Discouraged

Don’t be discouraged by words you hear.

The clicking track goes to my ears,

My hands still flag and fail to keep the beat.

I find that after all these years

I have not made a single song complete.

Here’s things that don’t make sense

To many people: Crescendo to the end,

Diminuendo first. Semiquavers then

A couple of crotchets. Pull off then bend.

Don’t be discouraged by words you hear.

June 30

Smithereens

Just as Caesar fills a bunghole,

Shakespeare’s clay’s (like his plays) inside of us today.

Our not too solid flesh stays fresh for only so long

Looking for the tiny pieces of others in us:

Smith-ereens and Wilde-beans in me.

I could sublet my house and subdivide myself

to search smaller and smaller worlds.

There, pluck the electromagnetic spectrum

with my spectrographic plectrum –

sound, wave to magnetism,

o o o ripe ripples ripping once again in rings (sings).

This is the sound of singing: o o o

June 29

Dwarf Alberta Spruce

Deer resistant but not deer proof - depending on scarcity of food.
Dwarf Alberta Spruce.
A small, dense e'ergreen.
Takes 25-30 years to reach maturity.
Foliage and cones.
Now I'm just copying and pasting.
I need something hardy and strong.

June 30

Never Give The Woman To The Money

Never give the woman to the money, he says,

As if it was a thing animated and

Capable of controlling her and ordering in some way

As if it had a mouth, slow and deliberate

speaking: feed me, feed us.

As if it had watery eyes and watched her

except when she didn't need the guilt to act.

As if it had no ears to listen to her

brief protestations as she finally gives in.

June 25

To The City

My love by bus why train

try car no parking no place

All roads lead in to

Underneath the common ground

Nineteen dollars.

A flat fee for a round trip

Through bridges and under the road

No roads lead out

Common round and under

June 28

Be More Responsible

(What? was the expiration? date)

Taint misbehavin’. Misdemeanor. Seen some things.

Not a plant, not an animal – something else.

Fungus spreading. When one gets it, they all do.

Softsmell burning, sickly sweet.

Sweet, sweet, sweet. Sweet in your mind.

Sweet in your mind but repulsive in your mouth.

June 23

Cool Down

When she takes a shower –

Shampoos, scented soaps, hair conditioners

Can’t cool her down soon enough.

Dare I disturb her there, bare and in that secret place?

Nay! Not I!

Not when I am the one that made her mad

Not even when it’s no fault of my own.

Later,

Bathroom baptism over

Water swelled and drained away.

June 24

Wanderlust

This poem is about wanderlust.

I could write this poem about Odysseus,

and it would seem to be an obvious choice.

He wandered the sea, and upon returning home

decided to leave again as soon as possible.

But I’m more interested in the “lust” part.

Wanton teenagers sidewalking the streets

throwing their rocks at girls’ windows

humidity still in the air as the lights turn on

ghastly orange and sweating

Sadie turning prigs and pigs to men

Sweeter Jane enchants and Sweetest Jane sings songs.

There’s still the girl that they return to at home.

Maybe it’s got a lot to do with Odysseus after all.

June 27

Waiting for, Frustration

I’m waiting for frustration here –

Each day I want to do, to feel, and more,

but even when I’m working and appear

to reach a satisfaction with and for

my life – there’s something missing when

I’m home or even when I’m out with those

I thought would be the best – but then,

of course, the moments that we love the best

are those inside

            our memories

June 26

Depth

The sea is deep and so am I.

Tiny robots dig the depths and I watch them

From the comfort of the television couch.

June 25

Complex

She said, "I'm complex." In a moment
of levity, or anger, he told her
she had a complex.

Ten minutes later, he was outside.
"You never think about things,"
she had cried. "You only do them."

The houses on his street are smooth
and calm and he walks by them
and counts down from his age.
29...27...25...23...29 greater than less than happy.
She says what he thinks
He is defined only by what she says:
You're never angry at me for anything I do
Why can't this be the first time?

June 26

First Magazine On The Rack

First magazine
On the rack
Rifled through
By everyone
Put back, we take the next one
Or keep the one after that.
Like first package of meat. Is it okay?
Don't want to be first.
Glossy, glossfeel.
Slender and last to go.


June 26

Born and borne and with

third person lens -- see through childhood.
and scenes are narrated unfiltered.
that was unfiltered life, where words
followed (or preceded) thoughts.
thought about it until it became colorless.

colorless? NO, but less colorful.
different shades of the same color.
first personal and only occasionally mixing.
how could any other color be correct?

