose on the world again
and impatience which draws me outward
an dysfunction of focus.

getting to know someone takes time.
my lungs remind me that caverns fill
with tidal forces, empty out again but a
rise is inevitable. what freezes must thaw or

or not. change is what it is dude.
forevers drift like jellyfish with the tide
all metaphors run to the sea.





























oh. hey.
forgot you were in the room.














































that's called a poetic device.
not well used, however, since it's poetry, all is forgiven.
by someone. somewhere.

video for remembering green from the blade runner

tight cu of a cricket silhouetted
against a full moon. brick surface.
pan out as cricket begins to fly, dissapear
as perspective enlarges to show the brick
is the tip of a clock tower. the moon hangs
above it. stretch shot of city scene, zoom
to a middle age woman walking, it's cold.
she's looking at the moon. cu of her face,
dissapointment and resignation. some anger .
mouth a fist,

follow her to a coffee shop.
she looks to her left. a young man's
eyes cut to hers. she shakes her head
then bows it, plows to her friend's table.

splices of a poetry reading. socializing/ trip
to woman's car, smoking weed. then to the
castle. dark industrial setting. dance floor shots.
tight shot of ym's face twirling, smiling, moves
up to kiss, eyes closing innocently. bleeps and lights.
ghost of a wing palimpsest over her face.

cut to parked car. cricket on top. swirls up
and around as they approach. flies into the wool
sweater pocket.

fade to moving montage. fade to fire.
cut to chase. at a kitchen sink, ym embraces
woman, she smiles. he bites her shoulder.
fade out.
fade in, montage of guitars, daughter
craziness, collaboration, smoking pot
folllow smoke out the open window to
cricket swirling. grass blowing.
fade into pool scene with
another woman, a bottle of booze over his head.
fight in the parking lot, cricket in the street
takes off

cricket swirling in a red moon.yelling
in a car.
scene of cigarettes grabbed and broken in two.
fade in to fight with daughter. fade out to woman
alone at computer. telephone calls. trips. fade in
to a centaur in a motel room, chest heaving.
lightning & clouds at sunset show.

fade into reunion. woman crying alone. one, two,
three, four, packing his bags scenes. there were
more. add some sex scenes at the most poignant notes.
be sure she's crying in some
of them, but smiling in others.
have some blinking green and yellow
maybe blue lights
scattered about when the bleeps come in.

cu of the two of them, he's in her arms.
they're asleep. a cricket lands on his arm.
his figure sparkles and disney faeries out.
pan out to her
alone in bed
sleeping curled around nothing.

stage six

i sat in the walmart parking lot
crying for all the things you have
yet to become. angry, sad, taken
for a fool again. at least i didn't
call you this time. it wasn't you
i was angry at. i told her tonite
to please not play
the go between. i really want to see
what friendship means to you i want
to see all your idealism
ground under the heel of desire
the bondage of want
the slavery of the next girl's pussy.
the movement from one heartbreak
to the next. sure, i'll steal it from you, why not
everything you wanted you took including
the end point. veered off like atomic billiards
you pushed into the tip of the stick
and ricochetted back to me, a broadside
i least expected and zero recovery time.
i thought about trying to begin
trouble with yr new fuck but nah, why bother
it's not her fault you're an asshole to me.
every word that comes from your mouth
directed at getting your revenge fuck. how
am i supposed to believe anyone's love now
after you, after dave, how can we even be speaking
of the same color? i don't want your cold
friendship, his empty embraces, the lies you believe
when you make them. what does it mean, this word
that's become an eptithet for the guileful romantic?
begins in L, ends in pain. remember this

as you go into the sexual arena: the cock is your master
but the pussy is the master of the cock and the pussy's master
is the cycle of the moon. it all begins to twist in upon
itself, a mobius emulating love. there, i said it
cat from the box and not only did the gun go off
but it never got to dodge the bullet. oh my gawd.


why alwas speak in megaphors why not just plain
language. i'll give it a hint. life's too simple
for reality in vocabulary. gotta spice it up
to, as jack says, "beocme"









(*&







had more but i'm getting very sleepy. that thing is
in the house again and i'm doing a narratiors
voice over in head, six yrs old and sleep.
sleep, my li'l epicurial moth.
at least you hav wings.

movie review & river metaphors

earth's muddy french kiss
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
running barefoot over these white pages
i think of the black marks that haunt you
as if real metaphors come to mark you.

listen, dude. it's only rock n roll.


water moves to the lowest spot
and quags. it's two parts hydrogen
you know. the other third is breath.



i was wondering how they knew
the difference between alive and dead
those that insist there's no


ummmmm. s-word. the thing
which cannot be named. the boy
is caught between evil and good.
it's a classic battle raging within
while without bush clones nail edicts
to the hallowed halls. there's always
henchmen and giants and the death
of the last of what has counted as family.


and how you always have to build new ones
or remain in your isolation, no triangulation
with the motes of making. eh, it's safer that way
no one gets hurt because of you, you

obama of the rock star politix, you harry potter
of saviours, you rippled rock sliding cocky millstone
grinder. and the things that are binders.



