A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Sunday, November 29, 2009

yesterday was a summer month

yesterday was a summer month
tomorrow will be spring again
today we drive 'round back behind
the dark side of our time
we spend in mourning, slow
alone, consoled, each cling
to each, we hold the road
and hold to some remembered sun
we're driving for and driving on
I want to spend our time like this
the bad as well as good, the strong
wells forth from us, though we grow weak
we each enfold the other's dawn
and as the cold and bitter night
so winter-long, slips into gray
the grass awakes,
is turning green
is growing long
and we are day

Saturday, November 28, 2009


I knew the things you told me of
after you told me,
I knew my mistake
but you did not scold me for it,
though. I have been
by time and weight
and drape and fade
in space,
form made unformed
shapelessness made
out of what I'd been so sure
I surely knew

and memory folds
its pure and crystal shape
and weight unchanged, it
holds its sharp place
grows strange
where I can't get it
or get at it, at all
and all I know
is that I was once more true,

I was truer to me
in that one remembered moment, then
than I feel I will ever
be now

or again

the circus was awful

it smelled bad
from exotic animal
shit, and the clowns
seemed like the kids
who thought they were
class clowns, but
really weren't. One
threw a bucket of
"water" right at me
and laughed - square confetti,
square in the face, and paper-sharp
one corner got my eye,
but I was not going to let that bastard
see me cry
or react
or see that he got me
I kept my smile
painted on better than his
and tried to look past him
I tried to pay attention
to all the boring shit
going on in the other
circles - three rings
of in-between acts.
But the acts themselves
interrupted nothing

I lied
the circus was not

I never got to go

Thursday, November 26, 2009

our plans for next year

we knew what we'd be doing,
already ago
it was stupid to drive
all that way in one day
and then back, just to work
we decided we'd take
Friday off, and we'd book ourselves in
at our favorite place
up the coast
and use that as our base
for a much shorter skip
to the holiday bash
and then perfect,
skip back
just together
just us
perfect plans
have a way of not
coming to

Monday, November 23, 2009

circles around you

my tide circles round you
you don't even know
that it's me who is pulling
the ebb and the flow
rushing in 'round your edges
as I circle round
and retreat, rushing back
when I set, sinking down
no you've centered your orbit
on your shining star,
it blinds you with daylight
burns sky, and your eyes
with a fiery blue
that leaves me wan and pale,
but as night falls I rise
and I shine over you
in my light, you are cooled
in my tide,
so high
I renew
I am full
I will rise
without fail

Sunday, November 22, 2009


there wasn't much dry land left
once humanity's best
had finished crying their tears

over what we had lost,
the once hard-won cause
that no one ever thought

- not in worst-case guess,
not in wildest fears,
could we have ever foreseen this cost

but we have paid it


Saturday, November 21, 2009

visiting hours

visiting hours
come round to call
with smiles, paper-thin
but they can't stay long

no they must go, soon
now, they must go, then
all these hours, passing through
you -

- mend

Friday, November 20, 2009

it's getting so

it's getting so
I don't remember when
I knew when I was right
it's getting so I
can't see why I thought
I was someone to like.

it's getting so I can't
believe I'll ever feel
that way again
it's getting so the worst
is the part I can't forget
it's getting so, but

it's not there yet

one foot wrong

you have to have faith before
the water holds weight
stretches taut underfoot
pulls firm, takes shape
of a wave-shaped floor
moving under as you stroll
baby, miracle or not - you need
to balance your roll

because one foot wrong
is all it takes to slip slide
let your gravity glide
off its center, good-bye!

because the faith that it takes
to walk tall, and stand proud
on the surface of a lake
without a ripple of doubt -

well, that's a piece of cake compared
to keeping your faith in place
- to keep the miracle intact
while falling flat on your face,

and then splash to black.

