From Bath To Bed

Ever take a shower that you simply can’t get out of and the water soaks like feathers from the plumes of healing doves and your nose creates a puddle from the water streaming soft and you should just stop the flow grab a towel and dry off but the water keeps on flowing and you think of other things and before you can take notice warmth collects in golden rings and your body’s sitting trailside with its dreams and with its hopes and your mouth just keeps on laughing from a day of painting slopes and you wonder why you’re laughing as you stand there in the tub yet you cannot wonder too much as your brain has turned to dub and all the things you’ve done, indeed, and others that you’ll do are just a few wild notions in your ever-growing zoo you might find time to question how you write inside the bath until with pen and abacus you seek the perfect math but then your thoughts they up and wander to your bed and how it waits its plush and down and curly Qs and blankets stacked on sheets so off the water goes, you knew it had to happen, maybe - and as you sink all you can think is you’ve found heaven, baby.

Author's Note

My suggestion would be to scroll
all the way down to the bottom
and work your way up.
Many of the newer additions
can get repetitive in their tone
and bland in their subject matter.
Just a thought...
Wow, some of this shit feels really raw.

madison valley

the montana morning is still,
unshaken by the mining tragedy unfolding,
unchanged by the news on the wire
of the teenager killing his brother over dessert,
of the w.v. man trying to outrun the cops on a rider mower.

the birds pick at near-depleted feeders.
the pup nibbles my shins and pulls on my socks.
the sun melts freshly fallen snow on the mountains.
the chilled air is fresh, alive, alert.
today, here, life is pretty damn good.

DREAMT

i hope to be able
some day to tell you
about my dream
face to face,
but for now
i'll tell the world
wide web.

while One starved me of air,
my lungs fit to burst,
heart filled with instability,

there was Another,
who was pregnant
with unavailability.

but you, you
were the Other,
with simple nobility.

You and I,
we just had fun.
no pressure,
no holds barred.

We just laughed
with the world
and had more fun
than two should have,
more fun than
two barrels full
of monkeys.

mental snapshot

on the banks of the green Snake
the rain stopped,
the sun shone through,
yellow Aspen leaves quaking,
the Tetons topping out
in the background,
my dry camera in the car

I Stole This From Myself (and Maybe Others)

The wind blew in today,
in guttural gusts from the south.

It blew a tempest.

And it blew a fury.

And it blew a stately sneeze,
a Godly guffaw,
a Satanic schism.

It blew from here
to there
and everywhere
in between.

It blew from the gates of Kingdom come
to the mawing mouths of the hounds of Hades.

It blew the sane crazy.

SIGH

My runner's high
has been usurped
by a running "why?"
as embattled lungs
fight tooth and coffin nail
for embittered life breath.

I don't wanna
be that guy.

So many more
reasons to live
than to die.

Picture This

I try not to look
Cuz it kills me.
That's not even what I like most,
But I guess it doesn't hurt.
No wait - yes it does.
Absolutely kills me.

Surprise Me

i wish i could find
somebody who believed
in spontaneity
as much as i do.

so i'll drink to that,
shoot that shot of maker's
from the bottle left here
spontaneously.

not so much to combust
as to feed the fire,
as fuel for the bear
that might get me, gut me
on my next run
taken spontaneously.

Pray err

Great Spirit,
I don't often pray
Per se
Save for the safety and health
of my family and friends
And of the world.
But I ask today
In this night's wondering,
For patience and guidance.
And for the ability
to continue to love
as deeply as I can,
whatever the circumstances.
To not attach myself so firmly
to any desired outcome,
but to give selflessly
and to march forward
with acceptance and with
patience and guidance.
To think more about
the nature of the love i give
than its recipients and giver.
Er.

Dreamer Catcher

The wind blows warm,
Wresting me from a well-won rest,
Swirling, scattering my dreams
To the five directions.
They were vivid and colored,
Offering interactions and inflections
Lost now on the stark morning sounds.

I was held and held on,
Like I want to hold on to them.
Awaking, that’s all I have
To keep me company
Save for the cats
Making the morning rounds.

I blew a kiss to the moon last night
And massaged the stars to sleep.

But two days took me so far
Away, I flew so fucking far
Away from my dreamer
Like I’ve fallen from my dreams.
Like a sunflower seed
Sent from the stalks.
The cats stalk rodents
While I chase my dreams
And catch only the smallest slivers
Of holding on.

Time to be letting go.

Let the rain come on
And the wind blow
These soft morning blues
Away.
Like eyes turned to brown,
Like a heart opened to change.

So that like birds on the limb
Thinking of taking flight
My dreams and my dreamer
Might return to me tonight.


This place feels farther away
Than Asia ever did
Or could or would.
Could I, I should
Embrace the absence
Of distance spanned seamlessly
On nights I sleep
Undreamlessly.

emiT

It's hard to trust in time
some times
when it seems like the time,
but only time decides
the time-ing.

Right After Lunch

Mine might be different
but I’ve got one too -
That one day I could
be the man for you.
Treat you so right, do those
Things you love at night.
Maybe more but nothing less
Than to be the man for you.

And when people ask
About your husband
You’ll go “Who?”
“Oh, you mean the man
I wake up next to.”
“The one I like to bite,
Who loves me with delight.”
“You must mean the man
I lay down next to.”

They’ll giggle, wondering,
As you flash that shiny ring
And the kids commence to sing,
While you go on with a musing.

“That man who loves me,
I love him too –
He’s the only man
I’d love so true,
The only man
I dream into,
The only man
Who makes one from two.”

Rumi Nation

Oh, the moon
In its singular reflection
Softly rippling
Out of its sphere
On the water’s way.

