mmclxxiii

Something’s Still Happening

Some foghorns never make it
to leghorn, nevermind the
female of the species.

I had to work for a little bit.
It hurt. Let’s start over
without an overbite.

Stop making funny
just to make sense.
Stop making love.

Stop making fence.

mmclxxii

fundraisers for non-profits

that’s a title i stole from a list
on page 15 of Ursula or University

mmclxxi

I guess we’ll never have an orgiastic Happening
                                              —Stephanie Young

Although I have to believe in the poet who had ‘a
self-sufficient lack of certainty’. It is possible
that I might introduce him to you someday. Not to mention,
as I write this, ‘vocation is in the air’. Or, more actually:
As I write this, vocation is in the air.... Sic and sic.

Rather than ‘to be continued’ how about ‘let’s get
right back to this’. That don’t sound right (ugh!).

Although this should’ve been the title, something
happened and there he was. No joke. No joke.

Like a postscript from a turd dressed in an iconic
superhero’s uniform. Like a flash. Out of the blue.
As if from thin air. As if.

Still, he didn’t get to do it. He didn’t even get it.

.// but the sun’s out. it’s another moment
if not an orgiastic happening....

mmclxx

Don’t Bite the Hand that Feeds You,
Bite the Hair of the Dog that Bit You

“Sober October” could actually be the
title of my next poem, I think, or,

and this one I just overheard while
walking down Mason Street:

“Slap me with your
tiny weenie!”

But this one’s
more for Mondays. Or for

the Tuesday after a 3-day
weekend. “Who’s got a heart of

gold? Let’s hear it for the
heart of gold!!” And, oh!

Now that I’m off the sidewalk,
my dear! This just in:

“My name is jeffie, im really hot russian girl
I very like the virtual hot meeting.

If you are realy interesting to love chat, meeting,
change photos, hot webcam (skype) talk with me

(or with my girlfriends)
please go to my web paage:

www.rfdatingxxx.ru. my Gentle-
man, thanks and have a good day”

mmclxix

A Hiss Is Not A Purr

I’m so sorry to have to inform you
that you seem to have taken the wrong
train. The one you need picks up
every 45 on the corner of Montieth &
Hoffman. Anyway, so after that I
watched Betty White on Conan.
Isn’t she just the bee’s knees?

mmclxviii

Swim Away from Eminem

It seems obvious that I
place too much credence
in the concept of going out
with a bang. Also, I often

get this sinking feeling
that too many people,
especially closer
friends, think of me as

a sad and pathetic man.
Fortunately, part of me
believes that that isn’t
the perception in reality,

that it’s at least more
related to my own
medial regard of myself.
Which, also fortunate,

isn’t the most consistent
notion that I have of myself.
Anger and hatred are putrid.
I’ll add to that initial word

prolonged. Prolonged anger.
Probably any kind of anger.
Putrid. Stunting. Bad.
But there is nothing more

stifling—and therefore
I use the word putrid,
but would, I suspect, 

be more accurate with

using the word pathetic.
Or tragic. Nothing is
worse, let’s just say,
for me, than that

putrid feeling I too at
times have of myself.
The worst it always
does is stop the world

(the only one, my world,
which isn’t really the
only world, but,
let’s face it, truly is).

mmclxvii

There was lots of lounging
that weekend. And long
conversations about ‘life’.
Living without a plan has
grown tedious. I have a
growing desire to clean
the windshield and yet
shrinking funds for new
windshield wipers.

mmclxvi

Way to go through that list every day!

     They were trying to set up their action in my mind, way back then in
     ancient now.
                                                                  —Alice Notley

Highlights from Mom’s trip here: driving to Monterey;
meeting Otto’s mom; going to the Monterey Aquarium;
drinking chamomile tea; new job—back back up to
highlights from Mom’s visit—to Napa/Sonoma/Calistoga

on Sunday; drinking with Mom on her 63rd birthday;
dancing at Ruby Skye; suspicious package left in
American Airlines terminal; me being so out of it;
Mom being here for ten days; focus turning into a

dizzying fuzziness; Sanctuary at 1st & Harrison
(“Palladium Place”). It’s really beautiful outside.
That feeling that I’m going to forget turning in
our rent check. The realization that it was

Stephanie’s blog. A blog within a blog, found
on a postcard. The picture on the postcard
is of me. All things being relative (in Arkansas),
I made her a cake while she made apple pie.

Playing Rook, feeling high, talking about life.
Later, we are dancing in our spot and taking off
our shirts, which is current fashion. I remember
calling someone to come by on Monday. Then

I had my near-death experience. My near-death
experience. During which I really thought I was
dying. Underline and italicize making sure
I was okay. Please make sure that I am okay.

mmclxv

The Sunken Galleon

I purchased a pocket calendar

and a three-hole punch with my

corporate credit card.  I danced

the night away on January 1

after falling asleep at 11:30pm

on New Year’s Eve.  Otto came

to bed around 12:30am & I

recall popping up to say

Happy New Year and

plopping him a kiss

before rolling over

and falling asleep.

