Tuesday, June 28, 2016

mmdcvi

Oui!  Oui!  Mein Hertz!!
…for a guy who likes structure…

blueberries
blasted onto the
formica.  blat!
   blat-blat!
                   BLAT!!

the raspberries
that tasted sweet
to each but one
tongue
             had been del-
ivered to the wrong
auditorium.

Monday, June 27, 2016

mmdcv

Reindeer:    Space

Logic    Empty Project

Option    Movie
       open movie
                “File.mov”


Media     Loops
    Sound effects

    Click & Drag
    (for sound loop)


‘A’ turns on the Auditorium
or View    Trade Ammunition


Options     Movie
                     (export audio to movie)


‘I’   =  key in quick time (immediately)

‘O’  =  key out
           (to delete space)

Sunday, June 26, 2016

mmdciv

It Was the Laughter What Killed Him

Where is
the future
now that
you’ve
gone &
gobbled
it all up?

Saturday, June 25, 2016

mmdciii

How Will I Know
(If He Really Loves Me)?

We didn’t know a riptide
from a peptide, but we
knew that we just had to
find ourselves a yacht, we
all said in unison.  Then
well just get ourselves
a yacht, we each
thought silently
in simultaneity.

God’s like that, said
Martha to Penelope
the next afternoon.
Men!,  harrumphed
Penelope, So total-
ly off the map!

And they are, to the
very end.

It was decided,
by Martha, during
a beautiful dusk,
one day near Rio
de Janeiro (and
elsewhere, and all
at once, because
she was God, after
all!), that what she’d
been truly aching for
all these millennia
was a godchild.

It had been an
eternity, probably.
And it had never
occurred to Her
before.

Friday, June 24, 2016

mmdcii

Assumed Stasis

How do you erase
a jerk who left you
his everything, kept
you hanging for ye
ars, whether unin
tentionally or not.
Now, we’re each
just waiting around
for a newer jerk.
For one jerk apiece.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

mmdci

Clematis

Late summer party for work.
Theme: Oktoberfest.  Hung
with Angela, Jon, Terence,
little yellow butterflies. And
I finally ascertained the name
of the tree with the purple
flowers.  “So California!”
After the party we walked
down to Polk Street, heard
some fireworks, barhopped
a bit.  I called Nick, who
shows up soon thereafter
with one of his girls, flirted,
met up with Erin at Swig
with a big furry cat.  And
I only sipped at a straw-
berry-basil-something-or-
other.  Then we were off
to Coco Bang for Korean
BBQ and watermelon soju.
There, we also saw a
butterfly.  These things,
they all happened.

Monday, June 20, 2016

mmdc

I said I might still have been a man.


Thats wrong of me.


I am still a man.  A very broken one.


The truth is onerously painful.


I am in pain.  I am so ashamed.


What hurts the most is that which can remain neither.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

mmdxcix

Jelly

                         
kissed
              by a poet TYPO
                          —Aaron Tieger

That
part
of me
is gone. 

& my 
heart
doesn’t
even
know 
it yet.

Thursday, June 16, 2016

mmdxcviii

The train stretches across the continent.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

mmdxcvii

Memorys Miserable Without You

You’re such a New York boy.
But look at me.  Will I always
be craving you?  (Look at me,

stupidly believing I’ll always
crave you, always cry out for
you) as I wake up with night

terrors (they’re terrible, so);
that’s what they’re calling
them now.  There’s a name

for it; there’s a whole society!
I suppose I’ve never been
unique.  This thought brings

me back to “Unique, New
York!  Unique, New York!”
and now faster, says the

director of Much Ado About
Nothing. An anachronistic
production set in the 1920’s.

I was Don Pedro, and all I
really remember were the
quick and plentiful costume

changes (often a uniform
of any sport you’d imagine
Jay Gatsby playing).  To

be playing.  I just played
on play-acting for years.
But you?  Do I actually

even remember you?  If
only I could say “Maybe.”
If I could just say “Maybe

not.”  But what if I told you
I remember EVERYTHING?
What, then, would that mean

to you?  Or whomever?  I
skulk around trying like mad
to be remembered for some-

thing.  To forget, even.  Per-
haps. Yes...No.  The truth
is, if I’m so very forgettable,

then why do you try so des-
perately hard (it seems)
to completely erase me?