mmmclxiii

Page 11

Wait. This is my 1st real bout with monogamy. And it’s been four years.
Waiter? Water? Where is everyone? Peering out into the audience, I see the
guy in the brown cord jacket that keeps following me from bar to bar / okay,
he’s definitely not following me – but. Wouldn’t follow him, either. It’s not
physical. Is it? Some conclusions are best not drawn. Curtain!!

mmmclxii

Page 10

Does my wish want to be with him? You know what I’m wishin’. He’s lost
the sexy red jacket and this, I thought, might be a nice way to rediscover
empathy. I have only one guy (there’s already too many males). Anyway,
what’s it like to be a bartender? A 30 Year Reverse? Why do I come here?
Is it just the hopped up Cosmos? Logic says perhaps; I do pay full price
for them here. It’s certainly not for the bartender, though. God, I hope
it’s not for the bartender. . . . C B S. I mean, generally, it’s just a fuckin’
sports bar, so this is surely just BS. Right? Speaking of holy shit, that man
has my beard and is wearing my pants! Later, as I’m having a cosmopolitan
at the Midnight Sun, which is the worst (both the bar and the cosmopolitan).
Now I’m drinking a Calistoga from Jerry at Badlands after talking to the
yahoo. And I’ve just been informed I never knew him. Of all the people
to look me in the eye and tell me I just do not get it! As usual, he’d been
reading cinderblock-sized books about war. Oh, and Joe called as I was
initially walking from The Bar to Badlands (the concept: getting a little wild;
and I know, I know. . . .). I just wanted to do something. I knew he was
gonna wisecrack about me constantly asking for a 25th hour. What he says
is, “I’d so love a 25th hour!” Now it’s me wondering who I am, pacing
around like a stick of dynamite mumbling Whose flesh? Whose bones?
Which is exactly what wishes get me.

mmmclxi

Page 9

Holidays.   What does that yahoo think of me?  If only the difference were clear 

between when he is gloving or blubbing.  He proves occasionally he means 

business, sometimes by surprising me.   I hate surprises.  How about a movie? 

Okay.  The Hours.  CONNECTION.  Yes, all told, who could ever know what 

we have!  I [DON’T] will be the first to admit, and initially this was part of the 

thrill of it all, but – WHOA – I love tattoos!  Don’t erase them.  Who just wrote a 

LONG e-mail just about the connections?  Juicy!  I meant the movie.  I was so 

engrossed I didn’t even hold his hand ’til nearly halfway thru.  I AM NOT an I 

love you cloud hovering in the darkness at all hours.  Nor your typical Anything. 

AM NOT! And you seem to appreciate that at the same time you are an enigma 

(look!).  My heart is like a river?   Well.  It’s certainly not frozen anymore.   

But what time it is!

mmmclx

Page 8

Straw.  You have the sense of an artist and a scarecrow.  A favorite song comes to mind so
I write it down.  Oh, and there’s Joaquin; more of his confessions. . .e.g, I keesed you like
cardboard.  He has such a tiny adorable (is there a better word?) face.  “Hello did anyone tell

you you wass sooo handsome?” – no, you’ve never – duh.   But I have.  I’m wearing new Gap
cargo pants (on sale) striped underwear (black and gray – with sparkles – yes!) and a “TUNE
OUT” t-shirt, a military green jacket (very light), cellphone, black socks (stippled soles), an
old pair of New Balance shoes (gray – like my beard!).  The 49ers are playing somebody
and I LIKE drinking in the Castro on game night (The Bar, mostly empty) while writing.
More like writhing.  It’s 2:43pm – the music has slowed – the sashimi was good but
it could have been better.

mmmclix

Page 7

Take off your shirt. That moment (you are getting closer) I feel it in my middle THAT
MOMENT just before the 1st kiss and you are so forthright that moment with all of these
butterflies (I fantasize, no?). That moment. That moment with all these butterflies you feel it in
the music he is sitting next to you for hours and you do not touch and then you are standing up –
what’s the excuse? – you have to pick up a Uni-ball blue. Yes, that was the perfect moment.
That was the perfect song. And I am humming it almost silently now and this is actually a short
story because nothing ever happens. Yes, let’s make this a short story. (Does it have to be THIS
short?). Look how sexy I am blowing my nose. What is ‘artistic sensibility’?