If I Could I Would

I love you, I would say.
I would say I love you.
Like the moon loves
Sipping the lake.
Like the ripples love
Lapping on the boats,
Like the hawk loves
Being silhouetted.
Like the bats love
Swooping and diving.
Like the sun loves
Hiding behind the earth.
Like the moon loves
Being eclipsed.
I would hold you
As tight as you wanted.
I love you, I would say.
I would say I love you.

Slow Boat

the engine rumbles like a thunndergun
the roof threatening to break
under the weight of heavy-burdened feet
carting cargo - cauldrons and fry pans.
the woman at the back picks her nose
before wiping my coffee cup with the finger
while her youngest sprawls out on the baggage
and flicks a worn-out zippo
his small fingers embracing a scantily clad model,
covering and uncovering "love".
a mom pulls the cushions off empty seats
and lays her leg--kicking baby on the floor.
only 16 hours more of the engine's roar.

the boat stops to let locals off.
the captain buys a basket of birds,
green, blue, purple, yellow.
the boys pester them through the holes
then take them out, pinning their wings
before putting a couple into plastic bags
and tying tight knots.
the youngest returns to picking locks
until he finds a coke can and upends it,
crushes it, flings it into the river.
his brother plays with a bottle opener.
i show them how to use my video camera,
and they fight over it, shooting frenetically,
until i reclaim it before it ends up overboard.
jamie sleeps and rice cooks in the back.
only 8 hours more.

TBC...

River Continued

i have seen and been
to the middle of nowhere
where a man and son jumped
off to a lonely sandy shore.
i have been
and could see myself
there again.

Those Moments

when you're walking down the street or
driving by
and some one does some thing
and you take notice,
react with amusement, respect, disgust, lust.

ever wonder
who's taking notice of you
and for doing what?

WILD CHILD MILD

"Damn, man, I really like Enya"
i exclaim, in all seriousness,
well, most of it, I suppose,
'cause I can't stop chuckling
as i pop a Miller High Life
and dig deep for my lighter.

Soul Twins

Jc is the half of me
that won't break from smoking or sipping,
won't stop imbibing beer
long enough to chew a piece of gum.
He's the me that fills up
all of my time with voids:
the computer at home,
the skate on the street,
the tunes in the Underground.
He's the me that feels fear,
anxiety, doubt, and worry.
He's the me that lusts,
the side of myself that,
were it true that each smoke
deducted 8 minutes,
would be staring down imminent death,
a smoke dangling from his lips.
He's the me that has to hide shit,
for shame - shameful but reckless.
The ego screaming to be youth-anized,
for an ego-centric suicide realized.

The other half of me, the bright side,
does yoga, if not very often.
He drinks juice, eats vegetables,
sleeps in when he needs to,
even if he's not hung over.
He's the me that gifts,
the playful me, the hand that
puts out the butt before stretching.
He's the me that plays, that bounds up
and down mountains, that dreams in
kodachrome.
The me that invests the energies
of my born-again virginity back into me,
with a smiled, subtle sigh.
He's the JC that supports soul singers
on the subway, the side that see
the glass as brimming with beauty and bounty.

To Be Continued . . .

http://www.inter.net

of course i know the glass is half full.
i just filled it.
i'm on my last beer of the morning,
falling on the toes of the mourn,
the birds at work, the cars unpaused
by the great big traffic god in the sky.
this month has been a cup half full,
cuz i drank the top half
and i'm working on finishing it,
the substance spiraling downward,
counter-clockwise, chasing its own tail
like i walk in circles around myself.
i'm waiting for the downer to kick in
so i can go to sleep,
not perchance to dream - no, not a chance,
but at least to rest these weary bones,
to stretch out this hunching back.
i can't wait to flee this city.
i should embrace it if i can,
see the symptoms of this funk
from outside of myself -
then, maybe i can move around it.
i don't know which disgusts me more now -
filled with no food, only fluid
(two cups of coffee and eight beers)
or the rancid, acrid smell of stale smoke
in my apartment, on my clothes and skin.
my organs are tapped, the well is dry,
and some crazy fuck is already
biking across the williamsburg bridge,
humming "hey man, well this is babylon".
i babble on. i shall babble on in babylon.
two all-nighters to bookend a brief trip
to the ill der ness wilds of montana.
the pigeon poops in time or
maybe it's just fucking with me.
telling me that dwelling on the past
and romanticizing it are the same thing,
that having fear for the future
and fantasizing about it verdant vibrance
are too.
too
are means of escape from the realization
of real i ty
are too coping mechanisms
i must learn to live without
like drugs and alcohol
like coffee&cigarettes
i must cease all pointless lamentations
about the passage(ing)
and focus on that which i can do, be
and make of the time i have left (right?)
starting with breathing.

US TRUST

stuck a pin in yer back.
stuck in this pinback
funk, stunk and sunk.
blue mind, blue clothes, blue notes
yuk, a sin in yer saxophone.

THE DAY AFTER NIGHT AFTER THE 26 FELL

i never was a poet
to begin with (so long ago)

i sighed "oh baby"
as i slipped into bed
but on with the light
so's to clear my head.

where to begin?
last night?

i lay there
cursing myself
for getting
all jacked up
in a jam again.
for feeling too much
and saying too little.
you thought and spoke,
you slept, i thought
but kept it to myself.
why ask questions with stinging answers?

but i couldn't find peace
and couldn't fool myself no more
and what the fuck was i there for
in the first place and
in the second place
who was i kidding?
so i upped and up and left.
but your hand felt so good on me,
on my knee, i wanted
to forget it all and just
hold you so fucking tight.
but i left and left foot right foot
through grey banks and icy puddles
jumped it to atlantic for a blue car.
home again, and still no sleep would come.

why?

cuz as you'd been playing tricks on me
i'd been playing tricks on my
self, the same tricks
you shone a light through last time,
the same wanting, feeling, chasing.
but now it was so ever fucking clear.
no fog, smoke, mirrors, mist.

