geek poet

2006-10-19T23:39:00.000-07:00

morning wood

the street scene is busy
  trucks
  cars
  pants
  wires
  tires
  cranes
  skirts
the 9th avenue is blocked
with a creosote soaked trunk
  fresh as frozen peas
  as pie a la mode in tinfoil
  as the soda can tab clicks open

the street team pooled
around the truck
cigarette advert perfect
their machine was angling
erecting the former tree
right next to our current
  overgrown bean pole
  cable carrier cross
  squirrel highway, crows rest

in the broadest of days
he arrived clad in the Scottish garb
twisted around the eddy of the current of today
designed to hold a six pack in one pocket
made for when the hammer slams
rather than when the bags pipe
or the club swings over the green,
4
woman in pants
on our front porch
greeted this man
in a classically cult skirt
greeted him with nary a thought
for his cloth

but the mash of working bees
peeked upon this
  as if it was absurd
  as if it was a puzzle with pieces that didn't fit
  as if those legs where shaved
the team just stopped dread
unable to parse
unable to erect
their pole propping
day was
swangled by a dude in a kilt

2006-09-14T00:05:00.000-07:00

she prescribed

rattle and shake
that hallow sound
white caps on waves
push and twist
below the crest they rest
round and perfect

asked her if
husband ever
swallowed
any pills
like asking to try on someone's
glasses
shoes
nope

once dispersed
into the stream
main street
is a drag race
to the next one
patients
addicts

2006-08-15T06:34:00.000-07:00

equation of three

render
or
boil
all of it
breaks
down
what still has any
presence
is
flowing
is
forming
is
different

scratching at the
envelope
leaves the blanks
the
in-between cravings
things get
heard
all wrong
smothered without
context
gone
up up and around
up to
the tip
the top
sucking air down like
style was fandago
gin

mumble a shape of
her outlined in red
lips
shes is the one
for me tonight
a girl of fire
a girl alive
upon this note
we wait

2006-07-29T16:13:00.000-07:00

no shade on the beach

stretched out like
  arms before a hug
  mouth at the dentist
  wrap around glasses
the sandy surface panorama
where
too many tube tops
mingle with
too much sun lotion
on lawn furniture
and fashion being
what it is
crab the skin becomes
flaking flesh

her
toe tips
castle causing
brothers' brow
to tremble
on oceans crest

she
a las a lone
unknown
unfamiliar
with wavers
sinusoidal surfaces
the rhythms
but she like those before
is suckered
deeper deeper

nothing so vague
could be of comfort
except an impression
of a shadow
on the sand
noon's slim profile
pen umbras clash
on the sea floor

down low where
the crustacean creatures
dwell
she desires
a glimpse
of that very wet sand
couldn't she just be
a drift on the surface
inner-tube
nope, instead
she skips like a thrown
stone
gently passing
under the sun rise
under the bubbles
gulp blurp gulp buu..
lead sifts through
the fluid
half floating half falling
into the pummeled
remains
of the historic
beginnings
water
washing the shore line
a ring a round the tub
foaming over
grasping at seaweed
shuffled
fluffed

her
one last breath
of fluid
before liquid
closes
in

there are two types of waves
one for hello
one for goodbye
wishes
and
waves
sunk

2006-06-29T20:14:00.000-07:00

Cannibalism in B minor

The sun was on it's way into the hills
Followed by blushing roses
And hanging vines
Across the carved rocks fluttered
The mothes and beetles of the day
Dropped a plump body
Into the mouths open hole
It had been there all day
Just waiting,
  In mid air
  In mid breeze
But it got plucked
It's clustering catacombs of flesh
Hidden in each of those pockets
  A smaller image of itself
Made my fingers turn bloodish with stains

To pluck the life of one so young
And to come back again and again
Every summer to see
What fruit may come to bear
Over the grave of others
In the evening
Of your
Wake
Is no sin
Is no crime
Is the way it should be
Eat
Drink
From the dirt
To hole
On and on

2006-06-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

riptide

the honeymooners
got away with it
made off with the safe
broke open the laugh track
even if it wasn't ever funny

cycles can't rinse us clean
karma can't track us all down
santa's list can't play catch up fast enough
to list all of the sinners
to list all of gods children

in those moments
when all else around seemed
silent
when the tide was away
the chimes would crash
tooth to flesh
gnash

it
was in their home
  the surfacing tension
  the bad decisions
  the egging on
for moons passing on by
sloshing
back and forth
across
the carpet
the oceans
now
  a cigarette
  a fag
  a loose canon
  a single phone call
out in the open
like beach glass
polished
by grit
by gravel

got caught
back turned
unaware
cause it only happens
  in the movies
  in tv episodes
  to others

not anymore

we all grow up
towards ideals
  winds
  parents
  towels
  fists
out side the vacuum
our experience
  twists inside
  knocks down
  crumples spirit

there is no excuse
there is no predication
there is nothing but
shame
slurs
regrets
fear

2006-06-13T20:00:00.000-07:00

No poem
No write

admittedly
it was about that
time
when nothing but empty rags
get all dolled up
with not a thing really
to do

it
spun around and around
until
was the only thing left to do
that night
it took us away,
but
left everything else
  alone

grabbed at the bones
  only bags now
known knows
I know
allot of things
none of it
can bring about
  the weather
  the rain
  the resin

it
just popped off the assembly
line
ripe for a kid's
good time
half a world away

it
fits just fine
above
  the nest
  the clouds
  the electrons roar
idle are our
eyes
left to wander
when the sound surrounds

zoom
formations
dot to dot
from a to zeta
nothing is left in between

hush up the phone lines
spill out into the nights living room
invaded with open ended plot lines
cascaded the sermon
piled upon
the unicycle

new board of electives
fashion at top speeds
from the moment of the sprint
rushed along the line
and
a romantic invasion

swept a roman foot soldier
across
the lines on that map
Caesar becomes nothing
  salad dressing
  a halloween party
once a year the earth circles
right past
  god
  a good juice bar
  a toga
  the lamp post

we all get lucky
once
or a while
about time
the cracks on the wall
grew their independence
like
the slime in the bath tub
strike now
what kind of feeling
it leaves
in its wake

reconcile with the night before
  the knees get week
  the heart gives out
happens more than once in a life time

cause there is
no feelings left
the body can care about
  the world
  seems to stop
  turning
when the good people pass away
fungus forms from these
sentences
lift up the moon
with out understanding
that it doesn't sink beneath the sheets
it stalls under the canopy of flowers
like a bride, this moon
is half away of two worlds
and the tides may never tell us anything about
what she thinks of our
monopoly

go
away
write
it down
if anyone cares
good
if not
great
poems
are personal
and
so am
i

