"Decisions"

I love you fresh from the shower
with nothing on, showing your haircut off
with aplomb, and wondering what
or whether to dress. Your face
says you're open to suggest

don't explain

It's not the thought
that counts the words
I've meant too much to say
to you how much I feel,
but I don't have the first idea
how to make you see. It's real.
I can't explain in any way
that's making any kind of sense
that anyone has ever known.
You've blown my mind, in my defense.
My mind is blown.

"provocateuse"

You melt my heart of iron,
alchemize it into gold and cast
it in the shape of every face
and form of you that I behold.
Commedienne and muse, and model,
artist and provocateur:
every inch of you disclosed
just keeps me wanting miles more.

top half of paradise

The sunrise here goes on
for hours
at least,
We pretend to keep
seeing rich rose tints
in the brightening clouds, as the colors

the colours
come deepening, lightening

out

So incomparable,
every day like clocks
go on sweeping round
their hands,

cobwebs of night
asunder and flown,
knocking back stars
like a round of drinks
so the ceiling of day
can come over bright

to protect what's known,

or so you'd think.

Wherever I go,
I love the sky.

It's probably my
favorite half of the world

especially when I
am here,

with you,

Our backs to the rest,
on the grass
like dew,

and drawing out sunrise with crayons
of peach, rose, gold

and blue.

spirit sense

no more beer no more wine
no more whisky for me
I'm just going to drink
straight gin,
'til something makes sense,
again

it's the one spirit left
that's still speaking
to me

I'm just going to drink
straight gin,
'til something makes
sense, again

breathe in

pour out

breathing.

vodka has not
any character
that I care to witness,
these days.

At least, not in me
or that it gives mine
I'd rather not bother
elaborate

tequila just tastes
like sperm and defeat.
If I told you, I'd have
tequila

The less said the better,
on so many scores.

breathe in,

pour out

breathing.

One more

restless and wing

The birds in the stands of pampas grass
are rustling about
like motherfucks.
There's a bunch
of them. It sounds pretty
wild. They're making a living,
I have no doubt.

Hey. Jealousy sucks.
Could you teach me how?
To rustle and hop so
to and fro, and have more
to get by, and then to fly?
It looks easy for you!
It's not; I know

wash away clear

It really doesn’t matter
when we hit truth. Humanity
is water running downhill,
eroding the silt
of our fully-owned ignorance

by sheer force of our passing
and contact with it. Exposing
eventually
the bare limits of reality. I’ve always said

geniuses don’t do a damn thing

for us,
not in the long view.
They goose us a bit. They dislodge
a prodigious clump of sludge
here or there, that nothing could ever
have prevented
from being dislodged, from being
dissolved

- because ignorance is soluble.

Reality is not.

And we are the water. We will
wear down to it, regardless:

for everything knowable
is inevitable.

"me together"

I never knew the back of my hand
like I know you, but I'm getting there.
My parts of the body never knew their place
or maybe, they just didn't like it. My hands
are always trying to think. See how they cradle
my head and can't get in. It's okay you two.
You don't even know what you don't want to.
My feet want to fly, instead of be walked on.
Why I love hammocks, but feet
no part of this body does that. My eyes
sometimes wish they were elbows,
the hardest striking surface
we've got. Only my belly
and dick seem content,
and only then when their needs
and wants are pleasantly met.
While that's going on, every part
of me wants to be them.
That, or when I'm dancing -
the feet don't mind at all
- or drinking and talking to you,
and my mouth pretemds it is for
those things. And each part of me acts
like it knows what it's for,
and is waiting in wings.

you two love birds

And here we have the wild love, the lesson for the rest of us
in glory full revealed, an object to be much disgust
For this is how the world could be, if only you could find someone
Oh wait I think you did. Still the lesson lessens on

You two love birds!
Just chirpin' songs together
You two love birds!
Get a room
You two love birds!
So glad to see you happy
at least the one of you
at least the one of you

It doesn't seem like anyone could be a better fit for you
And I'm not hanging on, wishing that it wasn't true
I do sincerely hope you both mature and deepen, deeper yet
perhaps mature beyond these sickening displays we get

You two love birds!
Just chirpin' songs together
You two love birds!
Get a room
You two love birds!
So glad to see you happy
at least the one of you
at least the one of you

You two love birds!
Chitter and groom each other
You two love birds!
Get a room
You two love birds!
Or maybe chimpanzees
So nice to see you happy,
at least the one who was
the one for me

The happiness I'm seeing now is happiness I used to know
I'd rather see it going on and on, just let it go
I can't feel angry now, I can't even call it regret
I knew you once, so well. You deserve the good you get

You two love birds!
Just chirpin' songs together
You two love birds!
Get a room
You two love birds!
So glad to see you happy
at least the one of you
at least the one of you

You two love birds!
Chitter and groom each other
You two love birds!
Get a room
You two love birds!
Or maybe chimpanzees
So nice to see you happy,
at least the one who was
the one for me

roundly, in parables

for the kingdom of Heaven is like a soup
that hat a savour in it as of something burned,
such that the chefs declare one and all "it has burned,"
but the master of the house tasting it, declares
it has not burned, and lo it is served
to the praise of all the guests.

