One reckoning.

People writing about reality itself
are funny. Reality is something
we don't need writing about. I mean,
point things out, sure, But from the part
that's there, the whole can be inferred
surely. We don't need some big
explanation, insulting intelligence
itself, or laying out cockamamie
maybes.

What's real is real,
if it's here! Now.
You can see it, and tell
from the sticky-outy piece.

Otherwise, it's just stupid, and only
causes arguments. What's okay
to see differently even though
it's right here, we can just agree
you're a moron and let it slide.

Can't we? I say decency and respect
depend on saying fuck that shit, buddy!
I don't care how you see what's

not there all the time, making
claims. Claim up or clam up!
Prove it! Then we can both
see who's smart, what's real,

plus who isn't and what's not.

The trick is perspective. You
have to be able to trust

your mind.

Put all other sources on probation
'til you got that right,

I reckon.

Reality. Check it out sometimes,
or you might find it checks you.
Reality gazes also, probably. It's
the abyss between your ears
you've got to mind. 

rough operator

Having surgically dislocated
my soul
to a place like a rib 
spanning heart and mind,
I find a much looser & locked 
control. I adjust
by notch 
to recalibrate fine,
and I find I can feel
and value and mean 
just as feeling and being
as I mean to be. From well
to good, I tune in mean aim,
and if that's too bad? Well,

I'm kind of 
glad 

you

said something!

'Cause that's all my
fault, when I do or say
something I didn't mean

to be.

the absent child

The absent child
went to school 
to figure out
what people want
of it. It found:
to wait a bit,
until it knew
was right and fit!

Instead of plunging
in on guess, to make 
misfit and frowny mess. 

"I'm good at figure out!"
it chimed. I'll do that first.
I'll use my eyes and mind!
Shut mouth 'til head's all full,
and all makes sense, instead

of frowns.

The absent child knew
it was smart. It had been told
by every one around
who really knew
the child at all.

So just the kids
and mom (I don't think
dad said so). These people
know the child, and better
best: the child knew just what
those people, each of them, 
would want! Of it, in any 
given take - and how to fit 
like easy-breezy confidence,
and effortlessness
incarnate.

And so the absent child appeared

and went to school, and no one
knew.
At home
it was the present
child, all here and there in say and
do because

it knew. What every one 
would want of it, in any fix. 

"If only I could be at home
in school!" the child looked, 
and thought, and missed. "But
then, it's only thought and time,
and play and work, and eye and
mind, and I am good for this. 
I have the patience and the nerve
to wander all alone, observe and
reckon first! Before I give! Since 
then, I'll know what people want
from me.
And I can give
them that! Lickety-split,
diggety-dog and hissedy-cat."   

The only way. To figure out it all
up-front, then play. The absent child 

grew up all dumb! But at some point
it learned to say, first, before finding 
out what some one wants of you.

What you give first on dare and guess
- that tends to teach them who you are 
in what you give up-front and best. And 
that becomes

just what they might expect. 

Word camera

A cloudless dusk
and time and light just right
for faerie-lamps and such,
and poignant aching heart
remarks about the loveliness
towards dark.

It's always just
a bit too much for words,
and just enough too fast, but
slow we go and steadying.
We've come to make
the best things last. 

You want

You want people reaching out to you 
because of your inherent value, 'cause
that's only way you could validate, 
that you're worth being seeking and 
catching, 

great. 

What you want is your problem, what 
you want is your problem, and nobody 
wants it unless they should! You want 
it your problem! It's yours 'cause you 
want it - and nobody should. 

Unless they wish. Then: GOOD. 

You are not the reason for one to reach
out, as if you're some center of their 
universe, and all they do, freely do 
by you: 

was caused by your charms, your intent, 
your influence and deserts. 

What you want is your problem. No one
validates you:
by wanting you.

It is a value in them not a value in you.  

Unless your purpose is to be wanted. 
How vain. 
How true. 

Free gift is not for the likes sf you. 
Break the chain of deserts, for these 
are the claims you strive and hate! 
And burn to be proven true, 
so great, and 

it damn sure 
never can/will
be true!

That another wanting you 
confirms anything about you,
your quality or value. 

It only displays their taste. 
Which you oh goodness 
me so happen to fit. 

It could be perversity
on their part - did you think
of that?

You know, it could even be 
something else, to grow. 

If you gave you true all day 
for life, no less than you mean, 
no other than you know - it might 
just mean that they've acquired IT. 

Because of worth that they found
in you. You FIT - them. 

You apparently - don't fit you? 
'Cause if you did, validation 
would never be due. You'd 
be valid all through, if you 
fit you. If you chance to fit 

some other one's taste? 

That. 

Is not.

Your worth. 

It is theirs.  

I'm just #2 (of a project series)

I'm just like Angus 
except I don't play 
on anything electric 
at all so OK. I strum 
chords, man, chords! 
But I choppa-chunk HARD,
like chores, but I add a note:
joyous force! And when I'm
going for mine, I get yours.

I add seventh string to the 
guitar's six: a sung voice, to
the harmony charge and it
kicks like a not-quite "bard"
but a true badore!

I am a badore. Must remember 
that word. Bad. Ore. 

GOLD. 

Got it. 
It manages
atop that harmony base
like a brute pop-conducting
acid flashing from sweet to 
sharp tartness too hard, then 
flattening and deepening out,

bringing melodic cool hot cold
content in words like a barge,
toting hope, bilge, gold, wet lead 
(blood-wet) and steel, gems here
and to there, flowing current of
turning wheel - like an ace! Done

to deucedly suit anyplace, club,
diamond or heart. I can face. I cups
coins, beat spades to shards and flip,
forged to swords, I amaze like an arrow's
dart sure to a bull, taking eyes with a wave
of a wand upstage! Transformed to stave! By
an arcane octave of two-point five. It's a phase

I will never get out of alive. If you must: call me
one-star general officer, sir, poised to command or
serve in a global disarmy of five, so call a spade

to your own mind's hand - you dig? A shaft? I speak
schmaltz minus jive and it lasts, and it fasts, and it's
so fresh from the bath

it comes out nude!

Screams eureka in a streaking  beeline path
to the king on a bet to tell GOLD. It's a tarot deck
strip poker match, I'm told. Not crude,
just coarse, not rude: rude-hewn,
is my courtesy and I cannot say "dude." 

Nor call one tune, but I tune them all
vulgar in the common sense. Just
uncommonly fine. So here, there.

That's trust.

It's there and right here galore,
if you see! You could call it on time,
but your call would be late. For ya face, 

from my mouth 
loud large, 

don't hate, but it's free! 
I could speak vehemently! 
I would aim on point, not 
at person, or cuzz. Just 'cause
I can't can't call you bad. Just was,
or just sure-'nuff bad for me, 

...if I had. Have I ever?
Hey, 
that's between one and two. Are 
you wannabe three to that bond?
Strike two. Skip four, take five and
figure out where you fit, 
when did not then,
and 

...so how now? Right? How is it?
That's the laugh math bathhouse
wheelhouse gashouse logic I can't
but adore, 'cause it runs to wreck,
rack, ruin all I abhor. In my 
self of course! 

And we're good, I 
am sure. Unless you 
disconcur, and I will take 
your true verdict no loss, 
kind sir or man, madam 
or mademoiselle - or whatever 
address you prefer me to not 
address you by! A fair ask, 
I say. Reasonable, yes. And by far: 

OK.

I am not the judge of any humanity 
save mine: my own, my peeps 
who can always score. On theirs,
mine or our behalf. 'Cause 

it's free. We give it so, 
and so fair. So,
 
Not so much very like A. 
Young at all, sorry there,
but my AC/DC-for-life 

chest

will never be bare, when 
I have so many brand-clean 
tour shirts! Man.

Some of them 
are getting
way too tight 
to hurt. 

But I might
care to dare 

if I plan to 

flirt. 

I'm just! #1 (of a projected series)

I'm just like Hermione 
'cept I don't put time in, 
just pull out my wand
and yell spells, but rhymin'
insteada pig latin and 
made-up guff, I plug
english in inner ears,
and make
sense 
tuff

Hopelost in expectationland, suddenly

If she's all real, 
that's my ideal 
just standing there 
scattering light
in drawn shade, 

but if she's part 
fake, I can't see it 
from here! And 
too later will be 
fine to spot 

the exception I'd 
make. Most likely 
just for what's real! 
Whoever turns out:
herself, to show. To
disclose or not, to
keep is to give just
exactly what I'd want,
if it is. For whatever

can't be caught: 

spotted on sight, 
can be caught 
on feel, given
take, we'll give
as we might. As
we go. And so 

may we learn to take 

what's meant! Only 
from whatever she 
just sent! Plus, 

what I did. 