2006-06-09T08:31:00.000-07:00

Romeo Died

Romeo had a heart attack
  from the cholesterol trap
  from cupids sap
he fell down in the road
while
  the vw’s
  and the buick’s
  roared on by
radios were
  tuned
  rebroadcasting
  the greatness
  the news
but no one standing ever heard the noise
while Romeo was still alive
nope,
was the echoes
last chance to bounce
  over the engines roar
  over coffee pot talk
  into the bedwetter stain
  into the cold mountains cave
Romeo was trailing off
away from the lights of the city
up up
and out again
he
won't
be missed
because
attacks
like
that
happen
every
day
so
who
can care
enough
to bring him back
even if
it was possible
i would save my pennies
too

2006-06-02T22:01:00.000-07:00

true == false

the ink was almost
dry and the
time stamp
was very clear
run it down to
the last line
goto that place again
if you can take it
make it a routine
poke into it's inside
peek out the substance
else
your only as good as your
function
form is for losers anyway

2006-04-21T08:23:00.000-07:00

Catastrophe in Tomato minor

I filled the used tin can
  a pervious house for organic red crushed bodies
  a former sea of guts with tiny
urine yellow seeds as floating buoys

orifice open to receiving the
  scolding water,soap combo
shoved the shaven lid down,
forcing its lip beneath a protruding tooth on the other side
sealing the stench in, trying to boil the last
remains clinging to the white walls of its own throat

cleansing my garbage of barnacle debris, since
metal likes to be run back through the works
but things over time may ware down
in ways unspoken of, like
people get tired of being people or
of being tin cans, or aluminum foil or
what ever chemical, electrical things they might have been before

and maybe that is why the lid,
I had fastened shut so carefully
flew open and threw through the air
millions of tiny heated charged molecules of water
closer to steam. Splattered against my
pale face
gun fire from the
freedom march within the bowels, striking out to
my skin, warped like the yellow leather of a couch
under pressure of large braying asses, guts, seeds
hung tethered against my flesh

and I thought, is this poetry

2006-04-09T16:34:00.003-07:00

empty spaces in cheese

i want my freedom to come to me
i want my cheese to be Swiss
i don't want to be the majority
i want to be in a fraternity

wanna work at a big box super store
like a twinkie with a side of cheese
can you hear the bitching the moaning
on and on till those cows get home
make a clone that is different
different but the just same
want to go to disneyland
don't want to leave my home

i want my culture to be foreign
i want my cheese to be Swiss
i don't want to be the majority
i want to be in a fraternity

fax myself up into heaven
stay high with the angels
wont want to come back down
nail me to you cross if you must
new martyr for your supper market wax
not a image for you mantel
not a idol for you dashboard
no a mr potato head
there will be no skin off my nose

i want my car to burn oil
i want my cheese to be Swiss
i don't want to be the majority
i want to be in a fraternity

sometimes i yell
sometimes i scream
make me be the pirate
make me sail the seas
just give me twenty six types of processed cheese
just give me twenty six types of processed cheese

2006-03-31T07:25:00.000-08:00

alibi

you wearing that
disguise
like
a mask
a freshly painted coat
a buffer
a wall divider
a cubicle
commonly it seems to be
the thief
scheduled
into the alley
the when or why
of
where is the alibi
now

it sits
on the forth floor
where a store
got stacked
upwards
sky limit
heaven french door
the parking meter peaked
at that moment
when
your just about ready
seems good enough
cause
the fall
is coming
it is standing there
without a stir
without a straw
awaiting
just before sleep
is a fine alibi
if there is one
at all

another turn
around another
stop sign
off the road
into the distance
the candy cane
or a dagger
let out of it's sheath
into the wild
into the air
the alibi
that can't seem to
make it
around the next
corner
always one witness away
always one dime short
always one more lesson
always one last page to turn
always one figure to burn
a square
a line
the dot
a semaphore
you can hear
from the gravel road
from the ballpark
from the fevers pitch
from here
from outer space
and beyond

2006-03-25T21:17:00.000-08:00

shapes

the outline
of the hull
of a boat
ready and set
to skip
over a sea floor
ready to
turn a trick
out in the open
the boat afloat
from this point
on down
the line
tides may bring
the palm tree down
shore breath may
knock the fruit down
but the captain's marbled eye
wishing us a
good goodbye
is like a shave
against the wind
this boat is
hollow inside
hollow inside

2006-03-21T06:26:00.001-08:00

ala gauche

sometimes i feel like
doing nothing right
no matter how the cards get over turned
comes up low, too low to be any good
while your coming down from high
all night these people fall asleep
to the lone drummer and his beat
everyone everywhere trying to do the right
but it keeps coming up blank faces
staring out the window into outer space
looking off to some silly other place
what fits in between the commercials
what fits in between the gaps in teeth
the crumbs on the floor
again i feel like
doing nothing right
the more you sing the more you soar
a sour set of notes written out in ink
so you can't wash off the stain
can't trace it back to any center
to the source or the common cause
there are things shadows can reveal
in the midst of the best book
it turns to flames with no desire
like the heater drinking drafts all night
what is this place we're all coming to
a distant call a phone on any hip
we pay the price too many times
multiply the meaning and look right inside
cause i feel like
doing noting right
explore the edges of the map
like it was going out of style
there are things we like that we'll never know
until the stumble that break the glass
opens up the wounds like a bloom
a fire cracking in the sky
on a night 4 days too late again
when our father father fought for something
but we can't see from this location
partially obscured by today events
by the clouds of life the worms we are
messing things up again
sometimes i fell like
doing nothing right
doing nothing at all
might just cause a bit more grief
than doing anything at all
what is a perfect knife
splits the sides of this life
dripping down my head awash
in the shower stall hearing echoes
from behind the drywall inside the duct work
outside the trees keep grabbing soil and air
soaking up the earth the sun the moon
till only one drop is left
till only one person cares
tonight i fell like
doing nothing right

2006-03-13T07:30:00.000-08:00

Strength

think,
is a life worth it
worth
  all of this
  any of this
  the cost of a paper
  swords at dawn
we seem to be
shapes of waterfalls
bucking through the wheat fields
against the grain
time trailing off
like exhaust fumes
falling asleep late
again

No frequent feeling
No bouquet of flowers
No Christmas feast
No princess bride
No calm of the storm
No bridge home

ideas are cheap
they rattle through the
head's cavern
sounds of popping corn
thoughts become something to
hold onto
cause from now
till another then
it is not good enough
to just have some
strength

2006-03-09T07:18:00.000-08:00

testers templates and style

dashed off
across the screen
the keys get
  passed over
  or
  hammered on
all emissions
from the player piano
  chimes
  or
  squawks
echo out through
the cable
into the wall
into the 60 cycles hum
the message is coded
concealing
  the meaning
  the effect
  the implementation
while these gears
  grind
  and
  whirl
somewhere on the other end
a strobe is pulsing
on/off
and gets captured
like a flag

backslashes from
returning the sender's reply
heard world wide
incased in hyper tags
front and center
on the home page

we get linked
  by the compiler
  by the named servers
  by our own return address
arm in arm
virtually marching
a hair width between
us
the electron
her
the entire world
through
  a prism
  a logic gate
  a lossy impression

emulating
our own dreams
seems simply
the only game
going
to a geek like
me.

