Thursday, December 15, 2011

Poem - Nowhere Else

i have no idea what happens next --
i'm peaceful about this

things could be one way,
or the opposite way

it doesn't really matter,
because here i am, nowhere else



Monday, December 12, 2011

Chung Tzu and Vacations

Chung Tzu comes in with this beautiful Nordic-looking woman with sea-grey eyes and a regal bearing. At the same time, she seems to be so eminently friendly, I find myself staring -- then I realize it is Darraðarljóð. I look away and then I look back, and she looks at me steadily.

"I admit I am absolutely terrified to meet you!"

She smiles.

"No! No! Relax!" laughs Chung Tzu, "You see, now you know: Everybody goes out of town for a vacation!"

Poem - Every Time It Happens

A flurry of rain falls,
from the dark cloud wing
of an enormous bird.
I have thought this
construction of words before.
But every time it happens,
it grabs me.



Friday, December 09, 2011

My Favorite Proust Quote

"Quand je veux pour le train pour aller plus vite, hélas - il va plus lentement. Si ce n'est pas à la plateforme, puis il est tard. Toutes les machines distributrices ici sont horribles, la vente des marchandises pour des cannibales..."

-- Proust
"Remembrance of Things Past"

It is Very Difficult to Strip off the Man

"It is very difficult entirely to strip off the man."

...said by the Skeptic Philosopher Pyrrho, who normally received all events with acceptance & serenity, after defending himself from a vicious stray dog.

I feel what Pyrrho writes. I can't seem to have release from the most basic of selfish motivations, in all that I do. Usually I catch myself before I cause harm, and this is good. Often, I am able to guide my thinking to a new outlook.

Perhaps I will never be free of these provocations of the self. I suppose it does not matter if I have these flaws -- declared, denied, or declaimed, provided I am motivated by some power greater than myself to do the best thing for every situation.

Monday, December 05, 2011

Chung Tzu Can Tell

"Inside it looks like Paris, France, the weather outside like Palm Springs, and the yard looks like the lawn just got cut. Who cut the lawn?" I ask Chung Tzu.

"Well, I know by the way you're asking me, you certainly didn't!" remarks Chung Tzu, and he laughs.



Saturday, December 03, 2011

Poem - I Do Not Know

alas! i don't know
i don't know

but like in 'waiting for godot'
i show up

there's something about
the decision to continue

without any concern
for being saved

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Poem - Spider Weaves a Web

Spider weaves a web,
thoughtless is as trust --
an element in the space,
dodging particles of dust.

Alongside a windowpane,
it encounters the cool --
springing on the field of glass
are haystacks made of dew.

Now the spider is the thresher,
linked one to one by light --
as the man, the spider moves,
toiling till out of sight.


at the Washoe House

Monday, November 28, 2011

Cicero and Bicycles / Cicero und Fahrräder

Cicero said, "To philosophize is to learn how to die." And I said, "And you can learn how to ride a bicycle, too!" And Cicero turned around and gave me a good long stare. Ahem.


Cicero sagte: "Philosophieren ist zu lernen, wie man stirbt." Und ich sagte: "Und Sie können lernen, wie man Fahrrad fährt, too!" Und Cicero drehte sich um und gab mir eine gute lange anzustarren. Ähem.

Poem - Pub Liar


he has

he has
for eyes

all he
is: smile


two dogs
on a

he wrestles
a face red
like in a

he'd fuck
a chair


Lower Haight

As I Traveled Under Your Gaze

Here's what I've learned over the Thanksgiving Holiday between San Francisco and San Diego: Every pretty girl on that 500 mile trek gets hit up by about 9,000 times, every day. The boys try it one way, the young-men in other ways -- the old men with refined technique that could be described as consciously moneyed and boorish. It happens in cafes, department stores, boutiques, libraries, churches, bars, everywhere, and at all hours. A pretty woman learns much about the opposite sex in how they attempt, and then inevitably flame out. Well, most of them attempt and aren't up to the task. Being sober counts! Clean clothes and a nice smile, the ability listen and join into conversation helps!

Square your belt,
and keep on your boots.

If you have on a hat,
hold it when you say hello.

I listened to them and I doubted it all. I listened more and drew diagrams of constellations like Orion the Hunter at a ballpark having a beer, or doing his taxes at the computer, and they laughed. But at San Luis Obsipo, with the crescent moon and a lone star about to land in the sea, I started understanding what had been told to me! The night rose up like a ghost mansion, and at every gabled window a statuesque blue-eyed blonde watched out over the lonely abandoned mountains, and to the forested North, and they searched out over the South to my destination. Thank you, gorgeous women, as I traveled under your gaze.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Poem - Where it Snows

it snows somewhere
i wish i was at that place

to see the type of sky that snows
and feel the bite of tiny flakes

i'd be alone in a field
sloping down to a sleeping lake

and on the other side a hill
with a wall of silent trees

Pome - i reenter/ the present moment

hovering unreality
as real as the pluck
that started a
dumb string

my opinion of you
unreal & transitory

my view of me
as laughable as
considering a plan
to lay a foundation
in thin air

i reenter
the present moment

with no tools
with no aim
with no grasp
no you
no me

i write this
and a sigh escapes

Monday, November 14, 2011

Poem - Every Secret

you can't know about others
you don't own them
they don't own you

everything is about you
even what you don't want to know
everything you didn't say

and everybody knows
what you think they don't know
about you, every secret


vous ne pouvez pas connaître les autres
vous ne les propres
ils ne vous possédez

tout est sur ​​vous
même ce que vous ne voulez pas savoir
tout ce que vous n'avez pas dit

et chacun sait
ce que vous pensez qu'ils ne savent pas
sur vous, tous les secrets



