I'd prefer a society in which

I'd prefer a society in which
people were made of luminous light and sound
and sense, singing in overlapping tones
of metal, gold, and chrome; wings
spread gauzily, our edgefeathers mingled
at the tips, as we all revolve
in infinitely concentric circles
turning in upon the ringing, shining,
singing source of all of us, of which
all the beauties from which we are formed
are merely the sheerest echoes.

FACT

I'm probably completely wrong AGAIN, but I think what you meant
but I think what you meant is I take what is just plain fact
and I give it the status (in my eyes) of opinion.

and it doesn't matter what we both think "opinion" means
because fact is fact, there is no in-between state where
ever the twain should meet, as if one

that is my opinion
that is my
opinion

I'm so this

I'm so wish I'm TRUE
I'm so indefinite I'm YOU
I'm so miss it HITS
I'm so shit that it STICKS
I'm so sweet to the CORE
sticky apple juice BLEEDS
and you can't stop BITING
'til you're choking on SEEDS, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, and there's a difference in fact

I'm so peace, it's DISTURBING
so calm, it's unnerving
I'm so mean I mean it all
(and every word, undeserving
from some standpoints, I'm sure)
but I've got so many more
if we need to go another -
let's by all means go YOURS, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, it's just as simple as fact,
I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I take it forward not back

conquistadore

I claim this territory in the name of Spain
I plant my flag,
and I take your name in the book of all Names
for the one I love
and the truth is,
it does mean too much to me.
but that's better than not enough

fetish

I have the fetish where I need
to give more than I have in me
to get anything out of it at all,
and there's nothing to hold back anyway
because you don't regret
anything except what you don't give.
The harder the lessons can be this time
just means the less likely I'll be
to learn them - if I
can keep out of wisdom long enough,
eventually the dice
will land with the right number of dots facing up, and
I will be set up sweet
having preserved my ability to put everything absolutely I have
into the throw.

Except this table is crap, miles long,
and at such a step grade the dice will probably
never actually come to a stop, and
I am sure all the bets made
must have slid off.

That's how I like it, though. I am no gambler
- and it is not a gamble
when you know there is no chance.

There is no chance involved.

I have the pretty sick fetish
where to this day, I want you
to be happy with what you are doing
and what you have done, and
I explain how. I tell you how
it was not a mistake, and
I'm telling the truth, but
lord
I wish somehow that I was not. Because

if only the truth were not true,

maybe I could tell you what I wish was.

thoughts on suicide

I don't think it's self-hate at all

or

maybe it is, sometimes - okay,

but not always.


You could love yourself
so much, and know
what you're worth - so
much
and more, but


if every day
is another lash
that you know for a fact
you did not deserve, and a burden to lift
that you know you can't

- it isn't self-hate
that makes you burst

when your heart, which has seen you through
so much, to the person you hoped
you could be - you are
that person.

And that person isn't enough.

just another step further, is miles
too far

When that's where you stand,
there's barely a chance
to be able to shake your head, wait
ask: "maybe it's not that I'm wrong, not strong
enough - is the problem
this path

that I'm on?"

please repeat

she said you can't get any truth
except for what you make up
and I've taken her word, not in vain
like her
but in bright, deadly earnest
like me
and everything
that I've needed to hear,
I have heard.

"the saddest math"

The object of all
of both your hopes,
intentions, and lives
has been put on the block
it was worth far too much
to afford it now. So it has
to be sold.

- and the proceeds, split,
so you both walk away
with something to show
for what was put in
to it.

What you each had to bring,
you both brought every bit.
Every bit of it changed into just
one thing:

The rest of your life

came at too high a cost, so now
you're converting it back
at a loss

and you'll both walk away
with a thorough and fair
accounting done. You do not
part friends. The rest of your lives

you will both know the price
that was too much to spend.

the suddenness

the suddenness
of catastrophe is what comforts us. We cannot see
it, a long way off. We get used to life, to how it runs.
Every day goes by, and we've learned to adjust
to being this close to able to trust.
We're at home, we can handle it well enough
every day goes by, 'til the one

All at once:

your job is lost
your car has
irrevocably died,
the woman you love
is seeing yet another guy
and the chance of getting back
any piece of the peace of mind
that you had when you woke
up,

is Spock odds, basically. Catastrophe
was always coming down on you, one
two,
three,

but for all you knew, for so many steps
on such a long way things were easy
and sweet, and

would
continue

to

be.

let's sing the blues

let's sing the blues
just me and you, while a dying man
plays guitar.

