feedback loupe

a nasty friend of mine 
I love is always doing 
things she likes to 
titillate herself and 
me I take it all 
mischievously 

refrain or refrain

refrain can be either 
to plunge in again, going back 
seconds, thirds, fading out 
to the end, or 

to hold back, back off 

and never plunge in. 

The second one any
one can do. The first
to begin with, it takes 

at least two

or we'll find that we haven't 
refrained 
at all. 

Oh, well then. Sing or skip! 
It was our tune to call, 
and sometimes once 
or never 

is best. If unsure, 
we can stall! 

Or come back 
again, to spring time,

and consider 
come fall 

take a whack

What is obvious to you 
- to another, may not even 
be evidently true 

Nevertheless, why not take 
a whack 
at the hole 
where the mole 
is presumably at 

just in case
the staccato rat
-a-tat-tat of your words'
bouncing rubber-thump
tongue hammer-strokes 
may coax out 

a matter of fact?

Which - in hindsight - 
proves mutually, 
obviously, 
unspeakably

gross

and 

pat

consensus consent

consensus between two 
is absolute:

one can't
sacrifice self 
unless one wants to, 

and one really should not 
as a golden rule: unless 

the other's
self-sacrifice 

is really
what we want to do. 

If we really don't want 
them to break, shaft, 
go

against self 
on our own behalf, 
then: no.  

Then we shouldn't assume 
that they want us to. 

And we'd each do as please, 
and find

thank you

vice unlike vise

We all know vice 
grips right and hard, 
tightening in  

inescapably 

and catches some part 
of us we can't lose 
more than any machine 
you could work or choose
with no lever to turn 
reversing its course
for the pressure release

that sets you free

from constraining force

vice like grip part two

it was not a decision

just a response. But just, 
cast in terms of 
what everyone knows 

it wants

vice like grip

human viciousness, 
greedy and petty 
and blind, quick 

to erupt from the breach

any crack
in the thick callous 
skin-deep surface
of our human kind 

- which we try so hard 
to put forth and share, 
so long as the other 
will meet us there 

if they don't give as good 
as they get, we deserve
what we gave, what we want,
the dynamic turns master
to slave 

and of course, we revolt 
in a rush of red gushing
vision. Release the beast:
cold, brutal and hot, 
serve without leash 

it was not a decision

the spark in the stone

The spark in the stone 
is released in a crack 
but you can't tell where 
as you thwack and thwack 
upon unyielding surface 

you know there's a bit 
of unlit flame 
in this inert rock 

waiting perfect hit 

lucky again

I got lucky with you 
we were luck, pure luck 
not all of it good, 
but I'll count it all up 
and say holy fuck 

let's get lucky again 
any time, anywhen 
once some lines are crossed 
there's no way it can end 
just take a break, pause 
for a breather, regather 
our resources inner 
to plunge in again 
like two brand new

beginners 

Got lucky with you 
We were luck, pure luck 
Not all of it good, 
but I'll count it all up 
and say holy fuck 

suspect concurrence

I'm always suspicious
of losing my mind
when everything fits in a system fine 
but talking it out
with a friend so dear 
makes it all come plain 
makes it all so clear 
we're both insane

it all fits it all works

I'm always suspicious of losing my mind
when everything fits in a system fine 
but talking it out
with a friend so dear 
makes it all come plain 
makes it all so clear 
we're both insane

spell

It's just a cloud across the sun 
my vision isn't darkening 
my legs aren't suddenly undone 
I won't collapse 
or anything 

"No Reason Not To"

I don't know why 
I even try 
to explain 

It's more myself 
I need to tell 
make it plain 

If you know me 
(I think you do) 
then it's clear 

You'd know me more 
if I explain 
this right here 

There's no reason not to 
Unless I forgot to 

I don't know what
I really mean 
that's a lie 

I just don't know 
what words to fit 
how and why

I'm purest what 
and plainest who 
which you know 

I can't explain 
but that's my style 
So let's go 

There's no reason not to
There's no reason not to
Unless I forgot to 
There's no reason not to 

the quest

I'm frequently beaten by life, 
but since 
so far 
I've not been beaten by death 
I will rise again 
and resume the quest 
to find out what's more 
what's here 
what's left

she shared a song

The drum plays catch 
with spare guitar 
as her voice whispers 
circle, star
and binding arc 
so slippery 
the whole thing slid
to almost free

the telling

Your empty voice was full of lies 
I told by tone and pause 
I told you you don't have to try 
which was a lie, of course 
I knew just what you wanted, once 
You still must want something 
And so you weave your one-strand web 
to leave me dangling 