The holiday seemed

replete with festive

kvetching.  We chill,

then chat, then chill,

then chat chat chat

with Kathleen Some-

thing-or-Other.  I see

her all the time and,

behold, she’s blogging

everything I’m reading.

I’m definitely hungry but

all I can smell is onions.

mmclix

I seem to be missing everything

He looks at me with scorn

and I’m inclined to blurt out

that I’ve been up all morning

writing poems.  The apart-

ment was messy and I was

afraid to look my paycheck

in the eye.  We watched

episodes of Everybody Loves

Raymond before retiring to

the bathroom.  What else?

Already four days into the

new year and my Christmas

present arrives:  a case of

Peter Pan peanut butter.

mmclviii

I have many questions.  Where

are you staying?  With whom

are you visiting?  How is winter

on the other side of the world?

I am currently melting into our

bedroom.  Solid and liquid am I.

A monkey stares into space,

whatever is vaguely over my

head.  Boss hobbles into office.

I court an ounce of hooch.  Now

that it’s almost weekend these

smelly parties are happening.

All at once I go to the board,

mopey, sluggy, bitchy & edgy

all week.  Like new dwarves

(Mopey, Sluggy, &c.).  I am

feeling so go to.  Otto just called. 

Until then it was one of those

days.  One tiny moment solves

everything.  Underline everything. 

Scratch that.  All caps that.  THAT

feels right; is just the ticket; strikes

a pang of contrast against how

substance abuse fails (quite often).

mmclvii

blood orange

is a treatise

on why this

is not art

happen

stance

puts me

in an

unknown

location

dizzy

from

gorg

ing

i look up

to pass

out

exhaust

ed gypsy

cannibal

wanders

ages

looking

for home

mmclvi

crummy couple of days,

moodwise, is my own

damn fault.  diversions

elsewise are slow,

sluggish.

the heat is on.

now if i can just

get there.

i WANT.

so i got my eyes

examined earlier today,

picked out a new pair

of glasses, but haven’t

purchased them yet.

maybe i won’t.

gazing at the

ocean.  last

day of the

year.

sipping a juice.

apple juice

& ocean.

ocean &

apple juice.

mmclv

Absence is harder to accept than death.

                                    —Etel Adnan

desire to do something different

vs.

desire to stay in comfort zone

who am i besides this

very comfortable

grey plaid shirt

that i am wearing now?

i cannot trace it back.

doing this sometimes feels

dangerous

but is it?

i am denied balance

or the deepness.

sit.  an eagerness.

over-filled.  until

the thoughts in

my head start

to evaporate

one by one.

mmcliv

I’m eager, engaging,

forwardly thinking,

hungry, and a bit

difficult.  I’m trying

to pass peacefully

through the day.

On the other hand,

it’s rainy and I have

lost my nice umbrella.

So many fluttering

thoughts, post-revelry,

but one that’s consistent

is overloaded but utterly

brilliant.  Meanwhile, on

another planet, a grand-

mother is teaching a

grandson how to

cook the family

specialty.

mmcliii

A Vegetable Orchestra

Shallow hedonism is important
and pleasurable. It’s my business,
like taking trips to Boston and
New York is others’. Sometimes

a clear timeframe is difficult to
graph. What has become of it?
Throw a party for Mom. Whom
to invite? Nobody even knows

her here. What would that be
like? Meanwhile, making every
moment as perfect as possible
becomes too much of a head-

ache for this hedonist. A
pleasurable migraine?
Not that I even know
what that means.

(Floating inside a
cloud of buzz
over Angel Island.)

mmclii

There’s a slight chance

that I’m rewriting poems

that I’ve never written

before [without bothering

to explain].  Brainstorm

and move forward.

Modify and perfect.

Other things: thank

you; thank you;

a new process

for birthdays;

ask questions.

Operate as

a business.

mmcli

The Promises I’ve Made to Myself and Others

Don’t lose sight of or keep from looking

or searching toward what’s important

and pleasurable.  The new spirituality.

Gag me with a New Year’s resolution.

mmcl

Occupation: Unemployment

I do not want to propose

that you honestly think

very little of me and my

work.  Then I had a near

death experience during

which I nearly died.  You

try that while listening

to the Bloody Beetroots!

Or maybe not.  He stops

me in the middle of it all,

says he’s having a divine

inquisition.  Asks if I sent

the text to Laura.  Um, no.

Says I should do it immed

iately.  Um, okay.  So what

do I do?  That’s what I’m

trying like mad to recall.