And it sounds -
so sweet, like the worst defeat
you could suffer and still remain who you are

or a little bit worse than that, in fact -
you admit, as you take just a few things back

- you work the loss into your voice, in the words
and you raise it all up, throat tight,
then slack

we are sweet and slurred
and we sing 'til our throats
fill up with ache, as plaintive as the world
we can hear it turn on its axis of prayers
every heart bled out now, too much to care

it's too much to take

except yours and mine.
This is punishment now, which is fine
by us. We have so much rope

we have given ourselves

such a beautiful song, here
beyond all hope.

"weaver"

when I think of what it takes
to weave anything that holds
in this pull-apart world
full of souls born sold
well I wish I had that skill
in my fingers or heart
to take separate, aching strands
and make them one, with art

suspense

I'm a voracious reader of the same three books
and the plot twists never fail to snare
and hook, and draw me in. Like I can't remember how
it is all going to end
when I start it over now, page 1,
again.

next chance I get

not sure when that would be,
exactly

but I believe: you plant a hard-thrown dart
smack dab in the middle of a shape drawn on the future:
it's called picking a place you want to be.

And to begin with, the shape corresponds to a set of lines
on that map of where you want to get to. And
where the will is good, well the lines on any map
where you've sunk your tack
will begin to dance and wiggle a bit,
and by and by reshape
into a square on a calendar.

Or so I faithfully
believe.

whatever it was...?

whatever it was
she accused me of,
if I could do it to you
it would be worth the fuss
to put all of my powers into
the field, and encapture you in
one leap, one
yield.

served cold

all the missed chances
I ever had
in my life
I passed them
all up, because of
what? something better
that I had to do
to be worthy of you? To be
worthy of you? No, not really
worthy of you. Just
trying to be not
worthless in general,
not worthless
as me, trying to not be
something
of no value or use to anyone else,
because
of the way it makes decisions.
You know?
Because how it makes and justifies
one decision
is going to be how it goes.

And every one
of those missed chances, miss,
I am glad I decided just
as I did.

Except for one.
Somehow, I misjudged
what was at stake

and

what I would become. And against
all hope, all odds, regret
comes way too late, as it very always
does.

But I guess, if out of all
the missed chances in my life, if I only want back
just one, well

maybe I am doing ok on balance. And need
to shut up, and pretend I have
no regrets, and say that
it's all for the best, take a dose
of whatever medicine gets the healing done,
the swelling down around the heart, and kills
the cold clammy sweats that have you gasping
with chills, bolt-upright in bed
at every hour of night,
in distress -

because you can not cannot can not see how you got it wrong,

and you can't pretend that everything you want

was a guess.

beautiful view

you've got a beautiful view
you should open your eyes
better open your eyes,
'cause it's slipping away
in front of your face
as the sun's going down
in this shade-darkened room
of the emptiest house, you stood fast
by the sink, you had lost
all your thought
down the drain,
with the soap
and the water
and blood

if you opened your eyes
you could see yourself, now

the most beautiful thing
that the world's ever seen

if you borrowed my eyes,
that is just what you'd see

somehow.

but my eyes
have gone far, far away
boring into a glass of their own
broken thoughts
in fluorescent-lit ache
laying bare to the core
a soul with its windows
blown out

perfectionism's

Perfectionist is certainly
one thing I ain't! I like
to throw paint, and have it
land where it goes. But somehow
the results comes out impeccable,
though. I once had an art critic
try to buy my clothes, just
from how I'd let the paint
speckle itself on. Perfectionism's

trying too hard,

past done.

self convinced

I'd love to fall
for a girl like you, but
there aren't any girls
like you to love
aren't any places like you
to fall
aren't any ways we could go
but once

and everything we've learned
has been confirmed
not only once, but twice
or more. There aren't
any times

like we used to have,
and there weren't at
the time. We know now,

for sure

Kathleen.

it's only the fact
that you used to pop up
in my window, surprise!
You would brighten my days. And
that keeps you in me. And
in memory, and - in that memory,
you, and your smile and eyes

keep me always amazed.

but you'll never see this.
For no purpose at all,
no ulterior hint
I set thought of you down
of your eyes, and that smile

How artistically pure of me! How
infantile. Not a motive in mind.

You will never know me. And
you'll never see this, and
and all such things are fine.

