Thursday, August 17, 2017

mmdccxxiii

     …the heartbeat
     is  strange
     disaster, it is an owl, lost
     in a naked uninhabitedu
     forest.

          —from “Wolfman”
              by John Thompson

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     To pretend
     things do not
     become rabbit
     is a misreading
     of a saint.

          —Eva Marie Bunnyrabbit







Monday, August 14, 2017

mmdccxxii

         what if buses were
                 art gorillas?
                    —a misreading of an SFMUNI 
                        bus advert that pondered 
                        what if buses were art galleries?


This used to be a fun-
house. At least it was
until I canceled those
two phone numbers.

They were partial any-
way: 501, 617, 419, ex-
tension ZERO for the
receptionist  !!!  !!!

Utilizing this process of
elimination, we speed to-
ward bifurcated hugs &
nonexistent tongues (xo/

xo!): if either of you feel
like lending a finger or two
(in any way whatsoever),
and are able to do so,

now is the time to do it....
3 top hats atop 3 top heads
around 3/4 of the perimeter
of a rectangle (our be-

loved trailer) are my drum-
set and their impermanent
location. The anxiety of an
extended drum-roll; the tur-

moil of same disappearing into
subtext. Or the sandwich left
as a tip, so very rare for
such a percussive snare!

After three years of whatever
was (which, to me, at least,
was) utter turmoil, I recant
the earth, I recover, I wake up.

Friday, August 11, 2017

mmdccxxi

Intergalactic

politics
becomes
a whole
nother
planet

when
u r
bun
king
(say)

w/ 200
guys
who
current
ly have

no other
place
they
call
home


Thursday, August 10, 2017

mmdccxx

Nighthood

You shouldn't
have eaten
Grandfather's
elephant.

   HONEST!

Should you
have really
eaten Grand-
father's elephant?
 
   BRAVERY!
 
Of course you
shouldn't've,
you wretched
single lot!

 

Sunday, May 07, 2017

mmdccxix

UBERHORNY
(Sexually Explicit: Search for girls to come over)

if anyone needs to
ever be attributed
in poetry, perhaps
it should be Spam.

Spam has always
been somewhat
kind to me, a pro
at providing all

sorts of fodder
and meaning
(the meaning
less made me

aningful,
would
perhaps
be better

put).

Saturday, May 06, 2017

mmdccxviii

A Fantastickal Note To The Tallest Narcissist

I told you
at least
fourteen
times
that I
did NOT
make
you up.

But you
were
only
stone.

Stone
which
I can
only
use
as
un
bear
able
desire;

yet
which
I ever
so log
ically
leave
daily
at
river’s
edge.

Every
day has
a river.
Every
river
has an
edge.

Dryly,
From the River’s Edge,

Yes, of course it’s me.

Thursday, May 04, 2017

mmdccxvii

Getting Played

The kerfuffle
it was all about?

Happy Grand
pa’s Favorite

National
Holiday

Day! Wow,
bizarre, a

ringing
sensation;

a coil con
nected to a

headset...
Hello,

do you have
Prince Albert

in a can?
Reporting

live from
the top

of the #1
all-time

favorite
laureate’s

head!  On
ly what he

really mean
t to say was

good
morning

it’s five am
I called.

Wednesday, May 03, 2017

mmdccxvi

Freakin’

That freakin’
you’re hearing
for money’s
your bad sound
pocket.  Shirt-
sleeves up,
chest puffed
out like a
French past
ry about to
explode
(pouf!).

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

mmdccxv

U Make It Up As U Go Along
(Let's Call It Improvisation)

Like recipes and whatnot.  I knew him
when he was my age.  A bit.  His
middle name was B.  Was a made
up B (for filling in the blanks?).

Which is when Frankie says
what she really thinks to Grace:
“You get married.  The vows
say: in sickness and in health.”

“In sickness and in health.”
Have you noticed how Jane
Fonda can twitch her face
in such fascinatingly subtle

ways that, well, most act
resses simply can’t.  Which
means nothing, really. 
Except maybe that she’s

even better than I thought.
At the craft, I mean, age
notwithstanding, but rel
evant, I’d say.  Does that

in effect also mean (better)
as a person? The power of
provocative fiction so sum
marily diferent than the

reality of your own, yet
so relatable, so relative to
something so you.  And s
very ME.  Cut!  Take!  Try

it again.  & use that twitch.
Find even MORE empathy,
if that’s even possible.  Re
gain control of a mad, mad

world (the one with the dis
tinct lack of comedy).  Eat
it up.  Weep if you want.
Because it’s fiction.  It’s

fake narrative (Sure. Ad
dressing real narrative. 
The one you live, the one
you live with, the one you

try to digest but can barely
even dictate.  And...scene
Dispense the Kleenex.  Grab
the script just in case you have

time to go over a few lines
before tomorrow morning
when the incessant twitch
ing starts all over again.

Thursday, April 06, 2017

mmdccxiv

Getting Laid

The kerfuffle
it was all about?

The Big Bad
Wolf is all!

I ask myself
in the morning

what a head
ache is.  It

goes like
this and

refuses
to play

all
week

long.
Then

the
doctor

says
There

’ll be
a little

sting.
Just

like
that.


Wednesday, April 05, 2017

mmdccxiii

“Stay determined,” said Margaret,

“Who said
anything
about get
ting laid?”
Nervous
giggle.