Funny, though ?

I love it when people 
think I'm trying to be 
funny.

It's almost as 
funny as when people 
think I'm trying to be 
smart.
Or seem smart. 
Or BOTH, but oh
the worst one that
takes the cake
and layers on 
the brown stink
frosting is when 
some
fool
tells me I, 

I, mind you 

am pretending 
to be stupid. 
To get out of 

Helping Them 
- with something that 
sorry, is legitimately beyond
me! OK? 

So ahem and a phlegm, amen
and forever! Right now going forward 
to cataclysmic catastrophic cosmic
entropy and backward to the
beginning 
of spacetime itself:

I DO NOT 

"pretend" 

to be stupid

...

Well, I never!
It's Ok, though I love it when
absurdity heads its ugly rear some
ways up the chute, some how cute
or goofy though I guess it tickles 
or scratches some itch, even though
all impact in-question's
in the other sun of a 

hum. Hm. Even so, somewhere,
something within them 
is what's concerned or impacted,
involved in the wild delusion
or interpretation error, on that
score so to speak. In that
sense. 

And I put it hard and point it 
FINE: IN ONLY 

that sense! I do not "pretend"

And furthermore, I never  

...

not that, any
how

"What is it with antipsychotics and grapefruit juice?"

She asked to me 
She asked to the room, 
apparently. Within earshot of 
our server plus the tables in range 

she was 

on her "inside voice," but for her 
that noise-to-signal ratio rang out 
so clarion clear, "inside" 

our breakfast spot. 

Well, 

breaking fast with her 
was a hell of a ride

redeaux

Generally I'm shot
boom ROCK from the bottom
of mah heart ricochet
off the top
of my head, drop
down SPRING-BOARD! off
the tip of my tongue
double-twist
triply-lindy to PLOOSH
KER-PUNK break PLASHLESS
through the surface of
/in the (specific
one-to-one) conversation's

pool,

OR
SMACK
SMASH SMOOSH
KER-PLOOP
crunch
SQUISH
if the pool
level wasn't filled
up to spec as one
wished. 

The "pool" in
this case:

(being) some rapport;
some mutual knowing
devoutly fished, or 
wanted or at any 

rate achieved: between two

as it always was,
is. 

mislaid

I can't be mislaid 
my heart is true, 
my soul is pure.
just like doo-doo

heartbreaking beautiful

Moments fleet
to years and lives 
and so it breaks. And

so, 

decide  

my bloody sword

my bloody sword's 
asleep and no 

it hasn't been put 
in its sheath I just 

let the blood, just 

oxidize 

let this corrosion keep 
because

if I should have 
to draw 
if I should
have to strike, the blade's

very significant length of edge is 

polished sleek and cute 
to keen 

in any moment, date 
or year of any month 
or holiday, and rust

is one hell 
of envenoming

or so I've read, and 

so they say 

bite by breakfast

I eat my breakfast bite 
by bite 

and if it takes all day, 

so what? It might

Jackie Gams!

I knew a girl called Jackie 
Gams (oh, Jaqueline, as 
she preferred) who used 

to try to hold my 
hands. She had 

the first and 
second-best 

of legs, 
you know 

so she could. 

WORD

battle fatigue

battle fatigue 
combat injury 
I took a wrong step and 
destroyed my knee 
I pulled a wrong weight 
and so pulled 

my back 

just the strife 
of life, in life 

and I will bounce 
flat

"Rearview Gleam"

Soon

You'll be alone with the memory
of all
your sincere regards.

And I'll

shuffle off the deck, discretely.
This cruise
Has been free of charge,
so far...

...but the price of admission is guilt
There's a series of fiction confessions in you,
and I'm scenting the sense of a new career -
when you fly off the cliff after it,
won't you spare me one
glance
in
your
rear
view
mirror,

you?

Remember my shine. 
As you wash the world in light, 
from the one thing you got right
Remember my shine. 
Once you've seen the last of me, 
that's the worst of it you'll have to see 
Remember my shine.
As you let your vision dim 
from the too much light 
that you let in, 
remember my

mind 

somewhere
over the spectrum.

And heart

in a cool, dry place.
Where you

have been trapped in graven image,
by the lines

as it desiccates

in an airless space

...while the heiresses R.S.V.P. 
They beg to inform you on bended knee
that you'll be attending the banquet alone,
at a change of address, it is now your
home
sweet
home

Remember my shine. 
As you wash the world in light, 
from the one thing you got right
Remember my shine. 
Once you've seen the last of me, 
that's the worst of it you'll have to see 
Remember my shine.
As you let your vision dim 
from the too much light 
that you let in,
remember mine. 

This abyss that I have been
is not the worst fix I've been in
Since you've seen the last of me,
having left behind the best you'll see, 
if you let your vision drown,
from the too much light that you let down,

Remember why
now,
Remember our
time, 
Remember

mine

minding

You know,
reading through some  
or all the above (or from your
point, below, that is if so),
(views differ! Standpoints, too!), it

strikes me weird.

This: Specifically!: 

Plain,
punched-in-face literal
sincerity’s apparently
the weirdest art
“avant garde”

form in the world, now. Whelp! After
decades and generations drenched
incessantly in snark culture, why
would it NOT be strange? I’m not
complaining! Yet

it is a touch absurd: if

you really commit to
it in devoted aim, purest

sincerity tends to be read
as a gag. YUCK. Nobody
seems to be pulling that one!

