Monday, May 22, 2017

Love After Death

It's odd that you are loved when you are dead--
The body rots, is cold and decomposing
While you are loving me. The dirt's enclosing
All but the memory of me--unwed
Without divorce--the soul inside my head
Lives on in yours, in paper fragments prosing
And poeming my soul, refined, exposing
My self that in this world I would embed.

The unity of me is freed in death
And I am left in fragments, memories
In others' heads that may not match, in rhyme
And rhythm, supple sounds that caught my breath
In marks that freeze my soul and, freezing, frees
Me to eternal life and endless time.

Monday, May 15, 2017

Shifting to the Guilty

The man they sacrificed transformed the wood
That grew around the town to structures great
And beautiful, transforming each man's fate.

And yet, the plague still spread its deathly hood
Despite the efforts of the growing state
That grew around the town to structures great
And beautiful, transforming each man's fate.

But when they learned that evil can't be good,
They sacrificed their king without debate,
Lamenting that their folly would create
The man they sacrificed, transformed the wood
That grew around the town to structures great
And beautiful, transforming each man's fate.

Monday, May 8, 2017

Poetic Existence

This poem is a figment of my mind--
It doesn't exist--dogs can't eat it, birds
Can't perch on it--these mere mark-sounds unwind
In music notes and rhythms and in words.

And when I die, and if and when these marks
Will disappear, will they have made a place
In all this cosmos any more than larks
Who sing upon the line with sonic grace?

Or will these patterns, more complex than you
And me because the poem requires we
To be, and all mere facts less than the true
This poem is, and more complex, more free,

Be much more real than anything that came
Before and light the cosmos with its flame?

Monday, May 1, 2017

Mornings With You

The Earth is turning, moving me to morning
Where the light is lifting, pinks and blue adorning
The atmosphere, horizon. It is poor
Compared to you, the beauty I adore
Where light is lifting, moving me to morning.
The Earth is turning, pinks and blues adorning.

Monday, April 24, 2017

On Patterned Ground

The rocks are richly ranged in round
Through looping layers lifting leaps
Of swirls that swell in swings and sweeps.

Are flying fairies' feathers found,
Their cries increasing? Credit creeps
Through looping layers lifting leaps
Of swirls that swell in swings and sweeps.

The grizzled graze on growing ground
And sheer the shining sharp as sheep's
Wool down the dank and darkling deep
The rocks are richly ranged in round
Through looping layers lifting leaps
Of swirls that swell in swings and sweeps.

Monday, April 17, 2017

On History

The restless river runs deep red
While on the bank the people glance
With love, make children, song, and dance.

They come, enjoy the festive spread---
The river tries to make a trance---
While on the bank the people glance
With love, make children, song, and dance.

While killing, stealing, crimes are read
As history---our only stance
Great criminals or weary chance
The restless river runs deep red.
While on the bank the people glance
With love, make children, song, and dance.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Rivalrous Planning

Blood is blinding, bleating blackened
Rivers. Read around. The rivals
Lust for long and limber ladies
Mocking manly murmurs mild. But
Horses heft their humans -- Hades
Fires flash and form the fairies
Winging where they wish we were --
Dragons drink then, drastic, drag on
People pushing poisoned passions --
Yet you yearn for yesteryears that
No one nowhere knows, are nothing.

Monday, April 3, 2017

On the Value of a Poem

This poem isn't worth a dime. It's not!--
No one will pay me--magazines will send
Their thanks--and when I see my poem hot
Off of the presses, that's where it will end.

But do not worry, some will say--the day
A person pays for poetry with cash
Your poems will lose all their value. Stay
Impoverished or all your work is ash.

Oh, what an odd trick of bookkeeping! Add,
And there's subtraction--trade to value less--
And profit bears no profit--just the sad
Are happy and the nude are all who dress.

Perhaps, instead, with value value trade
And only then your verses will not fade.

Monday, March 27, 2017

A World in Fragments

You look at me and you don't see it---I
Seem just like you, or maybe I look worse,
Or better---I'm a white man---do you see
So many others just like me? Deny
Your eyes---they lie---I differ---that's a curse
To you---I have a mind you try to flee.

You see in wholes, then slowly break them down---
I see in fragments, slowly build them up---
You see in hierarchy---you have to place---
I see equality from white through brown,
Men, women, gay and straight---I give my cup
To fill each member of the human race.

Though born among you, my borne culture's strange,
And I am born with it---you're merely born
Within your culture---yours a dress, mine skin--
And there is nothing that I can arrange
To help you see---you're blind, I am forlorn---
We are and are not always never kin.

I have a sort of ultraviolet sight
That can't see red---and so I see the shapes
Of things you cannot see---and also, you---
You fail to see what brings me joy, delight---
And much of you is hidden behind drapes
So all I see is shadows of the true.

But there's a true you hide from you---the sun
Exposes it to me---it makes me laugh---
That laughter, it offends---you think me cold---
My care is practical---what I find fun
Is boring---yet, I promise, it is half
As boring as your anecdotes half-told.

And yet, you look at me---I'm merely odd---
Naive, perhaps---I'm privileged, that seems clear---
Those things you see, think you see---my eyes dart
Away---you think I'm rude---I'm hearing God
In poetry---anxiety and fear
Are ever-present---stop!---behold my heart.

Monday, March 20, 2017

Beyond the Two

I've conquered you to bring you peace--this war
Was for the follies you embrace--let go
And in your freedom you will not be poor--
I've saved you from yourself so you can grow.
Don't hold on to your shabby, wretched home
For if you do you'll be put in the grave.

Some people ought to stay at home--you roam
To where nobody wants you. Coward, brave
This notion that you cannot conquer me
Or all of life's diversity--each soul
Is seeking freedom out on beauty's tree,
So thankfully you can't achieve your goal.

We'll never give the oversoul release
Until we get beyond mere war and peace.