June 26

Arm's Length

When I hold my hand at an arm's length
it seems too far away
I cannot control it
with or without my thoughts
I don't tell myself to stand
or ask my mouth to move
(it does this on its own)

June 26

Hamlet For Breakfast

It’s breakfast. This Danish tastes odd – tastes old? Mom says

I’m crazy. Just eat and get washed up. She says Stop playing around.

I stab my fork into these eggs. Stop praying around.

She’s tried to get me out of here before. Chicken! Drown her out

Chicken and eggs, mother and son reunion. It’s time to go.

June 22

Spambot

It’s like those horror movies where the family is transformed:

So innocent looking. Same face, but inside

it’s all different!

Opening up the email, it’s a spambot

that’s taken control and probably has already infected me

takes fer earaskr

June 21

Honestly, It Was Getting Old

Honestly,

                I never much enjoyed reading back

The poems I wrote, darkened and black,

Week in and out for that poetry class.

Have I abandoned meter now? Alas!

I do not know.

Don’t tell me which way this ship will blow.

This tired metaphor’s about to set sail,

But I have brought a glass and pail.

The pail’s to bail myself when I begin to sink,

The glass is for when I begin to think.

June 18

Half As Many Twenty-Four Rhymes

Twenty-four times : half as many rhymes.
Learning the Latin to say : puella pulchra est today.
Or French tous les doigts : all my ten fingers, or so I thought.
Held them, hold: getting too cold.
This line is misplaced and : was done intentionally, understand.
Still too warm : for the words to correctly set and form.
Please rearrange these : couplets how you like, to see.
Some new unconventional story : of love written most confusingly.
Don't let the colons throw you : off or skew.
Nine, ten, counting lines to fill the sonnet : how many more to get?
Don't bother writing your story : to another's rules, get free.
Show some compassion, ἀδελφός : give it another go.

June 20

Recomfit Comfort

What is comfortable? Rolly, round.
We're not meant to sit: stand,
Lie-down, or squat.
Squatters in my sisters' apartment
Just won't leave. But comfort leaves:
Stress? This is comfort.
Er, I meant to say: What is comfort? This is stressful.
It's not that I don't know what to do here.
But comfort leaves us again and again.
We work towards it, squat in it.
Are too afraid to give it up and leave it alone.

June 19

Bird-Brain

tiny little thoughts, tiny little heart beating

through tiny little veins, tiny little arteries leading

(their lives are fleeting)

to tiny little bird-body bleeding

June 17

Glamor

Glamour is a woman when I write her

Why not a man?

She was glamour,

sin personified.

I parsed her as a paramour,

her pursing lips, most dignified.

She was lipstick tube, boobs,

hips thick, loose shoes.

Half off high heels! What a steal!

She was glimmer of glamour in my mother’s eyes

Sisters all were reconciled,

Brothers agreed she had great thighs.

Let’s all keep our heads, why don’t we?

June 16

Curses

Gamblers ramble on about the day they’ll strike rich

drink their dream from the bottom of the ditch

but when it’s time to roll, roles reverse

toast the chances that coast on the dance of their curses.

June 19 

Vonnegut

When the man walks in
With a dog under one arm
And two packs of Pall Mall cigarettes in his sagging shirt pocket,
I can't help but think of him.
Pall Mall's killed him, right?
If the characters in his books travel time why can't he?
He was crazy

June 14

A Day Off

A day off

the beaten path,
the rocks,
the bandwagon.
Wiedersehen!

A day off

from work,
Broadway.
The payroll.

A day off

from school,
for good behavior.
My meds
track
the rails,
the coast,
on the wrong foot.

A day off

her rocker:
my back.
Her high horse:
my conscience.

June 14

Businessman

Something stinks:

The awful offal of daily productivity.

Can’t a businessman leave the land better than

when he began his damn activities?

It goes like this: Tie over shoulders as you piss

Shirts tucked between rib and elbow

when you start to go.

June 13

England

I'll have to go to England someday.
I imagine Great Britons hate it when
us flabby-willed Americans
fill their wharves or quays.
How many stone does it take to get stoned
here in the U.K.?
Well, I have no idea what the country
looks like, really,
but I've been imagining the streets are still
paved with cobblestones,
trodden down right to bone
by carriages, the horse-drawn cars,
and there's just one long road that spills
past pastry shops, that passes bars
(called pubs?) the Romans must have built,
much older than the dirt or sand.
Roll the stone, cool in hand,
cool in mouth, and fool of this land.

June 13

Hardware Store

"There aren't too many people like that anymore."
That single act of thoughtfulness, he told me,
sent shivers down his spine and up his chest.
He was surprised by what the man had expressed:
"Thank you for your patience," when he
was made to wait in line too long at the hardware store.

