Sunday, March 24, 2013

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

unfinished june 21

drumstick plays

relentless upon

the space between

my eyebrows

right above my nose,

I feel the triple

wetness

threaten to drip

bankrupt tears

spilling unwillingly

why does this transparent portrait

of collaborative love cause this

uncodified ache coursing through

my center from brow to belly to

the cracks in my heels

blood barren, dry, emptied

dust covered all remain

unspoken for language will not

can not know how to form around

this mammoth pilgrimage of

oppressive heat bars me from

dust covered box somewhere

out there in the great unknown

does it…

does it or

unfinished june 21

drumstick plays

relentless upon

the space between

my eyebrows

right above my nose,

I feel the triple

wetness

threaten to drip

bankrupt tears

spilling unwillingly

why does this transparent portrait

of collaborative love cause this

uncodified ache coursing through

my center from brow to belly to

the cracks in my heels

blood barren, dry, emptied

dust covered all remain

unspoken for language will not

can not know how to form around

this mammoth pilgrimage of

oppressive heat bars me from

dust covered box somewhere

out there in the great unknown

does it…

does it or

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Gratitude List: June 4, 2011

I am grateful for my friend, Mel, whose birthday is today.

I am grateful for first friday, which was such a good time.

I am grateful for the trip to the East Bay, had such a blast there.

I am grateful for the Poetry Walk in Berkeley. Fantastic.

I am grateful for poets, all across the world, who write and perform with passion that overflows amongst us.

I am grateful.

June 4: Remembering May 31 ~ for Chas and the others in Berkeley

So tell me
how unextraordinary
it is to step into
the repellent stench
of unsalvaged heart
work

try to break it to me
anything but gently
as the worn out cliches
bumble their ways out
of mouths doing a dueling
banjos of poetic whining
about how my life my experiences
my whatever the fuck is up next
in this self indulgent word orgy
is ten times worse, at least,
than yours

What will it be next?
The lack of sexual climax – ever?
The curly hair you wear as a
result of your Semetic forebears
smashed into a cattle car smiling?
alcoholism smashed into a
swallowed gold fish metaphor
I hear you, poetic friends
and I love you for your words
but I ask you how does this
compare

With the rage I feel when I
shout from deep in my gut
at Fabian, to put down his
flashy smart phone and
never and I mean never ever
again have the audacity
to strip me from my rightful
position as Mayor of Dagnys

Who does he think he is,
stealing my rightful place on
the throne of Zambien Zing
and Vanilla latte’s or oh,
those tasty chocolate scones
and toasted just right sesame bagels

I worked long and hard for this
job and if you don’t dismantle
your foursquare connection things
will get ugly. I may have taken the
mayor reins of a random BART Station
in Oakland and Cupcake Corner and
the Coalinga Cows but it
makes my stagnant welt of
cancerous boils fester with
poisonous wrath to know that
you, Fabian, besides being blessed
by your unthinking parents at birth
with a completely wretched name
you had to log on and tear away
my favorite claim to anything
worthwhile and meaningful
you have done me wrong
and I will not
can not
shall not
bear witness never
will
forgive
you
this
Fabian

Last night I set up my Word-Love Goodies at First Friday

and had a blast. My Poetry Fire was like a magnet…