bright side blind

she casts a blue shadow
in a black & white world
while the gray sun shines
in a disc overhead
that burns into her eyes
as they close, tears roll
down her face, smiling wide
'til the circle grows cold

what harmony

we sang
heads together
pretending there's a microphone

we sang
heads together
into the same microphone

what harmony
what harmony
we had

we paused
heads together
for breath

and lunged
once more
unto death

what harmony

we had

like a laser,


we sang
heads together

what harmony


we had

Thursday, November 19, 2009

someone to live for

I miss having someone to live for
I've got myself, I guess but then
I already had myself

those stakes are pretty low
I can't lose myself
at least not alone

I miss having someone to lose myself

I miss having someone to give myself

and hold nothing back
and have nothing left
in reserve

I miss having someone to live for

it's so much better than having to live for

and everything you deserve

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

the lost ring

the happenstance was happened out
what's left to tell, there wasn't much
while each of us from backs were turned
you cut long cotton swathes, and such
to kiss-cure fingertips I burned
while fingering the metal ring
that glinted between boiler plates
I couldn't quite get at the thing
we don't know when it fell between
or whether gold or brass or steel
when it cools down, we'll prize it loose
and light will tell, and darkness yield

paranoia fail

"When was the last time you stopped
to pick up a hitchhiker?" she asked
"I never have done did that shit," I replied. "You know why?
Because there is a subculture of people,
who wait by the roadside
to murder me. Specifically,

"why'd you stop this time?"
she asked,

with a suspicious rise
in her eyebrows
in her voice
in her pulse
in her smile
in her eyes

and I had no choice but to realize


she was one of them!


Saturday, November 14, 2009

with time to spare

I want to live
with time to spare
to have a chance
to catch a breath, not
just to breathe, for oxygen
I need to taste and hold
the air

and so I go
to do just that
but I'll be back
before you know
or wonder why

when time has passed,
there's always time
to catch us up
however fast
we fly

the Empress of Forbidden Realms

The Empress of Forbidden Realms
extends the invitation call
to cavaliers and hero-kings,
to jesters, rogues, and pirates all

each dashing, strapping man and lad,
to come to the Engagement Ball
to dance, and woo, and win her hand
- and who would fail to heed that call?

They set their shoulders, gird their loins
to set off on the grueling quest
across the Razor Mountains climb,
or brave the Fens of Suddendeth

From every compass point they come,
from every land within her sway.
Planned far out in advance, well-planned.
They've all been living for this day:

provisions measured, routes mapped out
retainers put on notice, steeds
and ships and carriages, balloons
by every means, the call they heed.

Down highways, waves and skies they throng
- each suitor is the only one.
In each stout heart and mind, one thought:
"My life for her, or I'll have none!"

So each by each, along the way,
by different roads and ways they fall:
One struck blind by zealot's curse.
One wakes legless - witch's thrall!

One lost deep in Endless Dell,
one drowned in enchanted well,
one well-gnawed by trollish maw,
one struck down by Baron Kra!

The Empress waits, on bended throne.
Her distant palace fenced by threats
and dangers, ringed by heroes' bones
if none get through,
she'll dance alone.

She'll dance alone

bless and keep

go soft my dear
please don't forget
the way we met
the way we loved
the way we left
and why

God bless and keep
you in good health
until you die,

and far away
from me

I can't let anyone win

I can't let anyone win
if they're wrong!

that's just betrayal of truth
to let it slide
I have to put it in the best way
I know how to prove

I have to step back and dispassionate,
cut through the roof
and let in the light
and the reason

or if need be, let in the rain
as well, to pour down drenching
and cleansing the smell

of their b.s. point
or whatever they say

it's no favor for them
to keep thinking that way!

A Poet In Every Line

I've a decided knack for the epic gesture
I've stood on Cliff, howling through my teeth
at Gayle, with defiance in every line of my mien
and bluster and beck at my call and command

but truly, it is the quiet triumphs

that demean

not settle

I won't settle for less
than a woman who's more
than I deserve

I deserve at least that much
and so does she, in fact
I'm not sure how

it sounds like the math
might not work out,

but I have a feeling, with her
she has a feeling, with me
that with each other, we'd each

be worth


the sky is over

the sky is all over the world at once
but we rarely if ever get to see the same one

yours may be darker, much sooner than mine
and the clouds that I see, will be gone by your time

we live under shifting gigantic landscapes
that ought to be famous, named for explorers

if each giant feature were rock, not cloud
but they'd plummet straight down, then

or else, they'd just bore us.