Poem - A Drive with a Breaking Heart

his heart breaks and he laughs
because there is no holding onto anything
not even the delight of the fact
a heart is meant to be broken

the moon is more and so is the ridge
that the moon ran past as he drove on interstate 5
part of a sea of bobbing headlights
counter to the glowing tail lights

faced by the dark house he entered it
faced by white comforter and sheets he lay in them
resented by sleep he dreamed
and then it was a new dawn

he had coffee
he saw friends
he listens
he was not alone

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Poem - the leaves in new york city

the leaves in new york city
curl up
just getting into true red and gold
the sky of central park
the monumental needle


In the Garden
Behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Poem - Ceaseless

i dream you are unhappy
because something is bothering you
so i wake up at 2 AM
and in the black dark i make a mental note
to call you in the morning
and ask if everything is okay
but when i awake in the morning
the light reminds me you're angry at me
and you'll never let go of the unhappiness
that i dream ceaselessly about

i make coffee i smoke a cigarette
i cough and figure it is time to quit

Friday, October 21, 2011

Poem - Fire

fire is an event
not a thing

a tree cut down
sunlight going out
in twisted flames
sparks gushing up
some see agony
others enjoy

only on earth
where there is
enough oxygen

everything can burn
here london
chicago warsaw
russia berlin
infirm people
villages cars

a heap of old
newspapers could
burst into flame

or magazines

or compost heaps

or all your culture
stripped to black ash
in every nook
and cranny

fire is an event
not a thing

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Lions, Tigers and Bears

He blew his brains out in Ohio, but before he pulled the trigger, he let all his exotic animals out, hoping one or two of them would harm him in the most grievous and gruesome manner. Lions, Tigers and Bears, Oh My! He presented himself ceremoniously as a target, to each, unlatching the doors. But the cougars, and other caged beasts fled from him like everyone else in his miserable life. The best he got was a hiss and a swat, and that only left a few superficial gashes through his jeans. Then he had cold comfort imagining his neighbors would be locked in their houses for miles and miles around, at the same time down here he'd be laying with his brains and bits of bone stuck all over the walls. Just like his father. Ha ha ha. Ha ha. He listened for screams, and heard none. He bent his head down, and started walking back to the trailer. He hated the sun, he hated the sunlight, he hated the morning. Then he remembered he had meant to kill himself, and looked one more time behind, at the pens. He put the gun to his head.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Off Into Space

Off into space we go, with bags of farts. The navigator is obviously insane, he collects his farts. We find this out after reaching orbit, when calculating the next leg of the historic journey. Commander Maarten squeezes a plump one, seeming empty, in the aft cabin. After the fight, and the various reactions of the crew, I now see this will be a long, arduous journey.

Organizing a Day of Protest

"I'm organizing a day of protest." I say.

"Oh, you are? Against whom?" says God.

"You, of course!

"Oh! I see. That's nice!"

"Really? You're not offended?"

"No, no! I think this is wonderful."

"Organizing a protest against you, and you have no problem with this."

"Yes, fabulous."


"Why do you think?"

"I'm guessing, you like the concept of people getting out of their routines, meeting others, with something bigger than themselves in mind?"

"Something like that. I always find it is hopeful when people get out of their routines for a cause, and meet with others."

"So you think Hope is important?"

"I'm always Hopeful with you."

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Poem - Birthday Poem to David


i'd meet him
and he might be in a state

grin and grim
only like an irishman can

this was easily fixed
when i demanded to know
if he wanted a drink

but it wasn't the drink he wanted

it was for someone who knew him
well enough to ask

~ ~ ~

he moves through sorrow
moves with the joy
things here & gone

and we talk about all

though we know it
can't last


For David Penney

Poem - see how i have more things to unlearn

you act like i was saying something?
i must have been seeming to say something
see how i have more things to unlearn

wanting to be truly useful to others
i need to get out of the way of myself
see how i have more things to unlearn



Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Poem - i was gone/ but now i'm back

i call my dad on his birthday
he answers the phone

before he would not
i blamed him for everything

the card was sent on time
for this day onhand

a fine day in october
to be born

i was gone
but now i'm back


October 11, 2011

God Buys Me a BLT in Escondido

I go to a cafe in Escondido. I see God is there, standing in line.

"Let me buy you a sandwich." says God.

"OK." I reply.

We stand there, and God is humming to himself quietly.

"Can I pick the sandwich? I'd like --"

"No." says God.

He orders me a BLT and I don't want a BLT. We sit down at a booth in the window, it is a lovely morning. I drink a cup of coffee I carried in, and I resent God ordering a BLT for me, even though it looks delicious.

God starts eating.

"So how do you relate to Buddhism?" I ask God.

"Eat your BLT." says God.

I start eating my BLT, and I don't like how the bacon and mayonnaise are getting together with the bread.

"So where are you in the synthesis of Christianity?" I ask God.

"Keep eating." says God.

"But what about free will and human nature?"

"Oh..." says God, seeming to have a thought on his mind.

He pauses. I wait, holding half a BLT. A pretty girl comes into the cafe, and God watches her, smiling. She walks past us and I can't see her. Finally, I turn and look at what he's looking at. I expect to see the pretty girl, but she's vanished!

"Nevermind!" says God.

