my phantom beard

My phantom beard
I stroke on flail 
and grasp and miss,
long habits will
prevail. Despite
my clean-cut 
chin 
in mocking
taunt above what
long has been 

happiness project

Happiness is a retrofit 
we install just in case 
the earthquake hit 

if it didn't or did - 
it might again. 
So you can't really say 
why whether or when, 
just get your shit up
to spec, better yet 
pretend 

This is all in mind, 
right? 
Send 

random dancer

Her limbs are like knives on balance and slice
on pivot and spin as gravity dies
and comes back to life between beats and on pause.
So graceful a win, without effort or cost, just cause.  

cheap lesson

"You inspirational piece of shit!" she hissed, 
eyes blazing narrow slits. "How dare you 
compliment my taste, and then show yours 
so desolate!" I said "Uh, wait, uh what? How's 
this?" She smacked my face, deserving it. 

It's how I learned you might get smacked. 
In fact, I did! 

No turning back 

Close enough

Actress, producer and wife, she struck out 
on her own pitch and transitioned to criminal
influencer, remaking fashion and behavioral
trends in prisons and extralegal organizations
and clubs, worldwide and nation tall. Soon 
the authorities wanted to cut her a sweetheart 
deal: full amnesty (nothing she'd done had 
been technically illegal) in exchange for 
influencing criminals to be more badass 
and cool, only in prosocial ways. She said 

"Hey what the hell, I've always marched 
to a drumbeat of some kind" and signed on. 

The experiment won her the Nobel Prize 
in Economics, because the committee
was like "fuck it. Close enough" 

People learn to make way for a trailblazer, 
don't they. Oh yes more or less, and she 
went down as one of the best - but she did 
go down, in the end. We all do, but as she
might have said you can't let it stop you. 

situations

As always with everything, 
we're doing our best to investigate 

what situations are, 
and what kinds of things
can happen in them.

This situation is grave, and we honor 
the concern and criticism expressed
all around. However we assure all
concerned that first, we have
to determine what situations are.

Only then, responsibly we can figure
this out, using whatever happened plus
as many ideas as we can responsibly
come up with because it is a very grave
situation, as we've admitted. What are they?

We can't act rash yet. It would be premature,
so cool off please. Back down. Once we're
sure what a situation actually is, we guarantee
all concerned: action will be rash as you could 

ask. 

Guided by a fuller understanding, together
we can't lose, so cool it. You did your part,
all of you bringing this to a crisis, and that's
the most important part you can do. Now.

Leave it to us. Back off, cool down, grow up. 
This is already a situation, and we don't need
another one. What are they?

wonderknot

Her brain is baking wonder pies
beneath a sword of Damocles
that life suspends
on thread of dread
above us each, on mother's knees.

But as we grow invulnerable
and wise, we don't much notice it.
It's theme and trope of tolling bells
in books.

Its sense
goes somewhere else to fit.

That thread
is plaything, now. We spin
and play and spool it out
like Gordians, we prize our knot.
No effort mindful or forgot
could undo all these tight-pulled
strands. No mind's-eye gaze could scry
this plan. No mind's-hand fingers
trace its ways.

Insoluble, the puzzle stays.

Until the days we lift our eyes, and there
suspended, spy the sword. It's hung up

still.
It looms and looms.
We've woven for it some reward

metamorphosis bug

It's time for the bug 
up your ass to die
and be reborn as a butterfly, 
aflutter in tummy and rising
like heart in throat 
to your mouth,
where you puke
pure hope.

great time on stage

Sometimes you can just tell
they're having a great time up there, 
onstage 
it's not faked. You can't  

fake strutting and bopping around
like that, yelling "ooo! ooo!" and 

doing this sort of - anti-choreography! 

Everyone's got their own dance going,
but 
you figure they planned it. It smacks 
of something planned, and maybe
actually rehearsed - or run through
a time or two, perhaps not identically.
It smacks
of artificiality,
but they're really
getting into it. You

know?
They're having a ball, a blast
up there 

and we 
uh 
paid 

to see this shit.
But that's okay. It's joyous
affirmation of some kind
of human confidence 
job

and if we didn't come to see 
that? Well, we certainly came 
to see this 

standing permissions

If my baby had a hat 
I would tell her "I allow you 
to wear it!" Or
if she had an outfit on,
I would say - so there
would be no doubt - "I give you
permission to be clothed!"
Or if 

she were drawing 
regular breaths, I 

would say 

"By all means, 
breathe normally.
I allow it." Or if she

wanted to do some thing
she could do all by herself,
without my permission, 

I would give her my permission.

Because 
I respect my baby, and 
I honor her autonomy. I allow 
her  

big time 

in translation

Your look is
so eloquent 
that I have
to narrate 

all the notes
glimmering in
glint and shimmer
from your gaze, tuned
by corner twist of the mouth,
narrowed or widened eyes, 
raised brow, and turn 
of head

- I put

your look 
into words
for you.

Well, for both of us.

In continuous narrative flow,
as you keep that look coming.
As you, with an index finger
straight-up, indicate one point
- or you curl it down,
take one point off,
you keep score
while I narrate.
Putting your look
into words galore  

Most of them true, 
some false, some off, 
you course-correct me 
to sure. It's a little 

improv routine 
we do. It happened 
more or less on
purpose 

pure

heart visit

I visit you in my heart, 
but you're not there. 
Empty chambers, 
calling out - no 
answer!