source of this problem

the source of this problem
can't be traced to the stars
no no matter how hard
you try

it's not heaven above put this string
round your wrist,
that's lifting your hand
with dagger
in fist

but you look in my eyes
as by angels possessed
you must strike me down
it's your fate
you've been blessed

she eats the world alive

she eats the world alive
and me in it,

and grows to fill the sky
and me beneath

and all the while she's right
and I'm beside her

as she moves on to where,
I want to be

a bad man in sunglasses

I'm a bad man in sunglasses
but I took 'em off to see
if I could make a difference

night and day

hate works in ways

hate works in ways both invisible
and soundless
it carries through space
radiates through the earth
some claim to insulate, using
lead or gold or papier-mâché
these claims are groundless
for the hate beats through
on a wavelength tuned
to a harmonious chord
as we dip and sway
for all that we're worth
and for all that we're not
we'll make them


we are unanimous,
with one abstention
but I'll count you twice,
as I've always done

with you
in my life, I

can't even start
to count where my blessings left off

this time,

I can't even start

- never been closer!
- drifting apart


I swam out of my depth
and dove deep into yours

and the water was clear
green blue, shot through

with gold
summer blinding
sun - far aloft,

fractured into wavering
fragments soft
way over my head

I am in your depth

you couldn't teach me how to swim
but I'm holding my breath


I dreamed of you
three nights running
never before, and
never since
and each dream was
more upsetting than the last
I have to learn to put dreams
behind me,

to respectable

inching back up to respectable
in nobody's eyes but mine
but those are the ones that matter
I can't wait to move on
and leave all this criticism behind

a sucker of some kind

I'ma sucka of some kind, I know
I train beats to chug a lug along
I teach words to flow
do I get respect for it? no
but that's not what it's for

I don't do it for the show
or the glory I just do it for the
fact that I do it
so well
so I do it for the


do it for the


I don't know, just

do it for the flow

Dearest Sia,

you got me kickin' imaginary kittens
you got me solvin' imaginary problems
you got me putting my clean dishes in the dryer
walk away from me, wait walk away from me, lover
you got me knitting imaginary mittens
you got me losing imaginary marbles
you got me turning all my rights to the left
lickin' imaginary envelopes,
pushing imaginary personal bests
scratching imaginary itches as
the cellophane clings to my face
it twitches

saying so

thank you for saying so
thank you for lying
thank you for telling me
what I just meant
your efforts weren't wasted
they're touching, you touched me
appreciate muchly
thanks, try again

Friday, November 13, 2009

Discreet No Perciption

your girl told me,
the action
in the room
is lacking one thing:
only with a monster
in your pants
to make her shout!
out high marks for you
as a lover, you need one

she will tell her friends


I'm going to keep it up,
one a day or so, until
I've more-or-less cleared
the decks of old dreams.

Something poetic about
more-or-less clearing
the decks of old dreams.
I'll paste that in my poetry blog
for later expansion!


I like to keep my head in every crisis
but I've only got one head
and there's way too many crises

edited to fit your

Overpunctuation is an old sin of mine
I stick my semicolons where the sun don't shine
and as an editor, hell, don't make me laugh!
I can't wait to shoot my sweet load of squiggly exclamation points
into your tightly composed

death makes love look desperate

death makes love look desperate,

but darling: love is stronger

death can only stop the heart
no further pain

but death of love can make
every beat kill
anew, kill

and life without love: a walking,
daily death

but life with love:
I wish I knew


for the soul, is good
they say
but who says that?
Cui bono, eh?

ug ug ug

my feelings, once removed, don't work
they have to be all plugged in snug
with juice switched on or they're inert
and useless

give me kiss and hug

a longer hike

Godspeed ye, sir
upon your path
with forward eyes
and steady gait

into a tunnel, broken
ceiling, blue between
the interlace

of green and grey
and black and brown -
and dun, the dusty floor

no olden king
had such a hall, no tapestry
for walls like these.
no ornament but your own gaze
to hang upon
each thing it sees

look deeply left and deeply right
and deeply up
- and what you've seen,
let deeply in,
to settle on
to contemplate in time serene

such time as is unfolding
and always has; the difference
is now you are immersed in it
it lives in you
a perfect fit

The Big Bourgeois

Le Big Bourgeois said "la di dah"
as he, serene, surveyed domains
on paper, rich
in paper
rich in fiction
his dominion,
reign, and
based in truth
agreed-upon by
common cause, made
sweet with just a ton of greed
to make the medicine go
down plausibly
to the bottom
of the common good
the common well,
well who should know?
Know better than The Big Bourgeois
- just look at where it got him!
if think you can do better -

he'd like to see
you try.