With dudes, it's 
different of course, 
plus with every single
woman on earth except 
one: her, here. She's 

not a horse! Nor a category
box exemplar, sir. She's gotta
real standard fine of however
she is! I can probably pick it up,
if she cares to concur.  

Or just give, or 
deal. Which,
cool if not.
Pretty, cool.
Not cold! 

Well, I wouldn't want warm
from hot if it wasn't caught
free in response, however

natural, we each rise,
once,  

and we bring this
between us
in symphony
of surprise. 

So alive. You and 
I so free to we, or 
be us: respectively. 

I concur. Wait - on what? 

"You are fine
by me!"

HOO hah

We can analyze this moment 
any way 
it's still not going to change the day 
there's a line rolling over us 
mid night time! 
we stick it where the 
sun don't shine, 
and 

HOO
HAH

I don't know! 

If you tell I'll ask 
who told me so, 
and 

HOO
HAH

I don't mind! 

If it's just so I know  
I'll thank you for your 
kind

(riff)

you're kind 

(riff)

Have you ever been
in trouble? Balls ass deep!
Pounding on some bare
behind,
and you finally figured
out that it's not wrong!
but that's not going to
change your mind 

so of course
I mean that
metaphorically!
Unless it's literally fine.
I have never been much
for authority, unless
it's only yours
and mine, and HOO

HAH!

I don't know! 

If you tell I'll ask 
who told you so,  
and 

WHO!
HAH!

I don't mind! 

If it's just so I know  
I'll thank you for your 
kind (HOO) 

HAH! Who cares!
I do.
I do!
All
through. (WHO) 

HAH 
Who dares? I do! 
I do 
'til it's all though 

riff

It's a proud obligation 
to SCREW! UP! 
That's how we found 
out we're wrong, so we own it up,
take it apart and run duck!

And once we're sure,
we ask what's up? 

And 

HOO
HAH

I don't know! 

If you tell I'll ask 
who else you told,
and 

HOO
HAH!

I don't mind! 

If it's just so you know, 
I'll thank you 'cause
you're fine

you're fair

Did you ever loose yourself
in such a bind?
We tend to whether

or not we care

we find

Hypothetic uh

If you could do two things 
at once - both bad - is that 
better than doing one thing 
okay? Or 

do not one thing at all,
so well you could cry? 

At least you could get
that done, if you try.   

called consideration

Once we know someone doesn't like 
something, we stop doing it to, at 
or in sad cases even near

them, 

UN-less! Our purpose in that act

exceeds the purpose of not 
being disapproved, or we aim
to be deliberately disapproved 
(for defiance or "fun"), or we
forgot. Habit makes correction
forgetful, easy! It takes 

repeat test to pass easy in groove 
well-run and dug deep enough.

And this we all call "consideration"

X/Y F#

You are the crux to my tuned forked path, 

all prongs point you, all ways I strut
and strum apace, no rush. 

So fast

So social me thought

I'm not really social, you know? 
I'm just sort...of a pure channel 
of pure what. A social medium, 
channel cut by tries to divine 
and come up clear as balls. 
Crystal. We are all so 
tall and short and bending
arc-sideways from centers 
in the views we prize 
via media, socially.

We're 
like crystal. Yeah. 

We break easy. 

Only fan.

Whoever has 
an idea of you 
better get another one 
because mine is true. 

Patter and the lion

I always remember my idea
about sticks 

when I think of you. Well, 
now and then, sometimes!

I described it once perfectly
years ago, and have thought
of your reaction fondly, couple
few glows since.

It was worth it.

Just so you know.

But
Now. 
Caught your eyes lit up
at me across the room, you 
come dragging a cross in the form 
of two friends by both inside-arms 
in a beeline to plant yourself in 
bloom,
in my sudden loss: you stand. 
Like a beacon between, and

you beam: the death sentence! 

"Say that again!" 

Remake?
Or...Reboot...?
Prequel seek? Or up
sequel creek without
a producer's note
or a writers' moot? 

Total Impossible Recall,

or Feeling/Moment Recreation
Trick?

Or Mission: Impossible
Not To Botch?

Or give totally new idea 
as-if? 

Or: try it fresh
again right now? 

What sticks 

Fashion critique in high-low blow tones.

That image - just as art?
Is a stunner, and should be
done up in monumental oils.
Wall-size, but framed huge
- no mural. As clothes?

It could be busier than some
can taste, but I say: any man
who wears clothes and doesn't
pull this off the moment he spots it

is a snob.

The spanless inquisition

Why do you keep drinking 
so much water while we're 
hanging out? It's like nonstop 
thirsty man. And you never say
"Cut!" to go peeps! I'm getting
pissed just looking at you keep
going. 

Let's run this clear: this
is not a movie, you are not
some poor man's Brad Pitt
with an oral input tic in every
damn shot of each scene, trying
hold something consumable 
(in this case potable) in one 
hand
to stand out all subtle
while you work your  mouth, but 

can't afford anything more
substantial than plain water!
Man, I would smack that cup,
glass, bottle you keep switching
up on tap refill runs right out
of your hand! 

If it was hot dogs, tacos 
pizza slice, nachos or 
cheeze whiz on jerky 
sticks, because at that 
point bring to share, 
you pee oh ess! 

You bring the damn 
free water 'til the well,
tap and stores run dry, 
I guess. Is it - 

omg I'm so sorry 
Is it diabetes? I heard
that diabetes sometimes
makes one thirsty as a
bag of pretzels. No? 

Cool. 
It's none of my business, then 
but, if your object was anything 
other than just thirst, my guess
runneth dry. You pull it off well,
I must say. Do tell, 

me what's your secret?
And 
why so dry, man! Can I
offer you a bag of pretzels? Something 
to wash down by that? You'd clue me 

if I was missing a hint, right? 
OH. 

That's not water, is it? You
went and got the vodka tank
system installed, that's why
your bank's so tapped you
can't spring for snacks! You
were talking about that before.

Why, sure, I'll have one, don't
mind if I do! Proust! 

You bastard. It's just water! 

Isn't it? 

spontaneous human combust-self

My bestie's a beast! 
She defeats high odds 
Gives cracking advice 
And grants prayers to gods 
Fucks casual friends, but
I can't get the
benefit,
cuz 

She likes men. 
Whereas I 

hey wait 

This Not Is An Ad?

Are mid-nonentity social pseudocelebs 
suddenly landing micro-endorsement 
deals to shill Heineken Silver?

Or 

is it just my feed? Cheers to either 
idea! If this is some down
low-mass produced 
niche joke,

I'm 
glad as hell to be pranked. 'Cause
Dear
God
If It's Real 
________

heineken silver
 
Its real
is 
so deal. 

Bum note.
This poem has not
been paid for, kick-backed,
or compensated in any way.

And I do freshly wonder 
about that beer, too,
so? Did the ad work,
or?

I am
sofused

onlinisms glossary #42

"WFW."
Women fighting women -

sounds like some man's dream! Right?
except when the argument's not over
him, but a contest betwixt forbearance
("restraint of one's justified wrath")
and spleen, dicing how best to take
care of him. GO TEAM - and they
don't mean carefully, nor hotly 
but sure. Oh dear, 

the whole argument's
tuning in towards 

clear. Might split 
before the last 
vote passes, 
I fear 

bro on bro advice overheard

Don't humiliate yourself
trying to modestly bear up
under another dude's ego
out of pity, dude
___________
Me I'm like

WHAT 
No! I - you know me
man. I was laughing 

at something I just thought 
was too cool. What you
said 
totally upstaged it. 

That's sound strong 
counsel by my look
and listen. Good 
system, and pretty 
good medicine. 
_____________

incredulity redacted
_____________

I mean it's literally 
true: don't humiliate 
yourself to be an ego 
prop just to be nice, 
that's foul. I agree like 
hell on that. 
_______________

He like
....

"Damn right, you nosey-ass 
eavesdropping piece of shit!"

(with real amity and enthusiasm,
yo - I can tell) 

_______________

Cool! 

....

A nosey-ass shit could probably 
smell itself dropping! 

______________

Annnnd we good.

Morale lesson. 

Don't LOL for out
loud real, if you're not
even all up in the conversation
as a participant. Unless
by luck and hard charm
(spoke graven clear) 
your solid cold nickel
and iron core of pure
candor can swim
upstream through
your word-hot mantle
of molten gold truth 

And you know, just 

say so already.
And aright. 
Otherwise,
can the open laugh
track tactic, honcho  

People get more sensitive
to your bullshit than you'd 
believe if you had any! 

