dean drives a hudson into the swamp

so this drummer mark
as many years as i know him
shaves his head. used to
laff  at the white boys with skin heads
i told him as he pondered the appearance
of mullet in the crowd, snickering, half
mistaken on two counts, yeah what am i
sayin i got a skullet....



ima steal that.

yo, yo you've heard of my state,
florida?  we got cannibals& gators, cannabis, tomatoes
pythons, cougars and they hunters, young men,
 old ones, or women and girls all kindsa birds
 enjoying  paradise with today's doc
between lips ?  mix in election fever
  you get a real game show flavor. now
 run a self finaneed skulletTM poster child
 that tastes somewhere between
 snake oil salesman and medicare defrauder
someone all our retirees can i DENTif eye with
livin as they do on pensions and medicare or
 the future's inheritances and clone farms
in naples and  palm beach, not west palm, west is where the help stays
though if you got a union pension you can get a sweet cottage on the 55 + farms
that pock the state like limestone, waiting to be pulverized and thrown
on gator ripe flesh so's in the end we all will resemble guvner rick  skulletTM scott
tho much  less mobile, much more
 poor , inheriting, as we will, the earth,
because the skulletTM moves in stratospheres that   vultures only dream
 gliding,  conserving energy he flicks away  the  federal dollar flies
that threaten to infest this great state with ...ummmmmmmm
progress? stability? education money? JOBS, maybe? not
on his watch, skullet stays true to his doppleganger until
( yes, even in paradise there is 'until" ,) UNTIL)
reelection raises its  rabid visage and the party's tail
is thoroughly whipped by the recent re boot of all-that-is-not-randian
thousand dollar tea cups a thing of the past, wealth slinking
to the bottom of the swamp  with moriarity at the wheel
and that thing rick skulletTM scott rode in on begins to look like a hearse
he just may have to shotgun all the way to his sweet daddy's hell.

afflictionado

  simone curls up
with a cross made of car
parts, an accordian soft
in her ear. she needs
 a lot of distance
twixt god and the dance
deep within.

sometimes i feel like
a flat pack casing glued
to the motherboard, camera
going off every few seconds
to record the solder's heat.

it's not so much the new dogshit pile
or the way  bedtime battles ease
into violent tendencies.
it's the nearness of the couch to my

sanctuary, the way it feels like permanance
is immanent, the incense of grease and grime
over the rosary . god,with these  the details
i see you clear as a lesion.

gen x alt punk

good band name

spikes of old titles

when i look to the past

it takes a chunk out of the present

and smears it on the toast of the day.

escape to the next life looks  

more and more like it's not gonna happen

so i better take care of my dues here n how.

i hope the next epiphany's earlier than most.

what's needed is not invented, what's invented inverts.

the door shuts heavily, but a slam was avoided.

and that makes all the differenc

there can possibly be at the moment.

  i found a subtle cache . keeping it secret

for the next end of the world, masquerading '

as a mardi gras of understood, at last.

lets hope the beads are glass, the wine chilled, the wind at someone's back.

figure in a mirror box

when the world was wide
as a windowed glade
she climbs into daddy's old blue ford
truck , yells gramma, gramma gramma
who is trying to talk to the boyman
about why his phone is missing:?
and why the jobsearch is on hold?
and who will pay for the keyboard with coke
spilled on it, the baby daddy? right?
meanwhile you sleep unaware of the things
you may have done to enter the secret passage
into kowloon city. feather comforter warm
you buy time with the landlady who does not want
to evict you but sees that this is the only thing
that will get you gone.  the dank passageways
  smell of fried wonton, vinegar and miso.
you have one or two centimes saved
perhaps if you throw her a bone...





gramma gramma gramma
she calls. so happy to see me
when i come home from work
the house is full
but i'm the one she loves.
  i don't cherish it
 because she lives here.
i don't cherish it because
she  isn't mine
to cherish as i have before
would kill me when she leaves. does that mean
my heart has at last gone hard?

i am saddened by the way her mom
chooses to raise her. no worse than mine
i suppose.but  i dont remember parking  her at the tv
too  busy with something else.  not at three. at three
i was enchanted with the girl, slathered my time on her
those scant hours after work: bathtime, story
 time, cooking time, help me with the laundry time

but that's not
 what she remembers. i wasn't there
 all day
now she isn't there
all day
with her own,
  though her body sprawls
across the couch, facebooking
  trash carpets the floor
dishes distill in the sink
  snarls foul the air.