Monday, March 13, 2017

I Hear the Trumpet Calling

I hear the trumpet calling all the souls
To bathe in trumpery for all their sins
And take the trump to make sure each one wins.

Each digs around to find the frigid coals
That will not warm the water in tin bins
To bathe in trumpery for all their sins
And take the trump to make sure each one wins.

Now each will have to pay the others' tolls
But find they carry only empty tins
As each are kept out of the warmest inns---
 I hear the trumpet calling all the souls
To bathe in trumpery for all their sins
And take the trump to make sure each one wins.

Monday, March 6, 2017

The Coming Winter

We've lain in luxury for much too long,
Transformed ourselves to snowflakes, finding wrong
In every tiny thing---our weakness winds
Through every aspect of our lives---our minds
Are melting, slush. We're neither manly nor
Womanly---we're serious and soul-poor,
Like children but without the pleasant charms.
We're safe, so we are out inventing harms---
These days of decadence drive our demand
For new Victorians to take command---
And we soon will, and then we will oppress
The liberties that made this awful mess.
We will destroy all joy to show we care---
We're poor in learning, wealth to make life fair---
We spread our ignorance but can't ignore
That you oppress with each held-open door.
You know I'm right, so do not challenge me---
You do, into a safe room I will flee
And relish in my knowing, icy cold---
I'll grow among my fellow snowflakes bold.

Monday, February 27, 2017

What You're Not

You're not a poet--do not be ashamed
You're not a poet--very few can sing
Or play an instrument, compose a song
Or symphony, or paint a picture, draw
Realistically or write a novel, play,
Or television show, or act on stage
Or in a film or on the television.
You're not a poet--then again, you're not
A physicist or chemist, biologist
Or--though you think you are--psychologist,
Economist, or sociologist.
You have no expertise in these rare things
If you're a normal human being--yet,
You do not feel ashamed that you have failed
To be these things--but poetry's a form
Of language--and, you say, we do all speak--
And yet--and yet, and yet...we do not speak
In rhythms and in rhymes, select our words
With all their meanings and their sounds displayed
And crafted, framed and focused to be found
In ways that worry weary neurons pushed
Well past the way that language is most used.
So I'm a poet--you are not--enjoy
The work the artist does without resentment--
Enjoy the work the poet does--it's art.

Monday, February 20, 2017

I am the Poet

I am the poet in the tree
Up hear no one comes after me
I'm free, a flea upon my knee
I am the poet in the tree

I am the poet in the bush
And here my lyrics need a push
There is a thorn here in my tush
I am the poet in the bush

I am the poet in the grass
I'm laying here next to my lass
No lyre here, but only brass
I am the poet in the grass

I am the poet in the ground
Where poets always can be found
To Hades, down, then upward bound
I am the poet in the ground

I am the poet in the sea
The fishes swarm and do not flee
The sharks ignore my final plea
I am the poet in the sea

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

I Promise You

I love you for the things that make you you
I promised it to death
I'd love you as time works to make you new
Love takes away my breath

I love you every atom made of ash
My supernova star
I'd love you through eternity's short flash
That makes you feel so far

I love you even when I cannot say
Or horror dare forget
I'd love you every evening, night, and day
It's grown since we first met

I love you, every single lovely segment
And unity's relation
 I'd love you even if you were a figment
Of my imagination

Monday, February 13, 2017

The Future

The butterfly is leaping from the cusp
The petals make unfolding in the sun --
A flap, a cantor dust of dew sprays out
From hair-wide legs and in the air have spun
In golden spirals undulating down,
Refracting butterfly reflections won
In scattered wavicles of laser light
That cause cascades of soft delight begun
On mossy mornings when the sky is low,
On mellow mornings when the white is dun --
The sun is soft like petal hairs the breeze
Is undulating in a subtle run --
And with the burst of heat each rigid wing
Announces that we all will feel the spring.

Monday, February 6, 2017

Beauty and Ideology

In beauty there is strong connection
In beauty there is love
In beauty there is paradox
In beauty there is awe
In beauty there is growth and life
In beauty there is infinite delight
In beauty there is deep complexity
In beauty there's the promise to be free

In ideology there's only hate
In ideology the other must soon die
In ideology the misanthrope survives and thrives
In ideology there's but conformity
In ideology the demons find delight
In ideology there's only death and slavery

Monday, January 30, 2017

A Love Sonnet

I can't connect outside my intellect --
Excepting the deep love I feel for wife
And children -- one is natural, one a gift
From sources never known before -- this life,
An alien among the earthlings, sings
In tunes I cannot quite repeat, a feat
That makes me feel less fleet and sails
Me off to lands where I but feel defeat.
But when, on second thought, I must reflect
On all the beauty in my life, I shift
Back to the loves I have, and from me springs
Out lines of joy instead of whines and wails.
The chaos that I bring society
Makes me and it creative and more free.

Monday, January 23, 2017

Terror Birds

Beware the terrorists that always lurk
In every bush and building -- some lame jerk
With penis envy, ideology
Replacing love -- a useful idiot,
A boogeyman who we think we must flee
Because the baby just might have a fit.
A rare and useful idiot who gains
His enemies more power through his pains.

But little do the common people know
That rarest things create the greatest show.

With horse-head beaks that tear the flesh and rip
The smallest prey in two, the blood will drip
Onto the tongue and thrill the taste and baste
The air for every scavenger for miles
To trace back to the bones with little waste,
The blood-streaked bones all cracked in scattered piles --
An ancient land where terror was once rife,
The last of an extincting way of life.

Since little do the common people know
That rarest things create the greatest show.

In this, a time of war and rumored war,
When things seem more like Nineteen Eighty-Four,
When life, it seems, is in a great stagnation
And ideology's a terrorist
And we are losing every strong relation
Once based in love, now crushed under a fist --
And what is crushed is beauty, truth, the good --
You'll see the light if you'll but lift your hood.

Yes, little do the common people know
That rarest things create the greatest show.