Poem - I Think of You

for Latif

when i see a pretty girl
and i get to talk to her
and she remembers my name
i think of you

i see the full moon
when i go to sleep and then
it is there at 5 am when i'm up
i think of you

if i'm stuck in traffic
and getting impatient
but then i accept the now
i think of you

i see it is beyond my hand
it is beyond word thought or day
it was here before before
it is in the thought of you
and it will remain


Center City Parkway @ W Washington St

Sunday, October 09, 2011

Poem - And Right Then

she kissed him and he laughed
her hair covering over his face

the most natural thing
love and joy of being together
having found the precious enduring gift
with someone very made for you

and right then i wished a 14 ton block
would fall out of the sky
and smash them flat

then later when i was home
i truly regretted thinking this
and i did my laundry
& i could see why i was alone

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Poem - YES

program asks
click YES to accept

so i click

then it goes
are you sure, click

& i click YES
one more time
to be sure

and i find i wish
people were
that way

Friday, September 30, 2011

Poem - On the Way

on the way he asks me what is the point
i say the point is there is no point
only kindness towards self and others
we drive for some time
and go under a vast wing of grey overcast
on the way to his appointment with superior court



Tuesday, September 27, 2011

News - Marguerite Avenue

CM Evans Cartoons and writing has been posted to a new eclectic website/ magazine called Marguerite Avenue. Writers and other artists are invited to submit.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Poem - BAH!

a mahasiddha on the road to abolition
travels it the same silly buoyant way as i would travel
to a girlfriend


a mahasiddha sees right through
any hope i'd have at the start of the day as a harmless
slight slip


Poem - this dawn laying red / diesem morgen über das blut

this dawn laying red
like a bar of molten steel
under cloud machines

hammers the sun
day into a broad blade
and polishes it on
sky blue water


diesem morgen über das blut
wie eine bar aus geschmolzenem stahl
unter cloud-maschinen

hammer der sonne
tag in eine breite klinge
und poliert es auf
weiß blau wasser


Lake Henshaw

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Chung Tzu - Good Luck With the Writing & Oh Dear!

I threw away the good story. I threw away the good poem. I got a whole bunch of leaves and garbage, and I put them on the table. The wind blew on them, gently. I'm watching this, when Chung Tzu comes into the backyard, holding a large worn paper-bag.

"What are you doing?" asks Chung Tzu.

"I'm writing the next Great American Novel." I reply.

"Oh? What is it called?" inquires Chung Tzu.

"Garbage and Leaves On a Table." I say.

"Well, good luck with the writing." says Chung Tzu. He fishes around in the big paper bag.

"What's in the bag?" I ask Chung Tzu.

"Oh, nothing. Just an old greasy sandwich. You'd hate it. I can think of nobody else who would appreciate it."

"Lucky you!"

"Oh Dear! My precise good fortune, is your good fortune too. Don't forget to write about that!"


In the Backyard

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Poem - hooking my mind up to a feeling or a thought

hooking my mind up to a feeling or a thought
of anything that is not in front of me
is buying into an opinion that may be right or wrong

if you are not here there is no way to check to see if it is correct
therefore i should refrain from being invested
in anything but the here and now

Poem - i listen and the man gets up

my sawdusty barbed wire mind
'what do you mean by that?' the old man asks

i halt and see how full i am
'what do you mean by that?' the old man asks

i tell a joke about meetings
'what do you mean by that?' the old man asks

i shut up and i listen
'what do you mean by that?' the old man asks

i listen and the man gets up
'you better look in the mirror' says the old man

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Johannes Kepler Facts

Historians write about history from their educated historical perspective. You can't blame them for wanting to clean history up a bit, to make it more important and serious. Otherwise people might start thinking that history is a sham, or a series of bizarre accidents, or historical persons were as nutty as we are today. To help clear things up, here are some less-known, historical facts about Johannes Kepler, with the books/ documents they appear in:

1. Johannes Kepler was voted "Most Likely to Succeed" by his high school class. See 'De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium', by Nicolaus Copernicus, pages 123- 24.

2. Johannes Kepler hated yarn and macrame. See 'Meine Ausgezeichnete Astronomie Buch' by Tycho Brahe, page 22 and Chapters 3, 6, and 9.

3. Johannes Kepler cheated at monopoly, and was a jerk when he got caught, spilling the whole board and ruining the game for everyone else. See 'Cyclopaedia: or, An Universal Dictionary of Arts and Sciences', complied by Ephraim Chambers, vol 3, pages 304 & 405.

4. Johannes Kepler sometimes bragged he made Tycho Brahe knock over a telescope, so Johannes could catch it before it hit the ground, thus making Tycho look like an ass in front of Nicolaus Copernicus when they were hanging out. See 'De Falsa Volume Incredibilis Rerum', vol 11, pages 33 - 44 and vol 12, pages 4 & 8, by Pope Lucas Watzenrode the Younger.

5. Johannes Kepler was a vampire, from Mars, and he did wrestle robot-George Washington for 2 years under the Potomac River, and he did make Superman's mother pregnant on Krypton, and Johannes Kepler was Moses, and Johannes Kepler personally built 1. The Statue of Liberty, 2. The Empire State building, and 3. Ellis Island* -- but Johannes Kepler was not able to be a daywalking vampire. Because daywalking vampires do not exist.


* And J. K. invented the languages English, Spanish, German, Italian, Greek , Milwaukeian and Las Vegan

Poem - nothing but a dip/ in the cold pond

cherishing me
in my comprehension
or struggle to know god &
at the same time the above
having no opinion
thoughts only appear
to affect us
if we appear
to not let go of them
all of the above
any worry
nothing but a dip
in the cold pond

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Crying when the National Anthem Played

So many of us experienced the anger, grief about the attacks on 9/11 for a long time. I have no relatives or friends who were directly taken by the terrorist attacks. But today, with the media reminding me wherever I go THIS IS THE DAY -- 10 YEARS, I find myself reliving some of the reactions I had 10 years ago. I'm also annoyed, because the news started 'ramping up' for this horrific anniversary about a week ago. I noted how the pressure for 9/11 was built up over the days. When the outlets were doing this, I was confident I would resist the emotionality of the day, faced with all the footage and audio they'd be broadcasting. But I can't see the pictures and watch the video clips without being moved, and I think about what happened that day, and all the people who died. I'd have to have a heart of stone to not feel the pain.

