Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Writing - Ruins

Ruins. Even before I decide if I am right, or wrong, I look inside. I have a junk shop in my mind, a recycling yard, derelict museum. All of the contents are second-hand and used, none of it is original. Everything is cobbled together. Am I angry over my collectables? Disturbed over my ephemera? Am I isolating over tattered refinements? Alone in the ruins.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Writing - Ozymandias Coming or Going to Poor Phil's

At a certain point of his life, devoid of real purpose or thought, he walked at night in Oak Park.

Ah, Oak Park -- home of Hemingway, and Frank Lloyd Wright! There was the time of the year when lights glittered on the houses and fences. With the gracious homes lit and bunted with holly, silver bells, jingles, reindeer, gold balls, festive and whimsy trinkets and whatnot, some people would sit framed by their living room windows, or panoramic dining room windows -- un-shuttered, un-curtained. They imagined they were displaying gala parties and stimulating dinners -- or he imagined they imagined they were imagining gala parties and stimulating dinners.

He stared at their widening smiles, the joviality, the familial bliss. The "I have prospered, because I am humble in the eyes of the Lord, see he has blessed me." Or, "I am Ozymandias, look on my works and despair". He'd heard both statements, or thought he did in what he was seeing.

But he was mostly drunk, carrying a torn paper bag, and walking in the dark like a ghost. Coming, or going to Poor Phil's, the only pub in town.


Oak Park IL
December 2010

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Writing -- Quiz: The State of Archie McPhee


Barbara: I'm worried I have not started my Christmas shopping yet. Where should I go in Seattle?

Christo: You don't have to do anything. You live in the state of Archie McPhee. Just go by there and talk to them and they'll give you a trunk load of stuff for free. It is in the agreement, for your area.




Friday, December 13, 2013

Writing - Would You Remember

He never had an imaginary friend, but sometimes he would talk to the ceiling at night, in his sleep. He'd also point to where they "got in, through the ceiling". This was upsetting for other people, and they would wake him up and ask him what this was all about. But if you were asleep, and you said you knew things -- like where buried treasure was, or the secret for the elixir of eternal life, and someone woke you up and asked you were it was, would you remember?

In his case, he did remember. He was dreaming of marionettes wielded by unseen persons.


Quail Stove Hot
Irbles, CA

Writing - The Meaning of Irvine

What is the meaning of 'Irvine'? It comes from Latin, meaning "Ice-Pick". Alternately, it has been translated as "Shiv", the moniker of an ad-hoc stabbing implement fabricated when incarcerated. Some academics have presumed to infer 'Irvine' comes from the Ancient Norse, 'Irarväe', which means "to pillage by starlight". Or, more literally, "to murder greatly by starlight".

Not to be didactic, but 'Irarväe' really could be translated as "great murdering starlight" or "he who is motivated by starlight to kill". In any case, quote me as a source in your thesis.


Quail Motors
Irvine, CA

Writing - The Creepiest Thing

The creepiest thing that was ever said to him, was nothing at all.


Hot Stove Meadows

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Writing - You Have to Be Alert

"You have to be alert, Linda!" he says striding down the sidewalk alertly. He's a big guy. Linda might be his teenage daughter, trailing behind him...she looks cold. She'll probably be trailing behind him her whole life, and Linda needs to get used to it. I listened to him, and farted.


Laguna Beach

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Writing - Pirate Retirement Home

The dream of pirates -- a Pirate Retirement Home. Sunny. Plenty of rum. Peace and quiet. Not in the Caribbean. Anywhere, not to remember those deceptively blue tranquil waters. All for the tepid silence and cold, say, of the outskirts of Cleveland.


HMS Hot Stove
Quail Meadow

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Writing - I Dream of Bamboo

I dream of bamboo, grove after grove of it -- it is a renewable resource, you knew that, right? But in my dreams, bamboo is made out of pure gold.


Bamboo Groves Quail Meadow
Dec 2014

Writing - Fight with the 'New Team'

We brought the "New Team" in for a global solution -- they were very go-to -- meeting with our customers all over the world. Things were looking up, and then someone left the coffee pot on -- the main office burned down. The "New Team" had our only copy of the customer database, and they absconded to Hungaria, or Argentina. Sorry, Hungary. They'll be back! They have to come back to either San Francisco, or Seattle, for Christmas. Then -- fight!


Quail Meadow

Monday, December 09, 2013

Writing - Writing About Guatemala

I have had some visitors from Guatemala, and I know very little about this country. But I will write a few nice things about the country of Guatemala: I imagine the wool from Guatemala is of superior quality, and that the weather in Guatemala is temperate. I'm sure people look out for each other in Guatemala. Probably much more than around here. The more that I speculate about the positive things about Guatemala -- a place I know nothing about -- the more I think I want to go live there. People reading this, who exist in Guatemala, you have no idea how lucky you are.


Quail Hot Stove Meadow

Writing - Shit bag w/ Options

The ____________ was going great, it was almost done in record time, when he questioned why it could ever be done right with the concept of it being done in "record time". False, untrue, fuckup -- Zen corpse, shit bag. So he stopped writing and turned the heater on, because he was tired of being thrifty and not running the heater. Shit bag.

a) Poetry book
b) Travelogue
c) Memoir
d) Bodice Ripper


Hot Stove

Writing - Sometimes All We Want is Two Hellos

The phone rings two times, I answer it.

"Hello!" Silence, so I say, "Hello?"

The person hangs up.

Sometimes all we want is two hellos.


Quail Meadow

Wednesday, December 04, 2013

Writing - Everyone Knows Thier Birthday

Alex: So what day is your birthday?
Chris: (Absent mindedly) I don't know.
Alex: Yes -- you know!
Chris: Oh yeah, July 11. Silly me. Everyone knows their birthday.


Quail Meadow
Dec 2013

Saturday, November 30, 2013

dream if bashō 30

dream if bashō
says shhhhhh!
but there is nothing
to hear and points
and you see
nothing to see
this flickering sunbeam

dream if bashō 29

dream if bashō
bows to the soldier
with great respect
to the prostitute
to the highwaymen
to the innkeeper
to cherry blossoms
even to you


dream if bashō 28

dream if bashō
at ends fire low
hole in sandal
hat and bag
even raincoat
so when night
is cold he knows it


dream if bashō 27

dream if bashō
disappears for
this moment
in a grove
of bamboo
when you find
a shy deer


Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Every world class museum is now safe enough to play baseball in!

My idea to Major League Baseball is almost done. I've been editing it, I have a few slides to add to the PowerPoint presentation. I'd like to start a new MLB franchise that could be very lucrative and interesting, drawing in a new demographic -- a more educated and affluent one. Major League Baseball in Museums. Baseball teams play the Louvre, for instance. The Louvre is huge! The museums could even have their own teams. Imagine, "The Louvre Smashers" -- or "The Hermitage Annihilators", or even, "Smithsonian Institution Shamblers". This could take off. Don't worry about the darn art! It's been getting hit and kicked for years. Most of the stuff is made out of stone and metal. And behind bullet proof glass.