We love our lives in Stockholm, with our birds
Who tell us what we want to hear with solemn words,
And we believe their every word of fear
When life is truly better, safer, war
And terror rarer now than ever -- we're
The gullibles who won't peak through the door.
The demagogues are who we have to flee
If mind, then body, ever will be free.

Monday, January 16, 2017

My Mind's Crucible

The throbbing fire in my soles abate
When I'm no longer conscious, and my hips
Send lightning when the storms arrive. This fate
Befell me from my birth in torrents, drips.
Rare blackouts, common twitches seize and freeze
Me -- never does this body please me -- ache
In joints and guts (so far there's still good knees),
My shoulders, back, migraines for goodness sake!
A cataract is coating my left lens --
The artificial one that had replaced
The one with cataract. I lift my pens
To say the endless things that I have faced.

But in the brilliance of the world I sing
Until these pains fade away to nothing.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017


"Nothing must be allowed to distract from the world's elections." -- Anthony Esolen

Beloved neighbor, do not mark a check
Against me when we share a language, hope
Our children will find love, a common beck
By music we can share, that help us cope.

Beloved neighbor, do not choose to force
When we can work together, share a dish,
Behold a common place and set a course
From known to unknown lands, a common wish.

Beloved neighbor, do not take the path
Toward division--do not heed the cry
Of separationists--division is their math
When we would grow and add and multiply.

Far better that together, through the day
We join in our tradition, culture, play.

Monday, January 9, 2017

After Death

I've killed myself and celebrate that death
I had to die -- I had to bleed and burst
My heart, a self-inflicted wound, a blade
That made a soul that I would never trade
For past -- I would not celebrate the worst
Whose coffin's covered with dry baby's breath.

I sunk, enjoyed the chaos of the dark,
Enjoyed the dance and music of the dead
Inviting me to stay beneath the earth
Where I, they promised, now would find my worth
There in the silence, shadows. I'd be bled
To bring my voice into the meadow lark.

Just step into the river, lie and float,
The easy choice. A tiny troll, grotesque
And hideous, grabbed hold my hand and showed
A rocky rise no one could call a road
Or path and said to me in a burlesque
And eager voice to sing a higher note.

Why should I follow up a rocky trail
A being less inviting than the way
He showed me when the water offered me
A death of ease. It's hardship I would flee
In death -- why clamor, scratch another day?
Why try another thing that I could fail?

I stepped into the river, but the troll
Pulled back on me -- I stepped onto the bank
And knew I could not step into it twice.
The mountain path was swarming with gray mice --
I turned away and then I felt a yank
And I gave in to climb the jagged knoll.

I think I left more blood upon the stones
I climbed across than I had left behind
When I had ended my disordered life
And thought that I could leave behind the strife
Of Eris, Eros, Ares undefined
Yet heavy on my mind and on my bones.

The moment that I reached the plateau's peak
The troll released my hand and turned and said,
"Now you must go beyond. I cannot hold
Your hand," and then he turned to stone so cold
I shivered in the chill. But having tread
So far I could not let myself be weak.

I took a breath that I could see -- I gazed
Up at the final cliff to climb -- I'd lost
Myself before, and now with finger grips
I had a second life where all my slips
Would strengthen me, where every single cost
Would profit me, where downcast eyes were raised.

I struggled up the cliff face certain I
Would see the promised mountain meadow, land
Where I could stand in silent awe, where streams
Would quench my thirst at last and all that seems
Would then turn into someplace I could stand
And I'd be thankful that I'd had to die.

An eagle high above began to soar
And circle -- then it dropped and swooped beside
My head. It rose and made another dive,
But all it did was tighten up my drive
To climb the cliff and make sure I'd not died
To simply be what I had been before.

I plucked a feather from the eagle's tail
And felt a lightness, swiftness as I clawed
Up to the top and found the ancient field --
Arcadia, where all the poets yield --
And in that field I planted Jacob's rod
With knowledge, wisdom, beauty I'd not fail.

And there I found myself another voice
And there I found myself another mind --
And where I found myself, the eagle came
And in that other life we both were tame --
And here I found my riches, once unmined:
A life more beautiful, and now my choice.

Monday, January 2, 2017

On the Future

I have descended into happiness,
Descended into joy. I've fallen fast
To fasten to the dreary, darkling past
Where all mankind in sorrow must confess.
And here in damp cathedrals we will bless
The past with lies, the lies we love to cast
Into the wind and waves -- strap to the mast
And listen to the nihilistic yes.

I'm anxious for the future's upward slope
Into the mountain fields, the crisp, cool air,
The Milky Way spread out to drown the moon,
The spiral arms in curves of life, the hope
That lies between the nothingness. Declare
The truth, that we'll enjoy the coming noon.

Monday, December 26, 2016

Tacit Knowledge

The wind is winding through the legs of this
Enameled rocking English white warped old
Large lovely chair I’m creaking on the wood
Rain-waved front wrap-around stained porch. My bliss
Belongs among the woven birds, the cold
Beloved branches, all I always could.

Shall I describe the beauty of my home,
The beauty of my wife, the purpose playing
Across the ground in dances now delaying
The writing of a trickster’s epic tome?
At my shape, age, and size, would I dare roam
And find my origin in all my straying
Off the path bringing opinions delaying
The coloring material in chrome?

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Holy Night

The daytime of the soul is here, delight
In what the darkness brings, the cold-aired night
Invigorating us inside to sight,
To contemplate and grow the inner light,
To transform every is into a might
While making footsteps in the crystal white
Contrasting with the darkness--source of fright
And mystery--in depth we find new height
And challenge good and evil, wrong and right
To challenge us until we can take flight
Beyond acceptance of our certain plight
And in the darkness let our souls be bright.

The depth of darkness helps us find our goal:
Salvation for our ever-growing soul.

Monday, December 19, 2016

Nomos and Physis

A dash of blood and brains upon the stone
In streaks and strokes designed by gravity
Leading down to the broken body, bone
Erupting from the arms, a leg, a knee.