Or again, it is like a bird, high in the air
who maketh only so much way forward
as the wind push it back. Making no effort
it is hung suspended, drawn backwards
toward its origin. Yet with mighty efforts
of its wings, it keeps its place.

Or again it is like a soot, where chimneys
used to be. The chimneys are no more, still
the people look upon the soot, remarking
one to the other.

Or again it is like none of these things.
It never was. Strain not your understanding,
lest you be cast into the soup and be burned,
and tasted, and be declared burnt, and again
tasted and found to have been unburnt. The guests

will consume you with praise.

at last, the dregs

We mixed these cups together, once
and sip by sip, contented us.
But up you rose, before begun
was barely underway. You left,
and left me yours to muse upon.

I looked in mine: it was yet full.

I drank in deeper draughts, from then
but still it runneth over lips
to stain each day's shirt, donned anew,

and put away,
ruined by you.

Or no. By my own greediness,
to taste again from cup so blest!

At last, the dregs.
There's barely left a stain
of our sweet bitterness

to whet the tongue,
remembering you.

And all you gave,
in our brief pause
between the wars
and chores and pains,
and all we had to do
with them.

I lift it up, upending all
this last that slips and drips
in me, of what our love

forgot, forgave
in our brief cause,
so long since lost,
so long before,
to which we gave

our lives, for once
but not for all.

It's happening.

My cup is done.

I reach for yours.

Procrastination Angel

The angel of procrastination saves me many a broken fall,
by all the paths I do not fear, but do not tread at all,
at all.

Withal, I often see myself
gone so far down so many of them,
it is a comfort and a strength
to come back to myself

amen.

World News Forever

More than 150,000 people were killed
yesterday in a bizarre coincidence
involving organ or systems failure
for which no one underlying cause
has been established, tragic
and accidental trauma, senseless
assault provoked or unprovoked,
and savage attacks by animals
including beloved house pets,
wild beasts and sea creatures. Authorities

have as yet given no explanation. News outlets

have not reported on the story. Further bulletins

as events warrant.

Captaincy

Whoever does whatever's next
from here on in gets

all the blame.

Inherits the entirety
of all that's done before,

for shame.

That is the price
to take it on
to set the course

and cast off ties

- you must take on
the whole of it,
into the hold

and not capsize.

So let's hold hands
and take the wheel

there's just enough
to fight over

You push, I'll pull
the way we feel

We'll lay such course between us as
our smiling eyes can stand to see
between the glare of breaking day

and fade of last night's revelry,
into this morning's hangover.

one's druthers

darling,
I would rather be with you
than locked
in the deepest cell
of the darkest dungeon,
shackled in irons hanging
from stone walls, left
without water for days
or air or light, to starve

without your delightful ways.

I would rather be with you
than slapped in the face 'til
I throw up drunk and realize
all of existence is a simulation

run by a sound and furious idiot,
signifying everything

I would far rather, far better
have all your love

than be shot through the heart
by a chimpanzee
who could not be blamed.

He was badly trained, or
it all came about accidentally

- that's assuming I die. If I survive
that would be one hell of a story,

right?

I wouldn't mind that. But you,
though - you. I would still rather be
with you,

no question at all
about that

From first sight.

fruition

Pears. Eat them up! They are past
their prime, kind of grainy

and mealy, and none
too sweet. We held off, we
forbore to partake early, awaiting

peak ripeness. And lo! Their time
of perfection has come, and gone,

and they remain - lovely

as a bowl of wax apples.

But they are not delicious.
Did we miss their moment

of fruition? Or maybe,
it was just

these were not good

pears.

the grand canyon: bull shit

The grand canyon's fucking
weak, ok? It's bull shit

just so many aspects of it,
I don't even know

where to start.

Ok: the Colorado River,
right? That thing

flows all the way down
all that way,
from up wherever in the Rocky Mountains
all the way down
to whatever bay or gulf
of whatever, wherever way down south
it empties to the drink. Except

it doesn't dig a big stupid fucking hole
all that way down, does it? No,

it doesn't! So what's the difference
where the grand canyon is?

I say the ground there is weak. I say
we have a case of weak ground, to start with,
and then some big fucking puddle comes tear-assing through
for about a billion years, carried all the dirt away with it
and suddenly,
now we've got this hole

which we're supposed to celebrate?

What is there to celebrate about that? fuckin'
WEAK GROUND, cause for awe
and tourism? Fuck, how about

we celebrate the land both North and South
of the so-called "Grand"
canyon - how about we celebrate

THAT?

Let's praise the ground
that stood its ground! That held firm! That demonstrated
the true grit of what ground's about? But no,
instead,
we waste our laurels on some damn hole
that basically had as its main achievement,
that it wore away. Basically,
we praise the fact that the dirt there
couldn't hack it, couldn't hang.

Took off.

The grand canyon represents all that's worst
of the American Landscape. I say

we quit making such a big deal out of it.

It's damn hole, okay?

podes

the world is a pebble we loom around,
placing our feet so awkwardly not
to trod it down