Whoops - I overshot
the mark. This isn't
my heart, it is yours!
You're probably out! 
In my heart? Yes 

We passed each other
on the way. We really
should call first.
Coordinate. 

It's such a chore

foot taller

When I'm standing next to you 
I feel a foot taller
I know I'm not
It's psychological, but
I feel like I've grown, 
and maybe the world can see! 
Or you can. That would be 
enough, because your eyes
are the world's 
to me

Listen. If

Listen. If people want
to understand me then
they're just going to have to 
figure me out. I am sick of 
shooting straight sense at 
swirly targets of others' minds
only to come up bupkis on the
comprehension tip! I can not
be any more clear than I once
was! and if that's
not
good 

enough, 

then I will never give up no 
never 
give up. People are just
going to have to judge 
best they can, and
figure me out for themselves if.

If 

people want to understand me, 
but. You know. They don't
have to want to. 

I did my part

body dancing fail

he was a body dancer

his family

couldn't even.
That's how so many fail
when those they love,
his friends shook their heads,
they didn't get it, lovers
turned their heads 

when he danced. 

When he danced,
all the world 
moved
when he danced,
from his perspective. 

He rocked a balance pivot 
and shuffled apace, throwing
shapes - arms and back, neck
head atop and beyond torso,
upon hips and legs, knees, 

suddenly bent, feet - ankles
straitened by rippling out 
driving pistons thrown akimbo,
his whole body breaking
and reassembling a cadence 

in a time
for a time 
abstractly-related 
to his human heart. It
was time. it
was 

always time.

For he was a body dancer, 
and so he failed.
For the world was like 

"What?" 
"Is that
...you mean,
you're a dancer...?" 

which made him sick 

he was like NO! There are body dancers 
and mind dancers! I am a mind dancer! 

That's how you fail. See,
he tried to be both, 
too far, 

and failed.

he was a both dancer. Body 
& mind, and nobody wanted 
that thought or motion
song or dance. 

So he failed 

graverising

Once  
each day
I get up from 
my early grave 
to misbehave.

It's really just 
behavior, see?
No miss! That's
normal for ol' me. 

I wake up late 
and dig me up 
from underneath 

I break the ground
with groping hand 
for coffee cup 

I groan and shamble 
 towards the town 

and stand in line,
and meet your living gaze 
with mine.

You ask, and

in sepulchral tone: "Triple
almond cappuccino please"
I deeply
sweetly
moan 

The Big As If

It was as if
some occult hand had reached
down from clouds across the land
to palm my heart, like
a magic trick 

that you just can't teach, 
unless you can.

Or else you miss
where now you see it,
now you saw. Now
you wish and kiss 
and paw, lose
everything 

perchance 
to crawl, 
perhaps 
to raise. 
To win it
all. 

It was
as if some
occult part 

unplayed as yet 
by dummy luck 
and handy fate 

had come unstuck 
by skill and art. 

Panic's OK!

Panic's OK! if you're panicking

anyway

no sense panicking

about it

hey, when you just

assess

your immediate threats,

and there aren't any? Guess

what?

Panic away!

Since

it could

impede your

reaction time. Put

paralysis in the mix,

or influence a whoops

badass bad decision

or two. If immediate

threats stand square

in view, that's tactically

bad.

You don't want to

panic, then.

And OK, maybe

you don't want to panic

in your spare time either,

but since you are?

Panic's

OK then,

panic star

Gotta panic sometime,

maybe. Right? Might

just as well panic

when nothing

important's on,

hell. 

Impure joy

Here is the joy
you've made in me
in sudden effect
in inner array, 
and cutting to groove
in tenet and core, 
by new and continual
play and display 
by mischief and trick 
played square and pure.
By ounce and by ton, by
hook and by barb, by light
and delight and by tone
and shade. Here

is
what
rises in me,
from you: all
polarized,
alchemized gold
gone astray  
and sure. 

verbatimesque

when I'm nude
I understand myself better 
It's not so artificial! 
when I'm not nude 
people say I have a beautiful body and they wanna see it 
when I'm nude I can forget about everything else 
sometimes 
when I'm not nude I can be invisible 
sometimes I can go anywhere
people can't see a thing!
I had a bad idea once 

about a garbage disposal that went on 
automatically whenever you put food down it 
like a hand 
because
it thinks it's its food!
I thought it was a good idea 

until I thought about a hand   
when I'm nude I think about my hands 
a lot 
what should I do with them?
when I'm not nude 
I adjust

Slowdown days

Day succeeds day, and that's okay 
but I wish I could slow
most of these days down.
I'm enjoying too fast, 
and then they are gone.
At they end of one, yes,
I look forth to the next, 
but - 

- it's gone

like that. These days, they are
ours, but how much do we
get to hold each one? By flying sun,
skyful of whirling stars? I don't 

want to stop time, just 
make mine large

before it is done.  

night census

Somebody barked

Somebody bark back 
We'll have a lil' shout-yelp 
holler chit chat, and
everyone in earshot 
gotta chime in!

We can't see each other
from the yards we're in, and
we've got to find out

how many dogs we are.

One, to keep making sure
we're all still here, or
if anyone new comes on,
we must know!

Bring them up to speed
on how barking goes.  

Two,
in case the revolution
comes, 

I suppose.
Or propose - either way
we had best prepare 

vigilance is the way 
all good dogs know.