you and i together
but separate.
both there but
for different reasons.
i (was) there for love,
you for some com-pany.
and you again explaining the trick,
the fooling of myself by my self,
the 15 hour days together bound
to do something,
to spawn illusions of desire.
can you still claim this?
or have you moved on to other excuses?
you with your excuses.
your fear, your false sense of
security blankets.
your clearly thought out,
wholly rational spotlight
sending a swath of shit through my haze,
shattering my reason to spend the daze.

and all the while me not believing
a word that you say, not wanting
to believe, believing other lies
that will leave me bereft in grief.
me wishing, fucking praying
that it's not that way,
that you'll change your mind
come april or may,
that you'd finally get a clue
and stop pushing me away,
realizing that it could be so
fucking good this way, or
that your notion of a boyfriend
would discover he's gay.

ha!

because i didn't couldn't
wouldn't let myself
get tired of you -
of seeing you, of talking to you,
always wanting more and more and more,
thinking of you always.
even now i think of you almost always.
you were with me at the start and end of each day,
as i clutched tight to my pillow, dreaming,
make-believing my loneliness away,
fantastically slipping into a state
where we played in the same league
and you were always but an arm's reach away.

i dreamt of a world where you'd kiss me
and tell me you'd missed me
more than you dissed me
for pissing you off.

i should start all over
but i'm already off to some start,
so from pro-em to prose.


WHEN THE SUN IS SHINING
and i can step back and see clearly
i can see that it's all groovy, or
gravy, as some might say, that
i enjoy kicking it with you any which
way.
and for grace and patience and perspective
i pray.
and sometimes i can see it in your eyes,
that you love me
more than you know
or more than you
can say.
even though you never could write me a love letter.

so i step back and rack
focus
to the billion and one other things to set sights on.

because i can understand detachment
or, at the least, the concept.
and i know in my heart, if not in my mind,
that everything that is meant to be will be,
that that meant to pass will come to pass,
that fate will manifest in different shapes
than those for which i ask.
that love is boundless, like future and past,
that my love for you is bigger than that
and that if
i really try harder i can complete my task,
if i can swallow my pride and das-
tardly, bastardly ways.

BUT

i cannot be a dirty little secret -
that forsakes my soul as much
as it stings my heart
and socks it to my spirit,
shattering all sense of self worth.

and where would that lead?
to a sudden cliff's drop -
where once again i am the only one
falling
but this time it's a falling out
of the love i alone fell into.

twenty-seven words

ain't shit changed
but that your
conscience feels clean -
you're still fishing
with two lines,
the same ol'
bait and switch.
you always come
(out) on top.

THE MORE THINGS CHANGE

The phone was ringing for fucking
Evvvvvvvvvvvvverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
You finally picked up but before
I could get in a word you threw
Me on hold.
The music was good for a minute
While I waited to hear your purr.
But the more it played the less
My mind stayed and so soon I was gone,
Bouncing back to limbo.
I'm still here with the warm phone
To my ear, just waiting and wishing
That I can one day either get you
Back on the other end of the line
Or get hung up on so I can go
About my busyness without you.

what's more-more to come

i boomerang back to echoing moments,
whip pan to snapshots, remembering.
i wonder what you're doing, thinking.
i fantasize about the home, and kids
and traveling and growing old as one.

i wait for you to sneak up
& surprise the fuck out of me.

i wonder what it would be like.
i picture only a split second
& shivers snake up my spine.
i can feel the sensation, butter
flies in my stomach. i shake.

but some days all i can dream of
is running away to save my self.

SO'S YOU KNOW, QUEEN B.

it's the not
fucking knowing
if it's real
or just a shorter leash.
it's you not caring
as much as you claim.
it's the not sleeping
cuz you're sleeping with him.
it's my bubble bursting,
my fantasy blindsided by reality,
by my realize\ing
that i play the fool.

unilateral

you say you're so
turned on like
it's a bad thing.
and maybe it is.
you won't open
your eyes or you
r body to me.
i'm guessing
you're pretending
it's not me.
so i try not to
fixate and just
take it as it comes
or doesn't.
later will come soon.

i finally slept and

dreamt that
girl
was playing red rover
with kid in tow,
meeting with a manager,
touring through metropolis.

but she was always
at arm's length.

and my chin
was growing
ever larger
as a result
of smoking

and i was taking
out the trash.

100% Chance of Rain

Yeah, but you're like that all the time -
I won't say always.
You can be sweet but
Tart too, like a scolding nanny.

what's that lyric bout not wanting to think what you're doing right now?

i feel the difference
between
the cold shiver
and
the warm tingling.
this is a shivering.
banish conjecture.
beeeee cauuuuuuse.
it hurts.
stings a bit.
detach with joy.
oh boy
it ain't easy.
this grease trap
smells like shit,
it lingers.
breathe through mouth
and feel through feet.
kick up toward the light.

thunk at matty's that gloaming

i like it when you dress on up
and love it when you dress on down.

i like it when you call me up,
but luvvvv it when you come around.

i gotta say i like your style
and absolutely love your smile.

i can only hope to hear the sound
of your voice for an ever while.

twenty for seven

i can beat the best
better
jimi janis jimm
kurt kristin.
i ain't goin out like that
twenty something waste(d).

pleas

please tell me
your heart needs me more than your brain
please tell me
i'll see you like that again
please tell me
i was more, am more
than a crutch
when you're too weary to walk alone
please don't tell me
you love me like a brother
please tell me
you love me like no other
please tell me
that you're just confused
please tell me i wasn't used
by yet another lovely lonely girl
with brighter prospects
please tell me
it wasn't just sex
ual, the usual,
the use and recycle,
the same vicious cycle
please tell me
you love me

it was raining and

i nearly
got clipped
the morning i met
you
packed up and
shipped
to skies of infinite
blue

YOU'RE GOD

My God
is Her God
is His God
is YOUr God

4th Ave - My Parachute is Silver

i went to buy some thicker skin
then headed home to try it on
but couldn't seem to quite fit in
so i exchanged it for an open yawn.