We've entered a new era -- where every world class museum is now safe enough to play baseball in!

Monday, November 25, 2013


The NSA burned down Bob's shed. The NSA slapped a kid and took his lunch money, and laughed. The NSA defiled graves, and insulted the groundskeepers at the non denominational cemetery. The NSA crank called Mrs. Ferlahey, who can't see that good, and she has a bad hip. The NSA made Bobby cry. The NSA hit Joanne. The NSA ran through a red light at noon on Cedar Street. The NSA bit Cory, and stole a Christmas tree from the Elks. The NSA got up late and was interested in robbing banks. The NSA threw away recyclable cans, and shot a BB gun in the air.


Written down in a Secret Undisclosed Location
Far from the Prying Eyes of the Internet

Friday, November 22, 2013

dream if bashō 26

dream if bashō
feeling carefully
in mist with
a bendy stick
you see wet
cold ground
trees like trees


dream if bashō 25

dream if bashō
before a roaring
things seized torn
churned into it
the water placid
at the edge


Thursday, November 21, 2013

Wiki-Stub for the Game 'Valley of the Minotaur'

I see that someone has added a stub on Wikipedia for a game I helped co-create way back in the early 1980s -- 'Valley of the Minotaur'. LOL. My friend Nick Van Dyke was a budding programmer, he coded and designed it -- and I provided the map, content, descriptions, and many of the central characters and plot for the text-based game. To Nick's credit, he was a brilliant developer -- he had already created several games using a TSR-80 -- one was a turn based Star-Trek combat simulator which had a Romulan bird-of-prey that could cloak and de-cloak when it attacked!

Later, we collaborated on a second text based adventure project, 'Return to the Valley of the Minotaur', which was finished, but not published.

The writing and concepts were heavily influenced by popular text based exploration games of the day, including 'Microsoft's Adventure', 'Zork I' and 'II', as well as the maps from 'Wizardry'. There are many mythological influences, too -- I was reading Greek Mythology widely at the time. The minotaur 'boss' character came from a creative writing short-story, called 'Revenge of the Minotaur' I had submitted to one of my teachers in English. Other influences were Dungeons & Dragons, and some of the props from Dr. Who -- the Telephone booth in the game VoTM is a reflection of the Tardis.


Nick and I had a great time making this game. I added to the article -- we'll see how it holds up. I might even have some of the hand written maps and descriptions in my files. I'll have to look and post them.


Update 6.27.14

I have the game -- my dad saved it and my mom found it. Thanks dad, thanks mom. New post with artwork.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

dream if bashō 24

dream if bashō
is unafraid of a
red moon or
uncounted fields
that seem to hide
threats or
lonely sentinels


dream if bashō 23

dream if bashō
by an old hut
stands stock still
before a trembling
leaf and


dream if bashō 22

dream if bashō
appearing so solidly
in a virgin field
of new fallen snow
his feet and yours
making tracks

that later will be gone

dream if bashō 21

dream if bashō
motions to the trickling
water so you see
how quickly
it races headlong
down into dust
to become mud


dream if bashō 20

dream if bashō
seemingly lost
in unfriendly country
finds undeniable joy
in unknowing
with feet to walk
and a place to be wandering


dream if bashō 19

dream if bashō
under the stars
bows to the earth
bows to you
in the weeds
going to and fro


Friday, November 01, 2013

dream if bashō 18

dream if bashō
is mistaken by you
as anything
like a thunderclap
or a ghost
or mud or lice
or even as bashō


dream if bashō 17

dream if bashō
sees the woes of
a robber
or the rage
of an innkeeper
blossoms shaken
loose rain down


dream if bashō 16

dream if bashō
regards two giddy
little sparrows
being watched
by a cat
chirping busy
no idea of peril


Thursday, October 31, 2013

dream if bashō 15

dream if bashō
under an ominous
sky sways
but is upright still
then shifts the load
adjusts sandal strap
and goes on


dream if bashō 14

dream if bashō
holds a lantern
holds it up then
dips it down
but never truly
ever a firefly


Halloween 2013

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Scoundrels Turned into Saviors

On reason I follow Buddha, or Buddhist teaching, is because it preaches total loving-kindness where ultimately nothing is wasted or rejected.  It even goes to say that Devadatta, one of Buddha's greatest opponents -- a betrayer, slanderer, and attempted murderer of Buddha, would not be left defeated, but rather be turned into a Buddha in a future lifetime, because of opposition and connection to the Buddha. It would be like saying in Christianity, that Judas, betrayer of Christ, would be a future Christ because of his connection to Christ and what was said and done for Christ. All renewed, scoundrels turned into Saviors.

153. In his wanderings throughout beginning less time, the fool is wrapped up in his grasping existence. As a wedge is driven out by another wedge, so the fool is led gradually into abandoning it.

    Lankavatära Sutra
    90 - 96

dream if bashō 13

dream if bashō
stepping in cremation
ashes and bone
regards the remains
like cherry blossoms
or new fallen


手にとらば消ん / 涙ぞ熱き / 秋の霜

Monday, October 28, 2013

Poem - O

1 buddha meets 1 buddha
without comment




1 being meets 1 being


"Stop, stop! Do not speak. The ultimate truth is not even to think."

Cheng Ch'ing-Chih
49. The Gateless Gate



Poem - it rained / all day

it rained
like grey hair
all day while
i was growing


San Francisco

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

dream if bashō 12

dream if bashō
cannot be found and you
feel abandoned
but when you are sure
your story has no 'back' or 'towards'
you have found home
you have found bashō


dream if bashō 11

dream if bashō
dances and jokes
at the edge of a cliff
while laughing
so hard his hat
falls off then sits down
with a thump


dream if bashō 10

dream if bashō
peers through gloom
of a moody inn
you see now
layers of smoke
and opinions
as empty as they are


Monday, October 21, 2013

Poem - Far Away

never late
never early

this iron cold
on my face

no roof to hide

a smile
that never goes away


tsuyu toku toku / kokoromi ni ukiyo / susugabaya

dream if bashō 9

dream if bashō
looking into the fire
sees in the hot coals
cities and towns
and all people
even you there
sleeping in confusion


gu ni kuraku / ibara o tsukamu / hotaru kana

Poem - Noon

dreams of worriers
fade away into the haze

buzzing insects

only problem remains
being the traveler

accepting this undeniable
harsh solitary beauty



Friday, October 18, 2013

dream if bashō 8

dream if bashō
and you are staying
on a dark night
in an abandoned haunted
all grief and plans
are buried there