The entire day of 9/11, my wife and I were wrapped in a cushion of unreality. We watched the TV, helplessly. I heard people say, over and over again, "It is like a bad dream -- but made real." Then two days after 9/11, when I was driving to work, the radio station I was tuned into said something about the attacks on the United States of America, and played the National Anthem.

I grew up believing, though we can disagree on many things, every decent American is a patriot, at the core. Being 'for your country' was like having common sense. But when I heard the National Anthem two days after 9/11, I cried half way through. I've never cried to the National Anthem before, or since.

Wednesday, September 07, 2011

At the Intersection

At the intersection with the sedan window open, she looks at her hand that has several large fantastic rings. Sitting at the light, she looks at her dazzling french nails. She turns her hand that I can see this way, and then that, feeling a kind of poetry. She loves looking at her luxuriously pampered hands, sleek and soft, like they are moving underwater -- like a scattering of doubloons on white aquatic sand. Near a wrecked ship full of dead men. The light turns green.


Pacific Coast Highway
Newport Beach

Tuesday, September 06, 2011

Poem -- Bud

bud. he put out his fire
so others may have it
also showed them
it could be quenched

a teaching more valuable
than all thing-a-ma-jings
and explained why
wealth is unneeded

where ya gone, bud?
he's in the moon!
he's in my hair!
he's in this poem!



Two Quotes

(I don't mean to be obtuse -- I've had these quotes bumping around my head since I've read them in the two books I was reading. - CM)


"Nothing is more outwardly visible than the secrets of the heart, nothing more obvious than what one attempts to conceal. Hence a man of true breed looks straight into his heart even when he is alone."

'The Unwobbling Pivot'
Chung Yung


"The monks...did not conceive of their merely meaning freedom from something -- such as freedom from the bonds of nature and society -- but also as conferring on them the freedom to serve their fellow man."

'Vedanta: Heart of Hinduism', page 182
Hans Torwesten

Thursday, September 01, 2011

Poem - without any resentments/ whatsoever

say 'yes' or 'no'
without any resentments

listen to others and their advice
without any resentments

be glad sleep or eat
without any resentments

love smile and sleep
without any resentments

fail abide win
without any resentments

without any resentments
without any resentments

Poem - if god says hello/ say hello back

if god says hello
say hello back

i think that is
the thing to do


or possibly
be tao does

and not think
where i is


The Backyard
Escondido, CA

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Advice to Time Travelers: How to Build a Time Machine

Dear Cyril,

I'm sorry to say, contrary to the opinions of advanced scientific disciplines & theorists, it is surprisingly easy to build a time machine -- even when using only common household objects. What a person requires is the simple directions, that is all. There is ample proof to back this up, even casual cultural references: The movie Napoleon Dynamite demonstrated a TM, albeit in a tongue-in-cheek way. So let us not worry about if a time machine can be constructed.

The problem lies not in the refinement of any time-traveling device, but in the infinite time-space repercussions of either having a functional time machine, or in the irresponsibility that arises out of using it. Some of these paradoxes can be researched and found over the internet, through the Time Traveler's Home-Brew & Mercado, or in the parking lot of the Dunkin Donuts at 34th and Ash Avenues, in Escondido, Ca. More should not be said about this, save stay away from Phase-Coil back-scatterers: Ruben McKenninck!

The main point to consider is this: Why do you want to build a time machine? What is your intention to travel forward, or backwards, in time? If you have not carefully considered this -- or you cannot be truthful -- then it is definitely a great risk for yourself and your mind to use any time machine, even the joke ones.

Lastly: Please don't be the sort of idiot who goes to the trouble to making a time machine, and then asks people, where should I go, what should I do, what is 'the most fun area in time for you', how do I return back if my machine gets broken, etc.


Potts Baily

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Chung Tzu Tells Me to Get Back to Work

"You can only peel a banana once!" I say to Chung Tzu. He does not look up. I go back to work.

"If you put a pot in water long enough, it rusts inside and outside!" I say to Chung Tzu. He does not look up. I go back to work.

"George Washington wasn't the only general who crossed the Delaware!" I say to Chung Tzu. He still does not look up. I go back to work.

Later, when I'm about to say something wise to Chung Tzu, he jumps up and presses his finger against my forehead, inexorably pushing so I fall off my chair and I'm just about pinned to the floor.

"Ouch!" I say, rubbing my forehead when he lets up. "Why did you do that?"

"Oh, it was nothing, I guess. Get back to work."

Chung Tzu on Reading

"I read someone complaining, in a book, that the middle-ages in Western History are suspiciously under-documented." I say to Chung Tzu.

"Well, don't read everything you read." says Chung Tzu.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Chung Tzu: AH HA!

It is blazing hot in Newport Beach, Joe Stalin comes in. He violently dumps a canvas bag, hat, and umbrella on the threshold. A red plastic toy shovel bounces off the closet. Masses of sand and flecks of leaves scatter all over the place.

"The UNIVERSE is ENDING!" he yells dramatically.

I look at Chung Tzu, who is reading the Commentary Section of the Orange County Register. Joe Stalin marches past us, into the kitchen, to the fridge.

"ALL HISTORY IS OVER!" proclaims Joe Stalin, as he opens the fridge.

I look at Chung Tzu, and he is still reading the Commentary Section of the Orange County Register -- but now I see the newspaper is upside-down.