So naturally it’s nobody’s accustomed
take. Throws so many off, which
I call a shame, but no harm. I get

laughed at!

It wasn’t meant funny!

THIS IS A BOON, BEAUTIFUL
OUTCOME, FOOL

For this.
It is a blessing
to amuse, or to provide
occasion for others’ amusement,
regardless of what I meant to do. “MEANT”
don’t mean WELL, where well-being’s wrapped
up in the good of others,
as
well.

Too-too! Too true! That’s
plain
as
day
and
night, not combined. It's
plain as the ass
on one's face, if

and when. You know.
It happens. And besides 
which: NOPE, that’s no
josh, typo fans! Day

is plain. Night

is also plain.

And the difference
between? Couldn’t be plainer, you’d
think
at least.
Right? Sure. Why

not? WHO CARES (I do!) Of 

course. 

I don't tend to mind,
much. Not 
too much

not my style really,

...

"minding"

poetic lice

Poetic lice inside
your head and heart
and eye, get 
everywhere.

Every sum
or solo part.
Every topic,
every care

or interaction way
too strong, in
every thought that
you knew all along,

but since disproved
in fact. In all your
shirts and all your
hats, and all your

underclothes and
things.

In other peoples'
too, plus wings.

Wherever you think
to look, they're there.

You don't know why this
urge infests, but no one needs
to know some things

Just scratch where bit and itchy
stings! On any surface nature
blest, or artifice made fit
to bring.

You have a license,
shouldn't you? You left it
in some other('s) pants,
perchance you'll find
it all along was

in
your hand(s). Well, stretch
those hands and take
a chance. Reach
fingers out and dig
in deep

to satisfy. It is
allowed, to find and
keep such souvenirs
as you create

so sly

waisting away part

2. 

I hope it's not 
the cancer. They 
tested for the 
marks two, three 
times already right? 

Be a stinking shame 
if I were so stupid 
taking up the smokes 

at age forty 
three(s), 

jeez 

Then I'd deserve it, 
sure. No worries mate 
she will be 

alright 

mate

my thirty-fours

wasting 
away in huge food and 
diet exercise, I 

gotta believe no way. These 
are my thirty-sixes. NO 
NEED to run a check 
on that - what is the
POINT, otherwise of

having two identical
(-otherwise) pairs of beautiful soft 
faded cadet blue (almost gray, no 
, grey to your eyes) shorts? 
please
no, please no "waistline"
-centric vanity way
way this late in the 
way, phase, stage
game

no-game, if so. 

Not after a lifetime of 
eschew to the point 
such metrics are 
and have been 

always 

wholly alien 
to you! 
you 

gallant scoundrel 

go nuts warning

people would go nuts 

if they tried to read in 
reams of hidden meaning 
between every typo, mixed 
or missed punctuation, line 
break stanza break or other

format 
error 

ERR ERR 

syntax synthesis awry 
or/and specific choice of 

one (1) word 

yes

READ "BETWEEN 
the lines" on 

one 
(1)
word, 

it's been done, it 
can't be done 
RIGHT, but. 

(continued: original run
-on sentence)...that I
put out on the regular and
not at all on the 

sly;

in fact one has

.

don't be two, dead
-eye

best dream ever

I had the sweetest cool dream 
last night, perhaps the best 
dream ever in fact 

I was at work 
and everyone there was 
pleased or punchy to welcome 
back their good ol' boy 

me 

yet 

unlike

...the rote work dream template, no
one was gave me given me
THING TO DO 

So

I was just a VISITOR 
in ol' work place! GO FISH
NO FETCH AMEN HOO HOO

It was pretty sweet, seeing all 
them (fake; dream) peeps, 
and all of the smiles 
and laughs they had 
they were winking and making 
symbolic remarks 

(right over my head VWOOSH, 
still, not bad) and I walked in the 
air by the sea (some fair) (not 
chowder or art and wine, but 
fine) while people who haven't 

met me in years  

all veered in to have some say, 
some shine and everyone kept 
on handing me FOOD 

(it's POISON FOOD DUDE DON'T 
EAT) mind said, but undermind said 
(DREAM-POISON food) so I ate 

my fill and I shat 

the bed

Holy

i don't need a commenter 
I don't need a reader, so 
I don't bait all-i-do is hook 

anyone, honey now 

oops don't look 
, now oops
don't

no contest/flict

it just means more when you react 
each time you do it 
that's a fact 
each time you don't 
just means more too

!

you just can't win 
with me, can you? 

incompatibility bike

We're hostage to each other's sleep 
because this house is ours to keep 
and we won't separate this room 
because love love 
and va va voom, but 

swing, grave, day 

can leave no time 
to zoom 

shush it 

people 
are trying 
two

Karaoke tips #1 "Nobody's Fooled"

I count the falling tears, they
fall before my 
time 
Somebody wrote their song
screaming whole thing all along
while crying. Seems like a thousand
beers, hoisted to that JAM
Since we broke all the ties

YOU KNOW I'M STILL YOUR MAN, I'm
NOT YOUR 

ooo 
Nobody's fooled, 
Nobody's fooled 
AHHHHM NOOO 
oh 
oh yes 
oh wait I am I call you

on the phone, but never get a ring
So sit there all alone, it's time you
sprouted wings. Realize please you 
prince-ass princess of a THANG 

I'm not the fool you thought 

I'm just the fool I AM I'M NOT 

your 
fool 

nobody's fooled nobody's fooled 
I AM 
fool! Nobody's fooled nobody's FOOD 
NEVAH AGAIN HO NO 
NOBODY'S FOOLED NOBODY'S FOOLED 
PLEASE, PLEASE GO 
GO
Go! 