I have to hold my breath 
to keep it steady, everything 
depending on the finest lines
your empty voice can sing 
You had to make it beautiful 
It's effortless, for you 
Pure habit and routine, and I 
expect no less, and
nothing true

And so I don't know what I get, 
once you've delivered yours. 
So I dive in as if all true, 
and see what it supports. 
And if between us, we bear up 
and hold another day -
I guess you gave as good as true, 
and nothing left to say. 

accidental mouth

Sliced my tongue on a lollipop
Now the flavor that's filling my mouth won't stop 
It's cherry lime blood, 
and I swallow it down 
When the candy's all gone 
all I do is frown 

I want another one 
I want another one 
but I only have grape 
and raspberry blue 
I want another one 
Same as before 
I don't want an experiment 
I want more  

fates absence makes

Absence makes materials 
of its own, of substances 
unknown in your presence. 
Of patterns whose key
design feature is lack. 
As enough of these stack 
and interlock, what's gone 
seems unavoidable, and 
the arrangement simply

sits
waiting 
for you, 
fate's accomplice, 

to show up and reveal 
what all of this 
without-you
was always 

gong to be
for
.

up ante

One time we 
(you and I: to be 
clear) wasted whole 
afternoons playing video 
games. We did it with casual
zeal and elan, not a jot
of regrets, no guilt, 
no shame.
It was head-to-head 
fights, with big bets staked 

You kept letting me win, 
'cause you liked the take 

and I knew it was rigged, 
but I'd claim just the same 
with a cock-of-walk strut 
to my big brag frame 

dreams explain

Sometimes I walk out 
the back of my life 
into a dream 
where you 

are my wife.

But you 
are not there. 
You're on a trip! 

I hope that you bring 
something back, 
right quick

contact

her eye contact 
unlocks the soul 
so deep inside and 
slippery, so 

I wriggle in
and lean a bit 

next thing we know 
we miss
and hit 
and slip
and catch 
and
find and keep
this perfect

fit

social tactical array

It reminds me of 
this time I got out 
of going to a party. I just 

didn't show up

but I had a 
wild excuse, 
in case anybody asked. 

Nobody ever asked, 
so the excuse is 
still good! 

Poe's lesser works: a meditation

So as I lay laid out, sick of
and reading another from Poe's
Tales of the Boring and Preposterous, 
I find myself not much
wondering why

no one ever quotes 
or makes reference
or allusion to this
much-bruited writer's
many satirical sketches 
directed at the mediocrities
and foibles of newspaper 
and magazine publishing 
of his day? Perhaps, as 
they say, the master satirist
runs afoul by a portraiture 
too true. Easy mistake 

to make, one suspects! Most
of this dreck was written to pay
booze bills and keep roof overhead,
no doubt. I say: when you go with Poe,

stick to the big, heavy-hitting,
famous and eerie dreary business
wherein he scored so many hits,
always or usually in the literary
guise of some weird maniac
with a family history of nervous
complaints from the neighbors. 

The kind of guy even the local
birds stop by to croak their cease 
and desist advice to. That's the Poe

who holds up to any amount of
posthumous interest and scrutiny:
a real 

character 

comparison of literary types

A literary character 
is one time-lapse arc 
taken in sequence 
and chosen frames 
from the first sunup glimmer
where they arise, to add their 
specific shade and hue, glitter
and angle to the thickening plot, 
up all through the coloring 
clouds, an obstacle course 
they fly over and past, to
(finally) wherever they 
set: and there it is. That 

whole arc 

is the character.

We don't see
it all, just chosen shots, 
but we see enough.

The character 
of the author,
by comparison 

is all of that plus 
everything that lands 
or was put deliberately 

out-of-frame

the nude waitress

I had a dream we were on
a date, and you threw your
water right in my face! I didn't
do anything! We were talking about

boundaries, and you had your hand
down the front of my pants playing
with my pubic hair. I agreed. Then
you said I mustn't pay attention to
the waitress, or you would

become jealous. But I hadn't! 

In your defense, this was the place
with the nude waitress. We didn't have
the nude waitress - we had another one -
but I knew which waitress you meant.
The nude one. It's funny how things make

sense in a dream when you get a big glass
of ice water in the face. Anyway, we just kept
talking! Great time from then on in

looking twice

Sunlight clothes the world
in hue as shade gives
roundness to the forms.

Even if we never do,
let's share this view
to keep us warm