Monday, December 29, 2014

Poem - Cocktail

we took ourselves
to the performance
and saw the latest band

their singer was paranoid
and everyone was drunk

we waded across the room
we moved across the place
a sea of powdered faces
in the dark

there were punks in pink laces
and black leather dominating submissives
and snake skin fellers
who wore their hats on backwards

gesticulating fucks
salivating savants

they were all here
we were all here
in this cocktail

and did you know
the world ended 30 years ago
after this the stage is dark

trouble is god never
told us we were fired
and to pack up and go

but what to do with those
empty pauses and
blank spaces that pass for eyes

guess if were were all smart
there'd be no room for freedom
if it fits
wear it like a shoe

they were all here
we were all here
in this cocktail

the last thing i remember
before we were arrested

i kept on thinking of
corporate art and the cop looked
like my neighbor
who is building high-explosives
in a shed

oh want to do
we were all here
in this cocktail

Friday, December 19, 2014

Here You Go: Try This

a. Superlife Intelligence keeps us alive because we are funny. Multidimensional timeless beings watch us intact with finite time, and a finely previewed Universe like you or I would observe a video game, a show in the theater, or set up a model train set.

b. We are dirt, and we go back to dirt. That is all.

c. Thank you, more please.

d. Let me tell you a joke about an Englishman, a Frenchman, and a 12 foot tall Rabbit.

Friday, December 05, 2014

A Doodler and a Writer of Things Like This

It is getting darker early, and I feel the dark. Like a child, I have to turn on the lights. I hear from my eighty-three year old father in-law that he's got ten more years -- and that is it! He told me, when he was in his forties, he had all the time in the world!

   a. I told him my great-grandfather died when he was 98, but I don't remember exactly how old he was when he died.

   b. I know he was almost 100 when he died.

   c. I know he died alone, of starvation, because he wouldn't eat enough and he lived alone.

Exchanging those for more cheerful thoughts, I look out the window and I think about having fun doing something like playing minecraft with my son. Christ this is what I've become. A doodler and a writer of things like this.

But on the other hand, I've always have been writing about a stray raindrop on the window, how it has a million universes in it. Ten years or forty more is a deathless eternity, for the mind that can make the jump from fear to hope, as free as a funny bug or a twirly snowflake.

* *


Tuesday, December 02, 2014

Cherry Trees and Blossoms in my Heart Will Never Cease

There's a thousand reasons to appreciate the cherry blossoms, but none of them make the blossoms bloom. I can't tell one thought from one single blossom petal. Like love or imagination, the numbers of thoughts and cherry trees and blossoms in my heart will never cease.


Monday, December 01, 2014

Blue Evening

The weather people know it will be raining. Coming night is blue -- I've written the twilight is blue before, and it is again. If you write about one particular time of evening enough, you'll use the same words, eventually. It might be raining now, I'll have to go look.

Moon like a yellow ball of cotton, the sky hazy and awakening to stars. I hear the metal fabricators, a half block away. The light from there is white, big warehouse doors open to keep cool, almost all year round.

Then suddenly the ordinary parking-lot could be anywhere -- a field in Napa, or out in the desert by Stovepipe Wells or by a meadow next to redwoods in Northern California. Memory raises the tent of perception and the fence is a hedge and the bare earth planters are full of roses or mint that grew like crazy by the stream.

Faces come and go, like lanterns, or a flash of the beam from a lighthouse. I go back in, the warehouse is larger on the inside, larger and larger until it rains.



Today Today

I was in love with you. I think you loved me too, you acted funny, like you loved me when we were together. We may have been so young, we didn't fully comprehend what this connection meant. Or it was just a passing fancy. We are doomed to be separated.

When I first met you, you were driving a old beat-up convertible Porsche. The headlights didn't work, so we couldn't drive around a lot when it got dark. We both lived in the dorms, at the community college.

Now I've looked away, and about 35 years have gone effortlessly by. Well, not completely effortlessly. But you can imagine it was quick, like riding on a Mardi Gras float. Possibly 25 years have gone by. Now I remember the toil. It wasn't all suffering. Life is hilarious.