...

GO! 

What the, hell, lead guitarist do I 

(guitar solo) 

(spoken trailing off under): gotta scream 
the blessed-ass CUE at you now? 
MINOR PENTATONIC CATACLYSM
PLEASE YES, AH LIKE THAT 

(guitar solo has already ended)
(verse three cue missed, continue 
vocal coming in on the wrong beat) GO

(Nobody's fool, nobody's fool) I'm no fool
(Nobody's fool, nobody's fool)
Never again, no, no

You take our road, and go
You took all mine away
I've got some altered paths 
you'd never walk or pray

Just leave off thoughts and dreams
Go stuff them down your pants
We had a fucking good DISEASE
INFESTED PATH, I'M NOT YOUR

OH SHOOT
sorry that went gross

(abandon mic, do not "drop" it)
(stroll like a goof back barwards)

(stop)

(thoughtful pause)

(return to the front-stage just-right
counter where you'd left your DRINK,
FULL)

BIG SIP

Nod to the crowd (NO WINK)

(coming back in, almost 
on cue for once {1}nce):

Searchin' for a change of place
Your love needs saccharine
I scream my heart out, off
the beat I just came - WAIT

the beat where I came INNNNN

All just to make a dime

And with our time I brought (braw-HAUUUUGHHHT)
your love
But now my mind 
I've changed it to DISTRAUGHT I'm NOT YOUR 

(flee from the fusillade of thrown cans, bottles, 
glasses, vegetable sides etc.) 

(note: which has been going on for some time 
but never 

fly early, "red-eye" if that is in fact 
your karaoke stage name
I'm not your fool

Nobody's fooled. 

Nobody's fooled. 

close parenthesis

or {verb version}

close parentheses 

{your call}

) 

part two correction to part one*

What *"part one" is is needless to
state, please. Part 2, this very, is

errata. 

NOT erotica! Sheesh, grow 
one. Would you? Would you 
please grow one, at least? 

Thank you! Now: 

ERRATUM 

would be the more (1) accurate
count. Without further-then
mondieu: 

*"verbal" 

No. 
wrong
incorrect

"written"

man

man, I'm giving my dick 
the day off. Way too much
masturbation lately, and by 
"way" I mean literally 

yesterday only 

but 

it was all VERBAL. 

So WHY "MY DICK" 

MAN! I am SO SICK 
of the punchy, wan SHOCK soi disant 
"shock" tactics gratuitously deployed on 
this, my whack-ass poetry-aday 
blog! Shit! 

man 

not really 

no wait 

oh yes I am

protest wrong

There's everything each 
any going wrong 

and there is no doubt 
at the state of things which 

advances in ineluctable chain 

that's why I'm here 
to sing refrain 
that's why I'm here 
to raise my voice
that's why I'm here 

to sing this song

well, "critique" isn't 
even 

a word for it. 

It's abhorrence no 
longer ignored: it's 

war 

declare that shit

it's being looked into

I thought I'd write a poem called A.
I. Shock Art Paranoia Warning

but

in the process of it
something
occurred to me, and I
became frightened, and
it goes a little

something
like
this
see

every square inch of your own skin
(or anyone's): unique : locked-in 

quite capable of being
exposed, indexed 
and 
the data is out there 
we must confess 

if there's any shame in it 
(for sure, there is) 
it's on every one
looking
collect and spread
not
shame on the one 
who simply is 
living her own life 
carefree 

or his

(don't let's kid
ourselves,
please.)

well we all own our own
skin and image as well, in
an ideal world 
would be ours 
to sell, 
or keep, 
cover up 
or let shine, 
let show 

but unfortunately 
it's just datapoints 
in relation, you 
know 

and as soon as one has
a unique key? - And 
we all do, you know, 
it's just who we be -
every pattern that fits
caught captured in bins,
buffers by backdoors
raining streaming from clouds
broken free downpours 
is regathered and proud
adding up stat-same
to astonished extent:
every single given image
collect the whole set 
and more new each 
day. Takes

a couple of 
clicks, given
unique key to apply
it fits. Laid open and out 
across the whole world
wide, decentralized free
distribution on every
side of raw, rough,
free materials. It
gets 
easier each day 
to reach out 'cross the world
and snag every snap, every
stray, each and every new
input in
catches more
in its sway

by established match.
Sole criterion: each
single algorithm fit
to one single individual 
in every way known. Every
time any digital eye caught home
one square inch of skin.
It is fixed, 
even if
unaware

That's a lesson set free
everywhere to apply.  
oh,
grow up
it's

only you.
After all
And me.