Aki no kaze/ Ise no hakahara/ nao sugoshi

Poem - Observation after Walking a Long Time and Being Aware of Being Alone

bashō isn't it funny

you expect to die on the road
or get arrested or murdered

but often you only get lonely
then sense a quiet guilt

you'd rather be something


Nowhere with Hills
Oct 2013

Poem - Noted on the Way to Over 6 Hills or More

a shingle stuck in the earth
on the side of the road

coated in mud with a child's
writing in pencil still legible


a dog's grave
far from his home


At the foot of a climbing road
alone by an abandoned corner
Oct 2013

dream if bashō 7

dream if bashō
admiring the glitter
of a dewy spider's web
motions to you to look
look look because
he is in there and
you too


dream if bashō 6

dream if bashō
feeling sick and you ill
adjusts his wide hat
resting at the crook
of a zig zagged trail
sees the full moon is
yellow and chuckles


“The moon is brighter since the barn burned”

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Poem - Written on Leaving a Small Rural Town

clean blue sky
they throw a stone at me

i am not bashō
but neither was bashō


Outside of Town
Oct 2013

Poem – Written on the Occasion of Being Shaded by a Hedge

bashō slept here
rumpled grass

bashō walked here
footprints  in dust

all proof and things
gone later

as lasting as grass
or dust


Afternoon, Oct 2013

Poem - Written on the Side of the Trail

if you want to go with bashō
you can go with bashō


On the road past a glowing field
Oct 2013

dream if bashō 5

dream if bashō
finding home in nowhere
leads you so nicely
through deep forests
and up tall passes
the sun peeping
happy on everything


dream if bashō 4

dream if bashō
in the company
of robber's questions
dispels their fears
with tranquility
and points to where
you can sit


dream if bashō 3

dream if bashō
holds still in a gust
that shoots snowflakes
around like crazy wheels
but he is not
blinded by the display
nor distracted


iza saraba / yukimi ni korobu / tokoromade

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

dream if bashō 2

dream if bashō
in a boat at predawn
leans down and touches
the surface of a
black lake and you
in the back of the boat
and cold but amazed
seeing this ripple

- -

Poem - you don't say goodbye

you don't say goodbye
you say hello next time you see someone

never angry or afraid
open to living with things as they are

it is a dream
with real day implications

so pick up the pail
go to the top of the hill and come back down


Tuesday, October 15, 2013

dream if bashō

dream if bashō
ahead on the right
with a paper lantern
looks down the path
that twists and rises
smiles between drops
of rain


Poem - Fall

i remember

my son
found a red leaf

he gave it to me
and we took it

later I found
the leaf

in my truck

more precious
than a bar of gold


oct 2013


A great huge gust of wind blows. I see a crow flying up high in the sky, almost recklessly. It is almost as sense of shattering -- but I know I do not understand these things. The crow is fine.

I think about Chung Tzu, or Lao Tzu.


quail meadow

Poem - I get to decide/ how long I want to cry

I get to decide
how long I want to cry

I get to decide
how long I want to be feeling happy

I decide
who I am, and if it is good or bad

I decide
what I want to do, busy or not

I am free to
see what I see, know what I know, talk how I talk, go where I go

I get to get ready
for Life, and then do it

I get to meet new people
experience them, and love the ones that are here

I get to do this every new day
and every day is new


La la

Monday, October 14, 2013

Poem - rain forecast for jupiter this afternoon

diamond iceberg station
rain forecast for jupiter this afternoon
calls for diamond hail

please wear ballistic suits

a reminder:
persons on the surface are prohibited
from collecting jovian diamonds

this will ruin
the earth's economy


Friday, October 11, 2013

Poem - say hello nicely/ and goodbye

get a fish
feed it

buy a ball
kick it

learn a tune
sing it

go up the hill
then down

say hello nicely
and goodbye


Quail Meadow

Poem - Illusions

life goes on
and it isn't so bad

my illusions falling
i thought i was

a pirate
or a general
or a lover
or a hero
or a writer

  i close my eyes
  travel through space

  my shower
  is in the amazon

  my bedroom
  is under the sea

then a truck could
go by
reminds me there is
none of this

every image
and thought i have
like a bubble

but still

  i close my eyes
  travel through space

  my shower
  is in the amazon

  my bedroom
  is under the sea

Poem - Three Bits

a man
plays when
he his a fool

and prays
when he
is empty

but he is
neither man
nor fool


the projection
here has no

but in virtue
it appearing
existent solid

and in fact
it is expression
of radiance

the projection
has no answers


moody doubt

a wet book
afternoon rain

contented faith

a wet book
afternoon rain


Poem Dedicated to the NSA: Spies Need Secrets to Find

if surveillance were 100%
and we could not move an inch without being observed

if they could read our brain waves
and every kind of thought without killing us

it would be like the house of mirrors
swallowing itself into itself into itself into itself

it shows that to be spied on
the 'powers that be' must leave us some space to be secret

so they can have something to spy on


Dedicated to the NSA
October 2013

Monday, October 07, 2013

Poem - a presons's private/ metronome

garbage rattles

as the freeway
coasts along

rhythmic tapping
on a dumpster

a person's private


müll rasseln

wie der autobahn
küsten entlang

rhythmische klopfen
auf einem müllcontainer

eine person privaten


Quail Meadow
October 2013

Poem - in the nocturnal reality of life/ sunrise at kettleman city

everyone was young and transparent
and someone wore a cream colored suit
like ice cream and the girls
had poofy hair and tight dresses with stripes

we would be kings and queens of industry
in a miami vice themed dream

then almost 30 years have gone by
loaded with meaning and getting heavier
at times a black oil truck driving at midnight
between LA and SF

i see in the cab is the driver with no complaints
in the nocturnal reality of life

sunrise at kettleman city


Thursday, October 03, 2013

Poem - except the stars as a nice pillow / and the moon as a blanket

he said we could find a pureland or
a holy vision of the highest
in vegas
and damn he's right
mahasiddhas everywhere even the crows
calling out all day fighting for food
i hear them cawing out crow mantra
as the big guys walk by
without even a place to sleep tonight
except the stars as a nice pillow
and the moon as a blanket


for Latif

Poem - i'm in the right place

i'm in the right place
where leaf blowers sound like opera arias
sung by angels

where captain kirk
looks like st francis of assisi
and is a congressman

where fear just lost status
as essential and now

we all have lots of yummy
gumdrops in our pockets


Quail Meadow
Oct 03 2013

Wednesday, October 02, 2013

Poem - Tree Trimming in Laguna Beach / Élagage des Arbres à Laguna

parts taken out of the tree
one limb missing i found to be
lyrical and intriguing the way  it grew
i was going to hand it a piece of art there
under it's crook for delicate shelter

i remind myself trees do not have feelings
nor do they have blood
the sap flowed like yellow blood
to the sidewalk
the poet imagines strange things

pièces prises sur l'arbre
un membre manquant j'ai trouvé pour être
lyrique et intrigant de la façon dont elle a grandi
je m'apprêtais à remettre une œuvre d'art il
sous sa houlette pour s'abriter delicate

je me rappeler les arbres n'ont pas de sentiments
et ils n'ont pas le sang
la sève a coulé comme le jaune de sang
sur le trottoir
le poète imaginer des choses étranges


october 2

Monday, September 30, 2013

Poem - F Scott

he looks out reservedly through the
cool pool of the black and white photograph
with a pen in hand and a desk underneath
supporting him and a lace doily too

he's younger than me
and he knows in his snappy paper collar
that his chosen life and friends are going to kill him
and it is only a matter of time

but the parties and the laughing
on the way might make it worth it like
paris and new york might
or even hollywood

i have a novel of his here
full of wistful promise hope and then
the pages run out and the characters he wrote
stand like statues in the mind

he made persons eternally bright
and tense while true life slopes
dims and tends to forget photographs
and how it all started


Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Writing - Prenez bien soin de vous!