Foregone conclUSION

only seeing the two together
can i can pick the shinier key,
the one to unlock the front door.
only cuz i had the slightest taste
can i calculate what i'll be missing.

GROUNDING OUT

that girl best jump soon
cuz this boy's falling fast
and he's 'bout to hit it.

but now rather than swoon
she'll make that the past,
just tell him to quit it.

he'll sing the same tune
while she tells him he has
to just go and forget it.

though he'd jump the moon
and make love ever last,
she just doesn't get it.

BIRTHDAY WISH

to hug you longtime.
to race to the park,
to fly the kite high.
to eat sushi, suck sake,
to stroll through the moma
with a pretty momma.
to hold you longtime.
to make out like bandits.
to be a partner in crime.

nuvyuuvb

they were playing her song of faith
where i jumped off this morning.
and i miss her like coffee misses cream.
like the city winter misses snow.
like a virgin misses love.
like a friend misses a foe.
i miss her like my left hand misses the right
before they clasp and grasp the each, the other
in a pulsing fist of prayer.

1 sucka 2 sucka 3 sucka 4

here i am
again at the whim
of a little woman

rubber tip

reading words i writ
makes me want to
erase erase erase

BOTH CHEEKS

i smell like old coffee
and taste like fresh beer.
if i could have anything
it would be you, here.
now, this second, and how.

HOME AGAIN

Stiffly I stroll past frozen eyelashes, frigid signposts,
past mom and pop liquor shops and candy stores,
meandering through the newfound health food store,
picking up a bowl of plenty,
stopping at a gallery of metal and stone,
the wine store.
Twelve days in, i take a walk
with a home to return to.

FOUR OF FOUR

the first for me, and the space i'm in.
the second for her and the shape she's in.
the third for the future unknown and unlived.
the fourth and the very last to pass past the past.
the filthy fifth and sixth are my dirty little secrets.

WHAT HAPPENED

I dried off, dressed,
flipped open, praying,
just praying for nothing,
nothing but the time,
the space i need,
no new things,
new anythings,
no new nuthin.

WHAT YOU ARE TO ME

what am i to you?
a line item?
your brother?
could i be
your partner in crime?
make your head swivel?
make you turn on a dime?
we go back, i know that.
i could be an old lover,
a past twin, perhaps.
what are you to me?
a question?
an answer?
a veiled insecurity?
my key to set i free?
a reminder to just be?
do you really want to see
everything you are to me?

12.3.5

It's that night again
and here I am again,
Alone, my self the only one
to share my aloneness with.
That day passed again
With welling eyes and head tucked.
No arms around me, none to speak of.
Off I go to either get hit by a cab
Or fall asleep clutching a pillow.
Hobnobbing won't brighten my blues.
QT with a PYT might, but won't
Cuz she loves me like a brother.
Tingles fall through my muscles
As I feel that sinking feeling
Pulling my pumper into my guts.

THE CALM AFTER THE STORM

Waiting on the winter.
Winds howled through
wrapped plastic sheets
that wouldn't dry in the
leftovers of a hurricane.
She's most violent in the
morning, driving me
back, further into my
shell, my spiritless hell.
Waiting on a lover that
will take me as I am
and not attack my most
bitterly held defenses.

MY KEY

la puerta at work locks me in -
the door at home locks me out.
i feel serene and calm within
and muddled and frazzled without.

BEER: A MAN'S BEST FRIEND

my beer gut
grows again
as i take my
nine in the
shower and
drink it like
the date that
didn't happen.

THE SKY IS FALLING

the spectre of rugrats
drinking frappuccinos
and constantly celling
scares the shit outta
me - i was not that kid.

SMW ISO SWF

To the girl walking down the Bedford L steps
Clutching the Pepsi can in her teeth-
I should've growled or told you I like your style.
Wanna meet for a nice cold Coke???

THIN LINE THICKENNING

every day starts with a
question mark and ends
with an exclamation point
or a comma or at least
the promise of another
question mark ?
i shove into the morning
on the morning train
and feel the splitting
of souls to separate yet
synchronous destinies
like a cosmic whoosh
exiting a tight vacuum
leaving room for little
but room for something
for no container exists
without space for some
thing?

FIFE AND DRUM

i'd drink this toast to you, my friend,
but the beer belched all over itself.
i'd bottoms up for you, my friend,
but my crossed eyes are seeing elves.
i'd say "cheers" to you, my friend,
but the beer fell off the damn shelf.
i'd drink this beer for you, my friend
but you drank the last beer yourself.
bitch! and so the night meets its end.

PIECE O' PEACE

Everybody wants a piece.
And the time I got is nill,
and even the time that
rests above is not mine,
and won’t be. Cuz every
body wants (a) peace.

UNDERGROUND

the wait and wait and
roar of rushing air
pushing
metal on metal
deceleration
like demons descending
rushing in, pushing to get out
an ambiguously cheerful voice
whooshing doors
brakes release
metal on metal
air rushing away
fading, brakelights
hurry up and wait
again.

TRANQUILO TAXI

the familiar, waiting while hailing
explaining, rushing off
quick stop, jostle, shudder
window down, head craned
out the window
nodding off
stop go
racing, halting
again
night air
tequila teeth
dragon breath
startled awake
there too quick
ticker tape printing
money exchange
stumble from backseat
slam door
poorer but home
sweet home.

