mmmmmclxxv

’til the cows come home

mom died last saturday.  i was
never brooding or suicidal – nor was i
a bad boy.  really.  bad, brooding and
suicidal were my coming of age sexuality,

though.  i wanted in me those characteristics.
or at least to find and hold tightly to someone

who had them, impossible as it would have been for 
me to take either on, to be kevin bacon in

footloose.  as i got older i became a fantastic dancer.
so i got to be that.  what eventually made me sexy was
the dancing.  just no brooding, no bad boy.  most often when
i dance what radiates from me, what i give, are whimsy and gratitude,

my appeal, when it exists, is that of a good, happy guy who
dances with intermingled grace and awkwardness, gliding in and
around the other dancing figures in a clunky stealthy fashion,
from the far end of the dancefloor to the dj booth and back.

my optimism dims, but never that much. i  want to live forever.
i can sometimes pretend i’m a bad guy, i can adjust my face
in ways that might suggest a yellow flag, that i perhaps might best

be approached with caution.  i’ve come of age, the last in my timeline, am

wistful every once in a while, rarely, between when the club
closes and sun comes up.  but the sun comes up, my world
is filled with joy, if with a lessening clarity.  eyesight dissipates
with age.  i adjust my eyeglasses and walk home

as daybreak hits, enjoying just for once the solitude,
walk up the stairs of my apartment building, unlock my door
and close it behind me again against the
brightly lit city that i love.

mmmmmclxxiv

one daren’t out-flash adelaide.

hot pink, it says right
over here, often appears thematically in contemporary and regional productions of
the musical, guys & dolls,

particularly in the costumes for miss adelaide and the hot box girls.
it does note that while the original 1950 production had its own color palette
newer renditions ever since tend to amp up the flashy nightclub aesthetic when the      

     gals are on.  when the
knuckleheads nathan detroit and sky masterson are on, however, there is

    often a generally muted earthtone schematic in play.

mmmmmclxxiii

fame

red carpet moments are
especially fun for me.  whenever i,
del ray cross, play a

character
at the cinema that becomes a particularly
red hot hit, i just
put on my dapper
entertainment face, strike a half a dozen of my most fantastic and terrifically
talented poses, then disappear like a demented recluse, until the next big premiere.

del is not short for delusional

mmmmmclxxii

two all beef patties on a what bun?

origin of that
pop culture phrase
every one of us prebuscent
nippers would use whenever we’d encounter

something that had dramatically blocked an important
entrance to wherever we had to be, like, for example, a door had just been
slammed shut and locked at our face just for spite? no worries,
all us pipsqueaks had to do was strike a sing-song-y voice
magically toward said obstacle, slowly chant: OPEN SESAME, and, of course, the
entrance would be cleared of the locked door or drawbridge, and through it we’d go, off
     to whatever was next.

fixodent and forget what?

mmmmmclxxi

today’s topic

what will be our subject today? shall i delve
into a real issue,
something which in reality,
here on earth, is the primary source of my high
blood pressure, for example?
or will i disavow the bonier, thornier subjects again today in hopes to alleviate the typical
nightmares i get from spending inordinate time plowing through reality.  make up an
escape hatch – words come so much easier when they’re primarily diversionary.

feathery fluff

mmmmmclxx

aura farming

done that (been there)
is what i say of this new teenaged trend.  but how fun it’d be to
rake and shovel in such a garden, digging up the puzzle pieces from
the rows of fruits and vegetables to construct who i am.  i’d tend my section of

red radishes, snip lots of long, silky, slightly-curled
okra – as if these were all the parts of myself i would then show off to you.
aren’t we almost always cultivating ourselves in this play-pretending-
deceptive way?  face first, yet with a mask we’re always editing, developing

     as we grasp it before our face, to invariably shield and tease and create and

     recreate our very own ever-shifting unique self?

mmmmmclxix

have you heard me

say how drawn i am to the color yellow?  how do yellow hues rank for you?  are they
up among those that you are
most drawn into or toward?  yellow.  the color of some
melons, of the sun, a color that represents brightness, or
electricity.  yellow often seems to truly
rev me up, to energize me, and yet, at the same time, to

soothe, to
quell any growing

uneasiness or
anxiety that i might have over what comes next.  often the color of beachcombers’
swaying locks, of the beach beneath the spindrift, it’s the golden glint in

hazel-colored eyes, which my dad often had (hazel was his mother’s first name, too).