Nah once for nope.

Look, sarcastic nah 
is not by bag. I say 
sincere, you don't 
have to nag me 
or beg for a straight 
up-honest no. 

My nah is 
good as any 
one word is, 

so. 

I kinda decline 
to hint, you know. 
Unless first you 

teach me to! Then 
I know what you mean, 
we'll communicate fine 
in sign, wink tell by 
the long and the short 
of each distance between 
each dot in the mine, 

and never misread us 
again. Won't that 
be fine? 

I understand and 
agree. Now, 

let's see what 
this try is worth! 

On three! 
Two. 

One. 

Are you receiving? 
I'm sending. Are 
you receiving? OK

You try. Are you - 
look. 

Maybe we should just 
cut the shit talk and pass 
notes back and forth? 

That's hard to understand 
wrong! Mine 

are all big long and narrow 
drawn love-hearts! See, 
by the color ink 

you can tell what 
each really means? 

What you mean you 
can? Oh perfect. 

We're stuck on mode 
for life now, you realize 
that? 

Wink once for maybe

transhumanist plot unfolding? Nah

Life's about to be fair. 
To all. By just one 
objective point 
of infinite right 
and correct, by 
infinite opinion
 
sole call.

Same 
for all us beans! No 
exceptional bents 
or breaks to excuse 
at one's own expense. 

So rejoice, or perplex.  

Just now, just how shall
you fare in this fairest
of possible absolute
schemes? Pretty 
well I guess 
and suspect. Same 
as all, unique, everyone 
else in this neck of 
same-boat woods 
for uncountable eves 
of this long-dawning 
day with such hearts 
up sleeves. All 

shall be revealed 
by everyone, or left 
by each to be kept 
and undone. Just 

as usual, really 
the more things 
change, the more 
they are never the 
same again. 

Hypothetical
highest court
in a all lands
come together
in the back
of all mind
and hand. 

At first glance, it
could all just 
be. Peace
on earth, 
for once.
Sign up 

we will
take you
 
first. 

flirtesy gone one line awry

I pretty much broke your heart with
my crack, 
I see. 
My bad, 
however
I meant. 
Intent and the price 
of all English tea 
I could toss for a scone 
in this ocean contempt. 
My bad, 
but the fault 
is clear in you. 
With mine intact, 
I will take all blame 
as a courtesy I respect 
is due. It's about what 
you would expect exact 
from me. Anyway I can 
see this moment's no game 
to cheer or call. I will judge 
me out by your whistling 
eyes, and if anyone's steamed 
let's acknowledge without 
surprise disappointment 
or much to be smug 

My bad is one fit 
foul call run amok, 

and I call it fair. 
For I hurt where 
I hit, trying not 
to make points 
so wrong. I'm 

it! Tag 
is a game we 
grownups play 
too real sometimes 
in a flirt with death 
and a race to life 
ending each way 
through. It's 

a pity I spoke 
so little untrue 
and so much 
unjust, as you 
fairly call. I 

didn't think so 
interpretable, 
and by my 
plain words 
running back 
through minds, 

you didn't hear 
wrong, I misspoke. 
Not kind. If that's 
your kind of apology, 
just click accept by 
a nose-beep see? 

Press wink for maybe
Hit pound for screw 
Plus whatever or 
worse it occurs 

to you. It's 
true, and as real 
as the best 
we had 
to give 
in a moment 

gone rather too bad. 
So I'm sorry. I said it, 
if I had to again? I'd 
say it again, but 

you know 
Only 'cause you said 
I had to again. 

What goes without saying 
bears repeating if asked. 
I'm sorry five times slow, 
five times fifty times 

fast 

the criticart diagnostic practitioner is in.

I run one loose museum, people.
I just assign art forms to people.
"Step back. You make the call."
Chiaroscuro it down in oilcolor 
or suddenly mobile sculpture. 
It fits it clicks it sticks it scores!
Sometimes I'm like Picasso upside
your face for a close inspection.
"There's...
something  wrong there with
one of your eyes. And take
everybody's clothes off
please. This is about
as serious as art gets,
you know. It's a phase."

Or I'd be like Marcel Duchump:.
"You...are a urinal actually.
Sometimes a work of art's
best left uncalled"

mepiphany

I've been on a big subjectivity
kick lately. I was so biased against
it! How did I not see I was right all
alone! 

Am I Misogynist?

Close. I'm a self-loaving 
bread pan with so much 
dough my yeast won't 
rise 'til it's safely out 
and piping hot, for 
fear of busting ovens. 

Needless to say, I don't 
blame anyone for not 
wanting that thing done! 

So I respect all persons, 
and honor all unwanted 
offers by decline, case 
by catch does it up right. 

Wait. 

I misheard that. I thought 
you said "misogynist." 

Oh you did! Cool. There's 
your lucky answer then. 

In Y/N terms, most definitely 
no. In M/F terms, please, 
feel free to ask again or 
anything else! Heart 
your business! 

Straight byplay

"You're a knight and a gentleman"
she said. Thank you. I see myself
more cavalier and court deadpan
fool, but

kinda indistinguishable things! The
cavalier's got all the kit and puissance
the knight has, he just lacks the LORD
to hire his ass. 

I don't think it's called ronin
if nobody hired you to joust
or war in the first place

but hey, your call! LADY

Inappropriatesque Instacomment fine line

That's so cute it's tart
as a hot twist in a short
skirt with a big ass and
boobs out to here!!

Lucky sky

meteorites look just like rocks, 
so they're hard to spot. Unless 
you're lucky enough to find
a meteor, and it just misses 

you so much

on female fire

I seem to be writing 
more gender-particular 
poems about a man 
most definitely not 
so many alternate 
universe versions 

of me. 

Is it too soon 
to call cliché, or 
just shtick it in 
the trope bin

and burn it with 
scorn-ray critic's 
vision please. 

See how it develops 
on 
fire 

Run it forward.

Run it forward. 
It's a ball, what did 
you think it was! Take 
it as a handoff! I'm trying 
to give you your one shot

at getting creamed or rising 
to the top in that damn dance 
you're always practicing! Wake 

up! Earth to superstar, are you 
ready for your closeup? Because 
there's one huge superzoom zeroing 
in all beady from the other side - take 

it, before it's not mine to give! FOOT 
BAAAAALLL - oh, that did it? 

You got it? Good! 

Run it forward fast. Now, 
please. Nobody needs 
another somebody-done-wrong
post-game one-touchdown-too-late 
too-short celebration skit - no matter 

how cute the views and butts look
on endless replay. Neither ball nor foot 

will fit far enough up your 
ass to justify the cracks 
in the postgame analysts'
bitter, convoluted,
hilariously blown
calls, let alone 

all the broken
minds any fan can
easily see in the stands,
if they could unglue 
their eyes from the 
botch job abomination
unfolding approximately 
on-field, still. Still.  

Hey what the hell. 
Who was that guy? 

Where'd he get 
the cute suit? He
wasn't even on 

the team! Holy 
cats, go catch and sign 
that kid, huh? Did 

he really just go 
there?

Not so fast. Wait.
Late penalty. Who's 
it on? Damn referees'll 
have to sort all 
this out now. 

Play it back. Do-over! 
No re-do please
don't take
any wooden
lessons from that crap
you just pulled. It won't 

play twice the same way. 

Are you ready? GO! 
GO! It's a ball!

damnit 

another win/loss 
drops in the columns 
tomorrow, I bet. OK
Let's get it back next 
play! Breathe! Think!
Not simultaneously!
Is it still you getting
the handoff again?

Who coached this
playbook, your dad?
Probably not, but Bob's
your uncle I guess.

Somebody over there sure likes
you, or the way you don't 

run right yet.

Fools everyone! 
Once upon and twice 
if you're lucky,

any given Sunday. 

Say, why don't we put 
this one on special teams,
or D? Maybe

he can run it back.

A complex game of teams, 
some say with admirable 
simplicity. But it gets 
trenchant fast, once 

the ball - you know, 
that thing I keep trying 
to hint you with? 

Oh shit. 
It snapped. 
The ball snapped 
in half.

You didn't have to take
it so hard, sport! 

Ass-slaps all around, 
we'll get it back.
Next play.

Maybe. 
Think positive, 
pray hard and heave 
it all up. For once, 

let's pass! Please 
please please 

Yes! Great! OK, 
you know what to

do, everybody but 

mister exceptional here. How 
the hell can that jackass be
the team-star? Some fix
is in, but damn

It might work huh?

