Latest Poems

when you’re not in the habit of love

drop the bits
you hardly ever use anymore

then just recall
looking back
looking forward
what is the most shiningly bright thing
you will ever know?

once you remember
once it eeks back into your mind
like a tiny spark
it will light your way

past your resistences
past your preferences
to somewhere even deeper

the spark
isn’t hard to serve up
to all the people
shared in the world

to all your brothers and sisters
aunts and uncles
cousins
friends
enemies
children

hated
loved
all

all aging
all bathing in the same pond

just recall
the outshining bright

through you
throughout the all and all

and then whatsoever
could be so compelling
to ever distract you again

from that bright
that living, growing bright
throughout the all and all

and then you’re back
in the habit of love

Powerball

Powerball, Powerball
Where can you be?
I’ve been buying your tickets
But you still elude me

Powerball, Powerball
Who can I tell?
Over one billion dollars
if a ticket’s marked well

Powerball, Powerball
What can you be?
I was so sure I’d beat you
But I barely got three

Powerball, Powerball
How come you fell?
You held all our hoping
in your half empty shell

Powerball, Powerball
Why destiny?
We’ve given all our money
So we could be free

Hell of it is
I barely got three

mouse a god

big, dumb Lenny
didn’t quite understand
what exactly he held
in the palm of his hand

it was soft
it was warm
but it didn’t move much
it’d just started feeling
stiff to his touch

whether moving or standing
he felt so good inside
it was so bright for Lenny
that he smiled very wide

mouse in the pocket
made him
smile very wide

big, dumb Lenny
didn’t yet comprehend
how to proceed forever
even up till the end

it was warm
it was soft
and he didn’t move much
he had just started parting
when he surrendered his touch

whether moving or standing
he felt so good inside
it was so bright for Lenny
that he smiled very wide

mouse in the pocket
made him
smile very wide

Bare Verse

Eliot Gould
won’t listen to me
so I’ve taken to roasting
his leftover tea

I won’t lie that it’s
gotten me close to my goal
since the farther I reach
the deeper the hole

feel verse in these words
that partially fall
not the terms in themselves
that make up the call

its rhythm and rhyme
move with the wind
expounding as breath
that started within

from ballads to songs
to alien tongues
all expendable verse
begins in our lungs

from there it moves on
to our hearts and our ears
till it finally cracks open
our soul’s deepest fears

and farther and further
we’re carried along
until verse becomes simple
and turns into song

it rises some more
from the top of our head
when we’re finally laid bare
and then it is read

so sadly our verse
flies away from its source
yet memory dissolved
grows verse in its force

and someday beyond
this probable place
verse is remembered
throughout time and space

how long does it take

deep comprehensions
often kick in
{in multiple rings}

no matter what’s occurring
{on the surface of things}

the comprehensions don’t care
if a building is full of people
or a world is filled with air

for they are the groundwork
{and we are the worms}

inform all creations
{of the following terms}

they have no mouth
so we must scream
inside our re-occurring dream{s}

that “we” we think
we are for real
is nothing more than
their appeal

the comprehensions
don’t explain

they vibrate out
beyond our brain

they don’t care
of patterns formed
by pebbles dropped
or feelings scorned

what has been
will be
formed before
there is no world
there is no door

to know what’s really {really} true
demands we give up
point of view

Spare the Spirit, Spoil the Ride

Yoseph was practicing his versifying
over a televized preacher
no one was listening to
blaring from the screen behind the bar

“So heal, brothers and sisters! Heeeeyal!”

let the Mighty Spirit quaff what ails you
Yoseph began
as he wiped down the bartop with a damp white rag
and his mention of miracles
started to sag

like marbles under the sun
on grass too narrow to roll
oh, i well know
what will be the toll
oh, i well know

the thing about healing is
Yoseph continued
not that it hurts
but that no instance of time
or space
unfolding as rhyme

could ever be worse
than a night that is slow

since the only others
here in this place
are two old cowboys
at a corner table

suddenly acient
but still quite able

and Madge at the bar
who’d driven too far
nursing her first slow drink of the night

and you realize
Yoseph went on
that even with healing
nothing’s quite right

what sticks in your craw
beyond your bed or the law
beyond sucking and chomping and chewing
is that it’s not of your doing
until all of your secrets and need

spill down across your chin
as you feed
like bloody pulp
still holding your dreams
of being anything other
than what you seem

the fuck of truth
the hush of love
are upside down
and not above

a quaff of spirit
will warm your bones
but spare the Spirit
and then you roam

so raise your beer
and drink
brothers and sister
because you can’t
say such things
in here

oh, how well i know
said Yoseph
what will be the toll
oh, how well i know

 

 

 

Dead Silence

Casper MacDonald
lost his perspective
taking a hit
for the sunbelt collective

He left his plaid Filson
out in the rain
it floated away
so deep in his brain

It covered a synapse
so fully it held
creating an impulse
that Casper might weld

You might think he’s dreaming
but then you’d be wrong
about what’s been real
for us each all along

Casper went roving
along for the ride
his desires dissolving
his beliefs couldn’t hide

You’d think that there’d be
an end point in sight
but you’ll find that there isn’t
and then you’d be right

Casper MacDonald
gave in to the ghost
you’d guess he was weak
yet he was stronger than most

Casper surrendered
his promise in sooth
atoning at last
he gave in to the truth

foosball

lately you’ve been sliding down
the wrong side of the greasy wheel
life scrunching
as if curling against attack

outside your meat sleeve
the dreamer explores the opposite of truth
thinking that experience
is the result of circumstance

the dream makes you believe that

the dreamer hangs on
as if for dear life
slipping but clinging to experience
thinking: my circumstances will cease!
never more will i …

details never end
they’re impossible to exhaust
wars raging
interrupted by future memories
distended weather
diseases
loves gained and lost

bars of gold wrapped in thin wax paper
tales of struggle not ending until later

the blaming way is the only protection
against all others
and then it’s not
anymore

cycling alone
against the massive undergrowth
the chute is open
but it’s broken

have desire, will travel
millenniums unravel

the dreamer starts
filling in the cracks
tonight
feeling wisps of peace blossoming
in the only direction possible:
everywhere
thoroughly
utterly
free

displacing all dreaming
with one fell promise

to always be
to always
be

the hanging goblins of the pentagon

the structure is said to have looked like
centuries of mud brick after mud brick
fortifications and weaponry
guns, missiles, and tanks

an ascending series of tiered goblins grew above
mud brick after mud brick
topping the stronghold

the hanging goblins were purely mythical

yet they sneered
and people began to wonder why

they sat on the walkways outside all day
and hung in the doorways at night

as the days progressed into years
they never left

even when forcibly removed
they somehow escaped
and showed up later
each one holding two more bricks
dripping mud from each hand

deep inside
imprisoned in the vault of your being
something in you wonders
if this could really be true

a hidden wonder
that is touched upon
mud brick by mud brick

yet a wonder
nonetheless

space race

you’re becoming
a mountainous liar
depending on which voice you listen to,
bobby

she said to me
as she swished around pure grain alcohol
in an almost empty brown bottle

i know what you’re up to,
she said

her tits are bursting seeds
that drip down her belly
her lips look like a sweating sow’s
and her breathing reminds me
of an old jimi hendrix song

it doesn’t even matter,
she said,
same difference

let me stand
next to yoo fyah

the only thing left to figure
is whether you have anything
more to offer,
she said

i once had and itching desire
but i can’t even recall why now
i can’t even feel
regret

it was a hoot,
she said,
it was like the space race

i didn’t stand so close
on the way out,
you see

i didn’t listen
to that voice
anymore