We've all had relationships like this. They are like fairy tales. Then in the now, today today it might finally rain. And that is good too.


It Was Raining in Napa

Before I woke up, it was raining in the morning, in Napa. I could hear it raining in my half sleep, and when I opened my eyes it was blue outside, with mist between the house and the mountain. Whenever it rains and I am waking up in a room, I think about the story Richard Brautigan wrote about the rain, a small room, and a phone. I think he was lonely.

My son was still sleeping under a pile of blankets. I watched my son sleep, like you might watch water run under a bridge, or a watch hand tick. Every parent has done this. The kid wasn't doing much, but it was interesting to look at him.

Then I saw someone in the reflection of the mirror at the foot of the bed, and though I wasn't surprised to see someone looking at me, I had forgotten who I was, how old I was, and that I had a body. Then Danny woke up and we talked about video games, dinosaurs, and Star Wars.


Day after Thanksgiving 2014

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

I Am the One That You Left Behind

I am the one you left behind
I am the one you're not thinking of
People think they know the answers
 Because they come to mind
But I am the one that you left behind

I am the one that is deep inside
A measureless truth beyond all size
Journey more than 10,000 miles,
  I'll still be at your side
For I am the one that you left behind

Living through this world of death and lies
You summon up the strength to meet the tide
But the strength it comes from within
 It comes before your pride
I am the one that you left behind


The Definition of "Hypocrisy"

So I hear someone claim that the definition of "Hypocrisy" literally means "being of two minds" -- and I liked that -- it was enlightening, it was original. Often we misuse words, we don't honor the shades of meaning they can represent. One should understand the meaning of a word, and this person was helping me.

But when I look it up I see "Hypocrisy" comes from Middle English: from Old French "ypocrisie", via ecclesiastical Latin, from Greek "hupokrisis" ‘acting of a theatrical part,’ from "hupokrinesthai" ‘play a part, pretend,’ from hupo ‘under’ + krinein ‘decide, judge.’ Did you get all that?

Then I wonder if the person who made the statement about "Hypocrisy" is an idiot, like nobody would actually check to see if they are right about what they said. Or possibly they have made up the meaning of this word in their head.

It could be they were acting as a hypocrite, fulfilled literally the definition of the word they claimed they were defining in error.

But mostly I was pissed at the fucking nonsense I head people spout off, and it sounds good, but it is stupid and untrue.


Thursday, November 20, 2014

Aaron Bur Kills George Washington's Clone

Waking up, I kept thinking about the bizarre situation where a historical institution in the far future has to keep euthanizing the clone of Arron Bur, when Aaron Bur kills George Washington's clone. Because for some reason, the clone of Arron Bur does not get along with the the clone of George Washington.

I thought about this for about an hour, I think.


Tuesday, November 04, 2014

Poem - i'm starting to avert my eyes / i never did that before

i'm starting to avert my eyes
i never did that before

up till now
i'd look at anything
with the idea i could take it

i'd look at anything
with the concept if it seemed wrong
i could fix it or i could conquer it

everything i let in i imagined somehow
i could get to the point
where i could control whatever it was
in my mind

but now i have a feeling
not to turn away
always be there to help

but i don't need to lock it up
in my head with my eyes


Monday, November 03, 2014

Poem - past even memory

      for R, V, J, S, M, etc.

it seems to be a lot of trouble to remember
how this imaginary me got hurt

and what this phantom wanted
or how this dream was going to be satiated

i saw flowers and ladders and tears
i tried to hold onto people

now here i am looking at a white wall
on a bright day in november

all those fellow talkers grabbers
wigglers and strives are off somewhere else

it is amazing how impermanent
struggle and suffering with others are

because one moment they're here forever
next moment they were never here at all

i've decided all you can do is be kind
and not hope at all

filling in holes other people
dug into the ground

or climbing higher not staying
at any summit of any desire

if you are reading this and you
are higher up on the path

i did anything for you once
that was kind

i forget the right way to go
or confuse down with up

a light or make a loud yell
even make me think you're god



anything to get me to want
to keep going past the summit
of whatever i think

we were all born
to climb

past even memory


Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Poem - i think if i saw a real don quixote

i think if i saw a real don quixote
i'd cry and i would marvel at anyone
who would follow him

as it is i have a paper sculpture
of the man astride his steed
forcefully twisted and upright

vision has a certain glory
and naiveté considerable wisdom
excommunicated from this world