"GOD IS DEAD!" shouts Joe Stalin, pouring himself some iced-tea, with a slice of fresh lemon.

I look at Chung Tzu, he is still reading the Commentary Section of the Orange County Register -- but now I see the newspaper is inside-out.

"I set up Phoebe's bunk bed in the loft! She really likes it." I suggest to both of them.

"AH HA!!!" explains Chung Tzu, flinging the newspaper high into the air.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Poem - 8.25.2011

i heard like a single violin
the note warbled

it could have been my heart
but the instrument played on

i did not give up nor did
i gain strength from this life

i can smile and say it hurt
it will never stop hurting

acceptance removes the heat
from the fire



Monday, August 22, 2011

Chung Tzu Teaches Me How to Sail

"ALL HANDS ON DECK!" yells Chung Tzu.
I spill my coffee all over my computer keyboard.

"LUFF UP AND LOOK LIVELY!" yells Chung Tzu.
I knock over my notes, scattering them all over the floor.

"BEAR AWAY!!!" bellows Chung Tzu.
I run into the door, forgetting which side of it is the open one.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!" I scream at him.
"Teaching you how to sail!" says Chung Tzu.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Poem - 8.14.11

i dream of a big tree
one side of it is green
the other side of it is dead

but there is no tree
and no death, only gifts refused
and sentiment rejected

oh tree i sit below you
in the dream and i fail in
meditation even in dreams

oh hard luck fellow
weary traveler who has no need
to look and find

poor son of a bitch
selfish to a fault who prays
at the same time for all happiness

in the dream i pray
for new horizons seeing moon
and stars go up and fail

there is something
in the embrace of soft deep night
with new dew ticking away

just before dawn
i wake up & take courage
from what i have;

cannot be banished
or dreamed away


Friday, August 05, 2011

Poem - like the moon or the sun

i'm here
and everything gets done
because i stay out of the way
but everyone who is invested
can see and talk to me
as much as they want &
like to the moon or the sun

it isn't hard
to listen and then shine
light there or here or with
total nondiscrimination overall
& let the god in the viewer
ponder and sort it out after
i tried and now i listen

Friday, July 15, 2011

Poem - at the very/ last moment

your memory reminds me:
i am with the boat
there is nothing else
so don't be bothered

i can feel the wind
from the top of the mast
into the body of fiberglass
and through the keen fin
like flesh

the tiller
and the sweet spot
right before you luff
or bear away
through a cloud of birds
that scatter

at the very
last moment


For Stephanie

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Poem - but he can/ at everything

god can't hear me
with no ears

can't feel me
with no fingers or body

can't see me
there are no eyes

god does not admire
the dawn
the day
the night
the babies
the food
the wine
the trees
the leaves
the earth
the water
the nix
the nil
the etc

but he can
at everything

so i laugh

Monday, July 11, 2011

Poem - Birthday Poem

all these numbers
on my birthday
of 44
born at 4.44 in
the afternoon

7 - 11 - 11

308 in dog years
what does it mean
funny very funny
god windsup
the next pitch

go ahead
give me the fastball

Thursday, July 07, 2011

Poem - Facebook Picture

her facebook picture suggests
we all jump into her roomy cleavage
but we bounce off her face



Poem - watching the crescent moon

i saw the crescent moon over santa rosa
and san francisco
over san luis obispo
down back
to newport beach

it was flying
always flying on the right

it started out days ago
white & thin like a fingernail

but it gained
it was low and orange
over the madonna inn
the valley is dark

tomorrow you will awake
and see everything sans moon

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Attack, Just Kidding, Eternal Fish

Danny plays with his trucks in an accelerated way. I listen carefully:


"You're POOR!"



He pauses, and contentedly watches SpongeBob SquarePants. Sandy the Squirrel, and Patrick the Star Fish, are being attacked by a gorilla. I, on the other hand, am thinking on what I just listened to out of Danny's mouth.

The first thing that strikes me, is I was actually listening to his play-talk and not ignoring it. Before I can think on more serious repercussions, about myself and personal accountability -- morals and ethics -- Danny interrupts me.

"Knock Knock!" says Danny.

"Who's there?" I reply.

"I have a bloody nose!" yells Danny.

"You do?"

"Just kidding!" says Danny, and "Will you read me this book?"

He hands me a book about fish.

I read him the book. Now the Universe is but a serene place, full of fish. Some a red, some are blue, some are old, some new. The fish go on, forever and ever. I read the book to him many times.

Monday, June 27, 2011

What I Got When I Searched for You on Google

When I Google your name, the results is a picture of a woman dressed as a doctor, and it looks like one side of her face is paralyzed. She also looks old and crazy, with her hair in a ragged ponytail and one of her eyes is bigger than the other. The lady is smiling brightly, the noticeable eye is bulging; I feel like she's found a bar of solid gold. I want to ask you if this is a picture of someone you know, but I'm afraid to ask if it is your mother. Then I remember what I would tell my daughter Phoebe, when she asked me difficult questions, "All comments or questions must be submitted in writing, and can take up to 60 days to respond."

Monday, June 20, 2011

Poem - love is a freshening breeze

love is a freshening breeze
and you turn and see the field
is so green not bare

Digging to China

C: "Where are you going?"

D: "I'm digging a hole!"

C: "Are you digging to China?"

D: "What's China?"

C: "I'm glad you asked. It's a country on the other side of the world. This is why we say euphemistically, when someone is engaged in an excavation, and they are a notably smaller person, they are "Digging a Hole to China". The orgin of the phrase is uncertain, though the great American writer & philosopher Thoreau used this phrase in the 1850s about a hole his neighbors were digging --"


C: "I'm sorry, would you like me to help?"

