the Image Problem

let's face it, we're all concerned about
the Image Problem
let's fact it, the public's perception
is off
from where it needs to be
but how to convince?
We must be convincing.
In order to convince,
we must be convincing.
And there's the rub:
the persistent persistence
of the Image Problem.
It is an outdated,
inaccurate
- but how can we stop it?
That's the problem, there is no
use denying! We
know it's wrong. The public,
if they are honest,
also know it's wrong.

The public isn't honest.
That's the problem. We
must be convincing. Or,
we must be
creative?

Perhaps,

the Image Problem

can be turned in our favor?

haiku smackdown #4

A haiku rebel
he lived to break all the rules
one by one by one

haiku smackdown #3

ready for sexy
time for sweet syllable funk
I love you, haiku

haiku smackdown #2

after war is hell,
diplomats stride forth to forge
a purgatory

haiku smackdown #1

weapon choice - haiku
we chose freely: to the death
weep not! It was brief

process optimization is an ongoing goal of ours

it's good to give a good look
to "how we've been doing it"
from time to time, and
this will be the perfect
chance for everybody
to take a breath, raise
their gaze above the day-to-day
review/reconnect/reinforce the way
we're doing it and why
(and as ideas arise,
revise!)

death by everything about you

death by the slow accumulation of wounds
death by the sound of a trumpet's call
death by the hiss of rustling grass
death by a scent that takes you back
that fills your lungs like mustard gas
with a pain too beautiful to last
let it pass, oh God, let it pass
life wasn't meant
to go that fast

how did you two meet?

how did you two meet?
well funny story, we
I was working as a
she thought I was a
she was running late for
got our cars confused
we almost missed our chance
to take an art school night class
by a traveling internet salesman
the dog seemed to know right away
but she took mine accidentally!
the delivery was actually for someone else
the prescription label seemed a little odd
and there she was, the most beautiful
I spilled my hot coffee all over my
it was a mutual stranger's party and
suddenly, both of our clothes
waiting at the courthouse forever
the song was one we both loved
luckily, we each realized instantly
there wasn't a thing we could say to
well, what would you have done?
right there, in front of everybody!

marble island

we were right on time
it was just too late

the ship sailed early
we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

it was a beautiful day
just a light grey chop
and the spray felt fine
so we both dove in
and swam

we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

we didn't know our strength
and it flagged too soon
we were saved by an island
at the less-than-halfway mark

we dragged ourselves ashore
it was barren, white, gleaming
and dull in the lowering dark

the day moved on
and we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

we awoke and saw
surrounded by stones
we couldn't tell which
way we had come
or in which direction we
should
proceed
slightly less-than-halfway
across the sea
we decided to stay
and work the stone

well, we ruined our first
and we couldn't wait
for the next one
no, we couldn't wait
for the next

stranded on a marble island
you and I making statues
to pass the time,
to stand for time
our craft improved
with patience and grace
'til the island was alive
with your laughing face
and my tender smile
hard, frozen in marble
we sculpted each other
all over the isle
we sculpted each other a hundred times
alone, or embraced, or
in pieces, lying
some without arms, as if
ancient, ruined
others so seeming alive
we could move
some dancing, but frozen in step
some wept
on each others' shoulders
snug deep into boulders
we smoothed into blankets and pillows
so soft
(to look at)

we never slept,

never touched,

never talked.