Monday, October 20, 2014

Poem - it is hard to remember anyways

if I feel wounded
i have everything
to do with feeling hurt

i arrived to the point
where the pain was beyond
anything you could say or do

with actions or words
you don't bother to remember
living in fragments

if you make a comment
and someone is happy or sad
well there you go that is life

possibly someone is angry
and they think ill of you
it is all just the same

you don't worry
it is hard to remember anyways

this sunk in
and i felt bad at being hurt
and i began to show you charity

by treating everyone
with respect with gentleness
and not asking so much from them

seeing what i can do
for them first and me second
then cruel thoughts have gone away

my suffering i laughed
it is hard to remember anyways


For R

Friday, October 17, 2014

Poem - between earth and the sky

if you are filled with thoughts
more thought will not still mentality

as if to douse or smother fire
one adds more kindling and logs

then cut to the root of the matter
whatever you occupy yourself with
dreaming like a sillyheart

it is all and fine but we are kinder
moons in the water or rainbows
between earth and the sky


to Dudjom Lingpa

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Poem - they know my name

they know my name
i don't know theirs
people have been talking

i never know
what the gossip is about

my fly is undone
my clothes are the same
i write all the time


Poem - i don't know if we are we sinners or are just lost / but i know that the path goes on and i'll walk it

i'm searching for something outside of myself
that can only be found on the inside

i am searching for it because i don't trust in god
or whatever i am supposed to trust in

i look of what cannot be found due to faithlessness
in the unfolding process that denies no one

so in writing this i am getting over myself
hopefully helping you if you've been where i am

but if i get stuck and you know what i mean
reaching out to a friend or acquaintance certainly helps

i don't know if we are we sinners or are just lost
but i know that the path goes on and i'll walk it

i'll say in the end it does not matter what we thought
only what we did in devotion towards each other


Poem - i laugh at my own jokes

i laugh at my own jokes
i even laugh when i write these lines

i'm not lonely but i'm sitting alone
with a window on the right

i have bookcases and my favorite books
that i can see by the window and i laugh
when i read the books

i have a perfect view
the outside world and the inner one

i should remember to let people in
so we can laugh together


Monday, October 13, 2014

Quote: Lenny Bruce - The Role of a Comedian

"The role of a comedian is to make the audience laugh, at a minimum of once every fifteen seconds."

-- Lenny Bruce

Poem - I Know You Can Hear Me

-- to HFC

kitty i know you can hear me
even though you pretend i don't exist

as if you were in deep cosmic meditation
looking down at your curled paws
beyond all concern for food or petting
the clue that betrays your facade:

wherever i move in the room
your ears follow me
never stop tracking me

so i'll give you a can
of food and then a good scratch



Friday, October 10, 2014

Poem - in the end i see

in the end i see
we can either get religion
or become blasphemers

i hope that
as the path becomes narrower
the mind becomes broader

i have no idea
how i will feel when i am dying
but neither does a fly know

and a bug
has no worries for this
and lives a very good life as a bug



Poem - looking at pictures / from 1999

looking at pictures
from 1999
we were younger then

at the time
it seemed brighter
the backgrounds look dark
like dipped in maple syrup

but this is my eyes
or the paper on the pictures



Poem - will sail on in my mind & be everywhere

me realizing i'll never be like others and
then i remember for some reason

my roommate bobby
was cool and he stole one
of my books and he listened to
'the velvet underground' all the time
with his good looking girlfriend anita

i can still see him and anita curled up
together on the couch drinking beer
reading these poems of r manley
in the first edition bobby asked
if he could peruse through

people come into my life
and then go and i see now that
when i thought someone was staying
they were already gone and when i knew
they were gone they were just showing up