For your eyes, and your smile
might have just as well frowned
if the beauty you make
- without motive or thought,
just surprising us all -
isn't worth setting down.

"Ceremonial"

here

we are

and we're ready

to begin the act, the stage

is set

there's no hurry,

and no turning back, you know

your role - but you tremble

'cause it means so much to you, to make it great

make every gesture captivate

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it could mean anything

fake

rehearsed

artificial - such is life, but it means

everything

you put into

on performance night, you catch

your breath

and leap outward - it's a leap of faith

you trust yourself to make

your instinct says it's no mistake

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can sink in it, like quicksand
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it doesn't mean anything

when the curtain falls, and darkness draws around

you

to a crash of applause - you left the audience

all dumbfounded

and your curtain calls, could have gone on and on, for hours and hours

but,
you

steal

away, with red hearts bunched in tight bouquets


lose

the wardrobe, and make up

and go natural,

you step

with command - into spotlight

without self-control, you know

what's next

isn't scripted, but you have the words by heart

by heart

the house lights fading into dark

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
and it means everything

unsupported

nothing is under the stars
but us
our faith in the ground
can't hold us up
our particles fall

through all points between

not from what we are, but
by what we mean

"3 Wishes"

If some genie in a bottle told me I could speak my mind
and he said I could have everything if I just asked him right
well I don't need
no lottery, if you're not mine!
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

for the first wish,
I would get to MEET YOU!!!
AGAINST YOUR WILL!!!!!?!?!!
but you'd look at me ...
and you'd kinda like it

and we'd go on a date, and you would hate all my opinions
but you'd keep it to yourself, and you'd wonder what
came over you, but
I
won't
tell!

If some demon in a bottle said I had three souls to sell,
and that all of them were mine, and none would have to go to hell
well I believe
I've already made up my mind!
if I had 3 wishes I would wish for you,
three times

for the second wish, I would buy you lots of
FANCY CLOTHES
and you'd look at me -
and you'd kinda like it

then you'd put them on, parade around
in public by my side
and you'd wonder what came over you, but
you
won't
mind!

If some jesus in a bible said he'd heed my every prayer
if I only asked for him by name, he'd kick it straight upstairs
well I don't need
predestiny, if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

if I had 3 wishes, I would wish for you -
three times

For the third wish
you'd take all your CLOTHES OFF
and DANCE AROUND!!
and you'd look it me,
and I'd kinda like it

then we'd go to the church, and we would get MARRIED
and you'd love me A LOT
'cause I love you so profoundly, you'd
be like:
"this dude's
SO HOT."

If some genie in a bottle told me I could speak my mind,
and he said I could have everything if I just asked him right
well I don't need
too much world peace, if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

no I don't need
nothing, you see - if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

if I had 3 wishes, I would wish for you -
three times

requiem

If I die every day, for
the rest of my life, it
could not cancel out one day's joy
that you gave

and heaven or hell
will have to work hard
to live up to just one
of our days

that you made

Not if I have anything

Divide and conquer
has long been a favorite tactic
of the aspiring tyrant.

And how better to divide,
than to destabilize the power structure,
stoke paranoia on all sides,
appeal to one faction's cherished bias
and get it to self-identify
with your own movement's drive
for power?

Then, foster in your supporters
suspicion of all movements
that call for the solidarity
of the oppressed of any stripe.
Get your supporters to damn
those who rally in favor
of civil liberties
and human rights
as subversives.

Bitter irony,
in a nation founded
so strongly on the primacy
of the fundamental, inalienable
human rights of the individual
that the simple, self-evident truths
of those founding principles,
embodied in the Bill of Rights,
have dragged us kicking and screaming
feet-first from our founding, steeped
in patriarchal slaveholding aristocracy,
through and out of mire after mire
of religious, racial, and sexual
bigotry. To fail now? To fall here?

Not if I have anything to fucking say about it.

lay me down

if I meet you in my dreams
don't kill me with your charms,
I am planning to wake up,
alive,
and well, in your arms

general chicken and rice for one, please!

how can this possibly be rice for one?
this great steamy pile of white and fluff
the tasteless expanse of substantial stuff
I will drown you in sauce-drowned
chicken-fried parts, and let it soak in.
And then I will start.

I will eat up to half,
and I'll see if I can call it "enough,"
dump the rest of this delicious mess
in a white to-go bin, or guess what?
I might need to finish the rest.

Hey, do you want some?

FAQ #8: "Why even bother?"

This question
makes me sad. Because
I don't know. I'm not sure. Why bother?

