Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Attack, Just Kidding, Eternal Fish

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

"We're FIGHTING!"

"You're POOR!"

"And I'm YOUR TRUCK, TOO!"

"What? AAAAAAAH!"

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 --"

D: "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? ARRRGH!"

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.

------

Summer
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

------

6.15.11
01.04.48 PST

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

A Very Windy Afternoon
















4.30.11

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
2005

Poem to the 'Most Peirced Woman' in the World

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

------

6.13.11

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
undream.

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.