2006-02-24T07:23:00.000-08:00

my second job

standing at the street
curb's upper rim
the car
i was looking for
was simply not there
not where
i had left it the night before
'crack'
as the whicker basket
and laundry
hit the pavement
all rolled
  off down the hill
see,
i had forgotten that
i had already left for my
other job,
it was my first day and
thought late
was already on my way

my other job is not forgetting to take my
heroin
seattle's space needle
viewed from a second story
parking garage where i sent myself a post card
  a sort of message from the other side
  cause when you get fucked up all day
  you sort of want something left to remember it by,
a pink postmarked parking ticket
fondled its way south
through the postal system
right to me
eventually

back to today,
i cart-wheeled after
the clothing
now clogging up the gutter’s descent
made my way on the hoof to the local
laundry matte
the attending change machines
said nothing to me as
a sock dropped under foot
which sent me
via federal express
air born
my hands,
over my
  shirts
  pants
  towels
  and unmentionables
a near by counter
grasped but failed
to thwart the falling
however i did swipe a
collection can for jerry’s kids
on the way down
thuds and suds,
we all landed flat
eventually

ceiling slowly
focused itself
the light fixtures
perspective was
  me strew across
  a myriad of cloth
  a jar of mixed change
  floors tile white/black
  lint balls tumbling

composure regained
stowed the garments
collected the presidential circumferences
stuffed them
back into the vault
placed the bloated jerry jar
back on the counter

this place
this laundry bastion
seemed empty,
  only machines
  fluorescent gas filled tubes flickers
  jerry's change for tots
  some spun cotton
  highly extracted petrol threads
  and me

turned to face the
monetary chameleon contraption
tried to withdraw a couple
of washington’s from my pocket
but nothing
and all i could hear
in my inner ear
was the echos
of gilded copper filled with zinc
as they spread across the room
but right now
they lay there
on the unhelpful level
resting
all of these
  quarters
  nickels
  dimes
  dreams
help up inside
the
  unfastened,
  unfettered,
  unattended,
  waiting
thief's dream
of jar

i realized then staring
at the
  jack pot
  golden rainbow
  rabbit's paw
  spending spree
that i didn’t have
another job
so who was driving
my car

2006-02-07T15:30:00.000-08:00

cart blanche

sweet and suppressed
you have on that nice looking dress
say, your leaving
leaving, your saying
so come on in

the substance of a woman
or
jumping, jim
his ample body slumped over
slurred through and through

the distance from silence
is more than one should have to bear
from ground, to gravel
to pummeled stone
luck
is a strange thing
to count on
anyday

last night a park bench
and a drunk
a gardener
a gambler
a voyeur
a miserable excuse for a human being
but something still humane
in his gesture,
his valid carte blanche
yellow photo copied card

'with cart blanche you get all the best service
free champagne'
so why are you slurring your words
at one a.m. on a park bench with me
'......'

read romance novels,
and write in your tent,
hold onto your knife
for dear life is passing you by

by and by
i'm not the substance that a woman is
i'm not afraid of the distance between silences
awkward glances
and you

2006-02-07T12:30:00.000-08:00

Duty free

the dogs are sounding off
like the horns from the city
cars stacked bumper to bumper
everything's a little smog machine
arrows shooting out
from foreheads
attitudes casting out
flung into the ocean

glean the how
the when
the tortoise hides
the rabbit holes
ducking down away
past the howls
  a side step
  a strong hold
  a loose grip
on her

i’ve wondered about all the little crosses
on the road side
counted like
  the long miles
  higway markers
  white horeses
of other’s cousins
dead
tiptoed

if
you are ready
read it
all
there is more to come
you’re welcome
to the piles
to the questions
to the equations
to the pulp
to the digits
cause
i am duty free

2006-02-07T12:24:00.000-08:00

empty spaces in cheese

i want my freedom to come to me
i want my cheese to be Swiss
i don't want to be the majority
i want to be in a fraternity

i wanna be work at a big box
like a twinkie with a side of cheese
i will bitch and i will moan
until the cows come home
i want a clone that is different
different but the same
i want to go to disneyland
i don't want to leave my home

i want my culture to be foreign
i want my cheese to be Swiss
i don't want to be the majority
i want to be in a fraternity

fax myself to heaven
stay high with the angels
wont want to come back down
can nail me to you cross if you please
a new martyr for you supper market candles
i'm not a image for you mantel
i'm not a idol for you dashboard
i'm no a mr potato head
there will be no skin off my nose

i want my car to burn foriegn oil
i want my cheese to be Swiss
i don't want to be the majority
i want to be in a fraternity

sometimes yell
sometimes scream
be the pirate
sail the seas
just give me twenty six types of processed cheese
just give me twenty six types of processed cheese

2006-01-30T07:48:00.000-08:00

check mate

a stale mate
if anything
sure
run the dice down
to the floor
and wait

buildings move
buildings fall
so much for the kids
we once upon a time
were

moving
in circles
mind pieces
  jumped of the ledge
  into the thinest of air
hung
suspended
waiting
caught up
by something
behind the
  cash register
  waving flag
  passing floats
  credits limit

no jackass in
this story
no president in
this play
only
mice
and
memories
to pull us along
to push
to poll
electric electorate

check mate
911

2006-01-29T23:45:00.000-08:00

thumbing around
3 of 3

about a tiger
it started from the tail's tip
we stumbled out of the city
a bus ride
at morning's own busting
we went up and out
into the
the jungle
  of umbrellas overgrown
  of branches splitting
  and whiskers washing

my own body was tangled up
with virus veins
so every time
the stripe switched
the trail
i would swoon
searching out
  sitting stump
  perching rock
her steep flanks
flowed up
around
to where all the water drops
are full of
  latte froth
  full in gravity’s gratitude
we heaved through endlessly
one shoe after
one army boot
up and up

somewhere deep into the
ascent aimed at the tiger's mouth
we heard the yellow crawl
of the unthinkable taxi
a bulldozer
and it was then
the thumb stood up
for the third time
and flagged the contraption
down

the machine approached close
enough
and halted
my hands griped
it's cool
flesh
we stepped onto
it's side
and rode
up
away
into the tiger’s face
that
effortlessly came into focus

slept that night
in the nape of the tiger's neck
near the end of the trails
tip toed top

2006-01-05T07:23:00.000-08:00

thumbing around
2 of 3

second attempt to catch
a ride
under the magnifying glass
in the sand box
of a mexican 4 lane highway
we both stood far away
  from the beach resorts
  maid tucked beds
  fuzzy champaign ledges
this is where the truckers
  run on rubber
  stop for signs
  start into night visions
where
  little metal sheet shacks
  stacked coffins
  roll out into oblivion
past the hand bags
into the scrub brush and tumble weed

she and i switched off
baiting the hook
casting into the dark brine
of late summer
dreams
are why the fish wait for
  fisherman
  hooks
  hitchers
  the feeling of flying
and then all at once
it happened
bait taken
our world became a
  splashing
  thrashing place
dust clouds in the brakes wake

we got caught
  finally a free ride
climbed each of us
up the step's ladder
into the cab
her arm brushed an
exhausting pipe
  flashed flesh
  swelled skin
a little bread loaf
risen and tender

we drank the drivers
beer cheap
from his
  cooler
  armrest
  best friend
she held her's against
the swelling
heat
rolling across the horizon line
rippled the vista
felt a drip right down my spine
as I drank my beer in silence
on our way south
a tongue apart from the driver

