Wednesday, April 27, 2011


Good Gracious, Glasnost
(or Thanksgiving on the Baltic)

      Dutch trains like spectacles of insecurity.
                                     —D.W. Lichtenberg

I was closed Wednesday and
discovered getting to a top on
Nob Hill.   Delirious down Hyde
and specifically the part where we

were hanging off a cable car to
get back and deciding maybe
friends would take us there.   Are
you off?   I’m so off.   And so

off we went.   Used to be a word
(pleasant) always meant I should
take a big bite out of him.   Eating
flesh knows the future, or so my

cookie likes to say.   Reading this,
I know, zombies.   So tonight we
take his request.   Talking pictures
with lots of spots, or so suggests

my nephew (He’s all strapping
now, often shirtless.   How simple
we must have been!).   Anyway,
on a whim we fly into a couple of

kitchens in Santa Cruz, fall in love
all Swedish.   It’s like how many
months of this happening?   I
know, but don’t forget:

we all get 2 or 3 chances
on the RSVP.   So today
I’m on a boat to the Spilled
Blood to praise be.   Ah, men.