Friday, March 30, 2012

Poem - Free Time

email is stupid
so i write poems to you

i sleep all night
i get everything done

i have more time to waste
looking up useless things

i work work work work
i go to meetings

i smile like a mute
i look like an unopened book

you'll probably never read this
but if you do

a long long time
will have passed

Poem - USS Arizona

one sunny morning in hawaii w/ not much going on
a bomb fell down the smokestack of the uss arizona
and it was sunk/ nobody thought that would happen
on that day

one sunny morning in laguna beach w/ not much going on
you walked past me when i was at a cafe & you smiled
that particular way/ later when my life was blown up
i thought about the uss arizona

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Poem - Silence

number no longer in service
you hang up and look at the keyboard

the silence becomes deafening
the betta fish keeps sleeping in the kitchen

feeling resigned and angry at the same time
you change the water in the fishbowl

you think it would be easier
to have two fishbowls

alone in the apartment you have done this
all without saying one word out loud



Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Very Nice Said the Moon

On the first day of spring, at dawn, I go outside and the first thing I see is the crescent moon just risen over the edge of the horizon. Overheard, the sky was still almost black, with a gradual lightening down by the tips of the mountains. The moon was so nestled perfect from the rising it had done, I could see it could talk.

"Hello." said the moon.

"Hello." I said back.

"Did I startle you?" asked the moon.

"Oh, bless me, no." I said.

"Are you sure?" asked the moon, going higher.

"I was surprised, but gratified." I said.

"Very nice." said the moon.


Spring 2012
West of Irvine

Monday, March 12, 2012

Poem - Barely Fitting

big moon skirts the big dipper
thoughts like contrails
as a sedan comes home below
the garage opens and we see
a tuscan landscape painting
barely fitting on the wall of the
single-car garage

Friday, March 09, 2012

When I Was Traveling Secretly Between Turin and Paris

Last week, when I was traveling secretly between Turin and Paris, I reminisced on how the Government reads everything we write online with little software robots -- in the name of National Security. I had 4,000 baseballs in a handbag next to me, with a miniature ladder made out of pure pressed moon-sushi. Six pairs of identical twins were on the plane, and they all ordered the same vegetarian meal. The in-flight movie was a delightful story about a white dog, a green rhinoceros, and a red penguin with mystical powers, saving post WWII Tokyo from total annihilation.

Meeting Giorgio Armani in New York

In New York, on the spur of the moment you borrow a friend's Armani coat to go to the market two blocks down. You do not particularly care for the Armani coat. The clasps & buttons are too big and the belt-buckle is ostentatious.

Halfway to the store, by pure insane chance, you meet Giorgio Armani. A private car pulls quickly to the curb -- the recognition is unavoidable, he is too close. He notices you, wearing one of his designs & holds his arm out, preventing someone from exiting the vehicle after him.

Giorgio Armani is so close you catch a whiff of cologne, and observe the fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

"Do you like my coat?" he asks you.

"Yes, I do," you lie.

Armani narrows his eyes but smiles, because he knows you are lying.