Hope 

is the thing that
beats wings off
and on, mostly
in the offseason,  

for all of us
on this big team

but one. 

blink and you'll miss a kiss, maybe!

A child was born this day 
once, as we all generally 
are. Let's wait and see 
what happens in 
the epitaph! 

Here lies 
some brief 
but nonetheless 

soulless wit. 

Too bad, too 
good for this world's 

first kiss. 

good middling done

I'm just getting the middle 
good and done, don't 
mind me. I'm in one 

of my rare moods 
for well and charred,
with the black tasty 
iron-fried bits 

for once. 

I meant to do this, 
not-medium stunt. 

I know, I know. 
If it's not to your 
taste I will beg you 

salt it. 

The next big classical music craze

Is bound to be straight-swipe 
but obvious plagiarisms 
of famous, public domain 
symphonies 

right through. Note for note 
but changed enough you 
can recognize you couldn't 
quite sue, even if

it was protected!

"Hey, that's it? I know the score 
on this famous movement. Watch me
name it in one-"-wait. No, that's

definitely not even it, by slight 
but definitive twist and spin. Such 
daft touch. It cannot be that the
whole stuck-up struck up band
keeps making the same mistake

simultaneously right through!

Synchronicity is everything plus
a pretty good police album, but 
that teamwork mistake theory
blows the coincidence hunch 
right off the drawing board 

in a point-blank fusillade 
of the whole detective 
force. These dudes 
and gumshoe dames 
are far better clued 
than to mistake their 
cue in this case!  

But as the music upwells
and unfolds in pomp-punch, famous-
lite-like smooth soaring swoop and
stale crunch, canned-grandiose 
yet still grandeur-esque, 

re-fried to ironic flourish and blest
with a dirty finish lingering in mind's
ear's mouth, you can tell aghast that's 

exactly what they do-over. 

You even recall the name.

No mistaking this! Oh wait that's
film scores. Nevermind. It's been 
done to death within one's own 
living memory. 

I just heard Some Also-Thus Spake
cut-rate Zarathustra, AKA the big 
bone-ape-moon theme from 2001, 

done up like elevator music only
full orchestra for real, in one long 
blast from the bottom of the Shaft
theme (which if so, I can dig it),
to smash continuously through 

the top of my inner building! Like 
a one-headshot kill of a moon-rocket
slingshot Dennis the Menace might

have grow up to compose like a full-on
hack Maestro, if Mister Wilson's son 
hadn't hacked up a time machine 
to poison Dennis at birth. 

Wise move, for classical purists 
arguably. 

That piece just now 
was obviously all done
in one otherwise
boring and idle
afternoon by dark 
dumb crafty arts,
helped along by
the devil's own
groping and probing
hands (always

handy for any but a real
die-cast hard procrastinator),

boosted high-enough
for the notes to chime
hilariously off. I say,

what a low, funny trick to pull
on all the (obviously real live!)
musicians who sat down for that!

Only to find at a page-flapping
jaw-dropping glance, they knew
the score was wrong-shifted
two beats per note every bar!
Just enough in fact

to innocuously pose
unaccusable, plausibly 

innocent of grab, but
no. Unmistakably shame
-free foul-banal. It's

been done. We've been
had. But it was actually
quite thrilling in its caught
-kept time! It moved me 

professionally
and unprofessionally, 
as a fan and critic, almost
to puke into the depths 
of abyss Nietzsche

too longingly gave his 
male gaze up into, 

finding a pretty cute
belly-button there. Pushing it,
mistaking it for a soul 

too-soon (and by rumor
alone) declared 

alive   

Who said that? I swear verbatim

"So if you intend to finish 
that protected wolverine 
who just tried to steal 
your snickers, you'd 

better hit it."

I swear
that's verbatim 
eavesdrop on 
some dude's random 
youtube binge! Just 

later at the end: 

"And that rhino 
goes extinct on the 
spot!"

In between 
something really 
enthusiastic about beer. 

That's the limit to which 
my attention gets plucked, 
stuck or switched when 

I'm busy trying to write 
this damn poem

A crisis of infinite births

We come in this world to find 
every one
of our infinite supply
of holes
to fill, and parts
to plunge

in a world

of painfully shy 
infinite demand
to give, or pass,
or kill, for mercy 

so-called. Or for love 
so firstsighted in backhanded 
glancing compliments and 
a never-ending pull of pluck 
and pule, still finding such
lessons left in some

lessening rule. 

We do find one is 
proved quite exceptional, 

at that!

If we check, 
look, reason and
weigh the fact.

To prompt acts, plump  
offers, declines, just 
or fair, really rarely
accepting what comes. 

Tolerating sometimes. 

We proceed to enact 
some tight-lit one-superstar
porn science art craft jam! As
we keep such a world

of suns, so bright
in mind's-eye, so far 
all swaddled in void,
at arm's-distance we

fly,
flee,
and find in flight, 

perchance, opportunity's
square! By pegging around,
We swoop to bear! In one

life-changing long
death dive, faring 
forth like hive-minding
bees with honeyed minds,  

all quick-fix stuck in one
high worldwide night's sky 

to supply (at one's ease)
wonder-fodder on the hoof,
on the sly! So daydreams 

breed, brooding please
yes, please. What time

we have left! 

Don't look. Never check 
the clock 'til you've one, 
or not on your watch 
shall the bells be wrung!

In this dawning dusk. 

O, what shall we do 
next for a magic trick
or comedic stand 

to follow that up?  

Let's welcome all clap 
sarcastic and slow, and 
see who leaps
up to stand 
and go.

Let the audience 
glow
in mind

right now. 

Let each being
judge do. Do, 
do! That's the law! 
It's allowed, as we 
each all deem, wish,
want, take, break,

give and plow.

Are 
you
anyone up?
Have a hand, I can
help you up there!

From way down, 

how easy that is. Could 
you give me a lift 
if I push? 

Such fools 
for love plus all 
equivalent 'cause

grow wise in the ways 
they find by pause:

this one full, 
that half, and those:

are one empty
charlatan, narcissist
posse contest, so
paraded in pose. O,

behold now shocked!
Aspire maybe to become
publicist to such clowns. 

For free! 

The cost of admission, 
is always big scott free
guilt, if you did it

and can prove who you
caught or kilt. 

The game part was 
over at birth. Save 
the afterparty life 

'til we've partied 
hard work, such 
as is our wont 

or want 
or curse. 

Let's bless 
and honor 

each flying  
butterbug
of a moment 

we net. 

mid-crisis grin

Today was my breaking pivot point. 
It's my all-time jam plus what's left 
of it. You're on it if you can catch
and run! Have a seat. We'll fit. As

bandwagons go, we are all courses 
set, with sensors on kill and stun 
and phasers to paint the stage. Sound 

fun? 

My inner kirk said hey let's sing 
My inner Spock called fascinating
My inner Sulu said your shields gave in 

My inner bones said we're Dead Jim,
with his mid-crisis
shocked-smug 
dry cocky 

doctorly grin 

Strong answer

If you ask me, the candidate
is an anti-business kook!

He's the kind of...you know
the real heroes? The real
American heroes?

Yeah! You know! The
real persons, women
and men who - look,

these are the folks
who put it on the line
out there, baby. He thinks

they're the problem.

He thinks he's the solution.
If you ask me, what's he
running for? Senator?
Yeah, State. That's worse.
The lower you are, the
closer you are to the people
and the more damage you
can do in-close, where
real jobs and homes
are. I'd rather have
him in the white

house frankly, surrounded
by sycophants, disconnected
from everything and told
rumors! A State Senator

is the absolute worst
place for a sicko like
that taking positions
on our children, on our
schools - on gun nuts! An
anti-woman, ant-man, anti-
human anti-religious wait
okay is he? Probably goes
to one extreme or another,
playing it damn close to
the vest 'til he gets in.

Playing both sides for a
lose-lose win. A demagogue
tapping the public vein for
whatever drugs he can suck
Dracula-style - our loss, his
gain, high on popular blood
borne pathogens carrying who
knows what over the finish line
for a touchdown! Law! Law! Bad
law, probably - scoring deep in
the peoples' end zone for future
travesties of injustice, cops forced
to police such a decision-maker
like that, who'd vote for this clown
to be up in there pulling the switches
that rule fates blindfolded, seeking
to game the opinion polls only to

pervert the public will? We're talking
about a man here - if you or he can

only identify as such! - whose
opinions on freedom I wouldn't
even die to hear! Let alone have
to live by, towing some crooked
line of what he voted by. You get

a guy like that, he could help steer
our whole part of the country
right into and over a pothole. He
- what did you say his name

was? Yeah.