Ultimately we can't know what comes next, or
how what we're doing now will pan out, or tie in
to what eventually happens to us. Does that mean

what we do doesn't matter? Or does it just mean,
we can't know whether or not it ultimately will matter?

I try to live
my life in such a way
that it matters as I go. Even if
in no cosmic sense. Even if in no grand,
or important sense. Even if at the very end
of the day when all the turns are tallied, some grim accountant
will scratch out a running reconciliation of credits and debts,
and sum it all up with a naught.

Screw that guy.
If that is the best math he can come up with? Then:

He is the one that doesn't matter.

Why even bother?
One, I bother because I ought
Two,

I bother,

because it is worth the bother, and because
it's no bother to me, to bother.

It would bother me very much not to.

"How's the weather?"

It's quite cold
for California. Thick rimes
of frost in the morning coating the ice plant. Scraping
of windshields necessary, if I plan
to drive to work.

I like the walk,
though! Cold
funneling into lungs,
through scarf-wrapped throat, then

expelled

vigorously

in a futile attempt to make interesting steam-shapes!

It's not really quite cold enough for that. All I get is puffs

In general, the weather
here is temperate.

The proximity of the Monterey Bay

has a regulating influence in the summertime,
keeping the nights from getting overly cool
or the days too hot.

Winters
can be rainy, but
the past several seasons have been mild. We
never if ever
get snow or much road ice,

excepting the occasional - and deadly! - black ice at the summit
on Highway 17
"over the hill," the Santa Cruz Mountains
into "Silicon Valley."

How's the weather where you are?

"How About It?"

In general, yeah: I'm up for it! Let's
figure out the details. I'd like to hear
a little more, maybe plan forward, see
how and where it all fits
into the various schedules
floating around, obviously we
can't go leaping into the nebulous. Unless
we've got nothing better to do, I guess!
Of course!

- sometimes, that can be fun!

But yeah, let's
unroll the blueprint, pick
apart the specifics, and lay out
the trajectory of this ol' bitch,
because in general, when it comes
to busting forth on a lark
or a well-planned campaign,
or when it comes to letting the AAA map
flap its way right out the open window
on its own (and figure out how to refold
its damn self!) shifting off-road
at a moment's notice, because
a sudden better opportunity has
presented itself -

in general, I'd say:

I'm pretty much down with that!

That's very much how I prefer it, in fact.

FAQ #5: "Is it true?"

It is.

"Joe, who the fuck?"

Who am I
is a far more complex
question. I am

the sweet singer of silken dreams
that pass through the minds of monolithic machines, I am

the kind caretaker of forbidden forms, who snuggle up against me
but can never get warm, I am

the hard-bitten wish-list enthusiast of dismissed views
that were once unquestionably true, but that now are only kept
and understood by few
to none,
including me. I leave

them presents every year beneath my Christmas tree. I am

the morning dew, in a valley undersea. I am

the question in you

that says: "huh?"

FAQ #3: "Joe, why the fuck?"

I'm choosing to look at this as
a very different question to "Joe,
what the fuck?"

I interpret "what the fuck?"
as having an unspoken and understood

"...d'ja do that for?" or "...was that in aid of...?"

at the end of it. Which covers
most of the "why" aspect. But
I'm interpreting this
question as more
someone turning their eyes to me
with something more cosmic in mind, a la:

"Joe, why the fuck
do things happen as they do in life...?"

Well, wow. See,
I wish I could give more comfort on questions
like these. All I can do

is echo my own earlier sentiments and say
that this, too,
for me,

is a frequently asked question.

"What are you on??"

This varies
with the time of day. Note:
at any or all of the below hours, I may
well be sound asleep. But if I'm awake,
here's what I'm probably on:
12am-2am:
adrenaline.

2:01am-3am:
blessed descending satisfaction (I'm
about never up at 2am, but when I am,
that's what I'm on)

3:01am-4:59AM:
fumes

5:00am-7:59am:
sunshine, or
the promise thereof

8:00am-11:59am:
caffeine

12:00pm-4:59pm:
endorphin rush from achievement high

5:00pm-11:59pm:
a little beer, a little wine,
maybe

NOTE: on weekends, there's some bleed-over between
the 12pm and 5pm sectors. Naturally. And that
is about all I'm on! Very occasionally, toss
a little nicotine in there! Nicotine
can be an exceptional high,
as long as you never make a habit of it.
It's a crap high, once you're hooked - nicotine
does not respect its addicts.