Truly it was a great first date, not so when you tried to burn the restaurant down. To be fair, I don't think you meant to burn the restaurant, nor combust the food more than it was combusting. The décor was, as it turns out, alarmingly flammable. My clumsy attempt at winking at you and saying something disarming, in French, may have contributed. Or possibly you have some bad memories I knew nothing about, connected to the French, their language, or their culture.

Barely singed, you and I ended up in the alley, next to the trash. You squeezed my hand, and said goodnight, framed by the burning doorway where we stood. The small peck on my cheek still palpable, even now three days later. I will treasure the pinhole like burns on my sleeves, and the gaping burn marks on my slacks from that night, forever. And if only my French was any good at all. Prenez bien soin de vous!


Quail Meadow
Fall, 2013

Monday, September 23, 2013

Poem - the world is not so broken after all/ if papa is humble

the world is not so broken after all
if papa is humble

nothing dangerous nor strange
when papa is humble

what could be sad is happy
what ended can start again

spring in fall
summer in winter


Quail Meadow

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Poem no. 4,338

yes, to be humble is to be less selfish
and to be in pain is an indication of ego disagreeing with everything

yes, there is nothing to get or have
there is no attainment because awareness is innate and self-revealing

if it is for flowers blooming and clouds becoming
why is it also not for you

we don't have debate with which way the river flows
why would you be biased

people or the coming of autumn
a bill or an award the end of something and starting new


Even When I do not Understand a Thing

I had a dream I was on a covered porch, probably my grandmother's porch in St. Louis, Missouri. There with many bicycles parked closely to one another to one side, some old, some new. It as late afternoon and a bee got in somehow. It was buzzing around me. It didn't seem to want to sting me, just being problematic, distracting -- going between me and in and out of the bicycles. I gently would swat at it with an old flyswatter, but this did not seem to bother the bee -- it was unkillable and not bothered. I was trying to herd the bee from out from the bicycles, and out the screen door that I had propped open. Eventually, the bee seemed to get smaller in size, until it was like a small golden bean. Then it decided to go out the crack in the screen door I made for it. When I woke up, I had no idea what the dream meant, and the significance of the bee. But later, I understood who the bee was, and why. And how I need to be so very gentle, even when I do not understand a thing.


Quail Meadow
September 2013

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Transparent Buddhas on the Horizon

Light traffic. Everyone on the freeway looking the same direction. A transparent Buddha on the horizon, the size of a mountain, staring at him with no pity.


When he arrived, he made friends with a shy dog.


Huntington Beach
September 2013

Writing - Secret and Total Joy

There's no harm done, none at all. When I am in pain, it is because my ego is criticizing others, and I need to become less selfish. What a wonderful opportunity to let things go, and experience how no one is dependent upon anyone else for basic natural happiness. To see how this natural satisfaction is always with yourself, how you can never be separated from secret and total joy.

Or, to see the limitlessness of a blue sky, with no clouds. It is. You cannot be prejudiced against it.


The weather is changing, and fall is coming. It will be beautiful, when the leaves change. Can you feel it coming?


Quail Meadow
September 2013

Monday, September 16, 2013

Writing - Please Call Me

I quit the news, and listen to Mozart. All I do is work, and listen to classical music. I even stop updating social media, and using Google for searching. I feel spied on. I know I'm not doing anything important.

On the day the decide to round up the intellectuals, they'll skip me. When they decide to imprison the non-Christians, or people who are kooks, then they'll get me.


The apartment complex is unusually quiet. Please note this in my file. Also, if you have a nice job, please call me.


Friday, September 13, 2013

Oh Harmless Error!

When it hurts, it hurts, and you can't do anything about it. Doing something about anything -- oh harmless error!

See how I am being taught: dark sky is the color of wine. God, look at that beautiful half moon! And we are below, like the birds sleeping in the branches of trees.


Quail Meadow
September, 2013

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Poem - like an angel

I wrote it on a crumpled scrap of paper

he said drop the story
get out of the way
and trust in something

and when you do this
and listen to people
and see how you can help
you can become something amazing and beautiful

you can become a thing you've heard about
like an angel


Monday, September 09, 2013

Poem - memories of last night of the moon and a star

at dusk venus next to the crescent moon
proved to me I do not understand anything

but yet everything is possible like fresh green apples at the store
I saw this morning when I prayed for direction

and I was shown the apples the store the day the greatest blue sky
memories of last night of the moon and a star


Tuesday, September 03, 2013


Consistently keep loving.

Consistency is key.

And laugher.

So here’s laughing at all of us.


Chart: How should I be?

How should I be? Well, I drew this chart.

Poem - as the giants above me smile

son and i build a train layout
of wooden tracks on the
living room carpet

and for an hour i play with him
just like i promised

all the trains run on time
and everyone likes their job
even at the steam works

that night when i go home
i dream of small wooden trains

i am a wooden man on one
painted bright blue and on schedule
as the giants above me smile


for Danny
September 2013

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Poem - The unknown person

The unknown person

Like seeing a ship at night

Or a sail or lantern of that same boat

On the horizon

How mysterious it is

It could be coming or going

Depends on the time
Or a feeling


The sea rules

In measureless depths

And the unknown person

Is a reflection of it


Thursday, August 22, 2013

Poem - Action

More thoughts, a string vibrating
easily taken by happiness
just as prone to being swamped
by doubts and anger

But somehow I am better than you
I think, more virtuous
or more capable at understanding
how we have no center

Then with appreciation of my arrogance
my high pride, how this
makes me worse than blind
because I feel special


I asked him what to do
and he said one word "Action!"



Quail Meadow
August 2013

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Vivaldi: Concerto #8 in g RV 332

if you ever were in love with me
you'll think of me unexpectedly
when you see or hear something
that pleases you

because not everyone knows
how beautiful things can be



Quail Meadow
August 2013

Thursday, August 15, 2013

005. Simoleons? Bread? Moola?

The day is bright and there is too much frosted white here. White, white white. And glass. Or plastic walls. They say it feels clean.

The day is white like a vibrating snare drum, I think. Snare drum. Skin stretched on a metal circle.

"Do you know what a snare drum is?" I ask one of the youngsters, Rex, as he brings in a white tray.

"Golly, Mr. Evans!"

"Do you know what a snare drum is?"

"No I don't!"

