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

Q: HOW MANY BUDDHAS DOES IT TAKE TO CHANGE A LIGHTBULB?

a. One

b. OM

c. How many lightbulbs do you see?

d. Does a dog return to its own vomit?



.

Researched

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


8

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
2013

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.

or

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

noon
flat white

i can't
get past it

i can admire
not being able to get over it


----

Quail Meadow
May


"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
quails

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