Thursday, January 28, 2016




once or twice or
a thousand times more
the earth travels the sun
or the sea laps the shore
the quiet that comes when
the silence predicts it
the strange counter weight that is
needed to say it
you don’t know what is right
you guess only what’s wrong
you won’t take that road
that you knew all along
was the cul de sac
at the end of the road
you steer past that sign
for your very last act
that queer undeniable
heartbreaking fact
look over your shoulder
it’s useless, retract
she will always be rolling
that infinite boulder
she will until she is
immeasurably older
and stops for a minute
in webbed retrospect
knows she should have been laughing
seeking a cryable shoulder
once or twice or
a thousand times more
she lives to fill in
innumerable cracks
and that, as they say, is always that





Saturday, January 23, 2016



waiting for the storm

it’s easier than you think
especially in the quiet
of invisible ink
first it’s there and then gone
all right
curse the wand
and the magic’s inner weight
takes flight and we learn to wait
what am I pining for?
this half-eaten heart of mine
what am I waiting for?
this handless time
remember when snow
wasn’t scary?
remember it meant
free to be contrary?
when the steps you took
over bodies wrapped in white
when you didn’t look
to the left or the right
only plodded in giant steps
away from the monster   
a small child in padding
demanding the answer
without a compass
unburdened by loveless
it’s easier than you think
in aging memory on a winter night
if you’ve caught a snowfall
in dreamlike flight
storms once had a life of their own
we had no fear of
those moments we owned
the snow will come in
a preordained storm
what we have still
is a place in our home
to venture outside when the
need is to roam
in snow or in rain
in sunshine or possibly war
it takes the same imagination
it demands the same score
a storm is a win when
you’ve plodded though it
snow never sins
only innocents know it
waiting for the storm
it’s easier than you think
especially in the quiet
of invisible ink
write it down
discard it
that trail embark it
no snowshoes, no mittens, no sled dog
to market
all’s swell what the hell
it’s midnight so fuck it


Saturday, January 16, 2016

Fuck Bob Dylan
he wrote the song
I was meant to write
Shithead Bukowski
settin’ in his grave and laughin’
has no mercy on my calling
write the fucking poem he sez
he’s already in love
meaning you, my passion
today I went to the soup kitchen
and felt the full strength of
her fasten herself to me
like a crab, or kangaroo or a newborn baby
this was too much and too little
all at once
she saw the kindness
I knew the outcome
she wept and hugged
and then some
How would Bob write this
genius aggression
me on the ground
me saying things
I shouldn’t say
She fell into me in a doughnut of heat
I activated the life vests
on both of us
Don’t let them see your tears
they won’t understand
so much is in their hands
every week
every week
They are hungry I said
and she wept indiscreet
they are just hungry I said
and she nodded and left
came back a bit straighter
came back without a word
came back and served
Everything I want to write
has been written
even my epitaph will be stolen
we are a band of thieves
we are humans left longing
each moment is
churchless and
stateless
formless
friendless
nurtured
graceful
wronged and
faceless

Each moment is gone

Friday, December 25, 2015




monster

when sacred monsters
return then the air
trembles
like a nervous burn
the nightingale is startled
unable to yearn
for what it’s there for

when sacred monsters
appear
in the closeted night
when the
heart is closed
from dusk until light
sacred monsters
yawn
sending the outer to inner
off to a room
to bed without dinner

there’s a hundred ways to
love them monsters
on many gray days
when the heart is uncalled for
its speechless refrain
is memory’s lost voice
tell me again it’s
a dangerous choice

in a sky of clearly murderous blue
the sun casts shadows
monsters trail you
night is an engine
purring underfoot
wine the invention
of the terminally rootless
a sensible horizon is what is needed
a brutal journey is what was craved
the last glass of wine and a bedtime read
it starts with relief
it starts when you’re saved

embrace the crashes
those terrible questions
the people behind us
are never mentioned
arguments raised
the dead will never
we’ll kill the beast
not the one trapped inside
sacred monsters stick
around for the ride
there is no such thing
as a small enemy

what held me once no longer holds me

who knew me once no longer knows me

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

























Cat

annihilate me
violate me
take a chance and quiet me
you place yer bets
you takes yer chances
will I fall for your romance
your boneless dances 
or will I jump at the sound
of something amiss
rush to the bookcase
to the the owl beheaded
it needs fixing now
goddamn cat I shriek
you nasty feline
fucking annoying
furred man of my dreams
I’m yours in the morning
I feed you it seems
I’m yours again
when an afternoon read
turns to narcoleptic dreams
stare at me on the toilet
I’m used to it now
slide beside me
deride me
with that furrowing brow
you’re a cat
I’m a human
let’s sort that all now
you’re a cat
I’m a human
I bow, I bow
and continue presuming’
I’m still a human
maybe not forever

but at least for now.