Friday, September 30, 2005


Why am I feeling
like an egocentric child
posturing alone among
those who have really
felt the kind hand of honor?

Why am I always the junior
asking for favors from those
with charity, even though
it is already late afternoon?

Why am I a begger extending
my unwashed hand on the sidewalk
surrounded by people whose time is precious,
always new?

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Risk Is What Causes Love

A woman is not a story,
but all 3D and
filled with blood,

with many
fragile organs each its own
special formula for pain.

A woman grows treasures
that broadcast into the world
from the electricity of her heart.

When I see you from nearby
I know how
easily you fracture.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Thine I

When I hear the
sound you make,
inside your "I"
rattling from the
deep, a croak,
paroxysms happen
in my heart.

Every harsh thought
melts. Images of your
wide mind,
transmit to me.
I can see

how far it stretches,
all the places, the
taste of all those tastes,
and hear "hello"
as endearment says it.

When you speak thine "I,"
that is the most
fragile part, the part
that will vanish. I walk
with you down the
corridor inside you.
When you point out the
treasures on the walls.
I look mistily,

dear structure,
crystal of my heart.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Your I

When you say "I,"
that is the most
fragile part. That's
the part that will
disappear. I walk
with you down the
corrider inside you.
When you point out the
treasures on the walls.
I look mistily,

dear structure,
crystal of my heart.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Like The Expression in a Comic Book

When I hear it,
"I ung!" a sound
of the inside, a
croak, paroxysms
happen in my heart.

Every harsh thought
melts. Images of her
wide mind, her
memory pass into my
vision. I can see

how far it stretches,
all the places, the
taste of all those tastes,
and hear "hello"
as endearment says it.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Emperor's Clothes

Have you ever watched a parade of State,
all those funny hats,

Those funny unsmiling

faces inside them
lost in faith,

pin the world together and
keep us from bursting our seams.

It doesn't matter what
they wear under their gowns.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005


Mike Marcowitz lives
in the belly of a cow
who doesn't charge rent
because he eats the grassy swill
and pisses milk.

Andre DesGagnes,
whose father used to be a Count,
found a comfy place
in the egg case of a rug beetle.
It's dry and he spends his afternoons
munching on dust mites.

The famous Sharon Sloan
has been making mischief
slowly gnawing a cave
in the shell of a turtle.

All of my friends
have found nice homes.
What are we living in?

Monday, September 19, 2005

Rest Stop

It's a burp of a thought
coming straight from my body.
My mental muscles get so
slack I soon won't be able to hold my
head together.

I will have floated far away from my
the best friend of my start,
and arrived in this life
outside the tribe.

Here where she
always sleeps
on the south side of the bed
and I put her bread on the
southern side of the toaster,

here where I carry
old memoranda
like a blanket and
bear them
rattling around
when I move,

I have to wear a black shiny
time traveler's coat
that's always
wet from contact with
the Earth's warm air.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

The Real Question

Forget the "of course."
It is never assumed.
If my life were to end
today, having done only
what I have,
would you build monuments?

Friday, September 16, 2005

Fading Sept-embers

The spiders out there
are knocked silly by the night
and weave cockeyed patterns in their webs
because of the protective alcohol in their juices
until the sun finally warms them in the morning.

The insects are delerious so close
to the end of their brief days.
They tighten themselves in balls
and long for just another
frenetic crunch of their mandibles.

The flowers have burned themselves away
and the trees turn their backs refusing the pleas
of their leaves, slipping into
shock and hiding deep in their cilliated wood.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Original Felony

Every morning
the dogs inside my neighbors fence
accuse me of trespassing.
On the surface I laugh but know
that animals can't be wrong.

The police are stalking me
like spiders near my house.
They had scraped tiny paint samples
from my car.

Fettered as they probe,
inside my outrage I nod.
Crime is like a dark looming
choice. I crave, I fear
the fire and ice, the real place,
with the strong men
who can take my breath.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

When Times Become Places

Our apparent bodies stay here
and nearly-places come to us.
We don't need our walking boots.

Our almost-footfalls sound like music.
We turn a dial and
travel with flicks of our fingers.

As times become places,
our obvious bellies are full.
We live in grace.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Super Love

The opinions of the poem
are its own and
do not necessarily reflect
the opinions of the poet
or anyone else living or dead.)

Eyes are great for tactics
but they don't help in love.
Eyes are an invention for soldiers.

You know me
from the pictures you were born with
or the ones that come from stories.

When you see me,
we know each other less.
It's better when we talk in spirit, when
we filter out the vision. I will be
the one you imagine.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Hocus Pocus

I want to be
a magician of your eyes.
I want to find
all your old goodbyes
and replay them to squeeze
your body sentiment,
contact the inner layers
of your untold story.
I want to melt you with a
mechanical charm.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Keep Us

Curved and
closed lines
streamed like fishes,
nets to catch the sun,
we belong
with the beasts
on the Earth.

When I have doubts
that Nature wants us
and feel we
may have become orphans,
cosmic loneliness
begins to stir and I
look at Earth through
the sea across my eyes.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Bye Bye Bus Buddy

The subject
of FANTASY, face
on the street,
smiles at half recognized

nearly reach

Tangled City is
riddled with habit
even when he's
GONE, not really missed
but noted.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Note on Weather