We saw him disappear across the side,
Heedless of all our yells about the drop --
We heard the branches breaking as he died,
We felt the grip of guilt he would not stop.

Two hours down, we now surround his corpse --
We can't respect our fellow rebel's choice
Refusing to obey our voices' warps
And woofs -- and now the wind's the only voice.

We live our lives in anarchy each day,
But that has never mean never obey.

Monday, December 12, 2016

A Facebook Friend Shared This

Oh what do you think you will do
When nothing you read may be true?
This poem is fake--
And for goodness' sake,
Don't share it!  Don't you have a clue?

"Wave Ontology": An Excerpt from "Upon the Sea of Anarchy"

Geography affects the way you view
The world, affects your myths and metaphors.
We live upon the waves, in endless blue,
And that perhaps is why we all love peace
And think our wave-ontology is true.

I know---ontology---a fancy term
For what we think the cosmos is. Release
Yourself from what you think you know, the germ
Of understanding then will sprout within
That nothing we believe is ever firm.

We see the world as waves and flows---we flow
And float and follow nature's course. Begin
From there, with understanding that. I'll show
You what I mean. The cosmos is made up
Of waves that interact, emerge, and grow

From energy through information through
The atoms which make up this very cup
You're drinking from and those which make up you.
My blood flows in my veins in waves, my speech
Arrives to you in waves, all light does, too.

And thus communication comes in waves---
They're more than what arrives upon the beach---
Our social networks, what each of us craves,
Our every bond is formed by waves. Our years
And months and days in rhythmic waves---each paves

The ways that we experience all time
In rhythms which evolved so all appears
To fall in natural patterns which all mime
The orbits of the earth and moon, the spins
Of which are accidents, but which we rhyme.

Saturday, December 10, 2016


You think that you're a mind and body -- two --
But you are wrong. Perhaps instead you think
You're but material and one, but you
Are wrong. Impermanent, you're but a blink.

Whatever you are doing makes the mind-
Set you are in. Whatever posture you
Are in creates the mindset you will find
You to be in. The one is thus the two.

The physical, the mental -- one and two,
Both neither, both -- a fractal of the pair,
A paradox that makes all beauty fair --
This dissipative structure that is you.

Monday, December 5, 2016

Creating Time

Do you hear that? The midnight nothing sounds
That let my mind mull magic into word
And phrase and line until the structure bounds --
Three calls emerge from the wood cuckoo bird.

The spirits speak at hours such as these
When I'm awake -- in sunlight I'm asleep,
But who will let my soul have its release?
The tick-tock of their time is but a creep.

The wind is cool, the stars in patterns light
The pathways of neural wanderings,
Where words awaken souls with warm delight
To break the wooden meanings into songs.

And with a cuckoo call the clouds depart --
The night enfolds me with its welcome heart.

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

A Letter from the Jester

I am not here to argue
I'm here to ridicule
You cannot have an argument
With an utter fool

There's nothing in your reasons
That I'd call rational
You chatter with your monkey-mind
Screech just like a gull

And so I thumb my nose at you
And laugh and mock and dance
The stupid things that you believe
Do not deserve a glance

You just believe in magic
Belief is always true
When it supports your prejudice
Challenge makes you blue

Your ignorance, stupidity,
Hatred of mankind
I laugh when you're surrendering
Using your own mind

Why do I ridicule you?
You are ridiculous
And you would ship your enemies
Off by train or bus

I do not care if what you wear
Is either red or brown
You'll still deserve only contempt
Heaped upon your crown

Monday, November 28, 2016

The Lawmakers

Coyote shouldn't go to trainings, laws
And rules are too transparent to his mind--
He sees manipulation, all the flows
Betray the fruit as nothing but dry rind.

Lean Loki shouldn't be a lawyer, judge,
Or statesman--laws just make him laugh out loud
In laughter showing us he will not budge--
He rules with irony the seething crowd.

Mean Monkey always makes a mess--the fools
Of structured order found their plans on sand
When Monkey's chaos makes emerge now rules
That will not bow to any god's command.

The child is playing in the sand--the waves
Destroy and he creates--it's what he craves.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016


They crowd the corner waiting for the light --
But no one notices the darkness, whole
And incomplete, embracing every soul
That scatters up the sidewalk through their fright.
And in the certainty that fills the night
Each offers up an overflowing bowl,
Each spill evaporating every goal
Into a crystal salt of endless spite.

The pressing crowd is pushing at the edge
Where too much light means nothing can be seen
Until a fellow falls from too much leaning
Off of the sidewalk as though from a ledge
The crosswalk is the borderland between
The nihilistic void and perfect meaning.

Monday, November 21, 2016

The Circus

Stand on your right foot and touch your left leg
Now pick up this spoon and balance this egg
Color the evens in nothing but blue
The odds all in red to show what you knew
Just listen to me and don't make me beg
Now fill out these forms there's lots more to do

I put up these charts in case they walk in
For failing to do so is the worst sin
Miniature horses perform to applause
Dogs are all leaping without a good cause
Now stand on command so we can begin
And do not complain for these are the laws

I made the mistake to think you should read
A strategy is the one thing you need
We'll poison the dog to make it play dead
And all the adults can lie in their bed
Mistaking performance for a true seed
Nobody knows even one thing they read

Harass the acrobats, make them all cry
And we'll twist them all up 'til they want to die
We're beating the horses 'til they lack breath
We'll pack in the clowns and work them to death
We'll paper the walls to maintain the lie
Perhaps we'll succeed if we're using meth

We all agree the performers are great
That is the lie that no one will debate
Each will applaud and smile shaking their head
Pretend that there can be nothing to dread
Zombie performance yes that is our fate
Careful that you do not notice they're dead

Monday, November 14, 2016

The Promethian Invasion

The alien invasion was an odd
One--ships appeared across the sky--we've seen
That part in movies--then the part of God
Was played by them--a Rapture!--not the clean

And good--but legislators, presidents,
And kings, police and petty bureaucrats,
The rapists, murderers, those seeking rents,
The thugs and thieves and all the human rats--

Were disappeared--and with the criminals
That ruled the world now gone, communities
Emerged--a ship remained for future culls--
And people prospered when they tried to please--

A single ship is circling the earth--
We do not know our liberators' face--
But from their actions they have helped to birth
A world of peace, prosperity, and grace--

And so we gave these aliens a name--
Promethians--for ending mankind's tryst
With rulers, giving us a brand-new game,
And showing they are true philanthropists.