Any one.

It's catch as catch can 
game on play ball 
everyone set free by
comparison, validated
and refined, building up 
clearer faster and more
than before

every each match the new
files in: flagged, tagged
and fanned out to alerts, 
updates on whoever anyone
once interested in, to
whoever just wanted
to know. Wow, great.

Who
knows how
many views,
likes, shares await.

All and each unmistakably
true, unique

not by name (no need)

but by exact skin. 

It's specific analytics
building up to a net
that can wash the wide world
and return every hit 
for however many peeps
anyone wants to keep 
seeing what else is new 
this year, month, week, 
day, hour and - snap! 
to an incoming beep 

you
caught

in a moment you thought 
was yours: complete.   
And that is you, or
was. Irrefutably so. But
it should have stayed 
yours. Now it isn't 

though

'YES! "I WON"'

YES! 

I
WON THE LOTTERY again! Wow. It
literally almost never fails, provided I
check the ticket after a respectful point
past
expiry. Which

is and has always been my
wont and habit. Lifetime

rackup, people so far? Sorry,

that's a little personal

,

but it's been
good. Enough. 

yet

inapposite morning paranoia

I'm afraid 
I'm about 
to explode
and I know 
it's deserved 
if so 
but I'd rather 
go slow so 

let me have one 
more day like this. 

Before I blow up 
raining innards and 
those little burnt, 
crunchy bits that 
taste so good 

on a hamburger 

NOT stuck in 
analyzable forensic 
scatter pattern all 
over a crime scene, 

pls

Miss Mary Might (album version) this is the version with the beer solo

Misssss
Maaaaaaaaa
ryyyyyyy

MIGHT
MIGHT
might

all dressed in bright, bright, bright
with silver colors,
colors,
colors all down her
light light light she asked her
pence pence
pense

for gifted sight, sight
SIGHT to see the elephants elephants elefence jump
over the bike

bike
bike, and that's all
she had
to
say

(repeat)

miss mary
MACK Mack mack
all dressed in black
Black BLACK with
silver notes Notes NOTES
notes all down her back, Back
back, just beads of sweat
(sweat, sweat) break out in
dew
do
due
and that is all
All ALL she'd need to
scre

aw nah
(e)w

guitar solo

repeat
repeat again

Misssssss
Marrrrrrrrryyyyy
BLUE

Blue
blue all dressed in
gold
white
green

she picked a fight fight fight
with mr mean
THAT'S
mean! He
jumped so
high, at (high) her (high!)
she caught him by
the
ass
TAIL sorry

and they began Gan GAN
to never fail
ail
nail

she twisted right
(left? RIGHT) in
to the wood, could,
should, against the
green, green

grain

she twist it good,
good
(GOOD)

Miss Mary Might
might
MIGHT

all dressed in her
gone (in) out!
I've looked so great
great (okay) great
since she came

doubt?
pout?
STOUT and
stern? Burn?
ok
maybe she's more
a light ale
than a stout, but I’m a beer
slub
(SNOB?
SLUT! Beer slut, I pound
them all, ales, blondes, reds
lagers stouts, ipas, Ipeeaze,
Real Legit Indias Pales Ale,
haze, portes, steverdores
{steveadorable} um
I’m forgetting one
PILSNERS) (OK point
made: beer slut) (no
double entender
that’s a single entendre!)

with some potentially heavy
notes and finish

she is.
Has. 

Miss Mary Spirit Shore

Stop making up the other 
people's part part part 

before they even have 
the change to gin 
'gin 
'GIN

there areally isn't any 
state of art art art 
before initial circumstance 

comes in

gin 
be
'gin

miss mary might

Misssss
Maaaaaaaaa
ryyyyyyy

MIGHT
MIGHT
might

all dressed in bright, bright, bright
with silver colors,
colors,
colors all down her
light light light she asked her
pence pence
pense

for gifted sight, sight
SIGHT to see the elephants elephants elefence jump
over the bike

bike
bike, and that's all 
she had 
to 
say 

repeat miss mary 
MACK Mack mack 
all dressed in black
Black BLACK with 
silver notes Notes NOTES
all down her back, Back 
back just beads of sweat 
(sweat, sweat) break out in 
dew 
do 
due 
and that is all 
All all she'd need to 
scre 

aw nah 
(e)w

guitar solo 

repeat 
repeat again 

Misssssss 
Marrrrrrrrryyyyy 
BLUE

Blue 
blue all dressed in 
gold 
white 
green 

she picked a fight fight fight 
with mr mean 
THAT'S me
-an! He 
jumped so 
high, at (high) her (high!) 
she caught him by 
the 
ass 
TAIL sorry 

and they began Gan GAN
to never fail 
ail 
nail 

she twisted right 
(left? RIGHT) in 
to the wood, could,
should, against the 
green, green 

grain 

she twist it good, 
good 
good 

Miss Mary Might 
might MIGHT

all dressed in her 
gone (in) out! 
I've looked so great 
great (okay) great 
since she came 

doubt?
pout? 
STOUT and 
ok 
maybe she's more 
a light ale 

with some potentially heavy 
notes and finish

brand new lifelong gratuitous usual

SASS NOT ASS

my longstanding credo/motto

it was SASS.

