Saturday, December 20, 2014

mmccxciv

              my vision is a place
              its ever shifting face
              a waterfall she is
               —Martin Corless-Smith


it used to be
that you were
my favorite face

but now that
you’ve left
my retinas

you cease
lessly burn



Thursday, December 18, 2014

mmccxciii

epigraphs for the email poem [or]

               Thy paps lyke lyllies budded, I yearne
               to suck them til my brains doe frye.
                                         —Dodie Bellamie
                                             (from "Cunt Spenser”)


        maybe sandwich it in between these 2 fantastic quotes


               Thy tits are every large cow and they feed me
               sacredly with thoughts of heights be taken.
                                         —Dodie Bellamie
                                             (from “Cunt Shakespeare”)


Tuesday, December 16, 2014

mmccxcii

                         You’re out-

                         side of the

       frame.                              You stole

    my idea.                                 And I

        really                               do  ad-
     
                        mire   you

                        for        it.



Monday, December 15, 2014

mmccxci

 I can’t believe
they put a state
  right   here


Sunday, December 14, 2014

mmccxc

Romantic Painting: Oil on Canvas with Bullethole
                          
                          Hiding tiny ob
                         jects       inside
                         of  a            big
                          hole is     okay
                             but  some
                              times th
                                ey be 
                                come
                                 lost
                                /     \

    

Saturday, December 13, 2014

mmcclxxxix

I keep wanting to say “They eat sheets, these moths!”
But there’s never a clear entrance into that.  

                                                                   She sells
segues at the Non Sequitur.                          (I wish!)

That certainly is a poor excuse for living.  That’s a
lousy lifestyle just waiting to happen.  To which
it is replied:  "Pronounced."  

                                                               Like M-A-N.

Good night, Data Recovery.
Good night, Dada.

And I was thinking, 
                            am I really getting that gray?

(So sad that you’re leaving us, Aunt So-n-So.)


Friday, December 12, 2014

mmcclxxxviii

are you defined?


                                                                                                       —the inbox.  my inbox.

define me?  define yourself.
define unabashedly problematic.
aww, your things!  i’m seeking
tired keeping them in my house!
i go to church, tool!  so much so
that I could just GET OUT OF MY
HOUSE YOU SOMETHING, YOU!
(spoken so by the who who’s
smothering you).  (the who
who’s already smothered
by vandalism.  by infrequent
companionship.  by incantatory
spam.  by general thievery.  &
i have no idea what to do
about that.  do you?  do you?



Wednesday, December 10, 2014

mmcclxxxvii

               Sometimes it takes 3
               Introductions for some-
               One to remember you; 1
               Martini works much better
               Nicki is an androgynous name
                                          —Michael Malinowitz


Sweep
Wash
Scoop
Photo
Hang
Water
Trash
Type
Europe Trip


Tuesday, December 09, 2014

mmcclxxxvi

Sunday I cleaned house
while Otto was at lab –
most of the day.  I

found software that I
apparently need and
ordered a new piece

(hardware) for my
dead laptop.  Also,
I got word of $12,000.

A couple of words.
But I’ll try not to
dwell on that

after bickering.
Do not lean on
the bickering,

either.  It was
unusual and
sudden;

random,
like normal.


Monday, December 08, 2014

mmcclxxxv

Pain, like blue is the
strap of night, the goulash
of darkness...
          —Joseph Ceravolo

Insomnia now.
Each mean word
rings hollow,
echoes in my
head, never
stops ringing,
echoing.

No more
dance dance.
No more all
is well with
the world.
More apoc-
alyptic,

meaning
when will
it end, the
world, this
pain, this
need, this

senseless-
ness. This
senseless
apartment.


Sunday, December 07, 2014

mmcclxxxiv

                    The straw’s
alone, the grave’s alone,
the twitch, the switch,
the bitch’s alone...
          —Joseph Ceravolo

Mixed bag.  Friday night
horrible.  The stranger
who was to fix my lap-
top... no go.  So... I broke
down.  Depressed.
Horrible.