2005-12-23T13:35:00.000-08:00

thumbing around
1 of 3

the first time I ever hitched
was in the middle of the witch's tit
winter's thermal garment in full forceful fluff
  the downhill ski
  the snow shoe
all more useful
than what I was progressing to a lesson with
  cobbled shoe
  duct tape sole
skidding over
  ice patches
  into snow bluffs
heading due south
all the while looking for that
door's waiting step

once i was warned not to slip
cause if we clear our
  cement step
  our wooden stoop
of snow and ice
  liable
  as the day is wrong
but if we
  laze about all day
  sip hot cocoa
  stuff turtles necks
  leave the steps alone
let the snow pile up till you can’t
  get the mail
  go for groceries
it will be god’s own will
  when the slip slaps down
  when the back breaks
  when the knee bends
no one else is left to blame

so,
i stood there
stood very still
far to one side of the lane
and the thumb was there
was extended upwards
jutting above the fist
  like a little plow
  or moses and his water rift
we all make our own way
through the fluid dynamics
  into the wild
  into the blossoms

we both waited
the thumb and i
  extended
  out there
while the blizzard billowed
hoping
that the truck gone snow scoop
  who was just blowing by
might make a bus stop
out of the road side
and plow me
my thumb
and
the snow

nope.

maybe it was the axe in my other hand
untuned
or the job that just had
to be done alone
so, i
on the snow
paced
one shoe
then the
next
the rest of the way
in the fresh
slit path
of the plough
followed it
to the doors cleared step
and didn't fall

yet

2005-12-20T18:45:00.000-08:00

sword fish and sorry

the shallow end of the tank
stirs a bit
inside the folds
as the bate from my breathe
drops in
our life through fluids
remains
moving on

i’m sorry
i’m sure
for
  filtering memories
  late nights lights
  hollow shaped words

clearly the water
needs to be cleaned
the filter has begun
to become over run
algae despairs
in the open

i’m sorry
i’m sure
for
  driftwood floating away
  us pouring outwards
  instinctive backward strokes

drowned with sorrow
fins finish flapping
and i’m just about out
of food
for me
and you.

2005-12-15T17:45:00.000-08:00

smoking is sex

in the car
lips
half
blistered
chapped
the sun
a smile
the heat
is no bother
anymore

a charmed snake
dancing
across
the highway
lengthwise
a nightly regression

do it in
the mornings
body
still dreaming
who dares speak
mouths foul with sleep
phantom movements

bury
mouth
in sex
the sent
might cover
up the foulness

then
fall asleep dreaming
puffs of cloud
could
take anyone
away

2005-12-09T18:23:00.000-08:00

Girls can fight/Guys can pout

on the west most corner
of the school yard
all of them are just
  waiting
  gawking
for the main event that
doesn't really want to start

A
fight
just might break out
in the open air of the playground
swirling leafs
come to rest for a
moment

ring around the main
event
  not too short
  not too sweet
no thuds on the head
no nails on chalkboard
can stop all the waltzing around
  the conversations
  the center pieces
that transpire

circling inward
the crowd
presses for
  a flash point
  a ignition key
  a starting gun
and then as if on queue
the lunch bell rings across the grounds
muffled by the grass
bounced off the tire swing
and they all file into
the feedbag milk train
even the two at the eye of the storm
would rather eat
than brawl
at-least
today

2005-12-07T18:38:00.000-08:00

The thirteenth pocket

Fire
Smoke
Signals
Are coming in clear
On this cloudy after noon

Only when I walk
Only when I drive away
Only when I write

But there are these times with coffee
And once and a while just because
Or that odd sunday when god talks to me
But the guideline is still there
  Etched in the sand
  Spun into the glass
  Molting with the birds
Climbing across the powerlines
Smoking from the heat

The sign’s stop wouldn’t do
The trash can, no option
The only place
  Is the firehydrant
  Is the backseat of the car
  Is the mirror's face lift

More codes,
With long keys
  to re-encrypt
  to rewrap the sonnet
Less the news get out to soon
And everything is left out in the open
Like a liqueur cabinet left ajar
Smoking jackets and soft slippers
Are all that divide people
From habits that shape the who of us
Into lumps that create the then of us
Multiply the remainder
It comes up odds everytime.

2005-12-06T21:30:00.000-08:00

Beached

I put an apple core down
Hoping the flys would settle
Due south on the sweet scent

No wind, just waves of water
Clouds of tooth paste
Mythical shunts of heaven’s doormat
And black flys eyes

Writers block i figure, they smell it
Perching upon me, there millions
Of identical optical receptors
Always peering

Not one wants the core ambrosia
It’s me or the water’s edge
I sit still hoping i become just
Another rock to erode away

But the whispering of their wings
Sounds like the shells breath
Beckons for the water’s line

It is a sad day when
You fly face first
Against the waves creeping tide
Covered like elephant, moose, hippo
With moral-less, heathens
Pulling up at the very last moment
And settling back as the tide swoops out

I rise, droplets scatter against the rocks
I sloped back up the way i came
Leaving the pen and paper
Let the flies try and write this poem

2005-11-30T08:31:00.000-08:00

done

When something is finally done
Then it is over
What comes next
  Is from under the washing machine
  Is a last minute decision to give in
  Is hairs in the sink after shaving
  Is nothing but bargin basement shopping

When someone is done
They have become it.
To be honored by
Leaving strengthened body out to sea
Burning down the human suitcase
Or to simply rage beneath the earth
In hollow stretched fetus pose
What is left behind is
  A meal
  A album
  A painting
  A coded letter
  A dream

All of this can get done
Without ever getting the
Fifteen seconds
Needed to crest just above
The seething layer of humanity
Call it what you will
Any one would kill for just one more
  Go around
  Quarter for the machine
  Lifetime in this skin

2005-11-18T07:25:00.000-08:00

no product

we were foolish to think that
anything could ever of been clean
not product produced comes clean
ever thing from the earth on up is dirty to us
filled with micro germs
haunted with visions of miniature malls of disease
clustered together conspiring to maim or worse