That life was over

and we couldn't wait
for the next one
no,

we couldn't wait
for the next

on our forthcoming and inevitable reckoning

darling, at some point, you and I
are going to have a reckoning
and at that point, I
am going to have a reckoning with you
and you
are going to have a reckoning with me
but until that point,
there will be no reckoning
with us

the trouble with what

the trouble with what you're trying to say
is I think I see where you're going with it
and I'll get out ahead, building bridges and roads
then you'll take a left turn and
away you go!

reconcile?

a year of healing
down the drain
but I don't mind
I missed this pain

lately my favorite combination

lately my favorite combination is
sausage,
artichoke heart
and kalamata olives.
Now that's good eating, from Tony N' Alba's!
I admit these California places
they know how to top
with fresh quality goods
that go some way to make up
for the fact that at the base

- well. You would never want a plain
large cheese from them.
Such as would drive your mouth wild
in Jersey, say at Pizza Palace
or di Roma
or Enzo's -

these toppings are bomba!

the pizza's okay,
though

Carnival

the wolf and lion circle / sniff
the man and shark rub elbows / fins
the fox and woman trade sly tales
at peace until the fun begins
a change in wind, from miles off
makes noses rise in unison
the fairground waits
in restless rest
as hosts await
invited guests

the light from the windows is all that you have

so these are the sorts of dreams you forget
not the ones that sear into the rest of your life
and make it unbearable, the farther you get
from making them real, from making it right
no, these are the ones that fade as you wake
and the light from the windows is all that you have
and there's no need to pinch, just yawn, maybe stretch
and the tear in your right eye

dries

unwept

drop me a line

drop me a line when you're on the way down
'cause I'll come pick you up wherever you land
and I'll take your hand, and fate
in hand, we can both decide
everything then

you've been like a fixed star, in my starry eyes
as I hoped and I prayed you to meteor
it's not that I wanted you so far to fall
I would cover the whole earth to catch you, though

so if you start to drop while my eyes are down
just call out - I'll dive flashing under your fall,
catch you in my arms, and take fate
in hand, we can both decide
everything then

with heart in throat

with heart in throat
you swallow down
and lick your lips
"dessert please now?"

cloudjumper

don't hang that halo 'round my neck
and push me off my cloud
unless
you care to hold my hand
the whole way screaming down

my first-class wings are in the shop
they never fit no how
I thought, "maybe I'll flap my arms?" and then it hit me
- pow

it's better to be an optimist

it's better to be an optimist
than to be pissed on, kissed
by snakes' lips, fitted with irons
and twisted into broken shapes
by a machine that was neither built
nor designed, by a life that is not hard,
so much as deathly kind
as it takes what you have to offer,
thanks you,
and stores it where it will do the most
good:
crushed flat between forces
that never once even knew you
could possibly exist
before they crushed.

believe you me,

trust: it's better to be

an optimist

than to have a gun
go off in your hand,
aimed at everything fragile you
once loved,

it is better to be -

than to prove
yourself wrong, by trying as hard
as you could

and fail,

- an optimist,

than to know that at last

and at least

(and alas)

you were right

Lucky

And I am in love
and will always be
and I hope she knows
what to me - it means

I will always be
and oh yes: this sticks.
it is sparkling,
clouds-broken open,
sun-streaming-down in fits
of rain-kissed rays,

a hope against hope
when all is forsaken,
come circling back,
and around, and
amazed.

Babe,

you know what it means to me.

soul gardening

It's time to tend
your soul garden
for weeds have crept
between the rows
of tender, needy
vegetables

I know your weeds
are beautiful

but you must pull
them, roots and all
to let the herbs
and legumes breathe
and fruits of vines
and leafy greens
dig over there!

to plant the weeds

Poetry OK

poems, ok
Poetry!
I awesome at it!
it a poem, it sits there - poem
before I even write it!

it waits itself,
a poem

later, I say "OK! TIME"

Then I awesome the poem into it,
no chance to not now
too late - I forever that poem, it
makes itself a thing
into this world

over me, because I

me, poems, I

= awesome.

nobody

EVER

says thanks

Directions for Use: Early Autumn

Go outside.

Stand directly.

under a tall tree, with back and neck

pressed rough to the trunk.



Look straight up.



crane your neck back, kinda

"wig out"

once you get your eyes

focused freely.