SELF LOSING STEAM

i think (slap!)
of myself as smart, or at least not stoopid
and good-looking, at least moderately so
and worthy of at least a little respect.
but some days it feels the world exists
to cut me down to size, chisel at my illusion,
to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt
that, yes indeed, i suck, and always will,
that i'm a fuckin momo,
a chore just to look at,
and no fun to be around.
that, in my little nutshell,
i' not worth a fucking damn.
these days i feel like elliott smith
but with no musical ability to sing
my song of shit.
if i could confide
or go for a ride
or share a hug
i might be
alright.

IT'S ALL GOOD IN THE HOOD

hard rain's comin down now in
handful claps on the open win
dows and only Goddess knows
for sure-shit where we go now
if to bright-lit Broadway shows
or the softest share of the plow
either way or which or whither
here or there, hither or thither.

G

i only put the G on
so the red underline
will go away
and leave me the fuck
(inG) alone.

PULL HARDER!

the dental assistant raked and scraped
my tarred and feathered teeth
as the rain began to fall, warm
cuz in hell it brings no relief.
the cold will not come until it comes
and i'll still be sitting here alone,
like a scorned mouse in a city of rats.
and she never called me back
and it got too late for me to call
and most things tells me that she's wrong,
but some things tell me that she's right
and i'd probably know by the end
of just one more long and drawn out night,
which might or might not come tomorrow,
but at least tonight it's not a saturday
night when i ain't got nobody, saturday
night, like the last chance, like
the flutter of a moth before it flies
with suicide wishes into the last light.

THIS LOST NESS MONSTER

i try to pinpoint it
but it slips like me,
as i the greasy banana.
it flows like water
off my hunched back
as it rains on my head.
i try to punch it but
get knocked out instead.
i am both the fire of
and the cannon fodder.
and all i wanna do is
find myself my place to be
but i still can't find it.
inhale...exhale...
cuz it's just that every day
is "one of those days"
and the perks of the city
grow fewer cuz i don't care
about the art or the music
(but i do)
or all the beautiful people
(but i really do)
or the trains and the buses.
i can't climb a mountain.
i can't get no service
in this here concrete jungle
of rats racing like lemmings
toward the brink of exhaustion.

SATUH!DAY

The pavement chunked
The smoothie went flying
The I went down
The head tucked
The shoulder followed
The body rolled
The legs lifted
The I back up
The feet crushed glass
The old broken Long Trail
The bruised toe kicked
The Ace of Spades
The mouth consulted with
The trash can ski
The n
The I continued on my way.

TO A T (ELEMARKETER)

J as in Jackass
C as in Calamity
. as in dot/dash/semicolon
M as in Mother Earth
c as in Crushed
I as in Ice
L as in Love
W as in Whiskey
A as in Acronym
I as in Ice
N as in Never
E as in Ever

1st AD

i went deep
into the belly
of the big beast
that is the despot
arising resurfacing
before jogging down
some su-subway steps
into the swelter this time

WHAT DID YOU LEARN IN SCHOOL TODAY?

That I missed International Pirate Day this year.

That I need to go back to check out 826 Valencia.

That there's a furniture fabricator in the 'Burg
with mouth, eyes, and outgoing of a Zeben Curtis,
the type set in both physical and character traits.

That idiots abound, like the Sector 9 schmuck
playing chicken in the middle of 2nd Avenue.

That Anna Nicole Smith might soon be worth
close to 68,000 times more than me, worth
less she is, but God doesn't count the change.

That Krylon works its magic, makes me dizzy,
turning my heretofore baby blue eyes pink(ish).

SUBTERRANEAN HOMESICK MUSE

sitting atop the doubles
it strikes me hard that
there's this world below;
the planes on constant
strike arrows through the
sky, the ground moving
in miniature, vibrations
rumbling and stumblings
of the little ants like me.

SPUTTER.

i'd walk a mile for a (miss
ed that train of thought)..

WESTWEGO

every fucking day
it's longer, harder
to quit than the last.
my hair's falling out,
i'm getting fat, shrinking.
i just want to run and jump,
to kick, to score, to scream.
every decision hinges
upon the last, dominoes,
the scaffolding stretching
higher, my soul sinking.
i just want to break down
but i can't find the time.

FIERCE IN VALID HOME

sunlit after noons
perpetually push me
to the crutches
of beer and queers,
fags, that is, cigs.

BAPTISM BY FIRE (TBC)

Come the second (coming)
the Bible thumpers were thumping
their worn-out leather gospels,
the Baptists were baptizing
and singing His praises high,
the evangelists were evangelizing,
the televangelists trading souls.

I was left shrugging my shoulders,
slapping my palm on my forehead,
whispering "Whoops" after "What!?".

TEMPEST

at one and the same,
in one split second,
traffic stopped for
the crash, an early
model T, rexed,
wrecked on the rock.
man on stretcher.
the wind picked up,
the rain put down,
and orange leaves
fell from thin air.

START AN L TRAIN

Finally I found my hood.
Up from the subway to:
Quiet, empty streets.
Empty, quiet buildings.
No taxis, no trash,
No hassle, no hustle,
No bustle, no bullshit.
Just a health food store
selling Magic Hat and Spirits,
a coffee shop renting videos,
a dive bar and a deli.
Like Oakland Industrial of old,
My warehouse district of gold.
People all over the hood, join hands.

RUSTY

the
red seven
came out of
retirement today but didn't
stop to pick up passengers.

I SCREAM, U SCREAM

if that damn truck
doesn't stop singing
its stupid little song -
i mean, i like ice
cream and shit
but i'm about to
scream and shit.

S/HE SAYS

If she is grace
I'll take karma.
If she were brahma
I'd be dharma.

If she were dirt
I'd be a farmer.
If she were rock
I'd be Chris Sharma.

If she were sea
Then I'd be land.
She the water,
and I the sand.

If she were sauce
I'd melt like cheese.
She the germ,
Then I the sneeze.

If she were stars
I'd take the sky.
She a giggle,
I settle for sigh.

If I the question,
She the blushed no,
Then off to paint,
Off to paint I go.