Monday, November 7, 2016

Philosopher of Adverbs

He quickly, daintily, and randomly,
Begrudgingly and fortuitously,
Unbelievably deftly only walked
Away the moment that he saw the bear.
Show me the stronger verb--come on! I dare
You to improve, "The bear perplexly stalked."

Monday, October 31, 2016

Above Domination

"From the top of his tower, the philosopher of domination sees the universe in miniature. Everything is small because he is so high. And since he is high, he is great, the height of his station is proof of his own greatness."
--Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

Coyote, trickster god, looks down on us
And laughs in joy. He's laughing high above
Those who, in thinking they look down on us,
Are misbelieving all they know and love.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Nature's Beauty

The Great Bear rises over me, new moon
Allowing all the Milky Way to stream
Across the sky--I hear a cougar scream,
I hear the lamentations of the loon.
A burst of palest pink and green balloon
And dance across the sky--they only seem
Alive as they are given breath to team
Above by a sun of another's noon.

The chill is frosting droplets from the air--
I see my contribution by starlight--
I warm up to the cold that clears my mind.
The almost-quiet makes me want to stare
Into the inbetweenness from the height
And depth of nature's beauty, humankind.

Monday, October 17, 2016

Rhythms of Time

Diastole and systole push flows--
You hear the swoosh of your own life pass through
Like heat through day and night that ebbs and grows
Along the varied seasons black, gray, blue.

Just listen, hear your singing neurons link
The world to thought, the thought to world to make
Imagination realize we think
The things we see--we give more than we take.

The city flows with iron that it pumps
In strong, slow beats through fractal blacktop veins
From heart into periphery, the clumps
Cleared out as flows move slowly down the lanes.

He who has ears should listen, hear, amass
The different, subtle ways that time will pass.

Monday, October 10, 2016

On the Essence of Culture

A single gene mutation marks each Native
American--it's not enough to make
An essence, a collective soul--and no
More are their cultures something we can take

As constant and essential--they must change
If they will live, like every living thing--
They have a soul, but like each living breath
You cannot steal the wind, but only sing.

The eagle feather is not theirs--coyote
Is not the only trickster dueling rules--
And men emerged from earth onto the earth
A thousand times, ignored by only fools--

One bangs a drum--technology much older
Than all of humankind--with dreadlocks worn
By ancient Greeks and Aztec warriors both--
The ignorant deserve eternal scorn.

Monday, October 3, 2016

The Poser

You say you're from the ghetto
But you dress like Jared Leto
You only have the trapping
Of the poverty you're rapping

Monday, September 26, 2016

A Random Walk Through Boredom's Lands

Scattered, shattered, darting thoughts
I don't know what I think I thought
Lots to do, but I am bored
I hoard and stored what makes me bored
Fragments and too-abstract thoughts
What's more abstract than abstract thoughts on thoughts?
The book is mocking me
The paper's mocking me
Stupidity is mocking me
Your thoughts are garbage-in, garbage-out
It doesn't matter how you process it
I have to hear stupidity
I'd rather go for a walk
Watch T.V., a movie with my wife
Watch a play?
Too literary today--I've bored myself
I close my eyes
I hear the whispers all around
I want to give a walk and take a talk
I saw bluebonnets blooming on the roadside
The wisteria have dropped their purple clusters
I want to bury my face in her nakedness
My arms pressed against my wife
The rest of you can go to Hell
Let us escape yours at least
Its relentless, mocking, cruel demands
On time and life
The crime of rhyme
The cruel crime of rhythmic rhyme
You hear the heartbeat in my line?
Shut up and work
Shut up and let me work
Shut off the phone--no, throw the phone
Thrown into the world
Among a people who don't care
That they mistake me all the time for them
Bring the backhoe to retrench
Your prejudices and hatred of the new
Your constant glue
To every we that you mistake for the true
Like every monster man in Scooby Doo
I'm really sick of all of you
There's Facebook on the phone
An article about creative block
And how it's fixed by using neuroscience
None of this is at all creative
It didn't even break my block
And midnight now has struck my clock
I'll sleep until the crowing cock

Monday, September 19, 2016

Whirlwinds of Being

You think because I live inside a shell
That I am shy, perhaps that I am weak,
Mere mollusk and invertebrate, some freak
At worst, perhaps, at best unwell.
Projecting, you think I must live in Hell--
I either won't shut up, or barely speak--
You call me introverted, nerd, or geek--
Because I will not buy the crap you sell.

The cone snail makes a shell so beautiful
That divers risk their lives collecting them--
A stinging death from living snails is sure
From this surprising carnivore--you mull
The risk over to gain this gorgeous gem
And understand that beauty can't be pure.

Monday, September 12, 2016

Daniel's Plan

My son said, "Daddy, I want a bee hive."
I want the bees to fill my room." "The bees
Will sting you," was my reply. He said, "Please.
I want the bees to sting and fly and dive."

He didn't want the honey--bees alive
And filling up his room to sting his knees
And arms--not safe outside and in the trees--
But crawling on his walls when he'd arrive.

He made this odd request one morning drive
To Kindergarten--perhaps on the breeze
He  saw a bee land lightly on a clover
And thought that no one ever should deprive
Themselves of such soft gentleness and ease
So, ignorant of pain, invites them over.

