rung around the same old

so this purely subjective beginning
with firework traces lingering seconds
beyond midnight ushers out one phase
slides the next one into home plate.
why the idling tickle feet, the prior banquet?
we know that's so last year.

the years go by swiftly now
one layer over another, before you know it
christmas and kwanza morph into your
second mellenium holy war.
is racism dead? not in my bible.

i had these poems to lunch
but they didn't eat a bite. said watercress
sandwiches could contain e coli
so they'd rather not. i threw
the leftovers out before they left.

i got dishes crowding my cabinets
like refugees with no jewelry.
where's there's dollars, seek a way
and ye shall find. my bathroom's out

for a stroll, trying to get rid of nasty relationship
with mold. bleach and a chain saw,
thin set tile and ton of grout then all things
resealed. let's not worry about time

and its infinite phases. why they don't overlap
is more a mystery to me than static ,FM dial style.
i wondered less why there was suspicion than why
it was levelled at me me. hell, i saved your marriage

because two free radicals more
in the cosmos
just didn't fit my bill.




















*(*(**

















so what's on the journal's agenda?
to be clear, my bathroom's a mess
mold-eaten and stripped bare,
the question is what do  they come back as?
a walk in shower is ideal because baths
is something few working class bees
can afford -time or otherwise.
a quick in and out, a footsoak on the weekends
why should i decide to have a bath in either room
of this modest woodframe mobile?showers
for the new age, man. if you want roman
ways, just visit the coliseum.
unless you want a roman shower.
i swear hot water
is reason enough for modern civ.

i guess you can get that with fire.


so let me amend. hot water and indoor plumbing
are raison detre for modciv.
see what i did there?




thinking oceania. thinking eurasia
and twenty years gone.





























++++






so you see, the scrolls. the placeholders
the dark matter, separated by stars.
a fitting tribute to the artist would be
rename black holes "bowies".

i think of them as dark stars pouring
into a white universe. but more likely
they gobble up light and that sphincter
closes tightly behind so that stars are born
on the other side.
good art does that to you. i heard a memory
from a producer that worked with david.
funny , i typed dave but i doubt anyone
ever nicked him that as an adult. the short
version is bowie. david bowie. never dave.


to be clear. i must belabor.


the producer said dave was very much
a zen of the moment creator. for instance
on heroes, he wanted a cowbell. but it was late
no cowbells to be had. not wanting to wait
for morning and the music store, he grabbed
an empty tape reel and metal ashtray
viola. cowbellish. this is what we hear
thirty, forty, fifty hundred years later
after he dies, and the producer dies and i
die along with all the other witnesses
who could tell you
  wtf is that sound


so much loss, as though it never was.










































****



















so  my love you grow thinner
more absent, dive deep into
age and lack and tired.
no trope could save you now
so let us rejoice in these small
reliefs provided. let us sew
the holes in our heads. i have needle
you have the thread.
let us lapse into quiet, haunted
mill of the gong echo in my head.
a washerfull of chatter, a bird full of dread.




so my love you grow
grouted in time, sealed with glass.
there is nothing more i would have
than you beside me and
the blue of your eyes reflected in the sea.



this is why i don't write. you fill me
i give you poems written in waves and magnetics
because your eyes are weary. so much
science to absorb, so much quotidian
advice to heed. so many diy
tutorials to reject.

let the poem be the music of you by my side.
let the music be the portrait of time,upended.
let time be a soft circular cloud,clambering to bed.
let the bed be our dreams, combined.





















))))))))))))))))))))))))>>>>>>>>>>>>>












border
lines collapsing
across the globe,between
my mind and yours. we share space,
combine.








*****




tangled in mists
the peacock feathers emerge
advance militarily
and fall to a cat.