FIRST AND FOREMOST

If the first constant is change
then the second is love.
Love conforms to no law,
but our laws, like a glove,
should conform first to love,
to embrace it and
to be in its service,
to further its cause,
which lies solely in
its continued abundance.

ACADEMIC BLOAT

Philosophy, and any other ophy or ogy,
(any study of any thing, for that matter)
came about solely due to
our insatiable curiosity.
Therefore (this is a big one in science)
any findings derived from such pursuits
must be viewed as constructs created
in response to the actions of the "universe"
and all of its little working pieces,
not as the actions themselves.

JOHN ROBERTS SCARES ME

The notion that laws (as we know them)
exist outside of the human sphere is absurd.
Laws exist for us because we created them.
They are akin to theories, linked
by us to patterns that play out.
They are, or should be
changeable, mutable, flexible,
and ever-changing.
They exist to serve us,
not vice versa.

CRE8

Our own human creativity

is both a blessing and a curse-

will it be our downfall

and kill us, each one, all

or will it save us

in our time of need?

Whatever the case

it will be innovation

that serves as

the tender catalyst.

YOO HOO!!!! FRIEND OR FOE!?!?

falling from thickly air
a flutter of breezy smiles
the little pig-yailed girl
lunges grabbing last second
the monkey bar rung throw
ing tossing her everything
at the next missing her
momentum stalls she hangs
looks down drops she steps
up and gives it a second shot

puddles in paved depress
ions reflect the buildings
and the bustle pedestrians
do everything possible
within their power to get
hit by passing flying taxis

i shake from my trance to
find my bus at the corner

i run ruffled for the first
time in a while i don't
have to wrench the doors back
open they are still
the old slow mover saves my
ass some trouble and time
could be a blessing or curse
maybe an old friend is on
the next bus maybe a new
one maybe no one my eyes
open to the best way to
face the fear day by
day moment to moment too
to enthusiastically embrace
the unknown infinite chance
infinite goof perchance to
take dancing lessons from god
(KV)

UNDERGROUNDSWELL

waitin on the F train.
if i could keep my mouth shut
i'd quit the noxious fumes
and stop over-shooting my stars.
stoppin on a dime to stop,
to reconsider the reconsidering.
to wait and to wonder:
where's the uckin F train?

A FIRM AFFIRMATION

i will neither dream the nightmare of wall street
nor fall fashion victim to the madisonian persuasion,
never worry my brow over systems of (in) security.
i will not give an inch to the bear and the bull,
its gains, losses, nips and tucks, slacks and jacks,
its spit and its polish, the opening and closing bells.
i've lost my mind in better
places, far off, out & over.
i am a child of the goddess.
i lust after lakeside coves,
nip at frosty mountain tops,
dream in constellations and
speak in love-soaked tongues.

SAVING GRACES

when the sirens are wailing in my ears
and i can't keep from wondering why i'm here
and the day's too much to bear, i fear
i wanted to get there but wound up here...
...i stop and settle in my mind
on all the space and all the time
spent this summer, these last short days
when i found my peace in subtle ways,
found myself on scenic mountaintops
or floating below clouds in glacial lakes,
back in haunts i thought i'd lost,
playing and singing and dancing
with friends i'd forgotten i'd missed...
it helps me to deal with all of this,
to put one foot in front of the other
without tripping falling spinning.
it keeps my eyes looking forward,
and keeps my fool mouth grinning.
and while i can't convey what
it means to have spent this time,
i'm glad i spent it -
it was worth every dime.

Y'AIN'T DYIN', YA HEAR?

yeah sure, you betcha, of course
i like sex as much as, if not
more than the next guy.
y'might say i'm in it to win it.
but at the end of the night,
it's the squeeze, the laying
there in a sweaty, unified heap,
pulling you closer than possible,
until there is no you, no me -
that's what really gets me off.
i guess you could say
i have a cuddle fetish.
it's when the two bodies
stop acting as two and
reacting to one, an other,
becoming one, together,
before fading off to fly
that gets me fucking high.

FIRE IN THE HOLE

I jostle over the heaving
cracks in the sidewalk
wondering why people trash
their own neighborhood,
spying the first seven
foot man I've seen in ages,
the jackhammers, oddly
enough, music to my ears
as an autumnal wind blows cool
on my freshly shaven face.
The kids playing hookie are
playing at killing terrorists,
but from the sound of it,
the terrorists are winning.
I run myself ragged, real-
izing the raw and the real.

BENT OF FENDERS

New York drivers
can be such dingbats
it makes me wanna make
a bumper sticker that says
"Practice not honking, asshole."

ROAD ZOMBIE

I'm somehow still on the road
but can't recall its passage
or recollect the many miles,
but I've choreographed
a "Green Eyes" guitar duet,
so I got that going for me
(which is nice on ice, alright.)

KNIFE ENDS

So tired of saying goodbye to family and friends,
so as this damn post-partem depression sets in,
i remember to remember that even in absence
my friends make me crack the fuck up in smiles,
that if I ever had them I have them all the while.

My friends are no karass.
My friends simply kick ass.
My fam's the blasted bomb.
From my nieces to my mom.

They make my world spin round,
put my feet back on the ground.
They keep me keeping time, and
tell me to drop the force-d rhyme.

SHOOT (FOR) THE MOON

I'll never write a "True Love Waits",
compose a "Jitterbug Perfume",
never ever pen a Hafiz poem,
so I'll write love letters,
my masterpieces,
to myself.

TAIL GATOR CUTTER-OFFER

I'm a better driver than you
with no hands on the wheel
and my eyes squeezed shut
cuz yer driving makes me sick.
And the highway's filled with
wannabe heroes just like you
on their "last-chance power-drive".
You are some dangerous jerks.
So I sit, fighting to keep my
antsy middle finger clenched
tight in my little shaking fist.