mmmclviii

Page 6

Disco.  What I miss.  Sure, I made too much of happy and single.   It’s chemistry, a spiritual
awakening, you feel it TOO.  I can tell that you DO.  Oh my those kisses I can give you and
that you can give me.  Am I a goddam sensual gossip or what?  Full of words like tRite.  I

think I’m gonna go see Jerry.  Drunk on a Sunday afternoon.  [Walking toward Door #2] 

The music here is “it’s funny how all of a sudden you just start doing it” – (moving differently)

this must be spoken while wearing a sexy red jacket.  Trumpets are blown (backdrop) –
there’s a Backdrop of Trumpets.  Like the Sugar Lips instrument.  A backdrop of trumpets – 

this is lovely – this first Sip....  Here, where the only precious lisps are just sugar lips. 

Whence bearded gray – (and don’t forget the secret spell: spickle terra trix carkey) . . . 

Today is Luc’s birthday and already I can feel it in my head.

mmmclvii

Page 5

Yellowing, mild at the center, I can tell.   Shut your bloody trap!  This is a groove it’s not the
Army, and neither of us is Rock Star!  For this is my tummy (check it out, Diana Ross’ alphabet)
which is one huge long page of x’s.  Exes.  Excess.  Access.  Ok, I had to blow my nose because
I could say nothing of substance (I haven’t yet finished my first cool beverage).  I am just sitting

on the back porch watching the Band Building burn.   It used to be the Home Ec Building.  Bldg.

[a few hours later:]  Okay, back to bed.  I have relayed nothing of substance (if I go back to the

top & read all the way thru wd there even be a THREAD (why caps?)??  Now is when everyone 

has brunch.   It’s 2:17am on a Sunday – Oh the Oz (& poor Maurice) – he’s gone back to from 

whence he came.  He had a stoplight in his living room – too many MALES on his hung art.

mmmclvi

Page 4

Football.  Times past!  Blue light (eyes closed, thinkin’ – what does this 

mean? – am I exploring?).  Or just stream...like the Stream of Blah Blah

Blah I float on it just a little. Darren, it is obvious, likes me – and I WANT.

DRAMA.  “Watchu want or watcha need?”  I can hear him now; he always

exudes the obvious.  Maybe this isn’t upchuck.  Maybe it’s actually art.

So let’s figure this shit out.  CULL (this year a top ten word): 1) Cull (free 

flow in no particular order. 2) ? 3) ? 4) ? etc.  Maybe I should just draw

blanks.  Today is Sunday.  And let’s just say I shoulda known I’d be

drawing B L A N K S ! (love has a secret) blank (ain’t that the reason 

I found you?) blank.  I figger I’m not the 1st person to kill the blues

on a Sunday afternoon – a day that was meant for the blues – like 

any other day, I suppose.  The deal is done: love songs are now 

Sunday afternoon.  It will just have to be.  Now that everything 

is so perfectly thought out, I get myself together and say “Hey!  

I put these sticky pieces of paper all up on my love parts.  So all’s 

you have to do is just write it.”  Just right it, I’m hopin’ (heh heh).  

ReMIND me to type this ALL UP. (“Cut!”) That’s a great commercial.

mmmclv

Page 3

To be funky.  Frozen (no punctuation)  Let’s tell one story on this page (the

theme: screwing myself).  Always a fish out of water (w/ a case of the feels).

Take S. Deadly Motherpucker Highway to Carmel-by-the-Sea.  Skip the Bay 

of  Monterey and careen south onto Pecker.  Take it all the way to the Pacific.

Lunch with Mister Eastwood then hunker down until we’ve blown a few (pp.)..