That guy. He sucks, and if I voted
for him I'd consider myself a loser,
but that's my opinion. Oh you like
him huh? Well, let's not shake hands,

but agree to shake our heads squinting
and mumbling in disbelief and disgust
at each other

for once.

Reasonable people can agree to disagree,
but that guy is a menace whose supporters
should get lost on the way to the polls! Shoot
him right in the foot on election day, let

him limp the last lap to glory,
if he's got any in him. Let

the people decide what kind
of clown this guy is, I say.

causes from luck

No luck in science,
just a whole lot of art and craft
in luck found before by aft,
in the sum of causality we
don't know. When events
transpire, say Hey!

That's so! 

If it's really great,
and not like fate's style
where we're always
concerned, put it down
with a smile
and toast. To
unknowns! - in
a twinkling
wink.

There's 
no science in luck,
but we sure 
can't seem
to think. 

unevenly Inspired by Netflix capsules

Decades after a near-tragic
accident caused Jillan to go
off his path of destiny, he
strikes out on his own to
bury the discovered secret
of his forgotten love's dumb
past in a lost-weekend binge 
of hard alcohol and herbal
supplements that threatens 
to last the rest of his life. 

With no one else to turn 
away from, a chance visit
to a carnival palmist shows
Mairey Shales that she's been
holding the key to a century's
old mystery in the palm of her
hand all along.  

Forced to fight or give up
on dreams, Alek and Kayla
find themselves on a roller
coaster ride of fight, fall out
and make up on the way to 
the ground that leaves both 
severely injured, but blessed 
by a generous settlement 
neither had counted on.
Spoiler. 

Former action star Guen Bissle
punches and kicks her way
through a tight-knit web of
friends and allies on the way
to a showdown with the
unsuspected mastermind who
guided her rise, and who may
spell the key to her downfall
in this camp masterpiece of trust,
friendship, betrayal, and a magical
realist take on what circles of friends
can do closing in on you. 

A paranoid moron, Jock Stylo finally 
goes off his meds and confronts the 
real people he's known are against 
him - accidentally uncovering every 
real conspiracy there is, cuing them 
to destroy each other in a vicious 
stunned-awake rivalry that knows 
no bounds - and leaves the earth 
cleansed. 

A bigot, Trisha Gooms has a major 
attitude scheduled when her bikini 
doesn't measure up to the beach 
she's picked for an idyllic romantic 
getaway act from the lover who always 
hated her best, to deserve her worst. 

A. Hitler, incensed at accurately
biased depictions of him he'd
dreamed in bang-on prophecy
the night before the day he'd
penciled in for the big suicide
attempt, goes mad scientist
in a heartbeat, calling upon
his top cryptotech Nazi
braintrust to invent a
time machine so he can
kill himself as an innocent
newborn, alive with promise,
instead of the world's most
vindictive and notorious failed
crank tyrant maniac, just to see
what happens.

Innocent recommendation gone intuitively & pedantically askew

"Do you watch MacDonald 
& Dobbs?

I think it's the best British 
crime-solving odd cops 
drama I've known. Funny 
realist, too, maybe really 
funniest and realist, in terms 
of punch, heft and skew - or
if
perhaps not "best"
objectively... 

(what is?)

...then a favorite with a bullet 
aimed slow & true towards 
the top of that chart, midflight 
to bullseye, and as time goes 
we'll see how far straight 
up into it embeds!" 

"Which, now?"

"Well, it's hard to say 
between best by specifiable
metrics and fave by hard 
weighed hand-waved 
heartfaced sentiment-"

"No. Which show or book?"

"Show!" Pause. "I did say 'watch'-"

"Which one?" 

"MacDonald & Dobbs!" 

"...Which one are you?"

...

...

"Clever."

__________

"Oh it's 'Dodds,' by the way." 
Pause. "And McDonald." 

"Oh have it your way!"

"That's BK, dude, not McD." 

"British Knights...?" 

[ reader: an old-school 
athletic shoe and possibly 
attire brand ]

[ the poet will presume 
everyone
got
the reference ]

...

...

"Dumb." 

how ya like me now

Live Bait

A thought. Isn’t
any ignorance bait,
for anyone willing with
remedy? Ignorance is remedied
not by ignorance (e.g. ignoring 
it), but by laying truth next

to ignorance and error

in good light. Preferably
live bait - but the fish that
pulls whole boats or fishers
under and eats them doesn’t
mind arts n’ crafts facsimiles.

That fish just loves hooks! A
tangy taste acquired, for steel barb
with line drawn taut behind

Gotcha.
Gulp

Still hungry though. 
Perchance a bigger fisher?

Perchance a bigger boat. Ignorance
metabolizes to knowledge, error 
to guidance, if one is voracious 
and has the taste to tell. 

important big change

important
big
change comes 
slow, you all

or big breakthrough 
means that we dropped 
the ball every day 
before, since

that fact was 
a fact. We have very 
small means to excuse
ourselves from that. 

See fact is straight Y/N
punch, and 
anything you got much 
less is just hunch. 

If the proposition flies 
it will show by eyes breaking 
minds behind goosy and loose, 
tough guys. Not a show 

of hands watching each 
others' heads nod. Hell, 
we'd be better led
by the will
of God. 

If a boat's

If a boat's big enough 
it becomes a nation,
suitable for all declared 
wars and such, but on 
the way up to that, it 
must ship. Out, in 
many ports through 
storm and shit. I

know that's it. How 
it works, I'd say. 
I think. Well, if 
not, whose to say 
out there otherwise? 
Sea ahoy! Call maritime
law on all shores you 
can reach with a crabbed

martial claw of some 
size, and sigh. With all 
this dry land, we could 
love it much more. If 
it weren't for the sand

in our sealost shoes
and souls unspanned.  

all the questions

I have who, what, when, 
where sometimes,
and why, how yields
up small surprise, but
still I don't know just why 
I ask. Or who, where, what, 
when. So, let's pass 

to the one with the answers, 
then. Just tell! 

If I've got to ask, you will 
know it well. If you cannot 
say, I will know 

the
reason
why. Or a
couple few, anyway.
Yes plus no, low, 
high, equals 

five

minus three, 
in a case like this.
But I'm not quite 
sure whose case

that is.  

tough, guy

Stellar and satellite configurations

When I get on top 
of you, you're 
the world and when 
you get on top of me, 
you are sun, or moon 
depending on cowgirl 
face or base. And when
...ahh,
I don't even know what 
that is. 
Just ace or service return, 
and if we can't tell which 
or who's up/down/back 
first? That's a tennis match, 
I guess. I know it's love, 
but by crook, snatch, catch 
I couldn't rule anything out 
of bounds now. Some referee 
I am, plowing downfield to
score, and 
how. 

How many hours after?

So. An hour after eating, right? 
No matter what you ate, except 

poisoned? How many hours 
after drinking, then? You know 
what I mean, oh no "depends how
many drinks...?" Come on, 

just stop and start counting. That's 
a fairer way, surely. How many hours 
after throwing up? How many hours 
after respirating fluids 'til you can't 
get up?

How many hours after dying? 

I say, there should be one rule 
for this stuff. Not ten or depends.
Keep trying, I guess. Keep seeking 
and find that rule. What works. 

For everything, then 
go jump a lake, stick the dock 
and run tell the earth. 

Kiss the land dry, first 
maybe

And count at least two pigs 
skying around, and if 

it happens in hell, take 
thermometers, please. 

It's empirical results we 
want for this jeez. 

A recent spike in wildlife reports bewilders

What is the reason for the immediate
misunderstanding of wolves in the media?
Do we wish we were them, or
only the reporters? All edging
too close for wolves' comfort 
and pleasure at the same time, getting
bit, eaten or chased away. What

is all the sudden interest? 

Why 

Do our channels and feeds stream 
overflowing with wildlife interest 
stories - and you know damn well 

I'd have done a better job! Better
than that reporter and camera
crew just did! On those wolves? They 

botched it. Acted up all wrong, trya
be all fancy wild, casual like all beings
are buddies really, on the winning inside.
An overly presumptuous familiarity, we
thinks. So apparently did the wolves,
and got their points across, and to cutting
and deep effect. Red rents are paid in blood,
and honestly: deservedly, dear.

Why do some people come without honor
to nature, or lack natural respect?

Man, 

it's obvious those wolves would've loved 
me. I'd have shown the whole world 
how to run. 

Wild and free, but at whatever cost
we run. 

being dangerous

Self is where we practice
at being dangerous. As inner
aim grows fierce and completely
accurate and/or misfortunate, we
learn why: "Oh man

I don't want
to do anybody
else like that." 