When the world was enormous,

When the world was enormous,
we looked up at it all
and we walked under tables, then later,
we'd crawl - but the world kept on shrinking, and
it's too small
all the best hiding places are gone.

When the world was amazing,
you'd gape and ask "Why?"
and the answers and reasons for asking flew by
as eventually you
believing you knew
you didn't.

but neither did I

spurn, spurn, spurn

Some fucking love ours turned out to be
you and me both hitting our marks with scorn
turning on dimes
redefining the argument
tossing back our manes of shiny, flowing hair
fixing our makeup as if to say:
See What You Can't Have, Mister Eight-Inches!!

can't describe

Can't describe the sin
without the sign
or the place
without the time
you've got a chain
around my neck
and hanging down from it:
a chime
and it rings as clear as call
do your ears prick up at all?
does it ring within your ribs
does your heart vibrate to this?
like my teeth vibrate and grind
'cause I've got you in my mind

dainty, trembling and moist

A dainty thing!
Yes. Dainty.
It's moist,
and it trembles.

Do you know what it is?

You've just got a SICK MIND.

I don't have a sick mind.

In fact, I have no idea what it is.

But it sure is dainty, whatever it is.

Oh wait.

Perhaps it's this poem.


I stood to stand

for righteous cause

my point was made

I think it was

before I spoke, my

face spoke first

the room shut up

oh, wait
the worst

and I drew down

the veil of tears

revealed success

expecting cheers!

I clinched my pitch

with wit and balls

an awkward pause

polite applause


you left me feeling like a branch with its tree cut off
like the leg left over from the operation,
like the missing friend of the one working lung

now sew it all together, and call it:

lantern light

you're nice
but not enough
for those who seem to seek
by a light you can't see
and they call in the dark,
- to your eyes, dark
and you answer back
they don't answer back

you've sworn an oath
to stay as good
you have tried to keep
but you know it's done
how long can you be
true to the person you

if there was someone

if there could be light
to re-tune your eyes,
can blind faith be seen by
those who had always chosen
to know?

to know for sure.

To step into air,
pretending ground
to navigate darkened rooms by touch
telling all who can see,
"I know this much:

I cannot explain,
this light that I see
but it lights my way

as I fall

for thee


is yes

the answer is yes
it's always yes
the question was crafted
deliberately so

it wasn't rhetorical, no
it demanded an answer be made
but it wasn't a guess

take the river home

the long way back,
would be the trail
it's nice at night
but if you're smart -
on a night like this,
with the moon half out
playing house with clouds
while the trees make sounds
imitating birds that don't even come
this far South,

you'll take the river home
take the river home
the river home

don't look back to the land
with a river this wide,
you can close your eyes
lay back on the rounded
lincoln-log planks
of the raft I made
with my own two hands
that I won't need back

no I know, my friend
we won't see you back
but remember us, dear
feel just a little lack
in your life, as you
don't look back

years from now, you
will push off from land
on a raft you built
with your own two hands

but for now my love,
you'll take the river home
take the river home
the river home


but not untouched
I love the weird feel
when I back my brain up
grinding gears in reverse
to retrieve that last thought
that I needed so much, I

unrehearsed, my memory is
making it up as my mind travels back
back me up on this, please
did it happen like that?

I Love Jess Lane

I love Jess Lane,
I don't mean that in a way
that my sweetheart need be concerned about, though
I know
Jess Lane
may not be famous enough
to technically be exempt under the star-crush rule,
but she will be, though.
I know that much,
and I'll be there in line,
waving photo and pen,
saying "Jess, you done fine
- and would you sign this
'With Love,'" - I know you aren't
too impressed
with irony
who would be?