Make damned sure they’ve come out plural.  Pop down to the Cape.  Don’t drive

through any hurricanes unless you have time for a few once you arrive.  Do

not sleep through any weather!  When in Texas, etc.  Yesterday, the Pomera

Nians. (quite the pair; how they do always warm my middle). Reminder to

remind him (who needs a good remindin’) to remember that no one needs 

to blow it (meaning my mind, mostly; we’ll be funky enough, bra).  Ugh,

also, note to barf, Lord of the Cockring’s Confession.  I’ll be the one

most desperate to forget.  Oh, how I wd much rather have watched 

the sun rise with all of ’im, but what a boat of bongos and bananas this is

turning out to be thanks to the jerk that he is as it is already (put these 

in the box and jumble ’em). Seriously, I mean, Shake ’em up hard!!!  It’s

just that I always wanted to skip the addiction and roll right into some

sort of elevated trance (in an elevator again, no doubt!) (U’s & O’s 

from the disco ball I’m swimming in.) “Yes you do” “can you try?” 

Ya swimmin’ little fishies!

mmmcliv

Page 2

For $2.75 plus $1 tip nobody says hello.  Uni-ball pen (blue) of times past – the

nostalgia you get from running around.  Ok, that’s a good phrase.  How come is

it that I cannot complete a sentence when I’m around him?  Same as I’m in-

capable of walking over to say hello to coat check guy.  THIS – CRUSHES – is

not the 1st monogamy in five years nearly.  Q. Wd u spend $150 for a pair of

shoes?   A. Yes.  Q. Position?  A. Missionary.   This isn’t quite true.  I like it better

when you top me – damn! – you really act like you want it.  & elsewhere: “Do

you like dirty talk?” and “Sex Sex Sex” (either cubed or crushed like ice).

mmmcliii

Page 1

I’ve a wristwatch that reminds me of funerals. Sure, it’s a dead horse, but 

it still beats.  In the beginning, a frozen Cosmopolitan...that’s a fat “tune out” / 

past the video of no return.  49ers losing?  Disco ball in memory of Maurice

Gibb?  If random, then... (ok, explicate). _ _ _ who is SuRprising, alas. _ _ _

Whomever we love (dunk)!   I mean, on my arm for several hours because it

feels (“I wanna see your yesterday”) . . . just lie like that – seriously – these

are things I want to remember (cf., Dear Yahoo, etc.)....  Oh, I can see and

appreciate that (Green suede? Is this possible?).  What I do to alleviate...?

I just piece stuff together, but can’t seem to stop.  I’m wearing cargo pants!

Which pretty much explains everything (the stripes on my feet, the soles

of my socks.

mmmclii

feels

    for Gene Roddenberry

animated
science fiction
makes me

wonder about
the evolution
of feelings

this weekend
I had
so much fun

presently
I am also
enjoying myself

this weekend
I will have
so much fun

sometimes
when I am
feeling sad

or a bit down
I watch animated

science fiction

mmmcli

from

word
association

in my heart
I have a gift

that has me

bold enough 

to constantly

be on the lookout

for those to

whom I feel

a compulsion

to bestow it

I am well aware

that this form

of generosity

is generally

ridiculous

don't get me

started about

gifts (as if)

it is a gorgeous

afternoon here

I am so

full of heart

it is the middle

of a winter that

is warmer than

blueberry cobbler

cooled for only

a few moments

after being

removed from

an oven on a

winter holiday

mmmcl

a lot

some people have
cheeks that
bounce when they walk

this can be cute

I wonder if my cheeks
bounce when I walk

some people have
checks that

mmmcxlix

a

singularity
depth perception

my calendar is
in my backpack

it is 6:45 p.m.
I write one poem per page

which means
more free time

mmmcxlviii

have

I’m beaming
today is gorgeous

I just ran a mile and
then I went for a long walk

I bought a couple new books
and had a spicy chicken salad

I danced up and down the down-
town sidewalks while listening to a

bunch of fresh new tracks for
what seemed like hours –

and after that, just when it felt
like it was time for a siesta

I made a little detour
back to the office to

reschedule a few of
next week’s meetings

to next month (or the
month after) – which doesn’t

take long at all, maybe an hour – so that
I’m out the door again with plenty of

daylight left ahead of me – I pause
briefly just a few steps outside of

my office building, to draw in a slow and
giddy breath, inhaling a big chunk of

the front-end of the long holiday
weekend, bow, close my eyes briefly,

let it all out with such intent that
my eyes roll up under the

tops of my lids all pleasant-like
for just a second or two – then,

with my bearings gathered, I make a
bee-line to the long bus and hop in

so that it might help me steep the arc of
Sacramento Street as it rainbows over

the hills from Chinatown to Van Ness
before it levels on its trek to Ocean Beach

I twist my neck deliberately so as to
view the world outside of the bus’