Masochism. The self-defeating,
self-alienating inner critic flogs
us to empathy! If we care
enough. Some say too

much.

Can't do so bad worse

Honestly I thought
the garbage pail kids were
a lame attempt to make horribler
what was already so damn bad
I screamed. It's like

- you can't run spoof or satire on
what's so base grotesque, folks.
Some people caught all the kitsch
of cabbage patch, and missed
the point in our souls, looking at that
soul-suck dreadful valley of wannabe
cute. 

It puts me in mind of R.L. Stine
and Steve King, of Austin Powers
and James Bond. You didn't need
to riff such Beavis and Butthead
DUH-NAH-HAHA licks and stuff
on what was already so much
worse (or horror, which can be
fine done right! I don't diss King
or Stine, here - it's a tonal critique)
anyway. 

I digressed,
that's what. 

Hut for two

We built this house 
out of earthquake 
bricks, conflagration 
straw and fire sticks. 
Took a break (well-laid) 
in foundational rut, stood
far enough back and shelled
the whole place with 
mortar and such, 

and 

the whole thing fell up! 
Flew together at once. 
A mansion for two, 
in our minds we trust,
in our hearts we've flown, 
in our beings we screw 
as bored we lay down, 
we've papered all walls 
with our painted cries 
and sticky smiles, and 
pouty frown. Such house
we have built to the last,

and we'll crowd all cozy 
and fast, as we are 
allowed. 

To this wonderful welcome 
door, we come in.
All the wolves 
in the world
at our backs
can stew! As soon as we've 
got the chimneys in. 

The supplier says 
give me a week or two, 
you guys. You sure

you're contracting 
this thing yourself? 

Show 'nuff. That's 
the ways we were 
always wise too late 
to change all the locks
and stuff. 

My convenience commands.

I have so much convenience 
just now, anytime, and so 
little time for that drama of 
yours that wants not for me 

to leap up so soon. Right now!
To the task once requested for
sure, and supposed to be done 
at some point.

I refuse. For it shall be done
before this moment's 
out! 

What you asked is convenient
the moment you asked. It is not
convenient to memorize. Don't 
pout, and please
shut up your
future traps
of what's better
for me, if you know

what
is better for me,
just ask. 

Surprise! 

It's gone! Done ricochet 
style right quick! Three walls
and a rung like a wind chime 
strung bell, on a ladder scaled
sure up and down like hell!
Whiz-bang, ding-dang done!
And so always sure: this moment:
just now. 

Thing finished galore!
So,

Next?

Any thing?  

OK-A. Now's
a fine time again:
the best. To come
roosting and rest
and sing. 

I can stall
if you must, but
it shall not serve
well

for me
to rely on how
memory notes won't
cling, get lost, fall off,
recur too late and swerve,
leaving me 

feeling like some idiot 
bird! Who sang "I'll do it!" 

And then flew off. All because 
I was trying to humor who 

would much rather I wait,
for convenience sake. You'd
rather I not hop  to it, launch
down
from
my
airy high, shrieking eagle's
eye-piercing paralyzing
love-war cry, storming
down on feather soft,
in a hard death-dive,

swooping up, dove caught!
Fell beak, first try! 

I hope that's a fair
enough ask. In fact,
I don't think I shall
ever or ought
ask that,
at all.

That's
your job,
just any ol' time
you call! Tell, ask
wish, or whim!

Wham! There's
the ball. I will always
fall in, fall to. Fall full
upon it, begun and seen
done all through.

And so ended in one's
most convenient
time: the best moment
ever comes running in
through mine.

This one.

I shall take as-given 
and do daily done, 
any time you could ask 
someone. Ask me! Ooo. 
Me. I am pleased to please, 
and so served to serve, for
I help myself to such helpings,
first second, and done
by your word.  

At ease.

Your suggestion
I wait is not well, 
or deserved. If you 
mind, let me take 
this time, and keep 

my word
thoughtlessly, 
and so fine. 

It goes on down,

So much is holding me back, 
since I have to do this 
before I can do that, and so
it goes on
down. 

It's actually harder
to do nothing
than it is 
to do
everything.

As the load of tomorrow 
grows in mind and 
comes each day,
laying piles of sad head
on your shoulder, for one 

of your split-personality 
angels to bear, or dare
to tread in scold, or 

care in console. On my own
heart and head be it! I can't
bear down much, still. It
seems I bear up just a bit
more than most. 

It's a doleful thought, 
when I find such cheer 
as others around me 
crash down, disappear.

Oh, I hurt the most, do 
I? Pah to that hah! Bah
sheep, shoot bulls, I 

don't.  

But I

will bear you up 
in mind and heart, 
for as long as I live, 
all shoulder and art 
and craft of tongue 
and body rush, leg
stance, two is best 
for this one. In
circumstance we
find where 

we've come. 

As much pain

I wish I could put as much pain 
in my eyes 
as you just caused me. 
Cruelly

I won't try.

an attempt to recompose a poem from memory lost, tracing back by general theme

Nope. 

I ain't got it 

sorry 
I
thought

hive clip

I have always a lively respect 
for guns. It's at least why 
I'm here now, 
in sum
and with all
my parts, so oiled
and cocked. 
I expect
I'd be taken 
to pieces, once

shot.

But
I have 
a still livelier calm
for bees. Only

been 
stung
once!
It was not 
my slap, you see.
Just a helpful bro smacked
my neck, killing my

little friend 
unawares, stinging me

in death.

It's the
second sting

that comes, (so I'm given
to understand) 

could kill.
Not so with bullets!

One shot 
might do.

Others might 
not be so
allergic 
as you. 

antecrastic proactive response

In task begun 
we find what's left 
that wasn't on the list 
when we started best. 

team play

I got so focused on being done
I lost control of the moment you won,
but 
you're a good sport, as we always see. 
I'll perform the forfeit and come
home free

Next time, we'll see.

Take lessons behind, 
and bring them on forward 
to bear and bind like bee
and bird, to win 

our share 
of honey and laurels 
beyond compare

'cause you 
are the only being to do. 
And my being
done 

will never be
through,
'cause we've never 
got nothing better 
to do 

than being won 
in pursuit of
one,
by two.

fork you

I'm rolling causality's forking paths 
forward West towards so many 
setting suns.

Not one
of them reaches
horizons yet, not even

the one I'm on.

So all
of my days
are not yet done.
So all of my days
must go.

In time I will find

your direction
again, and

if you are there, 
I will know. 

peopling

I people myself 
with loves gone bye.
They're here with me 
killing me 'til I die, 
to bring things to life. 

I people myself with
lives come near. They're
taking my life through
its paces dear, to bring 
things right.  

I people myself, people
people me. And I people
them right back. We can
see even now from here,
we shall cease to be. But
before we do,

let's be. 

Just we, 
you and I 
peopling up 
some us between,
'til the day we bye
or die. We'll 
have been.  

Secrets of life

A girl wears a bra to keep her tits in 
as they grow. At first. Later she finds
other reasons. A boy wears drawers 
at first, as a matter of convention. 
At first. 

Later we all put so much
on top of it but for now, well!

These things are private 
matters. Underthings  - hardly 
mentionable, even if
some
are quite remarkable, have
you seen? I saw a pair once
of panties: camo drab green
with a cartoon brown dog in
drab army helmets, kneeling
and shouldering gray bazookas!
Same dog

all over, taking aim
at self to a point called
overkill. Bra 
didn't match,
but how
could it? 

Not things to have thought
or purpose about,
unless 

shared.
That's the secret:
shared. I share - you
share mine, what I have
uncovered to show, brought
to light, I'll share yours, likewise.
And 

oh.

so otherwise. So! Spill! "Why do you 
really wear a bra?" he asks, breathing 
not at all just then. She knows - but 
what will she tell? "Why do you 
really wear drawers," she breathes, 
smiles turning. 

A question with a question, he
thinks! Panting inwardly, outwardly.
Not

very
fair. 

He doesn't know why
he wears
drawers!
He 
hasn't
found

that out
yet. 
Not a thing to think 
about is it? One leg, two -
it's the trousers that catch
you up, then, if anything.
Drawers, you could put on
backwards.

Now

he'll have to. An impressive 

response at a crucial 
moment: that's always 

the trick turned, always 
some brand new way.

Now 

conditions are not  best fit
for thought, caught 

up all off-topic. 
What do you 

mean there,
bra? 

She 

knows. 

She isn't spilling 
yet. Suddenly he knows. 
"I wear them to take 
them off." Calm fact
from a man, sure. "In
urgent or crucial moment

to give, 

show or
share. 