which is why I asked

with my dog-beg eyes

how do you tell a girl she looks like Lauren Bacall

how do you tell a girl she looks like Lauren Bacall
without seeming like coming on too strong, too far
without seeming like you fancy yourself a Bogart type,
without throwing in a quote from the wrong movie -
"Here's looking at you," - idiot! That was Casablanca
How do you tell a girl she looks like Lauren Bacall
without her getting the wrong idea? Without knowing yourself
what the right idea is? How do you tell a girl
she looks like Lauren Bacall,
when she doesn't

hooked in

your kiss downloads my soul
into you,
I'm left
with what seems to be
an imperfect copy
I'm running a scan
it feels far too good
to be who I am

haiku smackdown #8B: alternate bonus version for freaks who pronounce the adjective "separate" with 3 syllables

bounded by fate, and
separate skin, walled off by
in - a cut too thin

haiku smackdown #8A

bounded each by fate,
and separate skin, walled off by
in - a cut too thin

We Surfers Who Golf

pebble beach, man
overrated? So's life
check the slice
Like a long, sliding glide
caught the lip of an invisible
wave of wind, bring it back in


that's all green,


is why we live in California, right? Some days
paddling out, it's not even sun

some nights, you're not even done

you get set
for the next set
going by the sound


Thursday, November 12, 2009



Darling, baby, let's go away.
Let's travel the world, let's stand
wordlessly together
in front of the most beautiful place
on earth,
and then the next most beautiful,
right straight down the list.
I want to sit
in planes,
as you look down at clouds
I want to squeeze your hand
and jump from train to train, squeeze
into sleeping compartments,
with you. We fit like a pair of gloves
and at every destination - places
we've never been, that we will take
in with our breath, and our eyes -
I will stand by your side, and that
is the source
of the love
of my life.
Just to see the wonder play
across the most beautiful face.

If I'm standing next to you,
I'm not looking at the view.

the blackest cat

the black cat crossed
an infinite path
nine times, at least
around the earth

you can't escape

on everlast
your bad luck streak
for all its worth



so tired
I wish someone would lullaby me
somebody lullaby me

just hit a wall of tired, and
I don't know how to pass
through it, except by
giving in

but sleep without

I can't
get rest from that,

so, softly sing

haiku smackdown #7

to do it proper,
I have to lean all the way
back and look straight up

haiku smackdown #6

in youth, he misled
his life - days uncounted, and
lines unsyllabled

haiku smackdown #5

break rules - no O.K.!
joke about breaking rules - fine
call haiku police

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

the Image Problem

let's face it, we're all concerned about
the Image Problem
let's fact it, the public's perception
is off
from where it needs to be
but how to convince?
We must be convincing.
In order to convince,
we must be convincing.
And there's the rub:
the persistent persistence
of the Image Problem.
It is an outdated,
- but how can we stop it?
That's the problem, there is no
use denying! We
know it's wrong. The public,
if they are honest,
also know it's wrong.

The public isn't honest.
That's the problem. We
must be convincing. Or,
we must be


the Image Problem

can be turned in our favor?

haiku smackdown #4

A haiku rebel
he lived to break all the rules
one by one by one

haiku smackdown #3

ready for sexy
time for sweet syllable funk
I love you, haiku

haiku smackdown #2

after war is hell,
diplomats stride forth to forge
a purgatory

haiku smackdown #1

weapon choice - haiku
we chose freely: to the death
weep not! It was brief

process optimization is an ongoing goal of ours

it's good to give a good look
to "how we've been doing it"
from time to time, and
this will be the perfect
chance for everybody
to take a breath, raise
their gaze above the day-to-day
review/reconnect/reinforce the way
we're doing it and why
(and as ideas arise,

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

death by everything about you

death by the slow accumulation of wounds
death by the sound of a trumpet's call
death by the hiss of rustling grass
death by a scent that takes you back
that fills your lungs like mustard gas
with a pain too beautiful to last
let it pass, oh God, let it pass
life wasn't meant
to go that fast

how did you two meet?

how did you two meet?
well funny story, we
I was working as a
she thought I was a
she was running late for
got our cars confused
we almost missed our chance
to take an art school night class
by a traveling internet salesman
the dog seemed to know right away
but she took mine accidentally!
the delivery was actually for someone else
the prescription label seemed a little odd
and there she was, the most beautiful
I spilled my hot coffee all over my
it was a mutual stranger's party and
suddenly, both of our clothes
waiting at the courthouse forever
the song was one we both loved
luckily, we each realized instantly
there wasn't a thing we could say to
well, what would you have done?
right there, in front of everybody!