PISS ON EARTH

It's too much
when the past
and future smack.
Sometimes I
have to kneel down
and kiss the Earth
to stay in this
time and place,
to keep from spinning
into orbit around
said point in space.

SLOW MOTION

Back windscreens twinkle,
speckled like stars ahead,
over-powering brake lights
and mounting frustration.
I see so many lights
at the end of the tunnel,
psyching the delia
of my lately mind.

WHEN

When I get in my car singing "That girl"
and Bono helps out on the second she,
or Junior Gong echoes as
I think to type "calamity";
when I call one just
as one's calling me,
when I'm thinking of her
and she's thinking of me;
when the sign on the
highway says "Yo, JC!" -
I know I'm in the moment
in which I'm meant to be
and the journey is a joy,
and I feel so f**king free.

THE UPSIDE OF NOSTALGIA

Some days, mostly Sundays
old memories come flooding
back, random moments, sights,
sounds, smells, sentiments.
all the people
all the places
all the music
smiling faces
dancing bodies...
My first kiss at Blueberry Hill,
The dance hall as a child,
heat waves spent on the Beach,
the mystique of Hungarian forts,
playing king of the dock at the pond,
playing stairball with Matty,
bike rides with the Russian,
a number of endless days spent skiing,
picking strawberries with Moms,
the Saab and the smell of apples
on the way to soccer games,
taking sweats at Prickly Pond,
late lost nights with Loren,
the drive to and from the Wetlands,
replete with burning seats,
outtie in the Audi to the Went,
glow-in-the-dark frisbee nights,
the endless summer to end all summers,
show after show after show,
too many to name, only they know,
spring mornings and summer evenings in Montana,
my first XC trip with my Dad,
late night exploratory walks at UCSC
with new friends in a new place,
Andrea showing up at Penny's,
sun-lit afternoons at 526 Mission,
the cocks crowing in Soquel,
watching the sun rise over
West Cliff at the Chico house,
a Los(t) summer with my Angel(e)s
bouldering at Indian Rock
with Anthony in the morning,
the climbing gym with Shannon,
oystering on Tomales Bay,
day-off morning coffee on
the Claremont back porch,
late nights decompressing
with Maya and bowl and beer,
bumping "In a Little While"
across the Bay Bridge with Alex,
the fucking "Californians" etc.,
making art with Andy and company,
some afternoons at Turtle and Castle Rock,
the Spiders/Kidsmoke jam,
nights with Keith and Erica,
karaoke upstairs with the Mob,
flying kites at the Berkeley Marina,
mosaicing the shower, dot dash semi-colon
and ping pong at the barn with Fife,
surfing with BoomBox,
volleyball Sundays, soccer Tuesdays.
As the future collapses
on the fleeting present,
melting into days passed,
though this time flies fast
and the now never lasts
and these moments move
too quickly into the past
I will have them forever.
Tomorrow today will be
but another old memory,
a reflection cherished.

KAILEA QUINN'S FIRST POEM

Ziku just turned three.
I just turned three too.
My bear is sixty-five
And my froggy is five.
My mama is forty,
No, yeah, thirty-three.
Today my mama's
Having another birthday,
But I don't know why?
Ruby just turned, she's
turning, I don't know.
Can I push the buttons?

jbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
12345678990-=

Rubies
Purple

vvv
uiuyyttt
njjhhytrewwqaqsghhjkl;
ikiioooiuyytt
lommn,mnbvcxxxz
bbbbnmnjyuuhujjggff
fjgfrasertyyyn,,,mmm,
mmmnnbbbbbvvvbm.

RELEASE

Read Vonnegut.
Pray for peace.
Eat organic.
Love to pieces.

90 DEGREES TO THE EAST

Still sweating from bikram
so on up to the tower;
(where laziness might often
add a word like power
i won't cuz don't is the name
of the game these days);
but power was at the tower,
in all of its majestic grandiosity
as the masked sun set
on the midnight me
in all of my half-drunken
Bacchic revelry, leaving
Bacchus bawling his eyes out
and Kokopelli fluting
for easier fare, having come
to the conclusion that
i'd rather be here than there.

(no subject)

You Know i got it and i love it
and i'll read it a thousand times
like i glance at your pictures, but
what do i do with that? what t'
'he fuck do i do now, save for
feed the leather of my cleats,
do the laundry and the dishes,
call a million friends or two,
sit on my hands, making wishes
that things were different?
cuz shit, i've done all that,
and thinking along those lines
i should maybe widen the scope, no?
and grant the world world peace
or a starving baby a chance to eat?
i've done all that time and again,
so, again, 'the fuck do i do now?
i can't take any real action
and there's no satisfaction
in anyone any place anything else,
so the question remains in my brain,
and bubbling up in a rare form of logic,
it seems the answer to all this pain
is to lovingly embrace nothing and -ness.

BE THERE NOW

Right now I'd rather
be anywhere but here:
Virginia, California,
Thailand or Tanzania.

2 WET CAPP

I tried to write a little something
but even I couldn't stand to read it,
being that it was a laundry list
of everything I do these days
to keep my mind occupied
so my heart will sit silent.
So that's what I'm left with,
just the taste of a thought
lingering on wine-stained lips,
a "Trapeze Swinger" sung softly.

IN SECURITY

When did our country
become a "homeland"?

DIRTY MONEY

If I had a piggy bank
I'd smash it to smithereens.

SUCCUBUS

You crept
into my dreams
this morning
until i awoke
and you were gone.

XO

Rose bushes rising ten feet tall
make a midget of a man like me,
who would surely go and clip them all
for but a kiss from a lady like she.