Monday, September 5, 2016

The Date

Get off your fucking phone--your game
Is not important--nor are you,
Such that you need to send that text
Right now--there's no one that is due
Such rudeness--it will be your next
Dumb accident that brings you fame.

You're on your fucking phone in class,
You're on your fucking phone and drive,
You're on your fucking phone and sit
Across from me and do not strive
To interact outside your mitt--
I stand and leave your fucking ass.

In curiosity I stay
And watch for when you'll notice I
Have left. It takes you almost ten
Long minutes--when the bill comes by--
Before you glance around, but then
Your phone determines, yes, you'll pay.

Monday, August 29, 2016

Your Loss

It seems our disability makes you
A jackass and irrational--you run
In fear from difference and all that's true--
You try to fight the future like a Hun.
You run in fear from anything that's  new--
You threaten all that changes with a gun
And anything we make you must undo--
You must make sure that all like us are none.

Our disability is in your eyes--
You're just as strange to us in all your fears
And hatred, worries, stress, and neediness.
It's truth and working hard that you despise
And then you say that we're the faulty gears
When history shows that we mostly bless.

Monday, August 22, 2016

The Nest Egg

The nested sticks are nestled in the tree-
Top nest that grows in circle-width and height
Until the laws of physics' cold decree
Of gravity launch both the eagles' flight.
The ground is littered with the broken twigs--
The rats are licking yolks from shattered eggs,
And they are chased away by wild pigs
Who dine, ignoring what each eagle begs.
The golden eagles bring the branches, build
Upon the nest they add to every year--
And we have joined the golden eagle guild
Where constant growth seems all that's ever dear.
The wind will dissipate each human oath,
For nature always limits growth.

Monday, August 15, 2016

Broken Boxes

The broken boxes, small containers, locks
All rendered useless, as they always were--
There's not a yard without a broken box
Here in this neighborhood. Must we endure
Exposure of these things we want to hide?
With guns they came, but hammers were their tools--
They only took where secrets would abide
And we're exposed as intimates and fools.
The contents of our boxes, those they left
For all to see, to expose all our lives
There in the grass, the intimate bereft
Of intimacy, all that it derives.
The boxes broken are meant to expose
That no one is the person who he shows.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

An Offer From Our Institutes

Congratulations Susan Harlan! You
Are found most worthy of a place in our
New Institute of Envy Studies due
To all your expertise. You’ll be the flower
Of our institute. We are sure you’ll seed
The future of these studies as we need.

I’m certain you’ll be happy you’ll receive
No money whatsoever – not from banks,
Philanthropies, nor businesses – you’d grieve,
We’re sure, if you were funded by such cranks.
Since money is the root of evil, we
Are happy to ensure your virtue’s free.

We’re also certain we can find a place
Within our Institute of Misanthropic
Beliefs – we know it would be a disgrace
To pay – participation on this topic
Is free from such material concerns—
We’re certain of what in you truly burns.

We hope the summer has not meant we missed
Our opportunity to offer this
To you for you were placed high on the list
Of people we should offer all the bliss
Of being one who we should study for
The vices which make others become poor.

Monday, August 8, 2016


The mind is quiet folding towels, large
rectangles three-dimensioned with the fold,
The simple bringing together of corners
And building solid stacks to fight damp, cold.

But not all folding is the same--the socks
Are rummaged through in desperate search for pairs
That match--and now the mind is hard at work
That everyone will have what each one wears.

The towels give us boredom, repetition
We need to meditate and quiet mind--
No hanging, sorting, unclean folds--just even,
Uncomplicated movements to unwind.

Monday, August 1, 2016

Sent Home

I stood there in my doorway, watched them walk
Into the blizzard, white on white dissolved
Them into night--the bushes bearded old
Beside the door--I felt the frost evolved
From nasal breath begin to build--my back
Too warm, a trickle in my hairs. They're bold
To venture out when footsteps vanish, lack
Is filled--the last to disappear is talk.

Monday, July 25, 2016

A Taxing Ascent

I tried to build a hermit's hut
Where I could have repose
A place where I could live and think
And feel warm nature's flows

But I must pay the yearly tax
Upon this property
And those who tax insist my hut's
Connected to the tree

Utilities must all branch in
And therefore I must pay
And so I have to get a job
To live here every day

So now I have to go to town
And deal with everyone
And I no longer have the time
To think--the state has won

Monday, July 18, 2016

Fairy Tales

Our souls remember infancy, the crib
Confining us in safety, mother's breast
A source of food and safety where our warmth
Resided--we remained her favored guest.

And slowly from this comfort we emerged
Into a place of play and isolation,
Connections made and not ensured, where love
Is earned and life becomes a cold frustration.

And when we face frustration we all long
For arms, the lap, the crib where we were kept
In safety--we all long for one who would
Take care of us, protect us as we slept.

Alas, that mother is long dead for us--
And we are Hansel, Gretel, Cinderella,
Snow White--a litany of fairy tales
Where mother is replaced by Bella.

Cruel Bella Donna promises she'll take
Good care of you--that she will soon replace
Your mother--she will feed you pudding, cake
And slowly poison you into a vase.

And you will love her as your lips turn blue
And thank her as you shiver in your bed
Because she keeps you warm and keeps you fed,
Though everything she does ensures you're dead.

Monday, July 11, 2016


They lay like wrinkled flowers in the cedar
Drawer, pastels and white, cool cotton wraps
Absorbing smells of bourbon--I would feed her
Musk-scented soul with all our evening naps
And gaze upon her breaking morning, drink
The milk of morning that we must forget--
Of all love's tragedy of time. I shrink
From every little death--I gently set
A cotton flower at her feet--she'll raise
The flower, smooth its petals out and hide
Behind those cool pastels--I love to gaze
Upon her every finger-stroke, abide
Within her flower bed, the cedar trees
Presenting me their scents upon the breeze.