It should be sass. Should’ve been. SASS
NOT ASS, as was said: my longstanding motto/credo
/operative model, even if

it only just occurred to me now: it
pretty much always has been, since oh about
age 28. Perhaps 19. Varies.

YET

Way long since stamped,
sealed, verified and validated in
practice by this point though: “SASS

NOT ASS” - my motto

Welcome 

~ ~ ~ 

WELCOME ALL SASS

POUND ALL ASS wait 

that could be taken wrong, foul 
right up the um 

no need 

Yes it is possible to know someone really

There's no getting back 
once that corner was turned. 
No getting back 
what you'd learned, before 
you learned. 

Knowing someone cannot 
be undone

And it's everything in: 
part, whole and sum. 

There's no back button, and
no undo key 

I guess we could just 
move on, let's see 
from here on in - what is left?
Or next?  

Or just do
what is right. 

Which is probably not 
a guess. Knowing someone 

is the lip of a cliff 
on a moonlit night, 
hung in spotlight soft 
smack amidst abyss,
and 

you think you know their edges 
are trustworthy,

but 

it
only
takes
that one step,
one miss, 

(and no take-backs)

to see

four-and-twenty twoapenny, tossed-off. quick

Four and twenty-three blind mice, 
baked in a hot cross bun of some size 
flew over my head (what a hard, missed
shot!), broke open and spoiled 
 
upon the ground, 
behind 

surprise.

And if
I haven't
died yet, well
I may live still! And
the mouse packed
bun in question 

is dead. Don't fret
little one. It 

won't rise

Listen. I couldn't possibly

Listen. I couldn't 
be more vitriolic if I 
tried. I am plain 
strident, here. I put the vee-he
in vehement, and
I'm 

adamant! 

With that! So stand, 
deliver and turn and 
run, you beastly, catty 
highway 

one.

Next exit 
take 17 to Santa 
Cruz South and I'll 
meet you for breakfast 
at Zach's on Pacific! By

the time I get there

maybe we can discuss 

this, but

I somehow doubt it. Discuss 
it! Like 

a couple of gentlemen which,
I am reliably self-assured 

you are not! but
anyway, OK

I yield the field, and declare 
repartee 

I make poems (fun #2)

I make 

poems

fun? 

No. That's 
a misnomer 
or a misreading: you 
take your pick and I 
will back you up 
against that wall 

because you're indefensible, I do 
not 
"make" 
fun 

of poems 

and/or 

"make fun poems" 
or make poems fun,
or whatever sick fuck 
thing got stuck in the 
bedsprings last time you 
uncoiled an interpretation 
of yours, you snake. Go 
to hell and try making beds 
there, maybe

Better bring the butter and
mustard,
hon. 

No fun at all, please. Thanks,
that's
"not it" not

me 

bad breakup family

dad left home for a younger 
model, it was this slick, sexed 
-up gussy of a condo, and mom 
was no way, no how following 
his lead on home sweet home
for her. She got the house, 
dad got the condo and it 

was awkward. They 
were always continuously 
visiting one or the other
together, but the tension
in the kitchen was so sticky
and thick it set off the smoke
alarm, so of course, everybody

got the "Facebook alert" and 
panicked like yaks 
panicked like apes 
panicked like a dog 
like a sea cucumber 
smelling smoke 

where there should be 
no such thing, panicked 
like 
living beings, which 

makes sense. 

but it was hard on the kids

Well

 well, 

what if I PROVE IT!

PROVE IT? A TEST

what if!

I go
lie

down,
a bit 

contemplate what's 

next

OK

okay
so alright 
so I can admit
 
it hurts that we didn't 
sometimes  


legit

damburst

Been saving it up 
so long 

for you 
 
Been fit to burst 
explode 
come due 

so overdue 

I kept
it calm, 
clean, deep,
serene, high 
building up to pure,
to pain

to wait  
so strong,  

so sure.
So, sure. 

so. ready. 
to.

give 
out give up ten
stories high, give
in so hard and bright
and beautiful 
sigh! So fly. So
full. So, fool. So

true.

So mean I mean it all.

Oh, you.

Sometimes 
to not 
is sin. 

Oh, 
you
been
saving it
up 

so
too

so long 

so breaking now,
burst out and
down, exploding free 

you win

"User comment contributed hashtag post label? To be clear"

CANCEL CANCEL
HORRIBLE IDEA

No "user-contributed"
hashtagged comment
will henceforth ever 
be accepted and entered
into the poem it's submitted
under !! ONLY
single-word comments
(1 word per post) WITHOUT

a hashtag included in the comment
text will be entered onto the poem
itself, in the form

of a "hashtag
post
label," see? SEE!

Hm. That

could be clearer. OK.

Try this out. Get me?

A user

puts the hashtag,
all gauche and tacky IN THE COMMENT? 

No hashtag label added. Simple. BUT 

A user

puts a ONE-WORD COMMENT
right there, all tucking and slipping
all innocent under the poem? (CLASSY) 

THAT

will be converted into a HASHTAGGED POST LABEL!
edited
into the poem
(as a label, displaying
under it, as per) itself, and
all of a sudden popping up
and counting tallies in the post tag/
label recap (and clicksy-browsy selection
menu) sidebar! 