Be warned.

My tip? Never buy your own nicotine. It's kept me
from being
addicted.

"Joe, what the fuck?"

This could even be a
Frequently Asked Question
in terms of just what I ask myself

The truth is, I scarcely know
what the fuck. Events and obstacles

lean out at me from the mists
of looming future dooms and I just

have at 'em, pretty much on instinct.
My reactions to any perceived opportunity

or threat are as instantaneous
as they are capricious. Rarely

can I look back and figure out why
I did what I did, specifically - or

even why I said what I said. But
in general, I'm pretty confident

it was the right thing. Sometime,

the only answer
to "what the fuck?" is

"fuckin' because, dude."

attune

Kid, I'm immune to perfection critiques
I don't even believe
in another man's beats
but melody-wise, I

love to coincide

- as I drag the whole harmony along, for the ride

my dream girl's made

my dream girl's made of human being
and self-esteem, and chicken wing,
and oxygen, and made of sex
(oh pretty much, what you'd expect)
and maybe me, a little bit (well,
not much more than that will fit
- you can't be made
of someone else, to any
large degree that helps)

She's made of standards
- real damn high.
Hard liquor, poured
in soft drink fizz,
and mental health, and just a bit
of some kind of delicious pie,

and beer and wine, and maybe milk
and cereal, and peanut-butter
sandwiches with peanut-butter:
creamy style and smashed-in
thin potato chips, for just
the perfect salt and crisp.

She's also made
of marble skin,
with blush of evening
sunset rose
at close of day.
And all the other
good that fits,
like skinny clothes
- a little tight,
sometimes! Like life
in second skin, it's
not uncomfortable,
I'd have to say: For me
at least, it fits.
I like the way. For her,
I think she's conscious that
I wear her well, and she wears
me, we make each other look
so good,

but that some other guy might be
a slightly better fit
for her.

Well maybe, yes
he probably would.

a dirge too soon

Times is hard
people are hurting
death's come to call
and there ain't no flirting

"The Day They Took The Network Down"

I was kicking such ass
this morning, today,
and into the afternoon, it
was looking like inevitable,

The network is down. And now I've run out
of (meaningful) conference calls, except
for the ones that need data in front
of me to be confident, competent
even. To be done, there is nothing.
To be done, there remains everything.

It is as if
some bastard named IT
planned my Monday to fail, to derail,

The day they took the network
down, an announcement went out
- so that's suspicious. It was planned,
clearly! - So was I! - I had things
all wrapped up by five! I had things
planned. When I wanted to leave today,
on time for once - but if this cunt
computer wants to come up at four,
by four-thirty, I'll be stuck here
for approximately ever, tonight.
Until I can make up, for all that could
have been right. Until I make up, for all
that was

lost. The day they took the network down, and
what it cost. But fuck it. But Fuck It. BUT
FUCK IT.

BUTT FUCK IT.

butt fuck IT!

If only I didn't give a toss.

the people you may never know

the people you may never know
are searching for you, even now
to worm their ways into your lives
of public, private, personal
you'll think you know them!
yes, you will - you'll just assume
they're just like you
just kind of generally okay
until the day you find out hard
you can't tell who these people are
they look just like the others do
the ones who smile, and mean, and say
and are and seem, who do not play,
or if they do - it's not to trick
you. The people you may never know
are not like that. They're something
else. Don't let one bit of you betray
your self to them! These people they
are everywhere - they can't be seen!
- or spotted, or identified. Until
they slip, and tip you off
to their inhuman tricks, and
monstrous lies. And after that,
you will be wise.

"nice"

I don't really like what you've
done. Normally, you set no foot
wrong

that I've seen; your judgment
- impeccable, in my opinion.
And of course, my opinion
doesn't govern in matters
of yours. But I really don't
like

what you've done. You see,

I see (or I think I see)
what you were trying to do,
and it looks good on you - or maybe,
you make it look good. But it doesn't say "you"

to me. And maybe,
that's part

of what you were trying to say?
to me, or
to the world in general, "Hey,
this is me:
you had me wrong."

Well, we'll see.

If so, I have certainly loved having you
wrong. And I look forward to getting you
right. And what you've done
could grow on me, or on you,
or both of us
simultaneously, but

for now, for tonight,
in this moment of first glance, leaving open
the possibility of all second chance and third time
charm, or a further acquisition of taste
on my part,

I don't really like what you've done.