marble island

we were right on time
it was just too late

the ship sailed early
we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

it was a beautiful day
just a light grey chop
and the spray felt fine
so we both dove in
and swam

we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

we didn't know our strength
and it flagged too soon
we were saved by an island
at the less-than-halfway mark

we dragged ourselves ashore
it was barren, white, gleaming
and dull in the lowering dark

the day moved on
and we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

we awoke and saw
surrounded by stones
we couldn't tell which
way we had come
or in which direction we
slightly less-than-halfway
across the sea
we decided to stay
and work the stone

well, we ruined our first
and we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

stranded on a marble island
you and I making statues
to pass the time,
to stand for time
our craft improved
with patience and grace
'til the island was alive
with your laughing face
and my tender smile
hard, frozen in marble
we sculpted each other
all over the isle
we sculpted each other a hundred times
alone, or embraced, or
in pieces, lying
some without arms, as if
ancient, ruined
others so seeming alive
we could move
some dancing, but frozen in step
some wept
on each others' shoulders
snug deep into boulders
we smoothed into blankets and pillows
so soft
(to look at)

we never slept,

never touched,

never talked.

That life was over

and we couldn't wait
for the next one

we couldn't wait
for the next

Monday, November 09, 2009

on our forthcoming and inevitable reckoning

darling, at some point, you and I
are going to have a reckoning
and at that point, I
am going to have a reckoning with you
and you
are going to have a reckoning with me
but until that point,
there will be no reckoning
with us

the trouble with what

the trouble with what you're trying to say
is I think I see where you're going with it
and I'll get out ahead, building bridges and roads
then you'll take a left turn and
away you go!


a year of healing
down the drain
but I don't mind
I missed this pain

lately my favorite combination

lately my favorite combination is
artichoke heart
and kalamata olives.
Now that's good eating, from Tony N' Alba's!
I admit these California places
they know how to top
with fresh quality goods
that go some way to make up
for the fact that at the base

- well. You would never want a plain
large cheese from them.
Such as would drive your mouth wild
in Jersey, say at Pizza Palace
or di Roma
or Enzo's -

these toppings are bomba!

the pizza's okay,

Sunday, November 08, 2009


the wolf and lion circle / sniff
the man and shark rub elbows / fins
the fox and woman trade sly tales
at peace until the fun begins
a change in wind, from miles off
makes noses rise in unison
the fairground waits
in restless rest
as hosts await
invited guests

the light from the windows is all that you have

so these are the sorts of dreams you forget
not the ones that sear into the rest of your life
and make it unbearable, the farther you get
from making them real, from making it right
no, these are the ones that fade as you wake
and the light from the windows is all that you have
and there's no need to pinch, just yawn, maybe stretch
and the tear in your right eye


drop me a line

drop me a line when you're on the way down
'cause I'll come pick you up wherever you land
and I'll take your hand, and fate
in hand, we can both decide
everything then

you've been like a fixed star, in my starry eyes
as I hoped and I prayed you to meteor
it's not that I wanted you so far to fall
I would cover the whole earth to catch you, though

so if you start to drop while my eyes are down
just call out - I'll dive flashing under your fall,
catch you in my arms, and take fate
in hand, we can both decide
everything then

with heart in throat

with heart in throat
you swallow down
and lick your lips
"dessert please now?"

Saturday, November 07, 2009


don't hang that halo 'round my neck
and push me off my cloud
you care to hold my hand
the whole way screaming down

my first-class wings are in the shop
they never fit no how
I thought, "maybe I'll flap my arms?" and then it hit me
- pow

it's better to be an optimist

it's better to be an optimist
than to be pissed on, kissed
by snakes' lips, fitted with irons
and twisted into broken shapes
by a machine that was neither built
nor designed, by a life that is not hard,
so much as deathly kind
as it takes what you have to offer,
thanks you,
and stores it where it will do the most
crushed flat between forces
that never once even knew you
could possibly exist
before they crushed.

believe you me,

trust: it's better to be

an optimist

than to have a gun
go off in your hand,
aimed at everything fragile you
once loved,

it is better to be -

than to prove
yourself wrong, by trying as hard
as you could

and fail,

- an optimist,

than to know that at last

and at least

(and alas)

you were right


And I am in love
and will always be
and I hope she knows
what to me - it means

I will always be
and oh yes: this sticks.
it is sparkling,
clouds-broken open,
sun-streaming-down in fits
of rain-kissed rays,

a hope against hope
when all is forsaken,
come circling back,
and around, and


you know what it means to me.