Right? OK? WE CLEAR? I will
not tolerate
such a smug,
insincere
thing

as some user

coming in here PLOP, POPPING
HASHTAGS under my poems. Welcome!

Free to do it!

But hear me now: the sick, wan
inclusion of a hashtag in the
comments itself (themselves?)
AUTOMATICALLY
shall invalidate
and
disqualify it

...for and from consideration as a real
post label on the post, and
tallying up in sidebar. Forget it 

No way. ALL
such SUCK as
vomit-inducing, hashtag-including
comments, since 
everyone now knows
they're self-destructed terminated 
at birth from further consideration
to grow up, tack it on and become 
a real, post label, will naturally off
course I mean 

OF COURSE 
therefore obviously
be interpreted as a FUNNY,
WELL-MEANT

"JOKE" 

I make poems fun!

Or...
funly,
let's say.
I mean. 

It's fun for me! 

I don't "make" 
other people 
respond some
"way" I chose 
going in 

for them to be

To "find it fun?"  
PLEASE
thanks so much, 
no thank you, you. Yuck. 
Ugh. Eee. 

Such...oh, GROSS.
DANG - Yank
nail! Pull screw! 
such 

flat-out bold ulterior need?
UNDUE, undo! Such dark
invasive goal in me?  

makes me
throw up 
inside my soul.

Go screw, you're
free
So 
don't
ya know

Let's don't get any on you, 
yo.
Or,
"Dear," 
I make plain so 

Just so. So. Clear. 

If that's how it turns, so
be it! Cheers! No shame
or lame
aim in
my fun.
I free it 

So! TRUE. If
"I make poems" fun 

FOR YOU

That's your deal, 
deal.

I didn't 

do 

oh, boo

Oh, boo 
boo goo 
goo gushy-mush! 
I love you already 
so dumb much 

I can sense let's invent 
a language 

in trust, let's go
by duck and blind
grope, feel, climb, 
touch, and blush! Rush
in in plunging give, take,
call, response, royal or vulgar
flush as it comes, fluttering
alive as it likes, please
wants
needs
must

To thrive,
to live! go
natural, 
but just. 

A language!
Yes, now 
hey, yeah,
yup.

You know the kind 

to sicken 
and disgust 
everyone in earshot 
going forward
perpetually? 

That kind
trust me oh,
it's enough. 

trust me

plumb line and spirit level

You and I 
balance out to nil 
on so many points 

it amounts to so much.  

We are  
spirit level and plumb line.

And one 
checks the balance 
the other hangs 
fine 

more verbatim smug retorts #1

I qualified my agreement,
please sir. Read it again
It
really
is quite
obvious in context
what I qualify, there. I’d have
thought it unmissable, but there

you go!

As to the rest, well! We’ve only just
now gone circular! How about that. It’d
be only
trading retread
at this point, for me
to respond. We don’t

need to agree to

disagree: it’s evident where
and that we do. Hey! Not bad!

,
actually.
Refreshing, and
gratitude is indicated, from my
side: thank you. Took us how many
comment replies back and forth to hit
the retread skids? Quite
a few; given
our crux of opposition, I’d
expected to hit it (ol’ predictable,
usually) several-few
go-’rounds back. Further
response
between
us
is

probably vain, but

you’re welcome!

(I never mind
a refrain. Either sense,
fully-meant. ALL CAPS
this entire comment for bold
boss emphasis, retroactively
and figuratively if {and as}
you please!)

-~=*=~-
Good intent

"Do tell."

So.

I put it plain 

to make it clear 
it's only aim 
and nothing brag
no contest, dear. 
And not a guess.
Hit, miss, win,
lag or such a 

catch! 

- in any case,
it's effortless 
I "pass" on tests, 
and do best well

- in my sleep,
or at my rest.
Or full-bore force
of clarity's swell, 
I am

so dead sincere 
as hell. 

And if you 
(for example) 
doubt? Well! 

That's your ball, 
pal, nerve, gall,
y'all now

play it out

"Swear"

Swear. 

Since I am dead sincere: 

I do it not to sway, 
persuade, convince 
or otherwise 

make gains. 
No. 

Make clear! Regardful,
but regardless of result,
effect: from grin to wince
to flush to blush to tears 
in fabric's agony, from wet
to dry to sopping drenched 
in carefrees cares and 
spasmody, serenity, 
felicity as gasps
and gaps of joy 
appear, burst forth, peel
back, appeal,

and pealing free

in laughs like bells,
or chorus coursed 
in sympathy: all that 

plus fries,
or otherwise. 
It's free. 

Do tell

"because it is my wont"

Yes, OK. Sure.
"Because it is 
my wont," 

And

But if so,

(please know)
that's two reasons, 
not one! Not

one 
Because
it's only
"habit," "characteristic" 
"inclination" in me,

wont

with you, 
because
it feels so good

with you

. 
Two
reasons. 
One, not two. 

the explanation explained

yet again
yet again
the explanation 
I give you 

I give you
I don't have to 

I do it. Because 

IF

(that's a pretty big
or common "if"!). There's a glitch 
in me 

of doubt, self-doubt
, let's say "valid alternate
interpretation," or
scrutiny, even - 
even self-scrutiny,

even
if well-known 
no such scrutiny 

(between us,) anyway 
has ever borne any 
truly evil fruits! even 

if pure
whimsical 
self-examination, 

some process (inner)
has disclosed a node, 
and

I wish 
wish 
wish 
want 
will 
and whim 

to pop it 
open and flush
it out 
of the system, and
it feels so good 

with you 

to do this. Which 
is why I do. 

