One reckoning.

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

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

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

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

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

plus who isn't and what's not.

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

your mind.

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

I reckon.

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

rough operator

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

I'm kind of 
glad 

you

said something!

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

to be.

the absent child

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

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

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

of frowns.

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

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

And so the absent child appeared

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

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

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

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

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

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

just what they might expect. 

Word camera

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

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

You want

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

great. 

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

Unless they wish. Then: GOOD. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

it damn sure 
never can/will
be true!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some other one's taste? 

That. 

Is not.

Your worth. 

It is theirs.  

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

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

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

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

GOLD. 

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

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

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

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

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

it comes out nude!

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

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

That's trust.

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

from my mouth 
loud large, 

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

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

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

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

OK.

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

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

chest

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

Some of them 
are getting
way too tight 
to hurt. 

But I might
care to dare 

if I plan to 

flirt. 

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

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

Hopelost in expectationland, suddenly

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

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

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

can't be caught: 

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

may we learn to take 

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

what I did. 

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

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

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

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

natural, we each rise,
once,  

and we bring this
between us
in symphony
of surprise. 

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

I concur. Wait - on what? 

"You are fine
by me!"

HOO hah

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

HOO
HAH

I don't know! 

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

HOO
HAH

I don't mind! 

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

(riff)

you're kind 

(riff)

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

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

HAH!

I don't know! 

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

WHO!
HAH!

I don't mind! 

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

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

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

riff

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

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

And 

HOO
HAH

I don't know! 

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

HOO
HAH!

I don't mind! 

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

you're fair

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

or not we care

we find

Hypothetic uh

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

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

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

called consideration

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

them, 

UN-less! Our purpose in that act

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

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

And this we all call "consideration"

X/Y F#

You are the crux to my tuned forked path, 

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

So fast

So social me thought

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

We're 
like crystal. Yeah. 

We break easy. 

Only fan.

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

Patter and the lion

I always remember my idea
about sticks 

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

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

It was worth it.

Just so you know.

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

you beam: the death sentence! 

"Say that again!" 

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

Total Impossible Recall,

or Feeling/Moment Recreation
Trick?

Or Mission: Impossible
Not To Botch?

Or give totally new idea 
as-if? 

Or: try it fresh
again right now? 

What sticks 

Fashion critique in high-low blow tones.

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

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

is a snob.

The spanless inquisition

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if I was missing a hint, right? 
OH. 

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

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

You bastard. It's just water! 

Isn't it? 

spontaneous human combust-self

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

She likes men. 
Whereas I 

hey wait 

This Not Is An Ad?

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

Or 

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

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

heineken silver
 
Its real
is 
so deal. 

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

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

I am
sofused

onlinisms glossary #42

"WFW."
Women fighting women -

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

the whole argument's
tuning in towards 

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

bro on bro advice overheard

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

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

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

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

incredulity redacted
_____________

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

He like
....

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

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

_______________

Cool! 

....

A nosey-ass shit could probably 
smell itself dropping! 

______________

Annnnd we good.

Morale lesson. 

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

And you know, just 

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

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

Nah once for nope.

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

My nah is 
good as any 
one word is, 

so. 

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

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

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

I understand and 
agree. Now, 

let's see what 
this try is worth! 

On three! 
Two. 

One. 

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

You try. Are you - 
look. 

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

That's hard to understand 
wrong! Mine 

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

you can tell what 
each really means? 

What you mean you 
can? Oh perfect. 

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

Wink once for maybe

transhumanist plot unfolding? Nah

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

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

So rejoice, or perplex.  

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

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

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

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

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

we will
take you
 
first. 

flirtesy gone one line awry

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

My bad is one fit 
foul call run amok, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fast 

the criticart diagnostic practitioner is in.

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

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

mepiphany

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

Am I Misogynist?

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

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

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

Wait. 

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

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

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

Straight byplay

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

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

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

but hey, your call! LADY

Inappropriatesque Instacomment fine line

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

Lucky sky

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

you so much

on female fire

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

of me. 

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

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

See how it develops 
on 
fire 

Run it forward.

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

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

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

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

You got it? Good! 

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

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

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

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

Hey what the hell. 
Who was that guy? 

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

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

he really just go 
there?

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

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

play twice the same way. 

Are you ready? GO! 
GO! It's a ball!

damnit 

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

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

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

run right yet.

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

any given Sunday. 

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

he can run it back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

let's pass! Please 
please please 

Yes! Great! OK, 
you know what to

do, everybody but 

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

It might work huh?

Hope 

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

for all of us
on this big team

but one. 

blink and you'll miss a kiss, maybe!

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

Here lies 
some brief 
but nonetheless 

soulless wit. 

Too bad, too 
good for this world's 

first kiss. 

good middling done

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

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

for once. 

I meant to do this, 
not-medium stunt. 

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

salt it. 

The next big classical music craze

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

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

it was protected!

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

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

simultaneously right through!

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

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

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

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

exactly what they do-over. 

You even recall the name.

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

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

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

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

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

Wise move, for classical purists 
arguably. 

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

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

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

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

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

to innocuously pose
unaccusable, plausibly 

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

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

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

too longingly gave his 
male gaze up into, 

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

too-soon (and by rumor
alone) declared 

alive   

Who said that? I swear verbatim

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

better hit it."

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

later at the end: 

"And that rhino 
goes extinct on the 
spot!"

In between 
something really 
enthusiastic about beer. 

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

I'm busy trying to write 
this damn poem

A crisis of infinite births

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

in a world

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

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

lessening rule. 

We do find one is 
proved quite exceptional, 

at that!

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

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

Tolerating sometimes. 

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

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

fly,
flee,
and find in flight, 

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

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

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

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

breed, brooding please
yes, please. What time

we have left! 

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

In this dawning dusk. 

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

to follow that up?  

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

Let the audience 
glow
in mind

right now. 

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

give and plow.

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

From way down, 

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

Such fools 
for love plus all 
equivalent 'cause

grow wise in the ways 
they find by pause:

this one full, 
that half, and those:

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

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

For free! 

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

and can prove who you
caught or kilt. 

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

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

or want 
or curse. 

Let's bless 
and honor 

each flying  
butterbug
of a moment 

we net. 

mid-crisis grin

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

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

fun? 

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

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

doctorly grin 

Strong answer

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

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

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

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

they're the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

was? Yeah.

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

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

for once.

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

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

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

causes from luck

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

That's so! 

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

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