Thursday, June 26, 2014

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Monday, June 2, 2014

Musashi the Cat

family cat (I like to call him
Musashi) lazes on
gray-brown stone patio

he spots a fuzzed snow-colored moth
eyes its movements before
putting his paw over it

there's no rush; draws back big tomcat paw
still alive!--the moth goes in circles
unable to grasp where it's going or what it's doing

pale white petals of hydrangea covers the scene
Musashi watches a little longer before
carrying out his intent--he whacks clueless moth

'til it's crumpled up; a few more whacks
(just in case) and it's over
the world is returned to order

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Paumanok Path II

treading off the beaten path into a clearing of fallen trees
and wild grass; the birds form a rhythm

rheeee rheee rheeee--krik chur chur bdbdbdeeeee--duhdudhduhduh
(woodpecker joins in)

"Aspen 35" (my pack)


chuuuurp! chuuuurp! jerp jerp jerp bdbdbdbdeeee chee!

\---------------------------------------------------------------------/

currently sitting upon old concrete base
that used to support a radio tower, I listen to a bird softly cry
wweeeeeee hhoooooo; scraggly pines surround me in the stillness
--only ants remain the busiest members of the forest


and I think of Kerouac's Tic Sketches, "…he thought he was learning everything--
& has learned but decay only--& sadness of partings--"

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Walking Thru Black Doors

no matter how many times he took the acid reducer
the angelfish continued to swim in his stomach
it was most likely the thought of her
black licorice hair and eyes and how cold their depths were
he began collecting seashells and whiskey bottles to stow the pain
many times he bathed in these vices until all went dark

he no longer dreamed of sugar plums and fairies
but of slick ice skaters in sky blue leotards
friends and coworkers swam around his vacant smiles and
never offered him sweets during the holidays
he didn't mind so long as the wheels in his knees
kept turning; so long as he kept turning

one night a fire burned inside his mind that he could not extinguish;
whiskey could not douse these flames
in a mournful rage he destroyed the seashells he collected over the past year
the morning after he lay in the remnants of his sick obsession
tossing tooth sized shards into an angry box fan, licking his lips his troubles began to fade
at night, in bed, he couldn't decide who wrote the Bible
and watched as cattle shaped shadows strut passed his eyes

"Walking Thru Black Doors" spoken word piece

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

I.

fan blows "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" balloons into the alcove where the two bookshelves stand erect
but whose shelves droop from the weight OF ALL THESE AUTHORS
--lovely darling that she is, came to visit me today! of all days!


II.

Whalen's "Something Nice About Myself" pummels the two beers out of me
telling no one how much I truly drink though some most certainly KNOW
no! these painted leaves keep turning out wrong; never mind that beagle


III.

one's mind always returns to poor soil and dwarf-pines
hopefully these arguments everyone seems set on having will fucking end
patience is a game of jacks played upon mold gilded floors in the abandoned house down the street


IV.

is it nihilism? pancakes are always so dry
who designs these patterns we adorn our homes with? sons of shepherds!
"that bug just flew into my chest and like, died"

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Sunday's Are Hell

hurriedly, I drink the Bud Light Platinum;
"Sowelu" is playing and I take note of
how playful morning sunlight is--it dances off
budding leaves and into my room with a wavering breeze
thru the window; Hiroshige's "One Hundred Famous Views of Edo"
splayed before me; Sunday's are hell

Paumanok Path I

lonesome are these woods; offspring of
uncountable generations--Helviticus whistles to the birds
and they respond! mimicking his tones

he is closer to the forest than I
several times--time!--he reminds me that time doesn't exist
yet I continue to keep track of it

when we stop for food breaks I pull out a sandwich;
rotisserie chicken, American cheese and lettuce on
poppy seed roll--Helviticus; bananas and apples

it is important to note how small this large area
of woods really is--"the best time to smoke a cigarette
is right after smoking weed" which he does

walking sticks! we pull out our knives and shave the bark off;
snapping off dead branches with a howling swing of our staffs
Helviticus eventually breaks his (bit by bit)

I left my walking stick near the beginning of the trail,
where it belongs--in the woods; the sun is just about to set
as we exit back into zooming traffic and grocery stores

awkward hug--handshake--look both ways--off he goes!

Sunday, May 18, 2014

All We Hold Sacred

hold your stinger, love
I'll sting myself into submission

never mind emotions;
they are false gods and goddesses

I feel content
you daughter of a bitch

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Until Our Shores Meet

beautiful boy, what road are you going?
grim tidings put up spotty wallpaper

in this mess of a room

chilling words cause me to break out in sweat
we have things to do and say and create!

beautiful boy, do not leave me standing

beside the road; how wild the world is
in which we have been born and swam thru

beautiful boy, you keep afloat