I have lived long enough so a kid does not know what a snare drum is. Not the faintest idea. Like when I was a kid, I wouldn't have known what a powder horn was.

"Hey Rex! Do you know what a powder horn is?"

"You know, I think I do know what a 'powder horn' is!" he says, smiling brightly. "I saw one in the Smithsonian, it had to do with antique rifles. George Washington used one!"

Goddamn it!

Rex smiles and he checks the wall, answers a few messages, and lines up a few things so they look neat.

I see a light on the wall, a dot. It is the size of a dime. I'm thinking money has been illegal for about 35 years.

"Do you know what a wallet is, Rex? "

"Wow, Mr. Evans! You crack me up! See you later."

"OK, Rex."

"Cat tryout time will be at 6 tonight!"

That's right. I forgot. If I'm extra good, I get a cat.

I'll name him Moola.


Rengszal Retirement Village
formerly Palo Alto, CA
September, 2055

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

004. Mariner 5




































Rengszal Retirement Village
formerly Palo Alto, CA

Spetember, 2055

003. The Ruins

I meditate a lot, and sometimes I forget where I am, or how I got somewhere. I'm looking at the stubs of what used to be a building, a home. The road is barely noticeable in the dunes, beach grass, and scrub. The wind is blowing and is cold.

"Was this the place?" says my grandson.


There is blue smoke in the air, from the fishing shacks that are 4 miles down near the bay.

"We stayed here, the teenagers had a 'girl-cave' in the bottom of the house." I say, to make it more reasonable we are here.

"People fish here still. Incredible!"


"Do they eat the fish, too?"


The fishing shacks are more like hovels, built with no discernible pattern. The wood they are built out of looks dull grey, and silver. We can see specks, people, that seem to limp or crawl about.

"We should be going."


We hear a strangled cat-like noise, and there is a person who has come from around a dune. It looks like a woman. She is maimed, blistered, and dressed in rags. She holds her arms out to us plaintively.

My grandson moves quickly to be between me and the woman. He takes a silver thing out of his pocket. She stands there, looking over his shoulder at me.

"We should be going."


As we trace our way back, she just stands there arms still wide open like a statue, only her old rags moving when the wind blows. She never stops looking at me.

I look back a few times, when I think my grandson is not looking at me.

My grandson sees anyways.


We're standing by the car. My grandson is calm.

"Before we go, use the bag, Gramps. Get in all the way this time, and press the green button."

"And wait 45 seconds." I say, wanting to please him, have him feel better about the upset.


We both do the routine with the Clean Bag.

When we are done, I see the pooling dark and I can see the moon rising, with a star, over the ocean. We take off.

Not a speck of dirt or sand in the car this time.


Halfway back, as the car calculates, my grandson speaks.

"My mom is going to go nuts."

"How so?"

"Grandpa - you know she told me to keep an eye on you."

We don't say anything for the rest of the way.

When I get out, he waves at me wordlessly, and is gone before I get to the exit.

When I lay down, I can't sleep.


Bodega Bay
Zone 2 /
Rengszal Retirement Village
September 2055

002. A Trip to Bodega Bay

My grandson will play cards with me, Servicer dirigible is coming in, I can hear it buzzing. My grandson is in his Workout Uniform, which means he's in a bad mood, but I can't help myself.

"Let's go to Bodega Bay."

"What Gramps?" he says with a hint of exasperation in his voice, still polite.

"Bodega Bay."

"Gramps, you know how it is to go to places like Bodega Bay."

"Why so?"

"Sand is dirty. Remember last time how much I had to clean, after we took a trip to Bodega Bay? Nobody does it."

The Servicer is almost here, making a racket.

"I guess so." I say, feeling just a bit pushy. But giving up on the idea.

"I dug holes there with you dad when he was a kid, a little younger than you." I say before I can stop myself.

"A lot younger." He says.

"You saw the pics?"

"Yeah, Gramps."

"We had a good time, your Dad and me. With his cousins."

The wall trills.

"Yeah?" I say.

"So you do answer!" says my grandson, with a cross look on his face. He throws his cards down.

"What? Nevermind! Its Van Dyke." I talk quickly in 'coded oldster' language to Van Dyke, for about 15 seconds. Van Dyke gets it. I hang up.

My grandson looks at me suspiciously like I'm planning illegal things, like looking at porno or drinking alcohol. As if!

He takes advantage of the situation.

"Gramps! Stop driving Mom and Dad nuts with the not answering."

"Ok, kid. Ok."

The Servicer lands, it isn't making any more noise.

"I can take you to Bodega bay."

"Oh, really?" I feign forgetfully.

"Gramps -- you crack me up. I can go next week."

My grandson -- he's smart as a whip.


Rengszal Retirement Village
formerly Palo Alto, CA

August, 2055

001. The Ringing Plastic Wall

This morning, in my new place the family moved me to, I hear an old style telephone ringing. It rings and rings.

I cannot answer it, because it is the wall. A cream-colored featureless plastic wall.

I decide to take a walk.

"Gamps, ya gotta answer when I call you." my grandson says when he visits me.

"Hey pal, I don't know what your talking about."

"Gramps, I've been trying to get you to answer all morning."

"How so?"

My grandson touches the sleeve of his business suit, and we hear the telephone noise again.

"There it is." he says.

"Where is it?"

"There -- hear it!"

"Its a plastic wall."


"Why a wall?"

"Gramps -- everybody has one. Especially oldsters."


"You know, Gramps. You can't lose it. Plus 'I've fallen and I can't get up...'"

"Thanks kid."

"I love you, Grandpa" says my grandson, surreptitiously shining chat through his class ring into his eye.

We hug, he always hugs me when he goes, no matter how busy he is. I wave to him as he takes off from the roof. He's a good kid.

Later, the wall starts ringing again.

I decide to take a walk.


Rengszal Retirement Village
formerly Palo Alto, CA
August, 2055

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Two Random Quotes

"Usually the use of sarcasm is not a sign of spiritual progress."

"Being angry, or resentful, and then acting on this -- it is like using a bulldozer to bake a cake."

  - A.


Monday, August 12, 2013

Poem - I think tonight

I think tonight
that God was in a good mood
when he made me

and so I'm going
to return the favor,
and be in a good mood
towards everybody else
who is here.


Quail Meadow
August 2013

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Tamer and Hardly Running Away

I'm up early again, riding my bike before dawn. Solitary, going to meetings. As I should be, I see.

It was like this when I first got sober, in Chicago. A clown on a bike, with nobody around, the fading moon or a star over my shoulder as I go. All respectable people who have no problems, asleep or trying to wake up.

The bike lanes are wider here, the roads smoother, with no parked cars to negotiate around.

Along the way I see bunnies, like in Oak Park -- they are tamer and hardly run away from me when I pass them.