Why I always do. 

Oh and ok also possibly 
it's just me 

and that's why I do 

always a possibility

Because: "it is my wont"?

Well, see part two

apologia, arguably

Sorry. Arguably,

Sorry for that in-text
addendum
on the last one, I had

to stick it! Stick that
in there
so rude, bold
and ruthless to forestall
the obvious and real possibility 

of padding my stats, 
dude. Dad, daddy-o,
hot 

honey, mama 
baby, brosis, 
sisbro and any 
other family, 
real or fictive 
reading now. Kith and
kin! Fam,

I'd hate to be seen 
by you
dear reader 

As "padding my stats" 
unduly, since 
it would

make the one spotting
such seamy seem A MORON
or else perhaps
just an unobservant, oblivious 
twerp OR sweet-decent cognitively-low
or lazy or blithe individual! 

which any fool could see 

from a tooty-sweet perusal 
of the sidebar

Is hardly 

the issue. 

"Padding my stats"

is a nonissue; here
go 

pad your own stats hombre 
hombress or hombule. We 

don't do that 

here
!
<
3

Swear. 

Since I am dead sincere

New for 2024! Pt...three, I think (4)

Or four (3).

New for 2024! I swear
this just occurred to me.
I operate on no known plan,
just wild, on-point aim evolved
in symmetries of liberty:

intentional.

But hardly called
"deliberate": a renewed interest
in something
that you and I both love!
And call:

"the shit!"

It's neologisms,
I mean! Particularly: poems

which function as
(reasonably-terse) pseudodictionary
entries. Yeah, the meter's slipped. 
Catch up. I spaz. Which, GROW UP

now,
for sushi's sake!
Such shot-off tidbits
of tight sense
should really ought

to be rhymed up. 
Rhymed out. 
And metered in. 

Otherwise, come on. 

Too easy.

Yes, it's possible
in my defense (or if you take
it, your offense) for some thing
merely
recreational,
creational,
restful,
thoughtful,
spasmodic or
whimsical and/or and/and 
or or/or larkish

to also be
too easy
Slap!
a little rigor on it! Pump
it plump pump it up or in or
hey, on

With pulsing,
jetting, throbbing time
and repeated, deepening impact!

RHYME
Yes, That!

That Only
the pinprick, pinpoint,
pounding sledge of
harmonic echo sound-
-ing similarity can bring! Yes,
I do mean AKA

RHYME.

-~=*=~-

Done.
The End

-~=*=~-

(Cut from the poem proper):

It ain't no thing, but

Hm. 

I sense

a disturbing side-effect
worse yet, a burgeoning

trend

of these redacted-from-poem's-text "comments,"

of such deep, subtle, lazy, pat, flat and
that's-that
EASE.

Which is fine,
but
they're liable to bloom
forth in awful, new form!
As independent poem entries. Well,

see blog subtitle

please

SPONDENT

Spondent. 

A slice or ladle-dip of hope;
a spirit lift. A word

it's dope

revitalized for 2024

In addition to possibly trimming within

more

and potentially eschewing certain kinds

of self-referential free verse bits
and pieces
(or imposing a requirement: that
such 

be RHYMED AND METERED,
at least) I might also
begin
experimenting

more
with "deliberate external
rhyme." I.e. a rhyme
scheme or beat

picked up and carried on
from one poem

to the next. Or recurring,
cropping up in and between
neighboring poems: a word here,
word there, towards the beginning

of one,

carried as an echo from the end
of one. Another one. You know.

Just a lil' bonus "easter egg"
scheme for serial readers! A
little bonus jiggle in your

context

keyhole!

That is, if I remember
this intention later, as we go.

We'll see what happens.

Let's shoot for June 
for an update/review 

moon

New in 2024: arguably vain

Skip this one arguably
vain. It's more a mnemonic
than an attempt to move
you, but it is a poem

and sincere.
New thing!

in 2024: Not a new
year's resolution,
not a hoax, not a
dream: partly as a trick

to trim/edit, partly as a GOOSE
to conversation (which has long
and sadly flagged since

I once abandoned this place, years ago), I propose

to redact
less-than-top material!
- musings, and commentary from
within the poem - as I go
a-composing.

- AND -
reposition such takings and leavings, these things
cut, left out - as "comments"
UNDER
the poem!

Why not? A little light 
tweaking, some tonal adjustment 
- such things could easily be 

comments 

UPON the poem, rather than 
vain and egregious, excessive 
ornament and digression WITHIN.

It. Tad dastardly, sure
- I warrant, but I hold myself
free to do it

in this place.

Might
make the
pruning and tuning
a bit more keyed-in,
as we go, or
as I go. As one prefers.
Or anyway, if I remember it

to do it, 

that's the idea

Also: maybe cut down on 
prose poems 

whose sole purpose 
is mnemonic? 