2005-11-16T07:20:00.000-08:00

of caro

he in that morning,
the fence creaked ajar
slipped just past the crack
his hair slightly waving
teeth to match the inside
no metaphor comes close
to the burning up of spoons
filled with
  prescription hope
  tire treed shavings
  battery acid bath
  coughed up medicine

i asked him if he knew
what caro meant
nope.
in any tongue under the sun
it is spoken with a crisp lisp
not unlike
  mono unsaturated sunshine
  high oleic earth
  trans fat bank accounts

if you have
  a pedal for each foot
  a pair of wheels
  one monkey bar bent
then gallop over the
fog clouding up the road way
mystic the machine
pumps away
gone
from our backdoor
never to be syndicated

2005-11-15T21:00:00.000-08:00

the darker

she picks up theology
puts one end in her left hand
takes the other end in her right
slowly rocks it back and forth

the jutting movements
are basic broken postures
stooped from here to dentures pillows

the advent of fine clothes
finally miss led
she as the mark
  priceless
  money
  visa
happiness
credit vultures
above the crust, circling
  praying on
  waiting for
the stockings crashings
our land is filled up with tiny gods
who proclaim
lend us the cash to rebuild this Rome
as only an image
of earthquakes
cold plates
good things seem to
  come back around
  roll down hill
  splatter awake
and so wait
for the light to lose it's wax

2005-11-10T18:30:00.000-08:00

one night

it couldn’t of been decided what
was noise and what
  was just the sounds
  was simply a melody
  was only the mist
could of been nothing more
than a tiny protuberance
from beneath the floor boards
that creeks
anyway

the ivory whites were all
clanging about meanwhile
where did those keys get
abandoned this time
as the night passed
looking
without noticing
how long it had taken
all the times before
to fetch the fallen
might that suggest
  be careful
  treed slowly
  hold often

what is there left
to say and how often we glance
at others
opens up something about us
there is no
way to even get out of
  this skin
  a bad cold
  washing the dishes
like a sloppy impression of the outlines
of the body

can't it be that
on this very spot
we mount
at the precise moment a
  horse of distress
  an hour of prison
in a moment
in a flash
gone
passed
out into the street
light without consent
stumbling
always
onwards
into the horizon line

2005-11-03T21:21:00.000-08:00

once upon a warfare

stuck
in a pose
on the field
of battle

if holding onto
this weapon means giving up on
  you
  this city
  a life time
  our passport
  the window ledge
then let the guilt ride
as the cross
  rode upon jesus
as the kid rode his space ship
  fueled on pennies

an ideal in the flesh
raised up right
over the hills
past the blood
stained carpets
onto the rolling pelts
opening, unfolding
calling out to history
the future on a leaflet
caught, turning in the current
only to become at full rest
on the floor
frozen

till death
do we
come apart

2005-11-01T23:57:00.000-08:00

Summertime

wary goes the flesh to light
turned over
forced red
while most remain
in beneath the cool
  slices of silicon
  curves of steal
  breath of cloud

summertime means
we can cast a shadow again
roll down the windows
let loose the winter elbow
sputtering along
in time with the radio

it is a dance above us
ringed in lamp light
universal
beacons
it to will pass

2005-11-01T07:38:00.000-08:00

Heaven forbid the fucking phlegm upstairs might live here

Another day rolled off my lips
Tongue to cheek
I’m a monkey, like the suits and ties
No cell phones, but espresso, nice days
The beach
And i should of said i’m sorry to you more often
Cause i messed up
But it was too late
And the apology would sounds like this

"I’m sorry for stating the obvious,
But it’s just that what you said was just so obvious
And there was only you,me and obvious
I was looking at it
You where looking at it
Crumbs splashing against the counter top could percieve it
The dry dandruff on your cuffs
The phlegm you won’t give up
The dirt at the edge of your bath-tub
All of them had something less obvious to say
To a person making something to eat
‘peanut butter and jelly?’"

I took offense to what you didn’t say
I shouldn’t have
You took offense to what i did say
You shouldn’t have

It a simple case of mistaken identity
I think everyone is smart
You think everyone is dumb
The difference is
you are probably right

I beg you
to stop
the low cough
Hold onto your youth,
Cause it’s gonna slip
And you’ll just alone and bitter
Like me.

2005-10-28T17:55:00.000-07:00

the 6 words that i hate

just
push one more onto the stack
who will notice
from this distance
it could be anything

the 6 words that i hate
don't wait
don't play dead
or nice

could of
lost that key you gave to me
been to busy
of late
liberating
skeletons through
the door

the 6 words that i hate
are here
to stay
and can't
retrieve a stick

'i am in love with you'
just six words
i can live without
and if you notice
then this magic works

the 6 words that i hate
aren't soft
spoken
don't listen
to music

the 6 words that i hate
are still coming into being
as we speak
spell them all out
anyway you like
they are still trouble

the 6 words that i hate
are not about to say hello
are not up before the afternoon
are not going to your prom
are not coming home late again
are not even words at all
are not spoken often enough

2005-10-27T06:05:00.000-07:00

fallen

remember the
anticipation before
embrace

scent of chalk on the board
little memory paths
lines stretched to words
sound in old places
once filled with spaces

dilated the time line
of awkward moments
before arms wrap
around

force equals the weight
mixed with
speed of change
busking at lights limit
or simply
falling

impact is just so
soft
almost seems like a memory
if still alive
then lucky
else not lucky

simple

2005-10-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

Floating

inside
the center of
the world
on winters eve

God
is a one syllable word
Yuck
is the history of english
language
  words
  sentences
all smack adiabatic
right into the eyes
of
  small mice
  reptiles
  And well…

me

Uhm…
everything seems fine
from
  this place
  this point
  this view
  that pasture

liberate a language
that has
  gone under ground
  gone down deep
and our own culture becomes
a creeping crawling thing
we call it
the world
  toiling
  foiling

the ball
is still rolling
basic or flat
without lunch breaks
  high tea
  coffee hour
  smoke sessions
nothing

sip the salt
from the rim
  the coast line
a drift
floating

2005-10-14T19:15:00.000-07:00

so

a rumor
straight from the head of the herd
rumbled right into my ear

i heard
there is a hole
in my life

some say it has your shape
that you could pass right through it

it can be seen
in
   my gut
   my head
   my stomach
   bad sitcoms,
   my toenails
   grocery stores
   satellite photos

i did try to patch it up
with malt devices
   malt o milk
   malt shakes
   malt o meal
and most of all
   malt liquor

but even now
if there was any chance
to dance one last night
i would
on any planet you choose