August 2013

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Poem - Looking at Pictures

They are happy
they cling together
they are smiling
they never stay together

There is always
someone new
in the picture

But it looks good
all this happiness
and all this smiling

Is there Hell behind
or soft pillows of Heaven
no conscious human
can abide with

I don't know

Poem - Appearances / A Hundred Thousand Meteors Will Fall in the Sky Tonight

A hundred thousand meteors
will fall in the sky

  I hope I was false enough
  or encouraging enough
  or angry enough
  or sad enough
  or firm enough
  or kind enough
  or perceptive enough
  or real enough
  or happy enough
  or scary enough
  or lovely enough
  or faithful enough
  or brave enough

  However you saw me
  I hope you won't forget about me

  And I hope it was as it should have appeared

  For your safety
  peace of mind

A hundred thousand meteors
will fall in the sky


Thursday, August 08, 2013

News: CM Evans in the Napa Valley Register

Here is a link to the Napa Valley Register -- you can see how a person is supposed to roll. That Uncle Chris dude is perfect.


Poem - The Mind

The mind is like an eternal hammer and anvil,
our thoughts are like red hot bars of steel
to make into wonderful things --

Strike when the material is burning,
and shower your life with the sparks.


Wednesday, August 07, 2013

Problem Solved

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


OK go do it!

Poem - Ringsal

they incinerate you
and gems and other precious substances
spill out of your body in handfuls

they call this 'ringsal'
i am told and it is very holy
'ringsal' 'ringsal' 'ringsal'

i cry


Lama Tharchin

Poem - on gozo calypso held odysseus

on gozo calypso held odysseus
in her love for many years
and he suffered longing on
scenic hills

looking over the ocean
towards home

for seven years she begged him
to let her make him immortal
for her love could do this if accepted
but he refused

many men reject
this gift from a woman


Monday, August 05, 2013

Gozo Loves Double-Speak

Gozo loves double-speak. And he loves the news. Now when he's outright lying -- he'll just say he's 'recreating the narrative by employing parallel construction.'

Gozo tries this with Ella.

"Would you like some kinetic education?" asks Ella sweetly like an angel.

"What is kinetic education?"

"It is when I beat your ass 'till yer dead, with a baseball bat."


Cartoon -- A Scoop of LA Zeitgeist / Midnight LA Cartoon no. 2

Another cartoon drawn at 'The Pikey'.

CM Evans Cartoons

Cartoon -- A Scoop of LA Zeitgeist / Midnight LA Cartoon no.1

A scoop of LA zeitgeist.

Drawn at 'The Pikey' on W Sunset Boulevard. We had a good old time.

CM Evans Cartoons

Thursday, August 01, 2013

Poem - If he was less

If he was less
He’d be distressed with me
For being upset that he is out
Now that I cannot find him bodily
He is nowhere to be found
He is everywhere
I have to live and wake up
Through my dreamy
He is smiling at us
As we keep playing
Cops n robbers inside the house

Om Mani Padme Hung

Lama Tharchin Rinpoche
Tenth lineage holder of the Repkong Ngakpas
July 22, 2013

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Poem - and like in a slapstick movie

you were just getting back
and then you were gone

and like in a slapstick movie
they took you to the hospital
that you had just left

and your sick friend
had no idea you were downstairs
in a quiet area
with a sheet over you

Friday, July 19, 2013


There were two beautiful brunettes that lived around here, and they were twins. Mysteriously serious, they wore sunglasses and walked matching dogs. Then one day there was a single twin walking two small dogs. She introduced herself to me and said her name was Jenna.

I asked her where her sister was -- and Jenna said that Brianna wasn't feeling well, that she had been institutionalized. But the family was holding out hope for her, it had happened before.

I asked her if she wanted to grab a coffee sometime, and she said yes.

Later, after Jenna and I had been dating, she asked me if I wanted to go see Brianna. So I said yes, and we traveled to the facility. It was a nice quiet place, bright and professional, with lots of people in lab coats and clean looking families.

We sat down in the private visiting room, with Jenna lightly holding my hand, which trembled a fraction feeling like a dried leaf when Brianna was led into the room. Brianna smiled at us both radiantly, delicately, and sat down.

Brianna said softly she had heard all about me from her sister, and was so glad to finally meet me. She was feeling much better now. She looked forward to going home soon. Jenna decided to leave just then, to ask the Psychiatrist a question about Brianna going home, she would be right back.

When Jenna left the room, Brianna looked at me with a dull look in her eyes, and I noticed her hair was disheveled. I want you to know something, she said in a hollow voice. I am not Brianna. I am Jenna.

I am Jenna, she said. The door opened and her twin was with the Doctor and they were both smiling.



The online dating service he uses -- "PlentyOfPhish" ripped off his bank account, stole his passwords, and ruined his Google calendar. But he does not know this. He's been going to the new appointments, the dates stand him up, he wonders why he scheduled them, and he has no bus fare to get back.


Terrible Accuracy

I go to the golf course to be angry, extremely angry. I works well for me. My game has not improved, but I've perfected an explosive yell and a 9 iron toss. I can shoot that 9 iron like a javelin, at anyone on the links, with terrible accuracy.


Thursday, July 18, 2013

Pops the Goon

Pops was the kind of guy, who, if he heard of something bad happening to someone else, he'd feel a little better, in general, with his own life. You could say he'd get a bit of 'bounce' from bad news. We are all like this in some ways -- the Germans even have a word for it: Schadenfreude.

But Pops was an example of this tendency run riot. He constructed a cat's-cradle like context of days, months, and sometimes years, based off the misfortunes of his friends, associates, and family. 2001 would be remembered by Pops as "Bob's Cancerous Car Accident" May 11th 2011 was marked in Pops' mind as "Mary's Epic Spring Ladder Fall into the Glass Bottles". June 2013 was known simply as "Unlucky Bob Gets the Shits in Church".

Pops saw all. He kept calendars of the faults and accidents of the people around him, with a simple coded scoring shorthand, much like this:

FP = face plant
LI = lost item
AD = arrested drunk
AD2 = arrested drunk again
1, 2, 3, 4.. = the number of venereal diseases
F = fired
S = stabbed
K = killed

And it was all going well until he accidentally donated one of his annotated calendars to the thrift-shop around the corner, and Bob found it inside the sleeve of a scratched album of The Velvet Underground. Bob was sorting the new things that were donated, and he recognized Pops' tidy writing on a stickum note on the album, "Music to Enjoy".

Ironically, the vinyl album had been scratched in Pops' ecstasy of finding out Bob had deadly cancer ('DC') and a car accident ('CA') after finding out about the diagnosis on the way home. Bob let everyone know about Pops, and there wasn't much to explain.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

I Always Imagined

I always imagined you were at death's door and dying slowly in Dickensian poverty -- heroically, even a bit sadly, as a shut-in. I imagined how you'd look at the wall and a patch of sun, tracing the arc of the wall every day, over your books, your papers, how you would sit there with dry tears in your eyes. And how your wife would move slowly and quietly like a ghost in the background, offering you hope. But I found out yesterday you have been on vacation in Maui, and you've been feeling fine for about 5 years. So I feel cheated.