Friday, November 06, 2009

soul gardening

It's time to tend
your soul garden
for weeds have crept
between the rows
of tender, needy

I know your weeds
are beautiful

but you must pull
them, roots and all
to let the herbs
and legumes breathe
and fruits of vines
and leafy greens
dig over there!

to plant the weeds

Poetry OK

poems, ok
I awesome at it!
it a poem, it sits there - poem
before I even write it!

it waits itself,
a poem

later, I say "OK! TIME"

Then I awesome the poem into it,
no chance to not now
too late - I forever that poem, it
makes itself a thing
into this world

over me, because I

me, poems, I

= awesome.



says thanks

Directions for Use: Early Autumn

Go outside.

Stand directly.

under a tall tree, with back and neck

pressed rough to the trunk.

Look straight up.

crane your neck back, kinda

"wig out"

once you get your eyes

focused freely.

Up, out and into
the wind-shifted patterns

of stiff-swayed branch,

and dry-fluttered leaf

come together and between

where the pierced bright blue bites, brilliant sky

seen in kaleidoscope through

one million shifting, contracting gaps

in a twinkling field of red, yellow, brown,

black blotched, edges blur,

hung on interlaced lines, traced in grays

and greens

bounding space, light, shadow,

blood, breath and steam


the intricacies of nature
and the interconnectedness of things.

Close your eyes.

Clear your mind.

Say to yourself, out loud, three times:

"There's no place like home."

Open your eyes.


in the instant the light
floods back in
from red to white:

Hold the thought that is in your mind.

Turn it over
and contemplate it.

Walk forward, breathing in time
with your even steps.
Keep the thought you have held,
and continue
turning it over in your mind.
If you can, turn it over,

with your hands,

- as you walk.

Stop walking.

Turn back.

See the whole tree.

Regard the tree.

Witness the tree,

which even now
is eating the air that you breathed out,
while you stood beneath it,


Look at the tree. Hold the thought
you have in your mind.
Hold the tree,
as well.

(optional step) Say something to the tree.

What you choose to say

is between you
and the tree.

Thursday, November 05, 2009


Of all of the parents
I have ever had,
I would have to say
I am least like Dad.
But don't call me a Momma's
boy, though, there, SON.
'Cause I'd have to lay you out
for the connotation!

sunrise optimists

the day awakes in gentle splendor
teases us with rosy tint
in sunrise skies, our eyes are held
our hopes are held aloft, by hint
of limpid possibilities
so clear we see, through obstacles
by dint of will and strength, we know
we will win though
our day is full

mercifully untitled

I knew a man named William Dung
who moved to Rome to settle down
they made of him a citizen
he was young then, he is grown now.
It was a rite of passage, and
a long, hard road, to settle in -
but by now he feels quite at home.
He wrote a book:


Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Poetry Is Secretly

A poem is a way of saying in words
what people don't normally say in words, but
so to emphasize style and art
- draw attention towards form,
then sneak feelings
to heart

Because if I say to you, "Darling,
I love:
your magnificent mind
your eyes are like topaz,
your blush is like wine,
your hair is like spun pearl,
dark lustrously-hued," you'd say

"People don't talk that way
- pretty gay, dude."

my life as a beach inspector

I'm here on the official sand dune
looking out at the official ocean
I've been inspecting the beach grass
to make sure it meets the public's needs
their legs must always be lashed just so
as the official sun comes up,
sometime I wonder
why does everything have to be so damn official?
but it's no use to wonder
when it is.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

blessed descent

love falls forever,
and far. So far

and an instant is all
that it takes
to start

but an instant is all
that it takes to hit

if you've hit hard enough
you might break a few parts

I've hit hard enough
so many times in my life
I look down at the ground
to watch it arrive
but all I see is blue
- am I too far up high?
I can't even see mountains
or oceans
just sky
both below and above
and a great rushing wind
and my face can't get rid of
this idiot grin


there's a new kind of
but there's another
and it doesn't really
so if you tried to

at least it isn't
you might think so
too many times we
next one over

and we're invited
something to make it
if you say so
the basic fact of taking

we have no more

make it to Vegas

we never did make it to Vegas
like we always talked about as a joke
for me at least, it was always a joke
but I like jokes, though

I would have liked to go
as a joke
on you and me,
and we sure would have laughed
up a storm as the dry heat and towering sky
walked past
on lightning legs
shedding not one drop
upon the gravel, for us
peals of thunder on dust
like echoing laughter

at judgments

Monday, November 02, 2009

Read It Out Loud, You Son of a Bitch!