mmmmmclxviii

part 2

(continued from the previous day)

...situate myself in a
   particular now, always with no initial attempt at analyzing that spot or adjusting
   oneself
  (that’d be me; myself).  only then do i briefly assess how much i
   like the spot in which 
   i find myself at that moment.  then, quickly, without thinking much, i move my body, a bit
   gently, so that if and when i am next propelled, aimed in the adjusted direction, i might
   have the best chance at next finding myself in a location
   that, when i leave it, i’ll have become profoundly better for having just been there.

mmmmmclxvii

part 1

really easy, this
one.   especially
since, clearly, i so regularly look backwards, scanning over
every year of this so
-
called life that i can recollect, if for the
one singular purpose of putting together this
lyrical project
over the course of the past twenty-two plus years.  some may find it hard to
resist the incorrect notion that it is an
endeavor in which i (
del, who is me) often likely find myself enmeshed within tangled nostalgia.  

given the discipline with which i’ve given this years-
long project, which we may call by its name,
anachronizms, however, when i do and regularly and swiftly
scan through my memory logs,
stopping long
enough to grab a line or two for the present day’s lines and land on a particular
snippet, there is little emotion or wistful desire, in most cases.  instead, i ...

(to be continued)

mmmmmclxvi

instant

gone
up from
now

stop

mmmmmclxv

mercury runs

quicksilver, it says right here,
upon doing a swift search online,
is a traditional, poetic [yes, it says just that] name for the
chemical element, mercury.  did you
know that i nearly completed a bachelor of arts degree studying the
science of chemistry?
it’s true, i swear on my
left-brained life, such as it is.  a primary characteristics of mythological mercury, is his
volatility.  he’s also known for being shrewd, for his
eloquence and his
roguery.  [the statue below depicts orpheus, not mercury, in stockholm, sweden, 2010]

a bit of thievery fever

mmmmmclxiv

the devil’s tool...

plumbing the depths of my
liquid brain in an attempt at discovering
utter perfection
might require a

pitchfork.  well.  remember keats’
endymion, the first line of which famously

reads: “[a] thing of beauty is a joy
for
ever?”  but only if those fork’s tynes are
capped with
the most delicately soft cottony puffs.  elsewise, one wrong move and no more joy.

...pokes an infinite kaput

mmmmmclxiii

vermillion

red.  the color of us
extant human being’s blood, when
damage is done to our self such that any singular

runnel from
our inner estuaries
crosses over and into a body’s outersphere.  i
know a few similarly-colored things.  like

danger.  ginger (the spice, the human—used colloquially, the gilligan’s island bombshell,

eve—
surely she of the bible was a bombshell,
except—was she a
redhead? . . .).  i  have noticed that
there are also many desert mesas and buttes that are crimson-colored.

mmmmmclxii

speaking of television, and
this particular
author of pretty
ridiculous lyrics, what’s our favorite
science fiction series?
heck, this
is easy
peasy: star trek (which still floats through space the same age as me).

mmmmmclxi

teevee druthers

say, might you remember a
certain television show called scarecrow
and mrs. king? how about
remington steele, in which a dapper pierce brosnan starred with stephanie zimbalist,
efrem zimbalist jr’s daughter, for those of us who
care to live life overfilled with
ridiculous celebrity trivia.  perhaps
one might ascertain from this acronymic tidbit
which of those two television shows the author prefers (and preferred).

hint:  he’s a 007

mmmmmclx

EFF the tech oligarchy!

well, today i am quite
angry at
the world, but mostly at google. they do most appropriately represent
each and every greedy corporate
rat bastard in this
megalomaniacal oligarch-
eat-oligarch universe, don’t they?
let’s have every billionaire after each
other for a kill-or-be-killed
nanosecond. but then who’d get rid of all the millionaires?

wealth!  ptooey!!

mmmmmclix

chew it

“bet you don’t know what i’ve got
 up my sleeve.”
“bet i do!”
“bet you don’t” “try me!”
“lots of love for me. and frowny faces for
 everyone else.” “aw, when are you ever going to
 grow
 up,
 mister man!”