*(*(*



gramma will you play with me?
i should get the dolls and play with me.
tomorrow. she'll be gone soon
enough. springs will erupt. new caves
exposed, price and waterhouse ratings
on the refi. ftbt but not atm.
let's speak some txt, lili bear.
that's the thing coming your way

graaaaamaaa, grama grama, ima stomp your car.
can i play in you car gramma?
no,
but i wanna play in you car, please?
 you might release the brake
and let the car go rollin out into the street.
play in this car.  lay back
find the moon, playin hide and seek
with the clouds, i'm talkin to your uncle
so you gotta be quiet. now

just how did your phone get stolen?
so yeah these dudes
were sposed to be gettin us weed
or drugs or something do to with kyle
i dunno he was payin me to drive him
and the dude kept asking for a phone
to call his dealer so i  finally said here i gotta phone
and we drove over to the place
i forgot to get my phone from him till he got outta the car
then i asked him but he was like
i don't have it man
and then he and the other dude walked into
the house with my phone and kyles money
and never came back. so yeah, we like, got fucked.
kyle feels bad, gonna pay me for the phone when
he gets money but .

right. when. will you stop.
doing business with drug dealers?
you got insurance.
deductables 100 bux
good thing you saved that money.
you need a phone to call corporate and get your last paycheck.
that was your bad.















(*)*)*\


yeh so tomorrow we play li'l girl.
time enough to grow up
after im gone.

lol.

maybe i am writing more about death now,
i dunno. feels like that would be a respite somehow.

perfect from far away

There’s an AM/FM portable cassette deck with built-in speakers
Device, it is sitting on a glass shelf, actually Lucite, with its tiny
Small glow of green tuning-dial lights, not gone, no longer caucused 
But not excluded from the afterparty either. We followed your car.
By the time the water flickering had been thoroughly discussed,
You were swimming, skinny-dipping. The lost
Cat was yowling, the Loch Ness monster was slowly
Being disproved, but now also, the flow was being
Reversed, your smoothness of skin was strangely 
Reversing in a deeply burning edge of 
Boring Santana songs working part-time dishwashing,
Loose swarms of instances roughly united, day to day, 
By empathetic action committees, searching all the night,
With some of their most powerful searchlight
And flashlight beams
Trained out over the, the point of view 
Now backing up 
To show it, how you have these little spindly flashlight beams,
Projected out over this truly awe-inspiring void of darkness;
It was like the feeling of reading an infinite sentence
And realizing that it would never approximate a meaning
But just keep falling, 

--jacques andervillers




just keep falling 
into the next bite of microwave popcorn
chased with real lemonade, two fingers
tequila,dam thats smooth,  
a  bright eyed serenade, from the corners
of hillsboro counties. 



*






strange how you and i spent the same time
in the same county, different states. i tell you
how happiness gives me writer's block
 you reply damn i wanted to love a poet.

so all my best poems aren't written down
because joy is too light

it just floats away 
while sadness has gravity, pain sticks.
i like that i can not write
about us. 

very much. heh.










*






on the other side of the door
the little girl waits for gramma 
to take her to see the fish
and play in the sandbox. 

today her great grandpa is coming
to watch her get lost in the shovel's dip and dribble
and gramma will have to try to have a father daughter moment
that is not fraught. remember what the boyfriend said
~if you arent going to do something about it
stop bitching. 

she supposes he's right. negative energy
comes home to roost. only a few more weeks
till the ship docks in refund bay. 
she can make it till then.








*









on the other side of the door
the denizens of the city without  daylight
prepare to emerge 
so they can eat 
like their ancestors did. there are things
i could accomplish or ways to be
that produce less potential 
guilt, but like these citizens i chose to use
artificial means of survival. 






















*(*(*(*(*(*








things are moving. waves of strings 
rustle in the high winds created by the spinning
globe, photons hitting the ground, the weed
wacker's whine.  sand falling into a bucket full
of holes. i wonder about the flute , cigars, trains
and the effects of blizzard conditions on the ice caps.
your eyes a pale patch, your eyes a deep 
mountain lake under sun, your eyes the ocean seen from space. 



























*(*&












there's really no point.
that concept is a misnomer for wishful thinking.
just to be. just to say bee like flying
witness. buttresses to hold up these huge walls
we build so they will fall
like anemones over the reef
as the light begins
  a three year old in a cardboard castle

the full liberation

i love listening to watts
dunno why that stilted english accent
speaks to me so weill, but well,
it has. enlightenment
is a cooked goose in sherry sauce
you know its taste, you remember it even when
it isnt in your mouth.

so yeah. in the same way...

i started txting you an hour and a half after
you said you'd be done. two hours later
i placed you cheating on what we have
i was just about convinced i'd never know the truth of it
so i forgave you for fucking whoevershewas.
until i have proof. then you called
hit a home run you said. see you in a minute.
i hope that means you got a job, can
stop panhandling, peddling, living like a refugee
at last. tat a tat. thou art that. fingernail
on chalkboard, drawing sound with the gentlest touch
in your microcosm. please, wave
me into my arms.

interior noise

a friend's cat died today so he
 sent me a link to my favorite  guru
 who told me go back
to before all that, go
back and let it all be the chatter
that is aware. it took me to
 you and i lying close
 on a bed,  on a warm spring
afternoon, pine out the window
child on a hot wheels in the gravel parking lot
integrating with the primal /doing being
spontaneous
and as i write, it sounds pompous
irredeemable, some poor echo
of where i was
but water always seeks the lowest level
and we are a quietly pooled
humming pebble ripples.