2005-10-13T20:53:00.000-07:00

rushed migration

span
a gulf to overcome

chalked
outlines on the asphalt

flocks
above, every axises aligned

doors
lashed closed

windows
wound up tight

passed
again on the right side

daily
weekly
monthly
seasonly
yearly

pick
out the right frame

follow
the stretching shadows

reach
out beyond the horizon

closing
in, and coming closer

temporary
casa, houses the fleet

until
lunch hour rounds that corner

after
bask in the calm electric storm

eventually
the hours abated

regression
happens along the rope twill

that
castle you built

you
will see it again

2005-10-07T21:03:00.000-07:00

Trading places

he stretched his black leather gloves
against the iron gate
a night spent pacing
all the while watching
trolling the pond
he is the
just in case it ever happens guy
a break on insurance premiums
and taxes
the lost leader
required
unused

the burnt side of the eggs,
comes out sunny side under
when the retails chains
call it in
the night is a tunnel stretched out,
alone and tightening
having already counted
steps between parking spots
blue mazdas
white horses
scraps of paper
receipts
round and round he goes
finding all the bits of trivia
tucked into any place
he imbues each car panel
with the story of a life time
fills each window scene of
wrangler jeans
wrist watches
coat hangers
the bomb
with spaces for
long walks,
dog feeding time
kids first step
fire crackers
almost every ankle bracelet
smells of sun oil,
late naps
all behind the glass
waiting for someone else

as if when the birds
emerge from the evening
and break the morning with a flight
the shopping carts come alive
pushing
rushing
in and out
its like
every piece
every shop
every car
every unicorn
he guarded
never existed to anyone but him

he pours nothing else but
coffee steam into the air
above his cup
under his nose
I watch
him
and think
of his life
as if i have been there before

2005-10-05T21:58:00.000-07:00

Bleeding allot

From with in the mind's own eye
Without anyone standing in the way
Brilliant
Bright
Imagery
That well has dried up
Form a spring too short
And a summer wasted,
Again

Sure you can take a hair cut to an
Extreme, find the blades of each
Palm tree offensive
But i simple can't wait for the
Next hammock to be hung
On the backs of razors
On the lean edges
And long nights

She went into the bathroom stall
Closed the cold door
Rotated the mettle latch
Covered the porcelain with a clean
Towel
And squatted in anticipation
Of more things than
One could dream about

Sudden fires are know to spread
On hot nights
So, i have been told
It is common for
Whole forests
Street blocks
Scenes in movies
To blow up without
Warning

No wonder the good guys die so young
A melody sung about cowboys
As if they had no choice
but to ride that horse
Into the wide open night
Instead of tend to the subaroo

An easy model
She is
Thrown back to the trail of the train
Just waiting for linguistics to
Play catch up and change
So the home and the range
Can open up and work hard at
Defending the country
Against the memories
The text books sweep under the rugs

2005-10-05T18:56:00.000-07:00

nothing left of my plate

crumbs crawl
and spurt
turn in the wind
blow across the ribs
rustles the grass
a cage
is still four walls
to work with in
a cave
is still a tube
to the center of the earth

we sprawled out
without regard for
the guns and knifes
hanging onto the windshield
we would see through the glass
half way rolled down
the breeze at 60mph
hair raised
glasses on
stalled in the middle lane
empty tank
coasting for the afternoon

curves culled from the back
of the cranium
of the crank shaft
a projection from within
the soft tissue
between the rubbing
ontop of the grill

licked clean
again
talked it up
out above the tree limbs
my plate empty
my own life laid bare
a sprig of mint
a twig of parsley
nothing more

2005-10-04T21:56:00.000-07:00

A bit too late.

One night I stooped
Low
A gut opened up
So
I bleed on the floor
Till
A river rowed and rolled
Me
Down the little lane
Up
Over the night skyline
Into
The den of the lion
But
I was a bit too late
You
Had already played your
Song
So I took my leave and went
Outside
Into the fluid night air
Out
above all of the cars
Parked
Packed neatly in rows like a
Plan
From on high that turns out
Wrong
Again I am sorry you were right
We
Were not awake anyway
Always
A shy step away from a better
Place
To call your own, home.

2005-09-30T21:36:00.000-07:00

Got the time.

This morning might melt
The velveeta sheets
This morning might wilt
The lettuce blankets
This morning has brought
Coffee to it's knees
This morning has called my
Clock a filthy lair

Facial ticks mark time better
Than some crystal beads
laid up on
Her supple,
bending wrist
Each tick to tock
separated by mini gaps
Leaps or bounds
From one cavern to the next cave
Hands are watched and
go round and round

About ten minutes to nine
That’s where it stopped
Mattering
Here became the there
I will be at
Then the bed became a basket
Small as a wooden casket
That is drifting upon a river
With Lilly pads,
and frogs knees bumping
long into the dark night

If we all happened at once
If this morning was nothing
More than tomorrows dinner plate
If i woke in the same spot again
Then it would be a day
Like no other

2005-09-29T17:12:00.000-07:00

sticks and stones

Those boys are out there
running the city down,
Packs of hungry debutantes
Wine, cheese crackers..
They are out there in the world
Shaving down there six packs
Sucking in their guts
Looking lean
Looking mean

But that is only a mirror backed dream
These are soft mama boys
Peach fuzz, teeth white pillow dreams
Denim, stone washed
Acid washed, but well washed
Pressed, hung up, starched
Jeans that never see
Late Sun up,
Or days hung over
A miss match to the sheen
Of glossy, hard up,
Angular boys on the last page

They are out there trying on disguises
Debating
Proclaiming this is the best
This is the night,
A great nite
Something i wont remember
No matter how hard i
Try,
Next time i’m standing alone in the laundry mat
Watching the other lovers clothes
turn through the last rinse cycle

2005-09-28T11:26:00.000-07:00

do

the forest of green monkeys making mince-meat pies
and I a school boy
tell you to sit wait and come here
my honesty may be all that is there
and let me tell you
there ain’t much left
maybe you could get a spatula
and scrape my insides
like I was a pipe
a womb
a bowl of jello
and find inside that mess
a single cell that is me
you know I am the same all around
an image from one side
in two dimensions
view me as a star as old as now
make me a cake as fast as you can

2005-09-23T12:16:00.000-07:00

Don’t say jesus like you knew him

‘for the student that walked out
on my father's science class’

sometimes god is just one electron, late for everyone
on overdrive, and sometimes god is
his son, a carpenter gone holier than the cows
cream rises like a ghost, and goes sour if left unchurned

sometimes evolution is coming to a 6 way intersection of stops signs
where your lane is now ended, filled opposite you
with oncoming traffic glaring, leering, leaning out the windows
hairy-monkeys cell phones, weather proof toupees, sliced bread firethewheel

don’t say jesus like you met him once,
On some lazy sunny day
you didn’t know his bones, that have mingled
with the rocks, been idle long
before your mother had the blankets pulled
away from her, once for the wedding night

Just say heysuses, geezuss, not jesus
Not greeypoopeon, not 20 shopping days left
No locus, plaguing children’s hidden fantasies

When you stepped into the din of hallway, head down
I heard your cloth rustling, like droplets of water spilling in caves
Like your beet red neck, bubbling faithful passion
A traditional insect not fooled by the constant buzz of the evolving bug zappers.