Saturday board meeting.
I walked all the way there.
Then to Hayes Valley for
brunch with Otto at
Absinthe.  He was cute,
trying to cheer me up,

all happy because he
got his income tax refund.


Friday, December 05, 2014

mmcclxxxiii

Speaking of holy water, 
the database is now up to 
seventy percent rebuilt.  
It’s been a few hours.  
Last night, I watched 
the Grammys with Otto.
Til around ten, anyway.
Or did I dream this?  No,
surely not.  I remember.
What a bunch of fogeys,
but oddly entertaining.
Okay, no more talk of
last night, of last night’s
dreams.

This morning I’m feeling
even more fantastic than
yesterday (can I imagine?).
Seemingly over my cold;
ninety-nine percent.  Just
a bit of stuffiness, but Otto
didn’t notice any snoring
(perhaps he was only
dreaming, as well).

[Brief cut to the future,
several years hence:
its redundancy is ob-
literated by his horrify-
ing drowning, gasping 
for two or three nights 
leading to (gasp and gasp-
ing!) failure of heart.]

——
——

I’ve been reading a book.
It’s very interesting.  I
remember when I 
used to read only 
one book at a time.


Thursday, December 04, 2014

mmcclxxxii

Dream of confusion with suitcases.
                               —Rachel Blau DuPlessis

This could half describe the
nightmare I am now living.
Only, the suitcases are this
dream’s sanity.  Plenty of

them, too, as we’re off to
Vancouver, we’re off to
Boston, we’re off to Paris;
we’re off to Italy: Roma,

Firenze, Venezia; we’re
off on a Mexican cruise.
Do I wake up?  Do I
ever get to wake

the fuck up?
Au revoir!


Monday, November 24, 2014

mmcclxxxi

Retroactive Overweight Sonnet

One week from yesterday
I get a paycheck.  I’m
pretty broke; in need of
paying bills down and feel-

ing I can breathe easier.
But that’s pretty normal.
“Do I look as blank as I
feel?” I wonder.  Please

accept this as my letter
of resignation.  Hey, I just
thought of something that
might help you understand

one part of my mind.
If I think I’m dying, I
will still wake up next to
you tomorrow morning.  “Oh,

the future, Dear Future!”  I say
to the big orange bowl in the sky.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

mmcclxxx

chicken mouth vs. onion mouth

his big problem is
he lives in fear of
being embarrassed.

home by around 10.
sick ever since.  my
nose runs.  i am so

boring.  perhaps i
go home?         .....
next day, feeling

much better.  lunch
with erin at gaylord.
i wish i were just

frolicking around
the city aimlessly.
wouldn’t it be fun?

later in the evening,
tasting indian food
from hours ago, i’m

about to trust a com
plete stranger to pick
up & fix my laptop.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

mmcclxxix

less willow
more buffy
sounds beau
tiful.  i roll
over & go
back to
sleep.
think
good
thoughts
as much as
they can be
thunk.  the
first thing
to do is to
let perfection
go.  at least a
little.  why is
my heart so
healthy?
nighty
night
for 
now.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

mmcclxxviii

Sad Clown

Here I am,
a sad clown.

No better
way to
put it.


Tuesday, November 18, 2014

mmcclxxvii

That the poem is a toy
with the structure of insomnia.
                           —Norma Cole

Even as I write
I am falling asleep.
Reminders of all the
things I need to do
keep cropping up,
yet I cannot stay
awake (even as
my mood drifts
downward again).
This morning I got
some nice little
punches.  And
later, lunch with
Otto at Power
Source (it says
here “next door;
was good”).
Carolyn says
Suzy has
esophageal
cancer.  Terminal.
How long now
has she lived
terminally ill?
It seems a long
time.  Well....
Highlights of
the weekend:
saw Match Point
by myself.  Ex-
cruciating.  Gym:
4.3 miles at 6.5 mph
constant.  And later,
again with Otto,
we step out to
Mezzanine for
the Matinee.

