Thursday, November 30, 2006

ADULTS

You know what I hate most about people? It is when they become ADULTS. You become ADULT when you lose your Imagination. After you lose your Imagination, unavoidably, sooner or later you become Offended by things you don't understand. That is the second thing I hate about people, when they decide to be Offended about something. But that is what ADULTS do, they can't help but become quarrelsome and divisive, because having no Imagination makes a person depressed and easily startled -- and we fear what we do not know. We are then ready to be Offended by something or someone. And people without Imagination are afraid of being afraid, they are afraid of fear, they are afraid of others, and eventually, they are afraid of themselves. For these reasons, ADULTS live a piteous, miserable existence.

Friday, November 24, 2006

Now That I Think I Am Awake

Right before I wake up, I dream I go downstairs and tell Phoebe to take a bath. While Phoebe gets in the bath, I notice the bathroom floor has small plastic Barbie shoes and other doll accessories strewn all over it. Then I wake up, I go downstairs, and I tell Phoebe to take a bath. This time when she's getting ready for her bath, I see that the bathroom floor is clear of doll accessories. Then I wake up again, this time hopefully for real. I go downstairs, I avoid telling Phoebe to take a bath, and I get a cup of coffee. I wait for a bit, and I don't wake up again. So now I'm awake, I think. How are you doing today?

Saturday, November 18, 2006

persistence

he wrote terrible
poems

each one more
terrible than the last

and he kept
sending them to

this small
magazine that

really didn't
use poetry

and he knew
in his heart

someday he'd
get published there

Friday, November 17, 2006

POST YOUR POETRY

lies sadness
ENTER CONEST
confession to god
PREVIOUS WINNERS
FIND POEMS HERE
separation
POETRY IN MOTION
PREVIOUS WINNERS
stupidity anger
POST YOUR POETRY
ON THIS SITE
revelation
100 GREATEST POEMS
EVER WRITTEN
FIND POEMS HERE

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

he carries pebbles

he carries pebbles
around in his head

she has a house
full of designer furniture
in her mind

william totes endless baseball
scores brimming with
romance

alice is full of songs
like thousands of exotic birds
all escaping at once

Sunday, November 12, 2006

a memorable fancy

to W.B.

i dreamed the reason why there is sin in the world
is because god miscalculated
how far a soul could be positioned from his presence
and remain inherently pure

calling grandma

i call you up
after the operation

you sound angry
i ask you how it went

you say pretty badly
but you're okay

you're eating lunch
and thanks so much for calling

i say i'll call tomorrow
i hang up the phone

a useless
hunk of plastic

one man revolution

you are a one man revolution
with only one idea
ruling a country of one

sometimes

sometimes i think
what it is like to be all grown up

is to realize that there are people
who are better than you at everything
you love

better than you by a million
times they just do it wow magic
just grace

but i keep on going
because mostly i'm stubborn
sometimes i'm sure i got some thing coming up inside
like a diabolical flower
massive crude
natural thing

Joe

In the dark San Francisco night
In North Beach somewhere back in time
I dreamed we wandered the cavernous
mysterious night
from bar to bar

Until we found in a back room
A card game going on
With people all so familiar with each other
Laughing and drinking
Sweating and throwing down cards
Telling wild stories and bragging

And who was there but Joe Di Maggio
So Young and slim and his face shining
Full of himself and his friends
Yelling out and laughing in the dim light
He wore a brown suit and the table shone

I was dumbstruck because
I knew he was dead as I watched him move
Among the sillhouttes and smoke

I was in a time I had never existed
But here he was in my dream
In his prime

(I had this dream a few nights after Joe Di Maggio died)