Friday, June 17, 2011

There's a Lot of Things I Can't do on Facebook

There's a lot of things I can't do on Facebook, I think I should be able to do. For example, I can't mark my birthday as being in the year 1807. I like the year 1807. I also like the year 1644, and I'd like to have a combined birthday of 1807 / 1644. And I'd like to have a little smiley faces beside it so it looks like this:

: - ) 1807 / 1644 : - )

Why can't I do this? It is this mean, narrow minded thinking that hems us all in.

In terms of my real age, like most folks over 25, I take a few years off of it. So if I'm 43, I tell people my age is 22 years old. And when I'm 55, I tell people I'm 22 years old. And when I'm 99 I tell people I'm 22 years old. You see how it goes. Now, if I made it to 200 years old, I'd tell people I was 43 years old. What the hell. When I'm that old, why not?

But Facebook won't account for this preference of mine. It should do this kind of age-adjusting automatically -- ask you what percent or year amount you'd like automatically subtracted (or added) from your real age. I'd call that the inflater/ deflater applet -- you could apply it freely to salary, weight, height, etc.

Oh well, I know that Facebook will be the perfect tool for when the time comes to round us all up and make us into Soylent Green, but I use Facebook anyways.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Climbing a Tree

Climbing the huge redwood tree, out of the forest, at 40 feet I found a section of fence imbedded in the bark. I made a mental note of this, and illogically expected to possibly find a yard, and the house that was with the fence 100 years ago, but to no avail. You will find, when climbing an extraordinarily tall tree, there will be an interesting period of time when there is nothing but tree above you, and tree below you. The green green world is all branches and springy twigs and needles, you cannot see out in any direction. Should I go up or down? Is it possible to get lost in a place like this? How could the world be only Tree? Invisible hands seemed to press on me, and it was hushed & spooky. Then I saw above a wrinkle of light, and I kept going. I broke out into sunshine, and I saw that I had snuck into a royal garden of giants, all gently swaying for miles as far as I could look. With no sense of frailty, or doom, the tenderest of shoots on the tips of branches glowed, no deer would ever eat them. My finger tips were dusted in golden pollen. An eagle passed by within arm-reach, and gave me one look. Voices of my friends below were utterly blocked out, I could only hear the wind blowing from the Ocean. After this, it took me 30 minutes to climb down, and when I was asked what it was like, or where I had been, I could not say. All one could do, was do it.


South Fork of the Eel River
Leggett, CA

Poem - Stuck

i get the lowdown on deadly snake charming
and all the tips and tricks for success
from the handy internet
but i have no way of ordering a cobra

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Poem - During the Eclipse of the Moon

it seems insane at the darkest
reddest part of the lunar eclipse
under the moon birds are excited
and my blue truck stands out
especially around the wheels
powdered with white dust


01.04.48 PST

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

A Very Windy Afternoon


It is a very windy afternoon. I watch my son play in the playground, he is by far the loudest one there. I was the loudest kid in the playground when I was a kid. When I was 8 I yelled in my best friend's ear and hurt his eardrum.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Poem - Unlovely

cloudy in the morning
to some i am not a good friend
selfish even when i say i am not

i water the lawn
realizations like this
baffling & tiresome

i water like the lawn
like it has never been watered
then i think i am a liar
about my selfishness

i read on the news
how a WWII bomber just crashed
and burned in a wheatfield
i look and look on how little is left

i want another cigarette
but i just smoked one
& nobody loves a son-of-a-bitch

Shy About Travel

I'm shy for some reason, when it comes to telling people where I've traveled. Particularly when I get back from Europe. "Where ya been?" a coworker asks me. Even though I told them I was going to England for 10 days before I left. "Spelunking in Utah." I reply. "Was it fun?" they ask. "No." I say. "Why wasn't it fun?" they inquire. "Because the whole cave was chock full of the country of England. I couldn't spelunk at all." I say.


Hibert Road

Poem to the 'Most Peirced Woman' in the World

so to kiss her face
her lips feel like tiny shells
my tongue skates on



Poem - Seas

grey speckled seas
to bear me up or send me
onto killer rocks

moon on the bay
a calm summer night
dipping one horn then
the other into the deep

stars as many
as you could count

wind to blow
through a body clean

whore water
bitch stealer
boat breaker

tricky lover
mouth's soul
to the initiated

Thursday, June 09, 2011

Poem - when i got the news/ this morning

the death of a small pet
trifling creature

in my buffoonery
ananda i shed a few tears

over a crossword puzzle
not a sutra that i picked up

when i got the news
this morning

i can think of so many

sufferings utterly eclipsing this

but still in my sillyheart

ananda i shed a few tears


For Latif

Friday, June 03, 2011

Poem - Undream

There are places and memories that I am cognizant of
only when in dreams. They have no waking equivalents
and are as real and persuasive as anything in this

As seen last night; a vestibule stained a tan color
where weary travelers wear shades and rest in long
reclining chairs. All are dressed in antique suits
and we view a canyon where the road goes down
into fog.

I am afraid and relieved to see them, they are not
surprised at anything -- neither friendly nor unfriendly.
Such is the emotions of dreams, the scene is interrupted
when I wake. I find I am in a dark room, with gently
swaying shades.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Poem - the pot boils

the pot boils
i lit the fire under the pot

man was i satisfied
until the pot burned me

woe is me
goddamn the ugly pot

the fire
the spoiled happiness

Friday, May 27, 2011

Poem - turn from this and life is open

mysteries arise in the heart
some are horrible without consciousness

you could imagine a shining white mountain
that you will never reach

a view from the top
that will answer all the questions you ever wanted

turn from this and life is open
and it is 9 am with plenty of things to do


Geheimnisse entstehen im Herzen,
das einige ohne Bewusstsein schrecklich sind.