Monday, November 17, 2014

mmcclxxvi

Tonight is movie night.
We’re doing it monthly
this “semester,” so
besides the one while
Mom was here, it’s the
second movie night of
the year.  Counting
everything.

A grump I am again.
What a rollercoaster.
Last night all good,
now this.  Arguing
all morning over
Strawberry Banana
Odwalla.  I miss
Fresh Samantha.

Later, home via cab,
what a drag I am.
Remembering Ikiru
(Kurasawa) and the
plums on top of
the seasoned rice.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

mmcclxxv

The newest stuff I’ve downloaded

Then, mumbly
with Otto
doing his first
online class –
I watched
some – it’s an
art history
class which
looks fun.
Spacing out
while the data-
base repairs it-
self.  Then zzz.
Today, I do feel
ever so much
better.  Work
gets me down
sometimes –
it’s so droll.
But I’m ok.
I should make
better of it.
There are so
many movies
I want to see.
I have made a
big list.  The
Oscar nom-
inations just
in, Brokeback
Mountain
get-
ting the ex-
pected brunt.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

mmcclxxiv

My early years were cold.
                  —Maureen Thorson

I might say the same,
but I grew up in
Arkansas. We had
occasional snow

(e.g., during most
every Boy Scout
camp-out in which
I participated), but

summers were
hot and humid.
I suppose what
I mean by Ms.

Thorson’s quote
is that I was a
late bloomer.  I
somehow rode

my way through
school “book-
smart,” but with
no realization.

Or so it seems
from this angle.
Now?  What do
I realize?  Let’s

see—thank
heavens yes-
terday is done!
     —Happily

propped up
on the city
of no air
conditioning.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

mmcclxxiii

He lived in the restive staccato
Of memorabilia.
                     —Maureen Thorson

I hate work.

What would
make me be
okay with work?

That’s not entirely
true.  Anxious?
I’m in a pretty

lousy mood.  Plus,
I want purpose
(porpoise!),

something to
devote myself
to (time & energy)

from which I can
gain reward,
triumph.

That’s a nice word.
Rain doesn’t help.
I just want my 

(heart back.) 
laptop fixed. 
I don’t really 

mind work.  
I do it daily.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

mmcclxxii

While Home Alone & With It Raining Heavily

Heavy rain, starting with
Friday night.  Went to see
Mars Rover at the IMAX
with Yuki; one of the
strangest things I have
ever done with him, and
on that level, delightful.

(I have really missed
Otto this weekend.)

Anyway, after the
movie, we made our
way to Sparky’s
for dinner and good
conversation, then
our separate ways.
I to bed rather early
and then up early
on Saturday to
the gym—Embar-
cadero—after
Sutter Stockton
Starbucks.  But
my gym was

flooded, so I
detour to the
Tenderloin Y,
run two miles.

Monday, November 10, 2014

mmcclxxi

I remember trying to figure out what it’s all about.  (Life.)
                                                                  —Joe Brainard

I learned a few things,
had a nice time this
weekend and, all-
in-all, was just
bored solid
yesterday
afternoon.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

mmcclxx

Awaiting lunch.

Last night, I
danced for
3 hours with
the Comma
and his room-
mate.  The
Question Mark
was there, even
though he said
he wouldn’t be,
“Because it is
so boing!”
Right?  I
notice now
that he called
this morning
at 5:30am.  I
apparently
didn’t hear
the phone.
My lunch-
mate, Semi-
colon, says
that this is
probably
fortunate.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

mmcclxix

It takes you so long to apologize
                                —Tim Dlugos

I am particularly boring
these last few years.  We
order some green stuff,
stay only a few minutes
because he’s got a dot-
com interview on Mon-
day that sounds promis-
ing.  And

Dude had a date last night. 
Then Otto and I watched
a million episodes of
Naruto
whilst eating
our din-din.  Many
episodes, four or five, I
think.  Then to bed where
I dreamed about zombies.