Saturday, May 31, 2014


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.

Thursday, May 29, 2014


fundraisers for non-profits

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

Wednesday, May 28, 2014


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....

Tuesday, May 27, 2014


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:  my Gentle-

man, thanks and have a good day”

Monday, May 26, 2014


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?

Sunday, May 25, 2014


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
low 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 the first word

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

stifling—and therefore I
could 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
often 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).

Saturday, May 24, 2014


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.

Friday, May 23, 2014


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.

Thursday, May 22, 2014


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.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014


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.

Monday, May 19, 2014


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).

Sunday, May 18, 2014


blood orange

is a treatise
on why this
is not art

puts me
in an


i look up
to pass

ed gypsy
for home

Saturday, May 17, 2014


crummy couple of days,
moodwise, is my own
damn fault.  diversions
elsewise are slow,

the heat is on.
now if i can just
get there.


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

sipping a juice.

apple juice
& ocean.
ocean &
apple juice.

Thursday, May 15, 2014


Absence is harder to accept than death.
                                    —Etel Adnan

desire to do something different
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
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.