Monday, July 4, 2016

Flags and Heroes

A flag denotes a boundary--choose your hero,
A carrier of flags across the edge
To colonize new lands and thoughts
Where peace is made from winning wars and zero-
Sum games are all the hero plays--he'll wedge
Himself into old lands with his old oughts?--

Or heroes who will dance the boundary, stand
In known and unknown, burn the flag, and sing
New songs, build up a new horizon, love
In a new key--and who will bear the brand
Of childishness, unrootedness--yet bring
Alternatives to choices on dot gov?

Monday, June 27, 2016

To My Audience

You. I speak to you. In the cacophony
I will speak to those who listen. I will find
Ears of gold, an audience who will not flee
Possibility, to be transformed, inclined
To dissolving all they know to become free
In a way that nothing more could ever bind.

I have chosen not to care, to just let go
Of the fools who wish to worship rules, who fail
At the task of seeing, thinking that they know,
When the theater surrounds their stage. They flail,
Strike at all who love this life and seek to grow--
Glow of health and wealth just make them become pale.

They will never grow, and they will always tear
Down the lovers of all knowledge, wisdom, life--
Misanthropy is their sullen game--they wear
Hatred on their eyes, their love is only strife--
They just want to cover all the things we bare,
Seeking to enforce it with serrated knife.

We, entwined with joy of love of life, we dance,
Fly, and sing, discover all new joys to lift
Ourselves, all of humankind. We will entrance
The entire world and slowly heal the rift
Killing humankind--we'll blast them from their trance,
They will sacrifice us for our precious gift.

It is certain that our sacrifice will raise
Many from the floor to break their golden chains--
It is certain that a mass will gaily gaze
Through the door we opened up--they'll love the gains
We were murdered for the sin of making--praise,
Songs of praise will raise up for our righteous pains.

Monday, June 20, 2016

Psychopathia sexualis

The star that wanders every evening shines
Within the lunatic's hysteria
That grows as fast as Southern kudzu vines,
Exposing pine cones in their mania.

The days demand the dancer shed her shame
And reinvent the rules to lure her out--
Emerging from her cave she shines the name
Of things that in becoming leave you doubt.

Back in the palace pleasure fears foment
And framed the world in awkward angle aimed
At tripping dancers who will not relent
At covering themselves and those they've claimed.

As you lie--listen to the sacred loon--
The dragon dines upon the dancing moon.

Monday, June 13, 2016

A Necessary Outcast

I suffer from seeing too much, the laws
Are bare before me, unveiled, exposed, nude---
How can I take them seriously, claws
Exposed as but imaginary things,
Teeth dissolved into gums---they all exude
The smell a month-old rotten apple brings.

I am the enemy of serious
And somber things---I cannot see them there
But rather see we needn't make a fuss
About those rules we all could change if we
But wanted to---to show that there's no hair
Just a toupee on every head we see.

The serious see me as enemy---
And, yes, they should---because I may expose
That everyone is truly, deeply free
But we do not appreciate the world
And much prefer the emperor has clothes
And that the is is not what has unfurled.

I speak these things into the hurricane
That wants to drown me, wash away the sin
Of questioning the law---I'm shown insane---
I neither break, obey the law---I laugh
Because I play but cannot lose nor win
And dance about with ivy, snake-twined staff.

Monday, June 6, 2016

The Revolution

The panic like a virus spread
Each wondered where they'd get their bread
And others filled them full of dread
And so they went and found some lead
And through the streets they marched and tread
And entered houses, bed to bed
And dragged out those who had not fled
And on their wealth each person fed
Before the streets were flowing red
From bullets, crowbars in each head
And once these enemies they shed
They found that it was they who bled

Wednesday, June 1, 2016


"The wisest in Cloudcuckooland are here
To greet the great and bold of earth who need
To see the ideals in their glory, clear,
Unstained by mere reality to feed
You all a perfect food you cannot eat,
To show you the unseeable, to grant
A touch of what cannot be felt. You'll meet
A leader who cannot exist--you'll chant
About his virtues none shall have. You'll see
A peoples perfect, ignorant of "can't"
And who are equal, virtuous, and free."

"Those idiots tried to give nothing breath
And realized but envy, vice, and death!"

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Wisdom's Costs

Blind-eyed like Odin--where's my wisdom he
Was granted? Am I wise like Socrates--
A gadfly, unemployed? I am made free
By wisdom--free from work, kept on my knees
By people everywhere in every time--
I'm freed from any normal life--I'm freed
From all the simple joys. Is it a crime
To gain in insight, see the links?--what deed
Did I commit to make the world my jail?
Insisting on humility from all
I meet. Insisting all grand plans will fail.
Insisting all must tear down every wall.
With ancient understanding we will find
That wisdom's insights always make us blind.

Monday, May 30, 2016

Neither Rule-Breakers Nor Rule-Followers

The rules, the rules---believed by fools
Who treat the world so serious
And don't appreciate this life
You hear them always whine and fuss
And twist true love into mere strife

The rules, the rules---they're only tools
The poets of all kinds can use
To turn explosions into works
They're only things we only choose
And nothing necessary lurks

The rules, the rules---such charmless ghouls
Insist the rules are sacred truth
Believe the fools are those who think
They're only tools and these uncouth
Deserve a cup of hemlock drink

Friday, May 27, 2016


We found a cure for Thomas Jefferson
And Albert Einstein, Mozart, Kafka, too.
Now they will simply sit, obey and chatter
About the weather, gossip on no matter
Worth passing on to future generations,
And fill the air with noise that's meaningless
If meaning means significance. We'll cure
Society of challengers, make pure
The mass of men, be sure to skin the goats
(Who as we know all go to Hell) and render
Each person into bricks of purest fat
So everyone can feed the fattest cat.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Five Flocks

I saw a goat among the sheep
He would not let them go to sleep
He danced and pranced and with a leap
He told them tales that made them weep

Another goat in the wrong herd
Told them strange things that were absurd
But they believed his every word
Each died thinking he was a bird

Another goat another flock
And all the sheep were taking stock
A fence a gate and then a lock
And every head caved by a rock

A swirl of sheep a lone white goat
Who had an idea for a coat
But they rejected every quote
And left him in the sun to bloat

A final flock a goat denied
In purity they would reside
And from this purity came pride
And from the wolves each one has died.