*






clouds built this text. admit it. the legend
of water's hyperspatial transportation
seems to be encoded in the way it flows
always toward gravity at just the right pitch.
any less and we'd up like them cartoons
floating away unless someone throws the switch
any more, we'd sluice into that pinpoint in the middle
all dark and inescapable, the last apeture before gone











and






it's time, you know, to let the next stage
be set. lessons on the road to extinction.
just get into this one like you didn't the last.
remember the flowing river of glass
inside the pane, and how it frosts so beautifully
the slower molecules move.


























89-09






















the sky opened up again
and we stood on the playground
open mouthed at its approach.

the lightning was for no one
this time round. not even the steel
swings or the creaking merry go round.

i twirled on it without moving
and when i stood up , the sky
moved a step to the up--
my new home, the red spot of jupiter.
it was clay. of course i said


to the pantalooned jester inside me.
i took off the shoes with the curled tips
and stuck my feet into it. it slid apart
and sucked me in. you drifted by

with your new girlfriend. i held on to my new
lover too and we didn't let on
that we once knew each other back on earth.

























)()(&*)(*
















now the scars formed by glaciers
begin to melt now the striated bones
clamber to be fit into the suitcase
despite all odds. the snarly waitress sets
the order down on my plate
and i'm all like
did i even place one? she still expects a tip
while i expect
more of the same. my shoes long gone
my bare feet tickled by the sound.

2nd try

convocation of moths
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
in the summer air, rich with mist
and heavy cream, far away, past
the stadium and all the roads
which lead to it, a cloud explodes
in light, for a moment, like pompeii
flashed across the sky, or one note
from a gilmore guitar, or burnt
wings and their stillness. then darkness.
do it again i shout and across it
the stain of a sunset, the same backlit show,
and an evening spent with you
when i was only there
and no where else.

this is a memory for which i can weep -
for i didn't then.

once or twice i was able to survive
within the delusion & i pray
to whatever is inside me that accepts these things
that i can do it again
without you.

mementoire

enfer du plaisir. oui, c'est melange
c'est les interiors du sommes.

my french is as bad as tatiana's english.
still dancer, thanks for the plaisir.

i was in the same room
where the drums between us
turned bright ocher & rust
formed in the bridges.
someone else sits at the electronic
intersection. we sing songs
everyone knows. there are smiles
as the covers take us under
back to when his hair was as long
as mine and the ford mustang was entree
to a spoiled youth
where fruit dropped into his mouth
open or shut and the lsd experience was a first
hand phenomenon of unexplored duration.
later the sky signalled explosions
and i asked for more. i talked to you
all the way to memorial
then i put you away again.
the best poems are never seen.

you

who hasn't written
a treatise on you, the way you
hog the conversations always
me me me ing
but obliquely, how you
distance the eye
with transference, inference
how you draw me into confidence
"my friend says" how you let the cat nap
in your lap, the dog eat your shoes
how you left me alone on the side
of the road, how i rid myself of you
so many times and still you
come back like a sweet dream, some kind
recurrance of licelike means, nitted into me
as if i were you.

must stay awake

so you want me again.
this chase is just too much for me.
everytime i let you go
you come back, bloomerang
and the bit shoulder contact.
could i make him
like you or could i
yes everything could be.


i think i will write myself to sleep.
can't tell which found napkin to write
the take on. i mean it's just too much

that two days after i decide and then
on the night of
you all the sudden realize your deep
attachment to me, even now even this
sexpoloration you have to go thru
how you'll keep it on the dl
like i'm not going to know
every goddamn time cuz we've got a bond
and you know what i want to place
that bond with someone who'll appreciate it.

who i s not you boy. not you.
and he is not scorpio either
so nix that shit about who's best in bed.

gawd. i have to call work. i feel sick.
really really sick. you always do this to me.
i'm beat. i'm sick. i'm sleepy. mondays. christ.

no more calling you in the morning.
it is like that song if i fell.
except not.
i didn't want you to cry
but i knew you would.
and i didn't care if you did
anymore. so the question is actually llllllllllllllllllllllalalala


you cake is gone.
and i can't care anymore that it is.