’til you pop it!

mmmmmclviii

six decades

look at me (but don’t, really),
over the hill,
sated with dinner and
the long day, feeling practically

brain-free, or
at
least unable to get a dim spark of a neural connection in this
lazy body
of mine. such is the brunt of life for an
old
nobody like me.

seven sins (vii)

mmmmmclvii

six decades

do you seriously dare to
unleash the wrath of this near
sixty year serial sinner?!
the audacity! the

devil itself has
exactly nothing on me.  i’m
vile, i’m terrible, and when
i’m angry, there’s nothing that poor, pathetic
little you can do once i sic my dragon on you. unlatch the door to the cage, my love!

seven sins (vi)

mmmmmclvi

six decades

but how does one find gluttony in a desert blizzard?
look, what’s that ahead, just over that next butte,
is it a shot of ozempic?
zizzity
zoopzang,
albert. you’re
right hilarious. i practically
died laughing (of starvation).

seven sins (v)

mmmmmclv

six decades

plenty of ways one might
eradicate one’s
net worth, when it comes do it.
number one on my list at present:
your neighbor’s hot cousin.  envy.  (& he comes with—or without—a fancy sports car)

seven sins (iv)

mmmmmcliv

six decades

lascivious
arc:
pie
in the sky ethereality versus
skin (the real deal).

life is
abuzz with the
zeal of
uninhibited
lust.
it’s living worth dying for.

seven sins (iii)

mmmmmcliii

six decades

now
everything once yours
comes
to me [
avarice ] and how deliciously
right—how real—the world now seems.

seven sins (ii)

mmmmmclii

six decades

cross my name off your list.  how
real do you think a mask of my face might make you, might
elevate your sad sack of self?
alarming as it
may sound to you—

oh, this is good, this is good.  i’m too
fucking good.

that which my name would
heighten was but an
ember lost in the river of lava that

clogs at the coast,
rhombuses ablaze as far as the eye can see.
oh, you are, indeed, full of it.  you of cowardly false
pride that implodes (explodes inwardly).  may your heart well learn from it.

seven sins (i)

mmmmmcli

broken

butt to his bed-linens, uncharacteristically late to rise for the day,
our fallen hero, normally filled with ideas, morning to midnight, and carries a significant
number of maps in hand (or pocket or backpack) of each of the
elaborately detailed steps required to reach each of his high-minded goals.  not today, though.

verso reverso

(the spell has been cast)

mmmmmcl

hungry a little?

try

heavy

effing

whining if you’re

hungry.

or.

live a little!

eat the whole damned thing!

eat the entire whopping extravagance.  and

not just one serving.  no.  instead, nosh to your hearts desire until the

crack of dawn.  and pay no heed
how your limbs begin to pop perpindicular to your gut.  have patience.  as
i swing my
legs and arms like so, watch
as my mouth becomes like a 
dump truck 

and takes big honking bite after bite out of this fancy dish!

mmmmmcxlix

Repair Service
(i know this guy, he’s got nice tools)

need some time to decompress?  life’s
upheaval of your pieces parts
taking its toll?
say no more.  rush on over to

atop my bed right
now and you’ll soon find your weary,
devoured, devalued circuitry

brought back to
outstanding, pitch-perfect synchronicity.  your
life’s zing will sing with such a pitch-perfect ring
that you’ll feel seventeen again.  while
supplies last.  prices vary.  call a doctor pronto if you experience any bad vibes.

mmmmmcxlviii

paying it forward

zinnias
explode overhead!  it’s a
pie in the sky
heaven, tonight.  all the twinkles arrive from stars light
years away and land here, on me, right at this very moment.  so that i might
radiate just enough razzle-dazzle to get me through to the end of tomorrow.

mmmmmcxlvii

a seal gone silent*

what
a shitty
x (friend, boyfriend, lover, whatever)!

soaring along like super-
empathatic sidekicks
and then blam!  ghosted!  incommunicado!  no warning.  connected soundly for
long months, years, a decade or two.  until...nothing.

*you try typing with flippers!

mmmmmcxlvi

a drowning in the ocean

what is that
heavy, heaving, deep and
absolutely mournful
lingering
echo out at

sea, over the
ocean waters, seemingly emanating from way be
neath its surface, deeper still, from its lowest
gully, a singularly lonesome, heart-shredding, water-lung’d howl?

mmmmmcxlv

things he thinks of himself
(about which he too often reminds)

rest
assured,
del
is the most
confident
aspirer toward (/opinionated admirer of)
leftist leanings.