Bodice Ripper - or - Thundering Romance Story

I plan on writing a 'bodice ripper' to make some money, but when I start, I get stuck with the plot, the characters, and the setting. For the past 10 months I have lived in a airshaft, with a stolen laptop and pilfered food and Wi-Fi. I wasn't always like this, hiding in an airshaft and shitting in a a tin, drinking out of old gin bottles I use to have water here. Perhaps my romance novel will start with the main handsome fellow, hiding in an airshaft -- and by chance he falls in love with a beautiful expensive lady, who has a means to understand, and support him. Like the one on floor 4, in this shaft. Until he gets back on his feet. That would be a hell of a start for a thundering romance story.

All I Need is One Spoon

I get a shocking boost of testosterone and a sense of well-being from silverware. Just me, genetics I guess -- when they figure out it is the silverware, they lock all the silverware up. I enter a period of deep mourning for my spree, and how I can have it. After I give the FDA and the military doctors the slip. All I need is one spoon.

Asking Three Times

When I asked a Buddha what he or she had for me, they said, "Nothing."

When I asked again, they saw my willingness, and said, "Something."

When I asked a third time, they saw my honesty, and nothing more needed to be said.


Quail Meadow
July 2013

Poem - The Flower Sermon

..... like this






Poem - I don't need to know the news

I don't need to know the news
I see how it drives people into anger

I see how the commercials with the news
inflames passion and unhappiness

I see how the news tries to twist us
and get us to be opinionated to argue

There are people who want us to be agitated
and live in tragedies we didn't experience

Then we are split by the life around us
because it isn't on the news
And the strong bright day
or trembling love will never be reported


Poem - at the end of a darkened street

before i'm ready i'll write a poem
to elvis costello

he sings about going to the very end
and it should be fine though he knows it is wrong

even though tonight we'll meet
at the end of a darkened street

avoidable these errors
because we rely on people and dreams

Monday, July 15, 2013

Poem - Astonishing

it was just a song
I listened to

the same song when
I first got to know you

and when I heard it
it reminded me of everything today

like someone who had misplaced
all of the continent of Africa
and then they remembered

it is astonishing
what we can forget
as well as what we can remember

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Poem - making food for me and you

i dream about dinner
i dream about breakfast
sitting here awake
at 9.50 PM

i dream about not making a mess
making food for me and you
someone i do not know
when i should go to sleep

pots and pans grow huge
taller than the empire state building
and recipes fly over them
like birds

food is under my feet
condiments and food under my chair
as i dream of cooking for you

and i should go to bed
to really sleep and dream

then it all will make sense

Wednesday, June 05, 2013

Poem - being free of all expectations/ like a water droplet falling/ out of the sky

being free of all expectations
like a water droplet falling
out of the sky

past thoughts like crows
who dodge it because
they don't get wet


Quail Meadow
June 2013

Poem - Voices

in the middle of the night
dream voices speak crystal clear

but when waking they are not remembered
just the sound of the voices remain

lingering too the feeling of their certainty
and cheerful wisdom


Friday, May 31, 2013

Poem - Library of Alexandria

people still talk about the burning of the library at alexandria
they don't agree exactly when it was destroyed
or if the city indeed fired the public baths with irreplacable scrolls
to make hot water for a year at least

it shows me sometimes when we want change
we are willing to murder our minds and then
have a relaxing massage and then go fuck a whore
because history can be started all over again and this part omitted


Thursday, May 30, 2013


a. One

b. OM

c. How many lightbulbs do you see?

d. Does a dog return to its own vomit?



Because I answer questions, and I give interesting answers -- the Federal Goverment is studying me. They've been researching me for about 4 years. This is primairly through the Census Bureau. I've also sent cartoons to the CIA, asking to be their cartoonist, but I have had no replies. Packets show up, I fill them out semiotically, adding myth and meaning. If I can add references to the weather, the postion of the tides, or the American Civil War, I do so. Hopefully I won't be quarantined.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Poem - a little bluebird of happiness

a little bluebird of happiness
draw it on a slip of paper

tack it to the wall
so comical there it becomes real


Saturday, May 25, 2013

Poem - A Dedication

(after Richard Brautigan)

he wanted to dedicate
a poem to her
but water or lead or
old magazines
also clamored
for their own
lovely poem


Dedicated to Old Magazines
Water, and the Mineral Lead

Quail Meadow

Poem - Just Like Now Just Like Now

there was enough time
for it to begin and to end
\and that was enough time
i suppose now looking back

why was the middle part
shorter than my being able
\or willing to remember
just like now just like now


Friday, May 24, 2013

Poem -- It Was Peaceful

She told me she had a dream
where she was old and it was
in the morning and she was in bed
and she was dying but it wasn't a bad dream

Because she could see it was a nice room
with high tall windows looking out
over a lawn to the ocean
with bookcases full of lovely books

In the dream she had read all of them
and she knew that there were great-grandchildren
in her house just a few rooms away

Wind was blowing and the sun was shining
she was old and happy and a bit tired

So she closed her eyes and smiled
it was peaceful and she woke up

Thursday, May 23, 2013

I Figure You Can't be in Such a Big Hurry to Enjoy the Burritos/ Buffalos of this Life

I cook a burrito in the microwave and I repeatedly burn myself, trying to eat it, because it is perfectly done. I put the burrito down. I figure you can't be in such a big hurry to enjoy the burritos of this life. Even if you are hungry. You have to wait for them to cool down.


I cook a buffalo in the microwave and I repeatedly burn myself, trying to eat it, because it is perfectly done. I put the buffalo down. I figure you can't be in such a big hurry to enjoy the buffalos of this life. Even if you are hungry. You have to wait for them to cool down.


Quail Meadow
May 2013

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Poem - the person aiming/ the gun of their mind

i listen to radiohead
and i feel funny

hopeless and hopeful
perfectly ballanced

where are things turning out bad
or working out for better?

the person aiming
the gun of their mind
can you draw a bead from
the time when you were born

to this place now
in this poem?

or do you come up
with no target and nothing'to shoot?

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Poem - White Shoes

Years ago you introduced me to the song
'White Shoes' by Emmylou Harris

I was in love with you
I listened intently and I thought
the record was warped

We were all alone and you had a boyfriend
he wasn't there but nothing happened

Today I find "White Shoes" online
and I listen to it

I listen to it intently like I did before
and the recording was not warped

I felt for a second
we were all alone again
and something could have happened

Now my restless mind goes over the memories
of us scooping up hay and weeding
the side yard

How I liked working with you
twirling vines on a rake

Your boyfriend never showing up
and you told me you liked
a song so you'd play it for me

Have you ever heard of it by Emmylou
"White Shoes"?

"If you are intense, practice with the same intensity. Then let go. Then practice again. Let go. Practice again. The intensity that spurred you on will become calm."

Haans Onwerkelijk

Monday, May 20, 2013

Poem - i can admire/ not being able to get over it

flat white

i can't
get past it

i can admire
not being able to get over it


Quail Meadow

"There are many different points of view, words, and ideals, and that is all."