left, right and front windows – and this
I do just to recognize anew how beautiful

today is – and also to place myself
as if pinned onto the middle of the

the map that is the world, my world
with its three holidays filled with hard

plans, with extra time and lots of blank
map space for whatever each moment

will bring – leaving a kernel of opportunity
at each literal moment and at each spot

on the incomplete map, question marks
strewn from top to bottom and corner

to corner – plenty enough to sate this
closet cartographer's desire to stay

motivated and get the most out of
each and every second – to turn

each opportunity into a proper life-
affirming and potentially life-altering

adventure – all of this made inevitable by
taking just a modicum of forethought – and

so long as this is done with at least a smidge
of optimism, the potential is exponential – – –

mmmcxlvii

hand

I remember
we each

measured our
hands

one against
the other

palm to palm
all of us

but I don’t
remember why

mmmcxlvi

other legacies

it’s interesting how
one word is
what it means

until you
change or alter
even a single letter.

then it becomes
(subtle or

smash

your head)

an altogether

separate word

with its own

(jangled mess

or

succinctly

unique)

meaning(s).

take the two 

of us

for example 

(which is 

what i’m 

always doing,

only this time

a bit

metaphorically):

I don’t ever mean

that one of us
is inferior

to the other.

it’s just that we’re

so very different.

the evidence 

mounts

staggeringly

even as my lungs

collapse as I

emphasize

equanimity.  

thankfully,

we’ll always

have

our names

to differentiate us.

mmmcxlv

the

I fell asleep
on the leather couch

listening to my
favorite song

which is
my dream

of looking up
at the sky

through
the wind-

blown

jasmine

mmmcxliv

on

time sort of
shuffles its deck

I walk into
bookstores

eat ice cream
drink coffee

walk more
read poems

write one
that makes

more or
less sense

looking up

now and again

as I go on

mmmcxliii

Otters,

of which,
except for
you, I don't
know much,

but I can learn,

and I see your
dimly lit
pair of gray-haired
eyeballs

nestled just atop
the spindrift,

the spume,

really,

that lies
just beneath the fog-crack
that whistles over the surface

of the spooky-lit over-
motored hot tub
we are sitting in.

Yes, it's just me

and you.

And your
pretty eye

sockets

floating in front of me

whilst I soak.

(You see,

science,

and all things modern

and postmodern,

had yet to catch up

with us.  But soon....

Soon.)....

mmmcxlii

away

some decades ago
I first went to Montreal

it seemed everyone there
spoke French

even though they mostly all seemed
to understand English just fine

this is how I began to form an awareness
of the luxurious mystery of translation

which is really just a hyper-
awareness of language

mmmcxli

lumber

it says right here

that this cornerstone

was donated and 

dedicated to this town

by Alonzo Cross many

years before I was born

he was my
great-grandfather

and he ran
this lumberyard

mmmcxl

sometimes

steam lingers
above the bathroom mirror

I notice the ceiling
a crack I never knew existed

I can see only parts of myself
in the mirror

I watch some hairs fade to white
a very cinematic moment

later a child’s blue balloon
floats over the park

it floats over Macy’s toward the Metreon
where I saw Darth Vader last night

mmmcxxxix

&

once I wrote
and wrote

little shards
of green grass

poked themselves
out of wet dirt

grew into glimmering
fields of weeds

mmmcxxxviii

stare

when I was younger
I had no sense

of how long
was too long

in college I got a rise
in the shower—guys

often duplicated
my efforts

always, however,

I seem to be an ass

just for staring

at one

mmmcxxxvii

just

not only
the right word

but the proper balance
one word plus

slam the brakes
my teeth hurt

you put too much
sauce in the punch

mmmcxxxvi

cows

find the palm
with the right nut

displace
or interrupt it

we didn’t grow those
Down South

I had a friend once
who knew how to tip

we drank cherry bomb
in the moonlight

tripped with a flashlight
up a dark mount