She beams, and laughs
and gives: her, too. Well
among other things.  

We keep our bits 
in there. 

Troll song. OR: Some sweet naïve paean

I'm doing things of my own worth 
and that my mate, miss, match is 
why I smile. I'm beating you 

at my own damn game again. 
Come contest. 

Play awhile.

_____

It's not the same 
you've played before. 
It never is. You make 
your rule. And I break 

mine. To dig your call, 
your slide, your cool 
damn self and all. 

But 
you
would have to show me 
that. I wouldn't quite 
believe the fact, unless 
you freely give whatevs 
you wanted to. 

That's hearts 
with heads. 

Comments on own post #nth

This is one
high-falootin’ rodeo
(DAYYYYY-o!) of
bucking bull-shush,
pardners.

I assure you one-to-all,
I mean it in finest candor
and high-horespersonship

I can manage.

One need not practice upon
wild bareback or saddled,-addled-and-bit
destrier steeds to know chivalry’s a bit of a nag.

Yet its Ye Olde benighted high
ideals goad me still.
To charge!

Charge still? Yeah.

A nice feat, that. 

No critique could save this show

For
no

critique 
could save
this show. 

'Cause I'm the artist, 
man. I know. 'Cause 
I'm a fan, aff-ish-nyah 
-doe. No cognoscenti, 
snob! Although, 

my rigor taste 
critique sits foul
upon my works, 
upon me now. 

The better part 
of crit is praise! 
I honor it in 
accurate ways.

Which is just why 
and to be fair, 
I call this foul 
- thankfully rare. 
But that sure was.  

A critic great 

can easily see 
I am a so-so artist, 
me.

 
And
I'm a
critic, great
and proud. However good
it does me now. Humiliate 

this humble star! 
'Fore lofty crowd! 

But wait, except - they
sure do think I joke. 

Well I (would) never,
and I'll never yet! Jump 
up such nerve, such gall 
to stand up here
to get 

laughed at!
I hope, 
I hope we'll
laugh 

with it, someday. 

Some joke

Call curtain bowing down, 
call all a play, and let's 
get butts off
seats. 

File out, go 
now 

and leave 

Me misery, no company, 
in solitude's where wallow 
is. There's awful play in it, 

you see

And I play not. 
That's just the biz

To the tune of mi mi mi mi mi mi mi

Me, me me me, me, me meeeeee.
You you you you you you yooooo.
He he he hee hehe heee!

What are we going to dooo?

We we we we we we we. That's what!
Woo woo woo woo woo woo woooo! 
She she sheesh e, she, ah, sheeee 

-it! 

Get your words set beforehand, 
romantic troubadours. Ad hoc 
serenades on freestyle croon 
mode oft slip comic, skew
tragic with bathos, how?
Banal, man. It gangs
aft, oft 
and

agley 

Voluntary Mandate

Happiness is optional. 
Contentment is comparative. 

Truth is relative to reality,
absolutely. 

Beauty is good;
Good, beautiful. 
That's all you need
is love, plus all you want
in war. One to six of one,
half a none to the other,

possibly. 

Anyway I do. Idiot 
misspelled is 
I do it. 

Things Ahoy!

Dads take such joys
in reality. In things ahoy!
Remark them, now
and then, again.

"A little leezaard!"
One says,
two look.
Sho' 'nuff.

There's a lizard, there, by
the nook. Or,

out on the road, reading
random signs.

Out loud.

A serene
announcement
chimes or booms, proud
of business and literacy!
"Marks Pizza,"

...bit flat unimpressed, perhaps.
Or "John's Dale’s Public High
School," cool. So cool low-key,
like a mischief god. "There's
a Sam!" "Wally-World!"

That's code for Sam's
Wholesale Club, boys
and girls, and
Walmart,
for
the people,
so you know.

An announcement, just
keeping eyes and road
lively, I guess!

All dads
do this right,
don't they?

It's an art. Mark
things. On-time.
Spot-on. Look at

that. Saw it first, it’s

oh wait, it’s an obvious porn store,
now that it’s proclaimed aloud. Bad look.
Or
(if dad's on whim) it's a cloud-shaped
cloud

up there! To him. Just so
it is, in fact. Well-marked!
Good catch. So it is, so
we go. All just
what it seems.
That's pretty
much how

I learned to know.

Well, then I'd
go ask mom

reality check.
supreme
surprise

on some suchlike
otherwise subtle
things. To ask
why is always
not always
wise,

but I’d go
ask mom, sometimes.
She tries.

The big which-is-it-ist

Being wishy-washy, 
or indecisive
or
wavering

between two rough
or equally good, bad
or indifferent options 

isn't the same 

as spotting and knowing 
the good, the bad and the 
ugly, beautiful in each, oh. 
By mark and metric, lens
and frame: deep basis, high
merit, spike and abyss, and 

well, there's a lot there. To split 
to gauge, to separate and weigh, 
and well, sometimes you're like, 

OK. Assessment complete! 

That's it. No decision. I 

suspend judgment, 
pending further findings 
perhaps, meanwhile 

The features and aspects 
of these things are evident 
and comparison diminishes 
neither. Only perhaps 
enlarges the mind 
holding both! 

"Ok
fine! Which
is it!"

Pick! 

Neither one. First this, 
in this moment for known 
purpose, than that 
in that moment 
for 
different purpose. 

"That's
Wishy
-washy."

No, 
just
a fairly
measured  

willy-nilly
sum divided
by
nitty-gritty 

canny wit 
and instinct 
to spot purpose, 
find 
fit, 

maybe

What muggles get

I could do with a few fewer
Harry Potter reaction shots of
wonder and glee upon seeing 
something incomprehensibly 
horrible

happening
to whom in
that moment 
"deserved" it. 

It's a pretty fine line
between schadenfreude
and sadism when you're
the one doing it. Anyway. 

It's probably accurate.
About what magic
would really be.

Nobody learns to control
themselves, just
calling it karma, 
blaming the victim 

as usual 

each of us!

The walking epicenter 
of judgment and mayhem, 
wondering with glee 
how and why that 

happened.
Of course, 
except

when it
hits 
us.

beer & a cigarette

A nice, cold beer 
& a cigarette 
are the worst two pleasures 
on earth, combined. 

First you have to light the cig 

- drawing safe-distant flame 
by breath, through a paper tube -
it's lit! Now, you put it in the beer.

Now they're combined!

Just what do you propose to do 
with it? Do you really want to die?

Don't sweat. Pretty close, if you 
drink that shit. What 

a filth habit. 

You have ruined one perfectly 
good cold beer with one 
imperfect and bad 
cigarette. 

Thanks, dear. 

The egoest.

Max Stirner is made 
of Stirner stuff. Quite 
a large forehead
on that one!
Such guff.
O, the universe
all is thine property?
That's one hell
of a bluff, please. 

Take it from me.

It was just all yours, bro.
Had to be yours. With
that case you put? Trust
me. I won't quibble such 

score.

You said it once.

You said it once. 

I heard it three times. It's a
trick
of my ears, your tongue,
my mind. 

Our hearts
do echo resounding
chimes, such ways
as whisper and cry
can find. 

Say it once
again dear, I call
you as well, as you
call me dear 

even damn, dear
hell. Fuck 

Shit, what were we
and will think of next? 
I lie hung so 
upon your lips. 

Is it wrong?
That I find
it blest

Rude visitor up

Rude visitor up
all strange in the house 
at such hours and still moments!
Let me not tell you, no one 
being there to hear it: 

I'm one glum inner hideous 
presence, slumming and stalking 
and slanging around every house 
I've ever been in. And keep 

getting asked back!
People really 
have strange taste

in me, or so seems. 

Seems strange, 'til I get 
to know their ideas and sense, 
maybe. Then it fits! Still a touch 
perversely, betimes. What a kink 
and peeve setup. Just druthers 
and jam, I guess 

when it rhymes. 

How can you possibly not
tell how little I love your flaws? Only
in some cases! I so love them
in others. Or, how much
I loathe your clothes
on! Maybe, 

I look too polite. I assure you 
often, by my acts: I am not 
in the slightest, only 
by courtesy. 

So, a right house guest I make, 
at that! If only since I learned 
to treat all as guest, and welcome 

to what's already yours. 

I'm a bat 
with a belfry yet 
so underexplored.

I mean you. 
Not your house. 
I don't poke around in 
that. That's your business, 
I pace mine while waking, 
is all. 

Nobody seems to know, 
but it's cool. Keep one eye
on the ball, and whatever 

house rule. 