Wednesday, May 25, 2016


The serpent suns itself upon the log
Before it slithers off to find the nest.
It's climbing up the tree--no life can rest,
No soul discover peace--it finds the fog
Convenient to its task--a silent flog
To keep you off your task--you're not your best
When he's here to annoy, harass, molest
You, drag you deep inside his putrid bog.

The serpent sucks upon the egg--your play
Will go unhatched--you lift the broken shell--
The light illuminates the promise lost--
And no one seems to mind the social cost
Of things they never knew had lost their day--
The serpent slips in silence down the well.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016


The more I ignore them the louder they get
The endless, endless chatter fills my ears
The inane nonsense nattering about nothing
They cannot seem to breathe without a voice
Distracting movements endless blah blah blah
My nerves are on the rack they're drawn and quartered
They're place within an iron maiden by the noise
It's more than just the volume that annoys
It's the endless cacophony of girls and boys
Who I must hear in details so I hear
Their pseudocontent pseudotopics ignorance displays

Monday, May 23, 2016


I've battled beside Gilgamesh, the Bull
Of Heaven slain by us. I've fought beside
Achilles, hot beside a burning hull,
And watched as Agamemnon, captured, died.
With Oedipus I've lost my vital eyes
With insight gained, avoiding my own lies.

I've been to Hades too with Gilgamesh,
Again with Dionysus, Heracles,
With Hermes, Orpheus, yes in the flesh
With brave Odysseus, and it may please
You too to know I've been there by myself,
Led there by Nietzsche, unlike Dante left
Alone, unguided, virtually bereft.

I've argued here and there with Plato, fought
With Socrates and Aristotle, gained
In insight beside Adam Smith, and thought
With Nietzsche and Aquinas, became strained
With existentialists, romanticists,
And felt that Marx, Rousseau deserved my fists.

With Sundiata I fought with a king
To gain his country back. And then I danced
With Ame-no-uzume, danced to bring
The sun out of her cave. I've held a lance
With Launcelot and Don Quixote, stole
With Jean Valjean and with him became whole.

I've fought in France the Revolution, stood
Against the tyrant king. I fought in Russia
Against the French invaders, too. The good
I argued long with Kant on walks through Prussia,
Discussed duality in paradox
With Lao Tzu, who turned into a fox.

I've lived ten thousand lives ten thousand years,
I've been both men and women, straights and gays,
Lived ten thousand cultures and shed more tears
And laughed more laughs than you have lived your days.
You think of all these lives with only scorn?
This world did not begin when you were born.

Friday, May 20, 2016

Divine Quatrain

The soul of deity is not control
The wind exudes its breath in randomness
That orders only itself without goal
And only with that voice can it then bless

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Sex and Cell Phones

The bees are opening each clover, drink
The nectar, open up another flower,
Collecting pollen so they can devour
The honey that they make--each one's a link.

The earth is splitting--lava fills the sink
The seam is making--sulfur flows to power
Archaebacteria that every hour
Sextuple to feed worms white, red, and pink.

The asteroid is orbiting its pace--
A comet hits, the pieces shatter, scatter--
The fragments streak across a midnight sky.

The galaxies are diamonds on a lace,
But move along its interface--our matter
Is on a network field we can't defy.

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

A Summer Ritual

The fireflies are flashing by the tree
Upon the very edge of day and night--
Luciferase is breaking ATP
So hard it make a flash of light, of light.

Down in the grass a female firefly
Is looking for a certain pattern, bright
And healthy light--a light she won't deny--
And she will flash her light to catch his sight.

And he will drop down to the fresh-cut grass
And for the evening end his flash-filled flight
He undertook below the sassafras
To find his perfect fit, his soul-delight.

I'm drinking root beer on my porch--this dance,
This swing, your hand have put me in a trance.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Magical Thinking

I do believe I ought to bang my head
Against this wall again--I do believe
This time will work--I'll bring alive the dead
A final failing time--yet none will grieve
When this penultimate attempt will fail--
Just three or four times more and nature will
Give in, her laws will break, I will prevail--
And when I do I'll send nature the bill.

I'm certain that, unaided, I can fly--
I won't give in to nature's tyranny--
I know my good intentions will ensure
This leap success--I know I'll never die,
That I can overcome mere gravity--
I know this since I know my heart is pure.

Monday, May 16, 2016


The moment that the wave approaches you
It waves goodbye--but that I know you knew

The more true rules the universe evolves
The more true freedom comes about, it solves

The sign read "We treat you like family here."
I left. I wanted kindness with my beer.

The finest deed
That's if you read
It's how you're fed

Friday, May 13, 2016

Left Turns

The anti-Semites and eugenicists
Looked at the concentration camps and cried
That that was clearly not what they had meant

The central planners, all the socialists
Looked at the gulag, killing fields and cried
That that was clearly not what they had meant

The deconstructionists, postmodernists
Looked on as Donald Trump succeeded, cried
That that was clearly not what they had meant

A century of Leftist plans and -ists
Have rendered only evil as they cried
That that was clearly not what they had meant

Mass murder, truthiness, ordaining theft:
Among the evils brought on by the left.

Thursday, May 12, 2016

Red Tape

I'm all entangled
Almost strangled
Maybe mangled
All because I have a gift
A gift to lift
A gift to shift
The tides for me
And you you see
If I could only flee
These barriers
And parriers
Of independence progress
A regular advance of Congress
Ensuring only regress
So I can only work
For some jerk
With stupidness the only perq
The fat cat bureacrat
Ensuring that
I stay an economic gnat
And sell this thing I made for cheap
To some connected creep
Not smart enough to make the leap