Up, out and into
the wind-shifted patterns

of stiff-swayed branch,

and dry-fluttered leaf

come together and between

where the pierced bright blue bites, brilliant sky

seen in kaleidoscope through

one million shifting, contracting gaps

in a twinkling field of red, yellow, brown,

black blotched, edges blur,

hung on interlaced lines, traced in grays

and greens

bounding space, light, shadow,

blood, breath and steam


Ponder


the intricacies of nature
and the interconnectedness of things.

Close your eyes.

Clear your mind.

Say to yourself, out loud, three times:

"There's no place like home."



Open your eyes.


And

in the instant the light
floods back in
from red to white:

Hold the thought that is in your mind.

Turn it over
and contemplate it.

Walk forward, breathing in time
with your even steps.
Keep the thought you have held,
and continue
turning it over in your mind.
If you can, turn it over,

with your hands,

- as you walk.



Stop walking.

Turn back.

See the whole tree.

Regard the tree.

Witness the tree,

which even now
is eating the air that you breathed out,
while you stood beneath it,

breathing.

Look at the tree. Hold the thought
you have in your mind.
Hold the tree,
as well.



(optional step) Say something to the tree.



What you choose to say


is between you
and the tree.

tribute

Of all of the parents
I have ever had,
I would have to say
I am least like Dad.
But don't call me a Momma's
boy, though, there, SON.
'Cause I'd have to lay you out
for the connotation!

sunrise optimists

the day awakes in gentle splendor
teases us with rosy tint
in sunrise skies, our eyes are held
our hopes are held aloft, by hint
of limpid possibilities
so clear we see, through obstacles
by dint of will and strength, we know
we will win though
our day is full

mercifully untitled

I knew a man named William Dung,
who moved to Rome to settle down.
They made of him a citizen.
He was young then; he is grown now.
It was a rite of passage, and
a long, hard road, to settle in -
but by now he feels quite at home.
He wrote a book:

BILDUNGSROMAN

Poetry Is Secretly

A poem is a way of saying in words
what people don't normally say in words, but
put
so to emphasize style and art
- draw attention towards form,
then sneak feelings
to heart

Because if I say to you, "Darling,
I love:
your magnificent mind
your eyes are like topaz,
your blush is like wine,
your hair is like spun pearl,
dark lustrously-hued," you'd say

"People don't talk that way
- pretty gay, dude."

my life as a beach inspector

I'm here on the official sand dune
looking out at the official ocean
I've been inspecting the beach grass
to make sure it meets the public's needs
their legs must always be lashed just so
as the official sun comes up,
sometime I wonder
why does everything have to be so damn official?
but it's no use to wonder
when it is.

blessed descent

love falls forever,
and far. So far

and an instant is all
that it takes
to start

but an instant is all
that it takes to hit
hard

if you've hit hard enough
you might break a few parts

I've hit hard enough
so many times in my life
I look down at the ground
now
to watch it arrive
but all I see is blue
- am I too far up high?
I can't even see mountains
or oceans
just sky
both below and above
and a great rushing wind
and my face can't get rid of
this idiot grin

fragme

there's a new kind of
but there's another
and it doesn't really
so if you tried to

at least it isn't
you might think so
too many times we
next one over

and we're invited
something to make it
if you say so
the basic fact of taking

we have no more
left

make it to Vegas

we never did make it to Vegas
like we always talked about as a joke
for me at least, it was always a joke
but I like jokes, though

I would have liked to go
as a joke
on you and me,
and we sure would have laughed
up a storm as the dry heat and towering sky
walked past
on lightning legs
shedding not one drop
upon the gravel, for us
peals of thunder on dust
like echoing laughter

at judgments
unjust

Read It Out Loud, You Son of a Bitch!

You think I wrote this poem
to be read in your head? Silently,
like some novel or nonfiction
history of dead
prose? Hell,

No! A poem must be read
- and that means Out Loud! -
for it to breathe, and take shape,
for the rhythm to ground its electric pulse
in the thrum of your throat, as your voice box
beats out its tempo
- don't choke!

