Governor Arnold Delivers Nothing to Californians!

Disney's Dream Debased

For John

Johnny pushes like he means it
and he does
As do I

Between us
it's like a swing set
this way and that, yet always back
to center:

wine, meat, art,
a passion for women
and life,
everyone's lives

Bemused looks pass
like greasy napkins
clumsily mopping at the spilled
and spilling wine

His parents' living room--
beyond his mother's Disneyalia--
a war museum & one-table gun show
of Johnny's odds and ends

Yet I feel welcome and safe:
the good chair,
a tray full of steak & potatoes
waiting just for me

The swing set saves us
this way and that it goes
and back again to center
our shared median

We hop
swerving from the apparatus
We hug and smile

Our greasy napkins
dark,
heavy and red

Electro/Acid Mix - June 10

Krampyre 01a

December's Grieving Face

From Mountain House, 6am Sunday

I'm Straight

Whispers of Mister Peanut

HWY 680, Twilight

On the Train

Some nights it's a smorgasbord
of bristling young energy:
clear, hopeful,
glistening like crystal
flooded with dew-drops and sunlight
smelling like grape candy
impatient when not moving
sugar covered hummingbirds
freshly awake, new and alive
and in plain view of wolves
and aging fading vultures

An Ode to Walnut Creek

Walnut Creek
where a certain type of human gathers
sucks the life out of things
and is filled with a sad, hardened
type of vampirism

People with no desires
beyond their blindly digested,
media-served opinions
morality culled from years of video games
and the bland world of television

For fun they manipulate one another
through ego-driven dead-end trips
strokes and flirts
drunken fucks
performed in temporary locations
promises never uttered to each other
and not kept, even to themselves

Walnut Creek
amazingly picturesque valley
an ancient abattoir
glutted with half-grown souls
sticking to one another
like wet shit in bog mud
only miles from the coast

Pretty Little Eyes

Kim at Ruby Room, Oakland

Random Noodle for Kit & Caboodle [v04]

It's like fingers of wind
running over your scalp
and down the roots
of your hair, I say
on the brown leather couch
with your simpering dogs,
after specks of sunshine,
a bottle of red wine,
green Tobiko,
blurring smiles,
and your slow kisses

Kalemba (Wegue Wegue)

Random Noodle for Kit & Caboodle [v01]

"It's like the fingers
of the wind," I said
like a cloud
sailing the invisible
currents of sky,
"running their tips
over your scalp
and through the roots
of your hair"
on the couch with your dogs
after a bottle of Italian wine
spackles of sunshine
green tobiko, spicy tuna and
slow easy kisses

For Shane

And now it's March second,
my only brother's birthday
He's 36 now and married
a new father, loving
every minute, every
second, of it

And now I'm an uncle:
A man with a tenuous,
thread-thin connection
to an infant child

Responsibility transferred,
instructions whispered like a late-night story,
as she is first handed to me
My hands together
covering nearly all
of her tiny body

And now her eyes are closed
her face intense and focused
unraveling the entire universe
in silence,

burning stronger and brighter
than this man who made her--
made her with the woman
who loves him most--

He has crossed
another threshold
reaching a man's hand
imperceptibly nearer
to another
Golden Door

Green-Eyed Woman with Pearls

February Clouds - Purple & Orange

Amazing Sunset, Entering Seaside

Django

Hamburger Lady (Live)

February

Getting the wrong idea right
is still getting the wrong idea

it takes practice to do
so much practice, hours of practice

Hours and hours
of repetition

Too many times,
too many times to count

on the shattered tips
of broken teeth

Made from the Transmissions of Alan Moore

Words are the combining of
the gods
into shapes and sounds
that inform the tide of human
energy
echoing back, resonating
against the fabricated village
we live within and under,
coating us like water
filling the gaps between
perceptions
a million flittering moths
shrinking down to the size
of particle mist, illuminating
and lubricating the gaps between
islands of ideas
and cities of constructs, blinding us,
accepted as reality

New Blues

What can I do?
I can only do
what I can do

What can I do?
I can only do
what can I do

Lux-esque

Sacramento to Concord 03 (Maersk & Me)

5COTT 5ING5 animation

From a Letter to Reba

Okay
so I'm dying of stress
and lack of cash
and lack of meaningful ass,

while getting too much asshole
around my house,
too much dust and too many piles of stuff
and wanted and unwanted crap,

clutter
and frustration
and creeping desperation,

but at least I have
cool, articulate,
kind-hearted friends
like you

I think of that
and exhale
and smile to myself
and my stomach stops twirling so fast

and I feel glad
Still glad
Still okay
and still so glad

Written While Driving Toward Roseville on Christmas Eve

Magick
is Time
Defiance

"You don't
like it, but
Hell's home"

A defined
resistance,
Reliance

Alone Again Or

December 26