Sie konnten einen glänzenden weißen Berg dich vorstellen,
den Sie nie erreichen.

Eine Ansicht von der Oberseite beantwortet alle Fragen,
die Sie überhaupt wünschten.

Umdrehung von diesem und vom Leben ist geöffnet
und es ist 9 morgens mit viel der Sachen, zum zu tun.



Monster Patrol

Daniel is 4 and has a plastic sword. It is 8.30 in the morning, and his big sister has gone to school. Danny tells me he is hiking around, looking for bad people to kill. We're in a small 1 bedroom apartment in Newport Beach, but for him, the location to patrol is 10,000 square miles of frozen wastelands, arid deserts, deep jungles, tombs, and insanely high mountains were monster snowmen live. Some of the snowmen are friendly, it should be noted -- they are his allies. After some adventures, Dan puts on his fluffy bath robe over his pajamas, gets his fire truck book and says, "This is just the perfect thing I need right now." "No more fighting?" I ask him. "No -- the monsters and I agreed to take a break for 7 days. Whew!" says Dan. "You can say that again!" I reply.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The Giant 300 Foot Tall Cat

"So before I fire you, why were you late for work this morning?" asks my boss. We're sitting in his office, as if I was not going to be fired, his feet on the desk.

"There was no way I could have made it to work on time this morning." I say truthfully, for the first time.

"And why is that?" asks my boss.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I might as well."

"The freeway was completely blocked at the exit to the office by a 300 foot tall cat."

"Jesus Christ!" explodes my boss. "Is that the best fucking excuse you can come up with?"

"It's true." I say. "Look out the window."

My boss disdainfully looks over his shoulder, sees the giant 300 foot tall cat in the park next to the hi-rise, and screams.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


he cheerfully cracked the secret of the universe
and nobody believed him because he was
a cat



Thursday, May 19, 2011

Which Reminds Me

Which reminds me of a dream I had last night. There was some kind of problem, and the solution for it was quite simple and sane:

1. Dress up like a banana
2. Eat bananas

If you have any problem you cannot solve, try those two steps.

Friday, May 06, 2011

Poem - Another Dawn

another dawn
peeks over the hill
and lays over the field

the details roughed out
every swoop of a bird
like an aria

Poem - Fine Golden Cotton Candy

--- for Shel Silverstein

the first place sunlight
touches in town
is an empty lot
with a freeway over it

boy i like that place
where the day is so new
it is supernatural

tomorrow i'll bring a pail
and catch the first rays

i bet you what i catch
will look like fine
golden cotton candy

Thursday, May 05, 2011

Poem - Christs and Buddhas

I see Christs and Buddhas in the air. I was
not looking for them, and it should be a beatific
vision, right? But it is crowded in the yard,
like a happy gathering of linebackers in a too-small room.

With the heavies, I happen to be there, the runt,
just lucky to be here. Not a blade of grass
disturbed. Birds flew, the regal Black Phoebe
ate a fly.



Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Poem - Damascus

in damascus the song rises up
several times a day
from old
stone walls pigeons all fly
at the same time
in a feathery rush

oh here i am
i wasn't thinking
i wasn't
even here
until i knew i wasn't

i know i'll forget
and remember again
and again
like a grain lost by god
between sun and stone

time will move on
these walls will tilt more
they will
be stained more black
the birds will soar
into the air with the song

as a new person stands here
i do not know

Poem - I water the Lawn and I go see

I water the Lawn and I see
seashells entwined with rays and lyrical
swaying curtains of kelp. A school of
sardine-fish trip me. I smile shyly
at a beautiful mermaid who has
gold flecks in her long hair.
What is the
problem with this, when my neighbors
imagine terrorists under
the bed or hicks
with cleavers in the garage?
The day sky is as blue
as a robin's egg, the light clear
as it is full of heat. I see in it the
walkable thin bridge between here
and Heaven, while
you may be convinced
a bomb will fall through it
like a whore off a diving board.


Sunset Heights

Poem -- The phone does not ring. It means

Das Telefon klingelt nicht. Es bedeutet,
Ich bin nicht in Schwierigkeiten, und ich bin
nicht in der Liebe.

Warum muss es so sein? Andere sind bekannt
für ihre immense Eitelkeit zu
diese Dinge.

Oder ist es weil ich beschlossen haben
wie leben schwach liebenden
Sein, klapprigen & traplike.

Wie miserabel und schlecht
wenn dieses zutreffend ist. Nach außen ein boyscout,
innerlich ein Räuber.


The phone does not ring. It means
I'm not in trouble and I'm
not in Love.

Why must it be so? Others are known
for their immense vanity towards
these things.

Or is it because I have decided
to live as a weakly loving
being, rickety & traplike.

Ugh. How miserable and evil
if this is true. Outwardly a boyscout,
inwardly a mugger.

Poem - Death Life Love / Tod Leben Liebe




























Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Poem - To the New Spring Bride and Groom

we the couple after the rain
outside we walk
in the sweet petrichor
coffees-to-go snugly

in the park a spot
of chanking offsets
the scroop of a bridal gown
for a picture w/ groom
backward armsayes*

but the knot is tied
and fingers are ringed
with the slimmest gold
glabellas (or not) to come
i wish them well

the woman sports a feat**
and the man takes badinage
but no roorback imminent

this union as sublime and
toylike as a nef
yet neither have taken to it lightly

and both are bold yet shy
brave yet hesitant
they will go home tonight
alone for the first time


* armholes
** a loose lock of hair

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Easter Afternoon Gypsy Proverb Dreams

I take a nap on Easter afternoon, and right before I'm all the way awake, I'm dreaming about 'gypsy proverbs' while looking at a grainy black & white television image of the tarmac of an airport somewhere in the former Soviet Union. A husky voice, with a strong accent says:

"A man will be known of how lovely he is to women, by the number of dogs they have given him as gifts of appreciation."