Keep a glass of water by,
and if you need to, pause. But if you
screw up a line, don't cheat just because

there's no one else listening. You're cheating yourself!
Don't just back up one line, and "excuse-me, well,
I'll just take it from here" - that's no way to read!

Go straight back to the start, and go again,
half-speed! Don't rush it, don't force, just
e-NUN-ci-ate,
now
roll your exquisite tongue around rich, plummy vowels
and let consonants cut, chop the meaning to bits
that make mouth-watering sense, and it fits, oh it fits

or proceed as if,
'til it gets to the end
for the sound can make sense - if you read it,
friend!

it's the little things

it's the little things
about her that I love
the very little things
miniscule things
tiny things
unaided and naked
to the invisible eye
the alveoli in her lungs
for instance
her taste-buds!
her mitochondria, sure
and of course she has
more
in addition to all that
she has a couple
quite big things, that I
very much treasure

but that goes
I suppose
without saying

or measure

what if I died? from tainted drugs

what if I died? from tainted drugs
like aspirin, though - not
coke or smack
I would feel so bad
for this dude cut down
in the prime of life
over some sore back
or some dull head ache
did I deserve that?
or possibly worse -
was it of my own make?
that fate would cut in
with its karmic hand
a skeletal flourish,
read it and wake

brains to bits

I love your brains to bits I don't think
anyone thinks quite like you, and I don't know
if my brain's fit to yours quite clicks
amidst these
slippery grooves that work our surfaces, respectively
- but then, to fit
like puzzle pieces may not be what
makes us blend, ideally, it
takes contact points and also distances between as well,
and tingle electricity
that jumps and arcs and drops and swells
and fills the fluid medium,
that we suspend in light as air, with bubbles
as we carbonate
the glass container that we share

"extraterrestrial counting its fingers"

every conceivable summertime flavor
runs slow through my head as the drum beats waver
through the buzz strum jangle of the guitar sway
"the sun came out, and it didn't go away"
before I count five, I'm abducted, alive
she sings like a languorous late summer rain
then - twenty-part harmony, barely instructed,
a chorus of children breaks out in refrain
and nothing can stop what's deranged my whole day
"the sun came out, and it didn't go away"
the sun came out, and it didn't go away
no it wouldn't - it wouldn't go away
if I can't jar it loose from my head, it can stay

"the sun came out, and it didn't go away"

my smile's comin' back!

In the old days I wouldn't waste time explaining
I knew I was good and as true as my words
I don't know what changed
my good and my true are the same
but these days I can't help but try to persuade
every dumb son of bitch and/or mother thereof.

And it may have eroded my patience somewhat.

In the old days I had a serene happy smile,
for any and all who heard what I had to say
and seemed to think
I ought to care who believes.

but I do believe

that anyone who suddenly wakes
and realizes where they've been wrong
can change!

Yup,

my smile's comin' back!

life is a list

my life is a list,
of things done well,
of things not done,
that need to be
or needed to be
of things undone
that once were fixed
so much I see
that needs to be added on,
that needs to be done
or prevented
or told
or fixed
if I write it all down
then the thought will count
I will get to it, now
it's on the list

there's nothing you can do but have faith in yourself

there's nothing you can do but have faith in yourself
the ones who were wrong about you were wrong
the ones who did not know you didn't know
there's nothing to do now but keep yourself strong

to keep yourself true to the person you are
the person you know deserves something more
don't give up on her - she's waited so long
you want her to be there, when it comes along
the person you are, all that's best in your self
you want her to be there, to answer the door.

with care

Her words say much, but not too much
with care she cuts and trims and clips
to say enough, but not too much
she reads, re-reads 'til perfect touch
She signs and seals, with careful lips
and sends it off, regretting all
the words left out, that should at least
have made it into postscripts
but
it was
her call