Too easy for dear reader 
to mistake a pat, plain practical
mnemonic 

for overly vain
"self-indulgence"

merely because an aspect 
of self-referential-ness 
may be shared between 
these two otherwise 

quite different things 

WELL.

Well, I say: if it fruits 
and boots (if it be not 
fruitless and bootless) 

THEN IT AIN'T VAIN

free verse unadulterated

I throw in a rhyme 
like a tweak of nose 
smack dab in the midst 
of what seemed to be 

prose 

well it ain't free verse 
if we can't mix it up 
by meter and accidental 

yup

Avast the lonely albatross

Avast the lonely albatross 
has took to skimming just above 
the cresting chop 
for miles and miles 

he has a death-wish, yes 
he does. 

or butt your stupid nose 
out, pal! He might just 

love an accidental swim? 
Somehow, and
like 
to practice
and perfect 
that low-down glide
that he gets in, 
with nary a flap
or tilt of wing 
for miles and miles
of salty time, 

so what the heck?

That albatross: no lonely bird!
He does it: fine. 

For lonely is not solitude. 
And solitude 

takes practice, see?
Slung just above the icy waves
by ancient rime for miles and days 

For lonely keeps old company 
with missed and gone, forevermore 
- and often treats its guesting ghosts 
so bitterly, so rude. With not a drop 

of gratitude 

to break the surface, plumb 
the depths or lilt another inch 
above the crashing roar

No need of why. 

To play with it, awhile, since 

we've got to fly 

Ah,
here's
the shore

rave review clarification

Holy wow, that’s epic sense. Or
a sense epic. Or

sub in “sensual” or “sensory”
for sense, and I suppose
some symbolic levels can easily
be read in without harm!

Very nice. Nicely-done, and
by “nice” I pretty always mean:

“finely-adjusted to a purpose or aim” 

slice of cheese

My favorite is a slice of plain cheese.
I mean of course, “cheese pizza”: three
things
effortlessly,
easily made perfect
if the raw goods are
purchased and the mixer
and tosser knows

how: crust, cheese, sauce. Pizza,
please. Nature's perfect food. Human 

nature's,
I mean 

of course

Misplaced looks

Taking villainous looks 
all around the square 
I lowered my eyes 
and found you there 

and you seemed surprised 
by my change of face. 
Darling, 

so was I!

What's a good one 
like you 
doing

in this place? 

worse and worse

Accelerated murder rates
in someone's fave detective show 
and every time they solve the case 
ties up more bodies with a bow.

But somehow she
detects a twitch. 

results are forged, the fix

is in 

they've only caught
one murderer. And all
those unrelated deaths 
were craftily and cannily 
woven up into the rug 

they all got swept under,
and in

small scruples

I could have
made
a very dangerous charlatan. Thankfully, I am entirely
sincere! Unfortunately, that is or may
be a double-edged

blade

change a band-aid: steps

Make a drawing of a
human skull on lined paper.
Crude OK.

Tape it to the mirror
right where your head would be. Then,
while you change out the bandaid, avert
your eyes: use your peripheral vision
for the task itself.

For your main, steady gaze, keep your eyes on
the skull drawing
interposed between you

and mirror-you. 

The energy of denial and superstition
freed up by this ritual (which I'm making up
right now for the first time: important, or
it wouldn't work) will attract any negative
karma or ambient bad feng shui and trap it
between the two lines of gaze (you and mirror
you) and suck it into the paper. When

you're all done (remember to actually change
the band-aid: important, or it wouldn't work),
burn the skull drawing! Or you could microwave

it. Sterilized. 

Done correctly, this ritual would have an efficacy
equal to or better than the placebo effect OR
the power of prayer. Trust me, I'm a nonce ritualist
par excellence. I develop these all the time, and

never execute half the ones I develop! Sometimes
the need doesn't arise. Great ideas 

go to waste all the time

On second thought,
don't microwave it. No studies
have been done confirming
the efficacy of microwaves
on denial and superstition
permeated paper.  Performance
of a proper nonce ritual is no time

to go experimenting

Oh, potentially important.
DO NOT ATTEMPT unless
your peripheral vision eye-to-hand
coordination is B-
or better! THE IMPORTANT
THING is the bandaid
change itself!

All this woo woo stuff
is just to attract and trap
any supernatural or paranormal
forces that could complicate

the wound. You know.
If left uninterfered-with

the moral sense

In the crude and fabulous
moral-lesson sense embraced 
and abandoned by turns, by
modern makers and interpreters
of fairy tales, winking so hard
sometimes the other eye pops 
out, 

I am sure there is a reason 
why we met, and why 
we loved. However,

I have no idea 
what it is, or might be,
or was.

or might be

aimed & aware

I'm always meddling in powers 
I do not understand. Tampering, 
interfering with forces I'm 
scarcely aware of. However,

on the plus side 

I know exactly 

what I'm doing 

Last night, last year

Happy last night 
Plenty of popping, 
all through the distance
but no real fireworks. 

In substance, in sum, 
that was the year 
that was. Little glory, 
and nothing hurts. 

Good morning, now! 
Whoever you are and 
wherever you be, or
go, or may. Have 

a happy new year, 

and may nothing 
blow up in your hand 

today.