2005-09-21T16:56:00.000-07:00

bluffs and beaches

She stood into the sun
as the sea shone
at the She shore
stood by staring
into the sushi waves
rolling blue, white
white and blue
sky & see
she schmels so sweet
it seems

He stood facing west
while the cars whizzed by
looking out across the criss cross
Of the power lines,
L car lines
the phone lines
one dollar
and some Pennies
troll toll waiting for
the rattling toy trains

dropped her heal down
toe first then
tip top
she rolled back
down the bluff
thinking shit,
'this isn’t life
as it was intended
but it ain’t all that bad'

Stood by himself in
shaded by the 400 floored
Pyramids
Columns
Jutting his jaw's bone
looking for signs
of the sun
or a trail to follow

ships drift
fish flippantly ignore
algae plumes and explodes
pavement cracks grow
all the little while
hes and shes
in their on/off life
spend hours
on speeding buses
on beaches drifting
on waves grinning
breathing the lye
of it all

2005-09-19T15:57:00.000-07:00

Kid.

Stamps of yellow
Smears of blue
Crayons and glue
I’ll stick to you

Birthdays in serpentine
Suits of silk worms
She’ll sick in mornings
And I’ll tear in nights

But we have it now
The fever and the chills
Bumps in the night
And mumps in the mouth

You’re still a goddess
Soon to be sleep deprived
From a smaller red head
But still a pain

I wish I was stronger
I wish I was richer
I wish I was smarter
But I’m still

Kid.

2005-09-16T14:34:00.000-07:00

bucket of water

we exit the morning
like it was wetness
palms against flesh
sliding
drops dwell
after the shower is over
the fan is left to wind the Wind
for an hour
as we melt between the coffee
fumes and head lines of
news about what is newer
and what might have passed
in the night

it hurts like a
weakness in the scull
hair line fracture that
runs along the scalp
where only things like
lice and dandruff have been before
even rain drops stay away unless
drenched, or bald
or weak

we exist it seems
as luggage to be hauled around
as most of dinner
from last night just sits
and sloshes around
flesh or tupperware

or we ignite this night
light a fire under wraps
that boils water
till it hurts
or leaves a mark
and the shower is over
the fan still runs
but who cares
let it

2005-09-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

Beauty sleep

We all piled into the car
All six of us, in through the four doors
Clowns each
Crawling into the trunk, dashboard, key hole, ashtray
And i don’t know who drove that day
We were all there, driven
car made it’s own way
past cows, knotted hills speckled with rocks shrubs
white horse is a slap on the thigh
but all the sights just smear past
through the glass
our legs lean over each other’s knees
there were rules to the road, only the car knew that day
we kept to the inside out of the carpool lane
better to get there before the turtle
but after the hair
6 of us hurtling through space in alloyed invention
hair splitting difference between
creamy center and the roads glare
it was the day when laboring can cease for a moment
everythingshops are underlock
houses puff smoke balls, mocking a lizard cloud
we had orders to enter high atmospheres
closer to where the earth’s bubble of gas fades away
spindling across wooded switch backs
up into the parking lot nestled next to trail’s head
where our thin shell smiles were whacked to stumps
where a sign was drawn across the path. Closed.
where the man of tree bark and hat, had locked up mount el dialbo
to sleep or just rest the night away,
it’s body gets tired of nike’s making patterns
of monkey butt resting on it’s tender boulders
we got out of the car anyway
to circulated our limbs
leaned into the gate’s dividing line,
hemming hawing at the peaks distant nipple
cover with whipped cream, and the cherry of
a-to-be sunset on top
we took pictures next to the closed sign
and pretended the mountain was Rush-More him self
and this was as close as we could ever get to his flawed faces,
day or night
sign or no sign
and the why of it all was never asked
The mountains gets closed. Every day
it seems they get shut up, for safety
surely the mountain doesn’t have to get up early
doesn’t have a bed time, or hair cut appointment
it sunny side up comes as regular as bran muffin mornings
so we all piled back into the car
not fitting right
square pegs of psychological experiments
rounded the corners of the smiling switch back, who knew all the while
crossing the field smells
mixed aromatic cow flesh, skunk, mint, grass, leaves
all whisking us home
to open up the t.v. set and create another great night to remember
all cause the mountain we wanted
needs beauty sleep like vanna white

2005-09-12T14:36:00.000-07:00

little bundle/little burden

a small pack
fits in the palm
just so
fits like a whiff
of fresh air filtered
through
the daily paper
rolled up
and packed tight

lighten up
raise a dark cloud
that caries a message
up and out
into the world
at large
so small
these days
we can touch
from one end to other
in a dialtone

you look like your
car
or a factory
when
you do that
just stand there
billboard perfect
for a while
until
your age wilts you
until
the bundles of
twigs
unfurls
and rolls down
the hill
six
pairs of shoes
head over
clouds

laugh
and
cough
it up
anyone is worth it
inhale

2005-09-06T22:21:00.000-07:00

Thoughts on an old dead bird

Spider
I caught
The night before
Whose belly split
Burst like a blueberry
Made a synapse pause
Cause death is killing
Leaving moving

When he died some one came in to find him
Customary
The viewer, he went home
And sat down, spoke to his wife
Petted the dog
Looked out the window
Made a few phone calls
This caused each
Person phoned to go through
The same cycle
Cause the phone message walked into their day
Like the body itself
Each phone called,
Told it’s wife/husband
Then sat, paused
Shed
Then picked up the phone
All moved the message along

Till it hit every nerve that could of cared

One mess of strings
Of thinkings
And through
The bodies
The phones
Smoke signal went up
Ashes went down
Into electric space
Into my ear hole
And finally
I
Too
Cried

2005-09-06T16:09:00.000-07:00

lowest common denominator

if it can graze upon
the crust of the earth
or pull the plow
against the grain
all to till a meal
underneath traffic cones
then is it really
a beast

if it can gnash it bones
in the middle of the night
how you slice your pi
is no cause to celebrate
or maybe it's your own business
but can we all agree on the
primary colors of most
things
like politics, the weather
or do we
pick up sticks to early

if it can gaze upon
light beams refracting from
the factory floor
night after night
the energy is forced
through to
to the plants exterminates
and it rises again
when the rinse cycle comes
to town

if it can glaze upon
the sand beneath it's hoof
or spin around
or turn the newest leaf
and at the midnight moment
jump over the moon
to cascade like confette
wet
wild
eyes open
ragging
against the
chlorophyl
like an apple with two pairs

2005-09-02T13:01:00.000-07:00

Drug’s

Forced to find the pleasure of
Mixed morning libation
As not passing, casual
Stomach acid bubbles and boils
Steam passing through dirt
Lava, welling up in spurts

Shot of solo, western style
The rim of porcelain,
glint from the incandescent light
Dirty, stained, tainted
Sticking on top
the white
Crystals, swollen black orifice
Engulfs,
scent rise,
calms

How we start each morning
With sun at high mast
Empty pits
Sockets and eyelids glued shut
Come to me in my sleep
Your scent upon the wind