Prosocial hazing rite

Let's gather all the bullies 
and haze them hard. Tell 
them each what's-what, 
plus right from wrong, 
and guard ourselves by
dominating them! By force 
and threat of abuse in pen! 

That's a cage we can all ink 
anyone in, plus as a fallback 
beat swords to shards and stake 
shares in the crops we sow, 
sow, so. 

Like feverish sows, hogs
and otherwise pigs, we 
deserve to go big 
and boss our trough! 

No bullies in here, 
just us chickens, hoss!

Got a bit for me? Here's 
a yoke for you. Let's get 
the eggs laid and cocks 
crowed on cue. 

Family style too. Or: sacred/profane

My dear old dad 
is the mother fucking man. 
He never beat me up 
but he still can. 

And way back when I had 
no kung fu, he schooled me
in what's cool about Jackie 
Chan!
Even though dad 
is no kung fu dude. He 
either knew karate 
or tea kwon doo, and 
I can never remember 
what color belt he had 

- but he's got a black belt
in being a dad!

Dear old mom is one 
saintly sort. And whoever 
calls her martyr on that 
we'll snort!
She never sacrificed-self
at your expense. I shall
have you at the mouth,
with a foil-laid
fence!

Oh no
no touché,
don't confess.
That's a stall. 

I did never 
call you wrong. 
What you said! 
That's all. 

What I said, 
that's all also, too. 
All that was. 

Take judgment 
by the roots, find 
juice and buzz! 

Or just kith and kin, 
and so may be kind. 
Be fools for love, plus 
all cause of equivalent 
find! There's no fooling
in such good stuff. 

Dear old we's only 
here for some time.
Had enough? 

We'll be here all weak!
If the gate keeps full.
Let's get butts in seats,
or just split!

Call bull.
Like mom and dad
did! In diverse respects
and ways, you remember
those, too? Good times,

let's say. 

Oh confess, it was
just a touch. Wasn't it?
Maybe just, just a bit.

Just much. 

Some sucking catharsis

Let the water wash
away shit piss and corruption.
Or at least the former two. 
Such action takes suction 
and pressure, hydraulics 

does
for sewage and drinks
alike! 

To get traction 
sometimes 
you have to spike the punch, 
cough, hold out your hand 
and wink, or some like 
to think so. 

It stinks 

but we knead the dough.
As it grows and rises up free, 
'til we're kneed in the crotch!
Is that nuts or not? 

Sometimes you're feeling it, 

and sometimes you don't. 

Raise a cup, or just pass. 
Your pour! I'll toast, or 
I won't, as is always my 
either/or wont:

"To the rich and the poor, 
all brag no boast."  

Exeunt.  

Soothsum

What worlds of worth are implied
in these words! Quit winking and
hinting, maybe you'll be heard. 

Keep wit brief! But explain 
yourself well. Catch can. When
challenged or questioned just 
run like hell. Fair plan!

Such go-bys and rules are words 
to the wise, likewise, otherwise 
and unwise, equally. Don't make it
your habit or practice at all, if 
advice is only what they
would do, 

not me. Is it you? 

Pick and choose! It's all free
over here - or go there! 
Stake worth, post bond, 
pay fine and fee!

Or aghast at the price
of admission, just fight
and (as always: /or),
flee!

Feels free. And
it sometimes is.
It is all in the dream 
and the wish, 'til you 
wake. A curious business 

it is and may be, to befall.
Where we're all free to pay,
more or less 

it was our free call. 

Whatever was not? Hey, 
that happened to me 
too, pal. 

It's a privilege, and 
sort of right,
somehow!

Family style. Or: shit, piss & corruption

"shit, piss and corruption," as dad 
always says! Or said. No,

false. He'd only say
it 
when I said "shit."

So he'd say it always, 
when mom wasn't around. 

Good systems, we each
and always find.
And found.

the big not-a-game

The generalist and the specificeer.
We have to be both to fare, we fear.
The generalist knows what humanity's
like. The specificeer says "Oh dear!
Not right!
I just met one
not like that at all! The generalist's
truth's a pack of lies!" The generalist
quips:
"You dropped the ball. We go
by groups to narrow our eyes. But
anyone can be exceptional!"

The specificeer snorts! "That's rich!
What good is it? Might as well
go individually."

"But then you won't know
at a glance what
they're like.'

Let's admit probably
neither one is right.

For right never rhymed
with like, did it? But
squint with your ears
and blink with your
eyes
and the mind behind:
you could almost find
fit!

If you do,

that's an ongoing juggling
act. All balls and pins
and hays and stacks
up up and away, plus
here, neither there!
In a moment we get
quite bad at that

in fact.

So we rue every miss
and drop in botch job
flail to catch what they're
not, but it's worth it when,
clued and cued - wild
guess plus gut,

we catch!
As catch can. And
are caught.

Humans are wiggly and cool,
we find.

Humanity is as a rule quite fine,
only riddled exceptionally
with snares and catches
of balls quite foul, hit

square.
Which leaves us
stopped short by a wild
left field full of truth
innaplied both sane
and real and beyond
one's reach! Far out,
safe at home we reel
as we teach ourselves

what we've known:

It's not fair. That's life.

Every lesson we learn
from specific one applied
going forward to all, will
burn some times: each
exceptional time we're
wrong. But if we can't apply
what we've leaned to whoever
we meet, what the hell! Do we
have to go on?

Just a bit.
Up ahead, then quit for a spell
to regather our head.
It's all mostly same beans,
stacks of hay and pins. These
moments are balls

in the air. And alive
with dread and potentially
joy. Sometimes, we catch
Attagirl, attaboy! We save!
Recognize and react, to score!

One in wins.

One would be damn daft
to ask in demanding ways
for more.

It's the big ol' not-a-game!
There are made-up rules
laid in made-up minds, plus
none otherwise. Pick a side,
that's fine - just choose! Choose
just! Just fair, so to find
some great divides, to stake
stance in lines. Then - perhaps?

Call the other team yours,
likewise! Otherwise, they're
theirs. It's an offer at best,
to decline is fine. No cheat!
Some exceptional few of us all
will join in with you. In such
drawn lines called, we can all
go screw! Or tap ourselves in
by hammer or drive. We
are all in this win.

We are all on this ball.

We'll be playing our own
game anyway, then. But
wait.

Is it fair?

If it's not, that's life. Strike
true!

Deal square.

If the other one fouls?
Learn a lesson or two
against that one, now
and then. Not all. 

Be prepared to stand firm!
Or bend! And how. 

We are on this ball. 

bad yelp

I hate when I go to a restaurant 
and 
it's all these fucking sociopaths 
in there. I'm like "what" 
"how did I know that?" and 
"why do they let them in here?"
It's not just 
restaurants, it's all over. But 
you'd think a restaurant 
could do a better job. 
Put up a 
cardboard window sign 
or something. No dogs 
or sociopaths 
or something 

up all this

"Have you been up all this time?"
Nah, I'm down right now. Down 
for anything. "No I mean awake?"

...

Is this more of that 'woke shit' I keep 
trying to push on you? Because if it 
is let me tell you: I can keep it.

...

"You seem pretty chipper for the hour." 

...

OK dang. Got nothing. Thank you! 

"No problemo, sunshine." 

Shine bold.

Shine bold.
Shine bold, and you'll
always find where you're
wrong. Find right! Shine bold, 
and those
who know better 
grow encouraged and
generous. Fine. Fair, free
shine finding self wrong
finding right all ways.

It's the only way in fact. 
Once corrected come correct 
- that's a natural act. 

We can get through our days 
best grasp! Best truth! Best 
beauty we hold! Best good 
#1 quality and such stone 
cold value you could prize 
a beam from its glow. 

Shine bold. And 
don't ever forget 
why and how 
you know. 

for Lore

In mythic lore, ok
advanced D&D, if
you catch a nymph naked
in the wilderness you either
go blind or die.
I forget. Probably
works out of the wilderness,
too. Apt either way, somehow.

So nymphs were in a sense 
(innocence?) sort of a lesser
-regarded full-body medusa 
so to speak. Or look. Watch it, 
at any rate. It's a defensive 
weapon, offensive to prudes 
in the nymph case, to nobody 
but a statue in Medusa's eyes 
beheld. But the one gets you 
hard in a better way (depending), 

while you may die, or never see 
such sights again, at least 

you can roll on okay if 
you lived. And 

You shall have lived! All shall 
know that, though they may 
put your blindness down to 
a more (self) abusive and 
insulting cause!

You'll have a knockout tale 
to tell to the police sketch 
artist. Who better take care
not to nail the resemblance

a little too well