You think I wrote this poem
to be read in your head? Silently,
like some novel or nonfiction
history of dead
prose? Hell,

No! A poem must be read
- and that means Out Loud! -
for it to breathe, and take shape,
for the rhythm to ground its electric pulse
in the thrum of your throat, as your voice box
beats out its tempo
- don't choke!

Keep a glass of water by,
and if you need to, pause. But if you
screw up a line, don't cheat just because

there's no one else listening. You're cheating yourself!
Don't just back up one line, and "excuse-me, well,
I'll just take it from here" - that's no way to read!

Go straight back to the start, and go again,
half-speed! Don't rush it, don't force, just
roll your exquisite tongue around rich, plummy vowels
and let consonants cut, chop the meaning to bits
that make mouth-watering sense, and it fits, oh it fits

or proceed as if,
'til it gets to the end
for the sound can make sense - if you read it,

it's the little things

it's the little things
about her that I love
the very little things
miniscule things
tiny things
unaided and naked
to the invisible eye
the alveoli in her lungs
for instance
her taste-buds!
her mitochondria, sure
and of course she has
in addition to all that
she has a couple
quite big things, that I
very much treasure

but that goes
I suppose
without saying

or measure

what if I died? from tainted drugs

what if I died? from tainted drugs
like aspirin, though - not
coke or smack
I would feel so bad
for this dude cut down
in the prime of life
over some sore back
or some dull head ache
did I deserve that?
or possibly worse -
was it of my own make?
that fate would cut in
with its karmic hand
a skeletal flourish,
read it and wake

brains to bits

I love your brains to bits I don't think
anyone thinks quite like you, and I don't know
if my brain's fit to yours quite clicks
amidst these
slippery grooves that work our surfaces, respectively
- but then, to fit
like puzzle pieces may not be what
makes us blend, ideally, it
takes contact points and also distances between as well,
and tingle electricity
that jumps and arcs and drops and swells
and fills the fluid medium,
that we suspend in light as air, with bubbles
as we carbonate
the glass container that we share

"extraterrestrial counting its fingers"

every conceivable summertime flavor
runs slow through my head as the drum beats waver
through the buzz strum jangle of the guitar sway
"the sun came out, and it didn't go away"
before I count five, I'm abducted, alive
she sings like a languorous late summer rain
then - twenty-part harmony, barely instructed,
a chorus of children breaks out in refrain
and nothing can stop what's deranged my whole day
"the sun came out, and it didn't go away"
the sun came out, and it didn't go away
no it wouldn't - it wouldn't go away
if I can't jar it loose from my head, it can stay

"the sun came out, and it didn't go away"

my smile's comin' back!

In the old days I wouldn't waste time explaining
I knew I was good and as true as my words
I don't know what changed
my good and my true are the same
but these days I can't help but try to persuade
every dumb son of bitch and/or mother thereof.

And it may have eroded my patience somewhat.

In the old days I had a serene happy smile,
for any and all who heard what I had to say
and seemed to think
I ought to care who believes.

but I do believe

that anyone who suddenly wakes
and realizes where they've been wrong
can change!


my smile's comin' back!

Sunday, November 01, 2009

life is a list

my life is a list,
of things done well,
of things not done,
that need to be
or needed to be
of things undone
that once were fixed
so much I see
that needs to be added on,
that needs to be done
or prevented
or told
or fixed
if I write it all down
then the thought will count
I will get to it, now
it's on the list

there's nothing you can do but have faith in yourself

there's nothing you can do but have faith in yourself
the ones who were wrong about you were wrong
the ones who did not know you didn't know
there's nothing to do now but keep yourself strong

to keep yourself true to the person you are
the person you know deserves something more
don't give up on her - she's waited so long
you want her to be there, when it comes along
the person you are, all that's best in your self
you want her to be there, to answer the door.

with care

her words say much, but not too much
with care she cuts and trims and clips
to say enough, but not too much
she reads and re-reads, perfect! touch
she signs and seals, with careful lips
and sends it off, regretting all
the words left out, that should at least
have made it into postscripts