2005-09-01T12:08:00.000-07:00

the offer

we offer every bit of advice
we can
to those that
we love

as if it mattered
to them

stammering the breath fails
to convey anything
from a cold hard corpse
to the top of a mountain
many simple summits
and moments to mount
don't wait until
they cheer and jeer
‘he’s over the hill’

or almost all at once
it might seem
as if it was
a plan
laid years in advance

as if the ticking of the heart
was not enough to
endure
someone hands you a watch
to see the bits and pieces flow through
like grains, like wheaties
and of course the shape
of young las
may still turn the head
but coming form this path
this past
this point
this view
I might as well be dead
And gone
Or dead and
and left on
or
maybe I should
row more
or hit more
fill more
fill more forms
duplicate
replicate

entering the state of the union
in the middle
of filling out your address
for the hundredth time
only to realize that you moved last week
to somewhere you don’t even remember
like a moment pictured from your child hood
that only stories from the oldies station
can tune in on a clear day
and we form ourselves around them

as if when young
we had payed attention to the political debates
that raged above our heads
pray
pay
and
who can say what else
might still happen

2005-08-31T15:57:00.000-07:00

we might be going down

we might be under water
for longer than expected
once the bottom hits
can we last the night
or do we sink
against the sliding sun
do we shift about
like mop water
in the bottom of a bucket
slosh
against the walls
too hard to hold back
the urge to inhale
fluid folds around the corners
of my lips
locked
shut
can't give in
the urge
floating
slowly
the surface tension holds
a beam of light
refracting
glints against my eye
socket
we might try again

2005-08-30T09:56:00.000-07:00

the park bench

the park bench
after the rain has fallen
is wet
dogwood flowers are long
gone with fall heading on
leaves can hang low
air drifts thick
like liquid it swirls
forms eddies around the
tree trunks
plunging near the waters
ledge
heavy the earth tone river
flows down
fish and nutria feel
the changes of light and heat
upon the shoulder of the bank

lets pretend this rain
is only a passing phase
on the face of the year
let clouds break out
and pour themselves
to sleep

2005-08-29T10:27:00.000-07:00

The line.

Street side she smiles to herself
shoes in serendipity with her
facial formation
The heel is more than
Happy to spring from the curb and drop
3.5 inches to the soft tar
behind the fence line
fiends on long distant calls, listening in
on the latest news
bible study
braced for efficient
manageable travel

a city can only see the
shoe’s sole
Jacket logos
a cap
or a fresh hair-cut
it might Feel the
impressive pattern pressure
each like a finger print
each a snow flake
on a clear lake
city,
a fist full of zebra stripes
littlest lines to drive along
to come to a sudden dead heat
almost alone
only you the lines,
signs
and her

swish swash,
it’s no accident
in nature that the curves come on strong
with out warning
shoes,
smile,
skirts
passed
grills,
ducks,
horses
sashed between large white stripes
caused eyes to peel
engines to rev
motor clubs lost motivation
then the light went green

city, come to me as raw logic
a forest of connections
busy signals at every turn
where the heel can meet hardened earth
the singles club full of casual pedestrians
insane drivers,
porch sitters
dog watchers,
rock chasers
the whole lots just mixed up

but when you are sitting there in your car
watching geometric laws break
at seven am
before the coffee has percolated through
to the synapses
the wasted styrofoam cup still warm
she, the city with her
and all the road ways leading us all
makes sense.

2005-08-23T10:37:00.000-07:00

evolve

start at square one
face due east
and wait
the sun will rise of course
and pass you by

now get a book or such
face due west
and read
the sun only sets
and winks as it passes away

now think for a minute
about everything you knew
or everything you don't know
what is the difference
then, ask a tough question

expecting answers to bloom
as flowers might
in a heap of stale earth
is simple minded at best
but often the only way

turn over the earth
piss on it
dote over it
plant a seed
let it go wild

we change over time
you can't deny that
all forms shift as
time is just rounding the corner
no shock here

but too simply say it began
and was guided by on single source
is beyond the pale
and can't be compared to reason

2005-08-18T13:30:00.000-07:00

perfectly dirty

what is not perfect

without a speck out of place
dust and dirt
settle down to earth by
angels wings
pushing each particle
arranged into a mandala
of early morning soup
at the dawn of town square

what is not dirty

the engine of the heart
pumps out heat
through the mouth
uptakes the pressure
patience
it emerges
we rise
the grain fields lay fallow
then sprints above the curst
rise and shine
rinse out the cobwebs
count the spirals
arrange

what is not perfectly dirty

does our life design our death
or do we cascade hopelessly forward
a fly heading toward the fans
fill up the tank
wings spread open
heading nose first
down
intake valves pumping
no stopping now

2005-08-17T16:23:00.000-07:00

the dull hum

mouths open
lips stretched out
cracks of old rubber bands
on the move
always heading towards
the lights
of the work harbor

smart as a whip
still as a mouse
standing at the maze entrance
a whiff of cheese in the air
wafting up above the
cubicle
fear stricken by the walls intent
jutting upwards
blocking light from entering
the eyes
open dry and cracking

split down the middle
9 or 5
a spiral
circling in
on the day
waiting
reading
listening

silence me
sleep me
a comma could
improve the decor
of this place

straighten up
sir,
make your move
just open up
give a inch
take a mile
head first
you burrow
deeper indentations
deeper comments
key strokes
and long hours

make the compilation
work out
in the
end
no morals for each
if then statement
just choose the path
and set out on it
don't look back
don't look down
your rope might
break
your ship might
sink
your own dream might
awaken
and where will you be then?

2005-08-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

if it weren't for you...

there would be a hunt
each night
celluloid flickers
aren't quite fleshy enough
my hind legs crawling across the city
dance floor to drinks
dripping, smiling
lips corner turned
drips with drool
pools into curls
eddies into glances
over the moon jumps a handshake

hint,
it's not your smile
in either orientation
no,
something more
for your a girl gone overboard
caught by the under toe
of a red rip tide

legs pass over fishnet
caught up in history of fish wives
recycled fashion hit
hips round hooked at first sight
under-wire nightmares
clasps caught tight
under umbra breath
we breath
one lungs to one heart
pound upon pounding

caught in the rinse cycle
we wish for more
walking down the aisle
your upon my moonless night
awash at last
clean faced
and eager

our days open up
like smiles cracking
lips pursed
a hint of oil and spif
one more slap
and it will all topple over

2005-08-08T14:12:00.000-07:00

Forensic Powder

You got caught this morning
red handed
as you left the scene
each foot you laid down
left after right
placed a pattern
traced a path

i tracked you down
the stairs
around back to the left
saw right where
you paused,
making deeper impressions

the world around
is a snow globe
left unstirred

still standing in that spot
shifting your weight
you swinging your hip out
and bending slightly forward
apply key to lock
the lock sprung wide
you enter
dropping your luggage inside
igniting the engine wick
it backs out
then heads up

from slump you
straighten your spine
breathing deeper,
you look porcelain perfect
trails of steam cloud up
and whisk off from
your open mouthed

yawn
it is the morning still
only a hint of the heavens eyes opening

now I am turning widdershins
one foot around the next
hands busy brushing off the powder
around back to where
the open door
took you
off again
away from here