mmdlxx

The Burnt Sugar Brigade

There’s no way you can feel …
     or
This new Star Wars trailer makes me …

“This has to be the new me,” I write
     today
upon “processed panda poop”

I sweat a few beads while rearranging
     my
makeshift bookshelf

which includes all of the books I’m
     currently
reading (I put it up after we lost the panda.

Or not.) ...
     I
am writing

presently upon a product made
     100%
of “recycled and odorless panda poo”

upon which I find it quite
     difficult 

to pen these few, distant words.

mmdlxix

Tune In Tomorrow For My Demise

I’m startled.
Yesterday
I checked out

the new mall
down the hill
which houses

a gourmet grocer
in its basement.
While I’m very

excited about
this fact, it
nevertheless

depresses
me that the
grocer remains

hungry—
almost to
the edge of

starvation—
in that lonely
shopping

center base-
ment for
two

very long
decades.

mmdlxviii

     I was made for loving you, baby,
     You were made for loving me.
                                    —KISS

It was a couple of months
before I even realized that
he was living here with me
(It had been a rough couple
of years). Can this even be
correct? Is it summary or

pretext? Yeah. It’d been
a really lousy couple of
years, the existence of
which I’d never have
even begun to wrap
my head around,

until then, the couple
of years that lasted
at least a decade,
(and not in a good,
way).... He always
had to stop at cross-

walks—to either
wait for the green
pedestrian sign
or else to wait
for passersby
to stop and wait

with him. I write
to total strangers
every day. No-
body seems to
mind. But if
caught talking

to myself, or my
computer, or to
a washing ma-
chine, he always
continues. Often
so abruptly that

I’m startled.
Yesterday
I checked out

(tune in tomorrow for my demise)

mmdlxvii

...I Still Remember Now

tt in 1973, sorry),
then I sauntered
uphill where I
fell promptly
to sleep,

only to
dream of
what remains
of my own dirt-
y laundry, which

you can see air-
ing on the line
presently,
through the
time lapses

or capsules
or glasses.
it must be
one of those
rare moments,

like the first
time we saw
the scissor
sisters per-
form (giving

such meaning
to “live at the
Warfield!”),
a freebie
that

was
loose-
ly ass-
ociated
with

concept-
ual love.

(the end)

mmdlxvi

I Remember Now

We were listening
to Christeene, or,
well, were watching
her latest music video
(Tears From My Pussy).

I was almost finished
with The Corrections
and I’d been attempt-
ing to communicate.
With Kasey. Regard-

ing Robert Frost (it’s
true!). Blooming-
dale’s is whatever.
It’s my first flight
to The Big Apple,

feeling good (well,
maybe not the first
time at that), try-
ing to do things
besides WORK (

parenthetical
ditto). Right
now I’m on a
conference call
with the other

participants
(e.g., build-
ings pass away:
“O’Farrell…”
“Hotel Nikkei

…” “… a van-
illa latte”) ....
I was in one
of those tall,
cushy chairs

taking in the
“sea of dull-
ness” (that’s
Marlon Brand-
o to Dick Cave-

(please stay tuned for the next installment)

mmdlxv

I remember “This is the last thing I’m going to tell you.”
                                                          —Joe Brainard

It is nothing
but a blur
now. We
picked up
the jury
summons.
I was so
mad. Hell,
I have no
idea, really.
Today, all
I can feel 

is the guilt.

mmdlxiv

Is this platform even on?
                —Stephanie Young

Hello, I am here!
If only I could
leave it at that.

I mean I’ve left,
but, unfortun-
ately(?), have yet

to leave. Every-
thing’s funny in
San Francisco.

I am still here,
still reinventing
myself. How

is Oakland
these days?
Lubs from SF,

drx

mmdlxiii

Parody

I sent him
a mote,
saying I’m

so dorry,
what a
porrible

mistake
I’ve named.
The forgiveness

is so all-encom-
passing and
nutual.

mmdlxii

They were
marshmallow,
like the peeps
they wore in
the photographs 

of the old cinema.

mmdlxi

I Kid You Not

Having had enough,
we called the cops.
Dad was on his Irish
doughnut break, so
there was that linger
ing sickly smell of
syrupy coffee
and burnt toast
that hung like a
lampshade around
the perimeter of
the venue.

mmdlx

Yesterday’s Shipment

Having had rump
roast for dinner,
we were spiraling.

I look around;
the desolation
of deconstructing

one’s life
as it flashes
sinuously

before
one’s eyes.

mmdlix

That Winter Seemed Quite Familiar

I was always
gagging,
but
I never threw up.

mmdlviii

Price packaging beefs up the social
force of the time.
                            —Rob Halpern

I feel puffy
so I have a
glass of wine.

It’s good stuff;
I was once the
co-captain of

its fan club.
Boy, do I
ever remember

our trips to visit
the auburn hills,
the swanning

and ducking
through villages
you might miss

if you blinked.
Everything was
very vintage

back then (like
tax deductions).
I’d swallow the

entire horse
were it not
for the fact

that Andrew
is in town.
After-

wards, the
stinking 

steam!

mmdlvii

I’m Sorry

I so love
on 16th St.,
where we eat

and eat. That
night, the monster
who lives in my

stomach interrupted
the strangest dream
I’ve ever had about

him. The 3 of us
had just landed on
the peninsula be-

cause we wanted
something very
specific: a specialty

dish, the main in-
gredient of which
can only be found

in the waters just
to the south (of
the peninsula). Oh,

and we definitely
got what we wanted.
With each in hand,

we caught a cab-
ride home. Erin
ate hers in the

cab, she couldn’t
wait. Man, is that 

monster yummy.

mmdlvi

Lucy Goosey

Like death, our
flirts were always

serious hanky-

panky.  I miss
those who’ve
left the city

with someone.
A telephone.
Around ’81 or so.

We were
supposed
to meet Martin,

but he didn’t
drink at Dave’s
with Rodney, Ron

and Konrad.  After
that, we went to
El Salvador

where the currency
remains the US
dollar.  We lived

for decades in
Suchitoto, a
city known

for its cobble-
stone roads.
No one ever

leaves Suchi-
toto.  The sun; 

its secular sun.

mmdlv

To Turn On A Dime

Oh, Land of the Dead,
Why are you less a
Catastrophe than
I had envisioned?

What is omission?
While I swear to up-
Hold every line of
The Law, these are

My Values. Each
Segment in constant
Flux; anything can
Change in a snap.

So, is this the 

End of the line?

mmdliv

Heartburn

Later,

profoundly,

you buzz me

just as I write

the word “hanky-

panky”... ... ...

mmdliii

Peach Blackberry Muffin

I feel like you just clearly
explained postmodernism
with 4 text msgs (2 of which
were simply YouTube links).

How did we get here? Is it,
perhaps, science fiction?
Inkblots as factoids? One
thing for certain is that

it will all be downhill
from here, where we
watch two gentlemen
with their laptops back-

to-back, as if they 

are playing Battleship.