June 13

My Nose Presses On The Glass

I never want to see outside my window

Superimposed over the outside world

A reflective face (my own)

This view should be objective.

At night I shouldn’t have to turn the light

To see more than a few feet away

Into the darkness of the corners and in the fringes

Because when I draw too close I see nothing

But myself and I see too much of that

The rest of the day.

June 12

Drudgery!

When I begin to roll my verse

out with iambic arms and feet

you may feel that it crawls much worse

than modern stuff, though I still think it’s neat

to have a steady way to move

(one step, next step, next step, one at a time).

I will admit I let the groove

and it’s compatriot, the rhyme,

control the ways these poems go.

At least this drudgery’s more fun

to follow in its throbbing throes

than some dis-join-tedly-re-run

complaint about the current state

of my poor mind’s puerile debate.

 June 11

Impotence

The sit, the squat,

You little shit, you’re still a twat!

I wish that I’d been impotent

So that my life was different:

No kids to swat,

No bills to pay, no interest,

Maybe then I could invest

My time in something more meaningless. 

June 10

Care For Me

I paid her to care for me.

She promised that she’d care for me.

I believed her when she said it.

Dolores, you must elaborate

while it’s nice to have friends and family who love you

It’s really most important that I have a doctor

who can care for me.

June 9

It Wakes Me Up

I can’t escape.

I close my eyes, slow down my brain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

My pencil starts to scrape.

I try to wait until later to explain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I try to let it down.

I try, just once, to douse the flames.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

It burns with verbs, with adjectives, with nouns.

It burns with a singular aim.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I get from bed and walk.

I walk through streets and yards and under the rain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I listen to my own voice talk.

I listen to the rain and each raindrop sounds the same.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I go to school and rest.

I go to class and try to lay my mental claims.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I take a test.

I drag a thought through too, but drag in vain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I go to work and try to smile.

I get to work just to hear the same refrain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I’ll be asleep and ready to leave.

I’ll be ready to leave and take all that I’ve claimed.

It will wake me up and call my name.

I’ll pull the veil over my face and breathe.

It will wake me up and call my name.

June 8

Wardrobe

She was a constant wardrobe malfunction
if her clothes were the faces she wore,
her interactions with those around her.

She drops clothes while she changes,
those kind of actresses learn to switch fast
slipping one right on to the next.

She finally started to take them off
when she started asking me about you.
I told her to trust more on these things,
suggested that she pick one outfit to wear.

June 7

Freshman Year

Those careful faces

she floated above

were two sincere, and two sarcastic

the rest rested rusted eyes on the table.

Ready to grip their ears, if offered

smaller circles drawn about them

when she lands her crooked purple talons

sinking down, deeper –

Use fewer words, but more of them,

Don’t try to fight the nature of the poem,

You shouldn’t say should or shouldn’t,

regurgitating straight into our mouths.

Relenting at first, we sat stiff in our chairs

and began to swallow what we liked.

Writing now without her

breath no longer down my neck

no scent of secret cigarettes.

Free to stand up and move around.

June 6

"The Indirect Effect of the Invisible Man"

If the best that we can do is say,

“Thank you for everything.

Good-bye.”

Then I hope I gave the best to you,

As you gave nothing less to me.

June 4

Chisel. Mallet. Sand-paper.

Chisel. Mallet. Sand-paper.

He dreams of rolling these Elgin Marbles:

Run fingers round chilly and quick

down the sides, still, cold.

If life could emanate from ivory

could brain be complex enough

from someone else’s mind,

sufficient to enchant and please?

Trying to capture the mind on paper

breaking down at the improper veins.

Slipping from hands too worn to care

or carry this sculpture from its place.

June 4

Bookstore

You can't walk into a bookstore
and pull poetry off of its shelves
It must be coaxed, charmed, seduced
sometimes tricked!
Convince it that you'll treat it well
it may think highly of itself.
But when you bring it from its shell
you'll offer to it more and more
let it know that it was you who picked it out
and begin together.

June 3

Tastebud Camaraderie

Her lips taste sour

I taste sweet

We waste hours

Make each other's palates feel complete.

June 3

Dear John

When prompted I respond

“To whom it may concern…

Though I’ll be here

Our love may not on your return

I’ve had my hair done many times

In a little while you will see me no more

It’s best if we divorce, and quick

I won’t be married to a man who’s poor.

If you love me, you will obey my commands

Yours truly, forever and…”

June 2

Head Hunters

Three points a head, and that’s two more

than when you strike the body.

They call the ones who try to score

with just this way head hunters:

Their legs tap once, then fling upright

and pom-te-pom. Good strategy.

I keep them off by closing tight

and when their legs are under

flip their body upside down!

June 1