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Poem - All of This

at the circus i burned
the apple cart

i kicked apples
in people's faces

i broke all the rules
and i missed the cart

the circus left without me
as i slept

i woke to empty streets
and i wept

i wandered interlocking fields
like vincent van gogh

at night a million stars
looked on silently

god should have admired
my bravado

but there is no escape
even in the attempt of escaping

(To hear the audio of this poem, click here.)

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Poem - Colonel Whisper

shhhh shhhhhhhhhh
it is my friend colonel whisper
steely eye
no salute required

he stalks in and sums up
the clasp with one
imperious glance of 'not in charge
but should be'


To ______________ __________
From ____________ ____________

Poem - Circling

serenaded by vivaldi
and glenn gould fugues

he lives on tomatoes
green tea and broccoli

and what he really wants
while meditating

is knowing how to live
without poverty of imagination

like being more than
and educated hamster cage

like entering the
human family

or a girlfriend w/ motorcycle
& coffee


alas he reads and dreams
of mystical emergencies

not being roused by phone
email or chat

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Poem - Poem to Cat

the cat does not sing
he does not bark

he lays where
the cat nip was poured


he looks at me
with amber eyes

and waits for me
to stop typing


i ask him a question
but he still looks

there is absolute
looking here


10.29 AM

(For an audio recording of this poem, click here.)

Friday, April 08, 2011

Poem - Nap for Lunch

for lunch
i take a nap

i dream
i am a sailor
from the 1600s
on jeopardy
about to answer
a tricky question
from god almighty
about the nature
of the universe
while the set
is on fire &
the host of the show
converts to
a cannibalistic
sect of a cargo-

i wake up
and i am not

i check my

it says i am
so i re-

Poem - In My Backyard in Escondido

torrid thoughts
and weeds run amok
all have their place
and naturally grow

each variety
run sinewy vines
and fine roots run deep
being patently buried

but the weed
is just a weed while
resentments are
ideas gone to seed

i'll grow trees or
a jungle in my mind
where well tended gardens
are jewels of the forest

(To listen to the audio of this, click here.)

Poetry - The Slug

at the end of a trail
to a hard black dart
baking in the sun

i have enough snot
for 10,000 slugs
i give him some

the spit and phlegm
a torrid melange of spice
pollen bacteria and enzymes
tobacco and oils

i watch and wait like god does

i look closely

i am too late
he is dead

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Fun With Telegraphy: Poem - all is before 1st light

I've been taking a lot of heat from my freinds practicing Telegraphy that I have not been writing much material for Morse Code. So here is a poem I like that I've translated. Keep coming Back!

.. .----. ...- . -... . . -. - .- -.- .. -. --. .- .-.. --- - --- ..-. .... . .- - ..-. .-. --- -- -- -.-- ..-. .-. . .. -. -.. ... .--. .-. .- -.-. - .. -.-. .. -. --. - . .-.. . --. .-. .- .--. .... -.-- - .... .- - .. .... .- ...- . -. --- - -... . . -. .-- .-. .. - .. -. --. -- ..- -.-. .... -- .- - . .-. .. .- .-.. ..-. --- .-. -- --- .-. ... . -.-. --- -.. . .-.-.- ... --- .... . .-. . .. ... .- .--. --- . -- .. .-.. .. -.- . - .... .- - .. .----. ...- . - .-. .- -. ... .-.. .- - . -.. .-.-.- -.- . . .--. -.-. --- -- .. -. --. -... .- -.-. -.-

.--. --- . -- -....- .- .-.. .-.. .. ... -... . ..-. --- .-. . .---- ... - .-.. .. --. .... - -- .. ... - .... .- -. --. .. -. --. .-.. --- .-- -... .-.. ..- . --- ...- . .-. - .... . -... .- -.-. -.- -... .- -.-- --..-- .-.. .. --. .... - ... - .-- .. -. -.- .-.. . -.. ..-. .-. --- -- .- ..-. .- .-. --- ..-. ..-. -... .- .-. --. . --- ...- . .-. ... .. .-.. ...- . .-. .-- .- - . .-. .- .-.. .-.. .. ... -... . ..-. --- .-. . .---- ... - .-.. .. --. .... - ---... - .... . -... .- .-. --. . .-- .- ... -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- .- -. -.. --.- ..- . ... - .. --- -. ... -.. .. . -.. .- .-- .- -.-- --..-- - .... --- ..- --. .... - ... -.-. .- ..- --. .... - --- ..-. ..-. --. ..- .- .-. -.. .-- . .-. . .- -. -. .. .... .. .-.. .- - . -..



Monday, April 04, 2011

Poem - A Poem for Robert

as a young go-getter
killing myself for a hi-tech firm
i boarded at his house
in the upstairs room

he wrote constantly
at the desk in the living room
his poetry and his habit
of writing was soothing

it was strange to drop by
years later in a driving rain
and see the house dark
with an empty front room

like me he had moved on
and left no forwarding address
because few cared or bothered
and i know how that feels

we think we know which way
the wind will blow
or how seasons roll out
inevitable change

or at least i thought i did
when i thought a lot
with one opened beer after another
watching him from the kitchen

i remember a mellow light
surrounding me as i washed
my mismatched dishes
as his typewriter punched the page

and later as a drunk
that kind of light eluded me
though the dishes matched
in a distant perfect house

(To hear the audio recording of this poem, click here.)