"There are many different points of view, words, and ideals, and that is all. Then there is a kind of Love and compassionate action, where there is no disagreement, because the results are proof in themselves."

Denkbeeldige Boek van Het Zien/
  An Imaginary Book of Enlightenment
Haans Onwerkelijk

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Poem - To Your Feet

I dream I am bowing to your feet
putting my head to the ground at your toes
as you look on lonely and bemused

There is no question on how it is to be done
and I too am unaffected by the gesture
but I wake up and wonder

Where people go and why they must go
when in them and around them is present
an earnest desire to please and be kind

But in the emotion to please and be kind
a snare I suppose for we are taught nothing
can be given for free

But occasionally we are given something without
any thought of reward or advancement
it almost never happens so I bow to your feet


Quail Meadow
May 2013

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Poem - I will be grateful

I lived in Oak Park on
Lombard Street
near River Forest
with a forest and
a river

Now I am in Quail Meadow
of Irvine with no
meadow and no

But there is a Ocean nearby
past grassy hills/

I have no idea where
I have been
my mind
some times
like a cold chain

How does it melt
away like dew/

I will be grateful
even if I never know
what exactly
is going on

Wednesday, May 08, 2013

Poem - i know where writing comes from

i know where writing comes from
people saw ice fall off twigs
and make shapes at the foot of trees
in the snow
they believed it was odin
hanging by his heel from the cosmic tree
giving up a hand and an eye
so i could tell this story

Cake, Meanwhile

"I've got a lot of work to do. I guess I'll leave it up to you."

Cake, Meanwhile

Friday, April 26, 2013

Poem - a comet, a tear

a comet, a tear

where have you been
all these


Quail Meadow

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Poem - just like you do, too

i have the horrid hypocrisy
of wondering what i am doing
of wondering what my true motivations are

i always know exactly what i am doing
just like you do, too

Quail Meadow

Poem - To The Beach

i let the ship sink from underneath me
because there was no way to keep it from going down
my beautiful ship

but even the disaster of it sinking
is relieved from my heart because i could let it go
because i did not go down with it

  captains who sink with their ship
  clutching the broken wheel as the deep envelops
  every mast and sail and brightly polished brass

i am swimming above you
to the beach

Monday, April 22, 2013

Poem - I Sit in Human Silence

I sit in human silence.

  - Merton

I sit in human silence
which is never
because to be a human being
is to follow thoughts into fear
or vauge states

shaving cream
food to eat
a pretty girl

But it is night and I am in the dark
so I accept this silence
which is not
but at the same time
I do not go into fear
but I rely on complete abject

Monday, April 15, 2013

Adopting a Puppy

I had a dream last night that a cat I own, Fred, was playing by a river -- and I was upset because I was worried something might happen to him if he strayed too far. I'd call him, and he'd come back, then he'd go back to the river. Finally I had enough of it, so I went to the river, to get Fred, but then I saw Fred jump into the water and start swimming. Then, if I wasn't already surprised to see a CAT SWIMMING, Fred dove under water and swam down into a deep pool in the river.  I sould see something white was down there, under water, and Fred got it. He came out of the river with it -- it was a little white dog, like a basset hound puppy.

The puppy seemed to be just fine -- not tired, or exhausted, or drowned for being under water for a long time. It was sorta sleepy, angelic, and comfortable. I held the puppy in my hands, and as I looked at him, I thought, "Well, I didn't know I was going to be adopting a dog today -- but I guess if this is the way you get the dog, then it must be."

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Chris and the Kitten

Chris: Whatcha doing there?

Kitten: I'm playing!

Chris: With what?

Kitten: I dunno! It is skreegily!

Chris: It is paper!

Kitten: .....

Chris: You're playing with 'paper'.

Kitten: ....


Kitten: I'm playing!


Quail Meadow
April, 2013

Lucifer fell because he/ was weak

I get up in a dreamy way
and curse out my neighbors
with great invective

I glide through traffic
with my middle finger

I serenely broil my co-workers
alive in my head as I smile
smile smile and laugh

At night I cannot sleep
but you are mistaken if you
think I will not keep up

I must get ahead of you
and the Jones' and the Devil
and even God

I attended the best schools
I have attractve freinds
my girlfriend is perfect

You want what I have
you should because you can't

You're not motivated enough
you're not clever enough

Lucifer fell because he
was weak



Monday, April 08, 2013

Poem - i hate the internet/ but now i'm posting/ a poem

One news website had a picture of old crazy people
they might be retired professional wrestlers

next site has a review for an anal plug

next site tells how 1960s architecture kills kids

i hate the internet
but now i'm posting a

Wednesday, April 03, 2013

In Flight Rivalry

I think I see an advertisement, or business plan from a major airline, to add 'in flight rivalry' for customers who fly first-class. This could be a rivalry of different flavors -- from passive-aggression, to threats and even physical confrontation.

I think it could be a good thing, for certain people to opt for 'in flight rivalry'. I'll keep checking up on it, and encourage more travel via first-class.

I'm sure there are many friends out there who'd gladly chip in for a first class ticket for my travel, if they had that option to give to me some 'in flight rivalry', as a gift.

Getting Promoted / An Aria I Do Not Understand

I had a dream last night I started off working in Hell, but then I got promoted, and God decided to chuck it all, and put me in charge of Creation. I was not happy about this. I made it very clear to the Earthlings that the concept of 'Original Sin' was out, and you didn't have to be religious to be spiritual. Many people despaired that the Devil was now in charge of Heaven, and they kept on believing in whatever they wanted to believe.

I woke up, thought about it. Then in my mind, I heard part of an opera, an aria, that I did not understand:

Dammi i colori...
Recondita armonia di bellezze diverse!
È bruna Floria, l'ardente amante mia.
E te, beltade ignota, cinta di chiome bionde,
Tu azzurro hai l'occhio,
Tosca ha l'occhio nero!

I'll have to look it up later. I turned on my electric candle.

Monday, April 01, 2013


I'll remember, if you forget. Or, you remember if I forget. Whatever we're trying to remember, I hope it is a good memory. I don't know. I wanted something and I didn't have it. I never had anything, other than thinking. You can't buy a summer day. It just happens, and then at the end of the day it is over. They say my thinking is the summer day. Like my thinking, it just happens. And then like any thought, it is over.

Someone in a truck honks a horn.

His Feet in Coffee/ The Universe is Out Looking for Me

I'm getting out the cat food from the can, when the big orange cat jumps onto the counter, and sticks it's hind leg into my coffee cup. I scream as the coffee cup flips over and throws coffee all over the counter and the kitchen  floor, like a grenade going off in my intestines. Later I apologize to an animal that does not comprehend the English language. Who sticks his feet in coffee.


I know the Universe goes looking for me if I have false serenity. It is like a cop who knows where a drunk lives, and they wait for them to pull out of the driveway.


Quail Meadow