Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Poetics (v. 02)
or through
holes like eyes
or windows,
film screens or beams
of light that dance
crossing from past to
cars passing, passed
Your footfalls marking
time or distance
paired like wings
moving air
and sometimes light
Nothing seen
but images
like exhalations
left to fill spaces
unseen until now
pens down,
heads out
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
For Sarah (v. 05)
running over your scalp
and down the roots
of your hair,"
I say
"like a cloud
sailing
invisible currents of sky"
on your brown leather couch
with your simpering dogs,
spackles of sunshine
after bottles of red wine,
green tobiko
and your slow
easy kisses
Sunday, October 04, 2009
For Reba & Ashley (LovEvolution 2009)
on the spilling streets
San Francisco
bleeding
pulsing blasts of people,
all from other places
Kids with eyes
their saucers
flying
up the poles &
the light posts, even
the trees
toward
the flipped over blue
of the wind washed sky
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Climbing Bong Cave
high. on the crag.
crevice. dark. unknown.
unfelt. barely seen.
deep? dangerous?
stick a hand in. do it.
like you have to. people. pushing.
in the dark. behind you.
hold yr breath. feel it.
sandstone. and? before your skin
rubs against it. you sink down. into it.
anticipation. electricity.
reaching. in the dark.
with all yr invisible antennae.
your gathered senses.
make fingertips of lightning.
in the darkness.
crackle and hiss. wind borne dust.
kicked up. crevice making space.
pushing us back.
blown like a bucking horse. upward.
turn your head. quick. move your face.
tiny percussions. on your scalp. your squint.
time to use your legs now. time to go.
now your back. make it. hold tight.
face toward the stars.
move up. into the night river. wind.
push. focused.
exhaling.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
For Claire
we are wanting
with passing time
the only hope
we have
a faint optimistic gleam
in the tarnishing distance
more positive than negative
in the worn album of memories
a blurred smile
on a face you won't forget
the boy runs away
out of your arms
into your arms
in a dream that ends
as jarringly as I love you
lay in bed smoldering
touching in ways we don't
often wanting nothing
beyond intimacy
this shared darkness
our wholeness
unequaled
less than this
unequivocal, incomplete
in each attempt
the pang of invisible effort
failure seeming inevitable
glinting beauty fading
still
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
For Judy
left feeling that I lack
the apparatus needed
for our ongoing happiness
From bog mud toes grow
flowers of infinite delicacy
it's deceptive
Yes, we shared things unique
on climbs through the caverns
of my sheets
Hands held tight
under the weight of coastal clouds
a lack of necessary propulsion:
moving but no motion
Like rocks jutting up
from the waves
our only movements
Down
beneath the loam,
under roiling foam
Poetics (August 2009)
out or through
holes like eyes or windows,
film screens or beams
of light that dance
crossing from past to
cars passing, passed
Your footfalls marking
time or distance
paired like wings
moving air and sometimes light
Nothing seen
but images
like exhalations
left to fill spaces
unseen until now
pens down,
heads out
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The last 9 yrs. I lived in San Francisco. (v. 03)
I work under a bed
at a broken desk
making art,
sometimes poetry
Music is my constant companion
I love monkeys, apes,
gorillas and
Astrud Gilberto's voice,
like vanilla bean ice cream
on a sultry summer evening
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Friday, July 03, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
For John
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
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Monday, June 08, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
On the Train
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
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
For Eric (An Ode to 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
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
For Sarah (Random Noodle for Kit & Caboodle v04)
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
Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
For Sarah (Random Noodle for Kit & Caboodle v01)
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 (v. 01)
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