SPARKS (C)RASH

The ceiling keeps leaking
Through white lightning flash.
My ecstasy's peaking
As I make my mad dash
Past beer breath and Spark smoke
And eyes made of hash.
The keg is all frothy.
Know the Monster Mash?
Is it really good luck
To blow an eyelash?
And where is my bacon?
And where is my cash?
It up I was making -
There's no sword for my sash.
If I were that night
Then myself I'd rehash.
But I'm only that guy
That's fixing to crash.
I'll tsunami you too
With my iron cross splash.
Guess it's time I got going.
Many thanks for the bash.

SOLE SOUL SNUGGLE

I slept through the snooze
button for four hours,
my early morning vetoed
by my bodily warning
to get more sleep or die.

MOON AROUND THE RING

The Capricorn full moon
Punches holes through the
Patchwork of quilted clouds.
Skippers steer slow sloops
Through uncharted channels.
Smoke rises off the fires
Of the sun's re-reflection.
Stars, planets, planes
Play tag in the dark,
Gazing at my twinkling eyes.

MAKE A WISH

So many stars in the sky.
So little time to space out.

LOVE IS

Love is the sun.
Love is a rain cloud.
Love is a rainbow.
Love is lightning.
Love is the last day of school.
Love is a cold river on a hot summer day.
Love is sushi.
Love is sake.
Love is cheesecake.
Love is wine.
Love is chocolate.
Love is tequila.
Love is a warm fire.
Love is a purring cat.
Love is a dog's kiss.
Love is birth.
Love is death.
Love is blindness.
Love is sight.
Love is beauty.
Love is delight.
Love is the answer.
Love is the question.
Love is family.
Love is friends.
Love is the means.
Love is the ends.
Love is all there is.
Love is everything.
Love is nothing.

JESUS CHRIST GETS SCHWILLY IN PHILLY

i had the same plan
as Dan the man with the
volvo instead of the van
but beat him to it
or so I thought
and met him back at the car
(where he told me
he'd been screaming
"polo" or "pancho"
or some crazy thing
or another or the other),
where the line danced circles
around us and our where? abouts.
i Billy Breathed
and in so doing dropped
a big and beautiful balloon.
no sooner had it left my hand
than did a stranger fellow than i
Hoist it up and return it,
as full to the brim as before,
if not more.
the crowd pirouetted once, twice,
singing Juntas of Rifting Round Rooms
and dancing Law Boy jigs,
Pictures of Nectar dripping from them.
we went Undermind, underground,
over hills and valleys of ether
and whither we went they followed.
they danced on our lawn
'til the suncame up
and we found ourselves
once again at home
in the Farmhouse
telleing over and again
The Story of the Ghost.

. . . TRANSIENCE

If I slow down enough
I find myself at peace
With the inertia of my . . .

GREEN FLASH

Lucky lighter
superstition.
The light is brighter
from this position.

ELECTRIC

Long nights
Long-awaited
Too soon in coming
Mornings
Full of inside jokes
And minor gaffs.
Smiles wide as Venus.
The promise of a brightening
future together.
Glittering golden skin tones
And wide eyes.
The sunrise.
The headache.
The couch.

EAU DE MOI

I do not smell like roses.
I am not a flower or an herb.
I am neither rock nor mineral.
I am not a bead of dew,
even though mostly water.
I am not a beam of light.
I am a million beams.
I am matter.
I am mammal.
I am man.
I am beast.
I eat.
I drink.
I sweat.
I stink.
My scent cannot be bottled.

BLESS

Lightning flashes on my
Sneeze-clenched eye lids.
Outlined shadows dance
Through the darkness.
In that glint of gold
I catch a glimpse of God,
my eyes wired shut
by my body's blessing.

VERMONT LAWS

In the Green Mountain State
it's legal to skinny-dip
if you go "'round the bend",
but illegal to whistle under water.
If someone trespasses thrice
you're entitled to shoot them.
And while yellow lines grace
the paved roads, they are but
a suggestion, a helpful notion.

SUNDAY'S SILLY SIGHTS

Waiting at the train tracks
for the barricades to lift;
then the train stops and
starts backing up until
it's cleared the intersection,
when what do i spy but a
warning on the cargo tanks:
"Do Not Hump". Ha! Hee! Huh!?

Back in the town I call home,
at least for the week,
and there's this red Jeep
in front of me, oncoming
with a stakebed red - the Jeep
swerves across the lines,
directly in front of the truck
before the driver clues in
and speeds back to safety.
The truck driver passes me
with a shit-eating grin
and a big thumbs up
for the other guy,
my favorite response,
showing grace and humor
in light of a no harm,
no foul coulda been but
wasn't, win-win incident,
what I call a wincident.

AWAKENING TO RAIN

This is not a summer rain.
This is the kind of shower
that graces NorCal winters,
Coming down for hours,
Widespread and tender.
Energizing my powers,
cleansing demons, doubts,
and loving on the flowers.
This is the rain of the goddess.

TAKE A HIKE

the cave and the cliffs
remind me of that which
i have yet to discover

the tree growing out
of sheer rock asserts
that anything is possible

the chipmunk carrying
a mushroom reassures me
that i am never ever alone

A DAY WITH ANY OTHER NAME (WOULD FEEL THE SAME)

When all thoughts center on
loving lust, addiction, and lists
and the coffee's not working,
my circles growing ever wider...

...I retreat to my wooded lake,
where polychromatic ripples remind
me of the beauty of the moment,
lapping rhythmically their language,
blowing ever downwind to shore.
Sunlight sparkling sequins, spotted,
here, there, and everywhere.
Wind-rustled leaves, like a river,
light breezes blowing clouds over
ever so slowly, on universal
Time to reflect like the water,
to be grounded and found
in the losing of the chaos,
to see the order in the patterns
around me, surrounding me.
Time to feel the only feeling
worth feeling today or any more,
that of peace, tranquility,
serenity, serendipity,
synchronicity in symmetry
no matter the score,
to Feel Alive Again and at home
by my lake, on the shore.