mmcmlxxxvi

my heart
is not art

my mind
is a line

that tra-
vels one-

dimens-
ionally

to a can-
vas, a

page,
either

virtual
or real,

not to
steal

yours
(art or

heart),
but to

seal my-
self into

an enve-
lope so

that may-
be I be-

gin to
breathe.

mmcmlxxxv

nocturne

i’m not a
colonel i’m
a tramp. i’m
not ethereal i’m
eternal (if wishes
were ... ) ....

i’m not di
agonal i’m...
not... diurnal?
my arse
nal is not
a triumph!
it’s an
umph!

where i lie
i lay (okay,
i’m in a
lair where
there’s not
even a ray.)
(there might
actually be
a ray.)!

it’s just
another day
in a dreary
series of
soul-
sucking
flesh-eat-
ing...oops!

okay, okay.
it’s the
thick of
an even
darker
night
and

i am not
octagonal
i’m noc
turnal. i am
not a sphynx
i’m not
even the least
bit primeval.

i’m just
a run-of-the-
mill, blood-
and-gore
vampire
(coff! coff!
-in!).

i might
be less
entertaining
than you are
a square meal,
but here’s
the real deal:

take me
as you
want me.
i’m pretty
sure i’ll
always be
just as glad
to have
you any
way.

mmcmlxxxiv

Elf Nymph Faery

Black hole sun spins
out of control, so much
so that I get up and go,
walk out, not into an
apocalyptic vortex,
but a gorgeous mid-
spring afternoon.

Sometimes it’s
hard not to be in love
during a pandemic
(he checks his watch)
on a Thursday or a
Saturday (he’s sure
of it!) or a...Thursday.

The Great White North’s
got a coin with the face
of a queen who’s not
really a queen but a pagan
trifecta nonetheless.
Some have taken to

spitting on her face,
invective to what’s
been told’ll cure
the world’s malaise.
One can never be sure which
side of the brook these codgers’

tales got spun, but no matter.
Here we are now at the
very tail end of a horse
of another name only
to be found blinking blankly
at each low-life pedestrian’s

cure. But what’ll sure cure
the face of Mary of the Patty
of a horse? Well of course
Mary’s no dummy like
the faces of the codgers
of many a brook. She turns

to the Tin Man for a bit of
his Orl. He stares back
with the constipated
face of an eloquently
august dummy.

mmcmlxxxiii

Here’s What I Used to Do

He’s got the whole
whirled in his hands.
A stomach pump
full of vitamins
(berry berry bad
beetamins, which
shows up here as a
quote from Neil Simon’s
female version of The Odd Couple,
which leads me on a wild goose
chase all the way to the
plot of 1997’s ill-
fated Batman & Robin,
in which Poison Ivy
is then able to contact
Robin once more; she 
kisses him...but fails to
kill him due to Robin
wearing rubber lips[...
all these years yearning
for the arrival of the 
ultimate sidekick and
he’d been here
all along?!?  for, as he
says...] rubber lips are
immune to her charms.)
Voiding, in one fell 
swoop:  a) nostalgia;
b) any need to hit the
snooze button ever
again; c) I can’t go
on, I must go on; and 
d) to misquote Samuel
Beckett.

mmcmlxxxii

I throw a naked eagle in your throat.
                            —Jack Spicer

wake up it’s
time for a
day!  when
the blips on
your calendar
seem incon
sequential
(out of se
quence) i
have an i
dea (let’s
put on a 
show!).  the
dream of
television.
months of
mouthing
the name
of a novel
(i’ve never 
read, by mi 
lan kundera) i
dea can’t
unbreak the
bank that isn’t
even there (and
you can bank
on that!).  a
thousand ex
clamation
points
borne of
robert
ludlum’s
tundra can’t
quash a sing
le perfectly
good feeling.
at a time like
this (a knuck
le sandwich —
thud!), an hour
is a couple
dozen days
that are laid
open like 
a can of 
freshly
sanded 
tuna.

mmcmlxxxi

adventure bridge

testing, testing, 1,
2, 3, 4. five. 1, 2, 3.
4, five. that was.

that was really a
fantastic choice,
mister marvelous.

it was almost an
adventure bridge
leading us assuredly

to the next level.
it was this big fluffy
cloud in the shape

of a giant lemming—
and it’s got a silver
lining which, if we

chase in our electric
automobile all the way
to albuquerque (and we

do!) we’ll find that
it not only sparkles but
glows in the dark!

it’s midnight in
albuquerque now
and i am having

an epiphany a
catharsis an
aha moment a

breakthrough
that makes it
so obvious to me

how true this
too good that
you are to me

cannot con-
ceivably be.
but even a

dream is okay
with me. so long
as not until after

which do the
walls come
down with a

mighty tumb
ling crash
which nothing

falls through
not even the
other shoe;

the very same
shoe, which, when
on the other foot

is tingling with
unwalkable
sleep having

just awoken from
the sweetest most
floaty of dreams.

but because i
am used to this
by now i’ve got it

and i didn’t
even forget to
stretch it to its

limit to milk
it for as long
as is humanly

and humane
ly impossible.
so. we part

ways in
the desert
do not look

back i owe
you my life
my deepest

thank you
(you may
say it’s ver

boten but i
must not say
so). therefore

my sweet in
delible love
i bid you not

only a fond
adieu, but
I bid it

most ost
entatious
my raging

audacious
and not
barely

audible
[achoo!!]
apercu.

mmcmlxxx

fact vs. fiction

i started a letter to martha
midway down market street
this afternoon, while rem-
embering the sequestered
and how my best friend
would say to me (later
in the day): rest assured,
i love to nap. the graffiti
i passed was no longer
the headache that i had
wished away last night
and the night before
last. it wasn’t even
my headache. but then,
how did i get here in
the first place? did
i jump into this rabbit-
hole voluntarily? i do
get side-tracked when
my head is abuzz,
the synapses seem-
ingly snapping away
at my dreams with
their tiny glimmering
fangs. so greedy!
the milk was good
enough for the cereal
this morning (hallelujah,
he types to me — as
always thoughtful and
deliberate — while won-
dering whether it’s
chocolate or straw-
berry flavored, the
milk for which we are
rejoicing...perhaps? i’m
so trying to get inside of
his maneuvering ticks!).
deliberately thoughtful is
something someone like
me can only aspire to
(is this really true? i
can’t help but
figure. also, be-
ing thoughtfully del-
iberate. none of these
are the same thing at
all. and that makes me
love graffiti even more.
or at least enough to dis-
tract me into stopping
and snapping at it with
my little monster — no
offense). i get side-
tracked easily.
dear bff, do not
be alarmed by the
giant-sized laugh-
out-loud emoji
standing next
to me like my
protector, like
my guardian angel.
statistical data
have revealed that
he is none other
than my bff!
but i certainly
didn’t need
to squash any
statistics to be
well aware
of that!

mmcmlxxix

crisis

here is just one example:

   mister huffalumpagus [sp?]

   where’s my hassendfeffer?

   missus huffalumpagus [sp?]

   hot diggity dawg!

   higgledy-piggledy!

   hocus-pocus!

   hot dog!

you can go ahead and scratch this one on the face.

mmcmlxxviii

The Running Nose

For fear
of being
pickled
by a
pecker,
the nose
stayed
home.

mmcmlxxvii

murder, mayhem, some sick plot
at which to throw up,
ralph!! time passes. the
velociraptors wake us up. help?!
in love is
no place to be at a time like this!