so someday i might see bobby again with or
without the book i loaned him and i hope
i find out what happened to pretty anita
i do know that bobby will be cool
a bit sad now and heroic

and i'll never be cool like this
will sail on in my mind & be everywhere


Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Poem - Living out on Margarine Acres

i lived on a ranch in a rugged valley
i rented a room there

people died on the road all the time
and the owners

they kept loaded guns and shot
at any animal that didn't belong

it was a peaceful existence
they had a coffin pillow in the front room

i could walk for miles and miles
through hills and woods

there were skulls
of wild animals that died in the grass


Margarine Acres
"One of the Cheaper Spreads"
Bennett Valley, CA

Poem - and the seas still defy our imagination

on this day in history
columbus found an island in the bahamas

he was sure he had found
the far east he so sorely wished it

when he found cuba
he knew he was close to the island of japan

for the rest of his life
he was convinced he had found the indies

his only regret was
he hadn't enough lifetime to get to the capital

of china and the empire
stuffed with incalculable spices and gold

to be converted or overthrown
in the name of this crossed christian god

seas of time rolled
and the new world was cultivated

converted or overthrown
and the seas still defy our imagination


Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Poem - even smile / living on nothing

i remember you
and your pistol tatoos
in escondido

i hope you
aren't dead or
hurt or in jail

but you
never know

because escondido
was like last stop
before the desert

creatures we are

how much
of a beating
we can take

how one can
make it look

even smile
living on nothing



Monday, October 06, 2014

Poem - boëthius was going / to reconcile / faith with reason

boëthius was going
to reconcile
faith and reason

conjungere rationem 

they tightened
a rope around
his head

until his eyes
bulged out

and clubbed him
to death

but from 'the consolation
of philosophy'
we get the prayer

  let me accept the things
  i cannot change

  and the courage
  to change the things i can

  and the wisdom to know
  the difference

i can't tell
i know i never will

boëthius is
the moon half risen
i see tonight

wrapped in
sheet of fine linen

or paper that
dissolves in water


for Anicius Manlius Severinus Boëthius
 c. 480–524 or 525 AD

Sunday, October 05, 2014

Poem - On Hearing of Snow in Chicago

i heard it snowed in chicago
just the other day

snow in october

here in southern california
just a spritz of rain would be welcome

i remember what it was like
when winter was coming to the midwest

one day you'd feel
a breath in the air of cold wind

the coldest wind you'll even meet

and you knew you'd feel
that frigid bright chill in february

but before then the leaves
would turn yellow and red

and you would be swimming in them

the falling leaves now are dusted in snow
glittering like confections at night

kids going to school in the morning

enjoy kicking through them
and the ice cracks like ladyfingers



Thursday, October 02, 2014

Poem - don't think about loss or gain

don't think about loss or gain
just do and avoid the trap of the old desires

if you are in action you've defied most expectations
even your own limited thinking


Quote: Charles Schulz - Winning vs. Losing

Charles Schulz said: "Most of us are much more acquainted with losing than we are with winning. Winning is great, but it isn't funny."


Friday, September 26, 2014

Poem - water

i found out that the water on earth
is older than the sun and so is ancient
beyond all estimations born in a sun
that died beyond the limits of whatever
meager time we can hope to manage

made i swim and drink and eat it
like a glint of the embers from the reflection of it
fire in my blood in froth and tide that rose
and fell here and on other worlds now vaporized
renewed thrown down risen up

the star in us each one of us down here
that has a trail that shoots into vast darkness
it could be that god is the star or the stars' star
or even beyond this i will never know
i will only see through a narrow window

not bound by earth or time we will migrate
to heaven to hell or yesterday or to tomorrow
the small view becomes greater through suffering
the view becomes broader with gain or loss
water is unchanged serene and beyond death


Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Poem - was blue just at sunset i'll never know

i'm sure jesus swam a few times in his life
i wonder if he knew when his last swim was swum

these kind of things i think about as i grow older
not much wiser but the mind roams wider and wider

if jesus ever daydreamed about the almighty
i wonder who that abba was and how did it feel

i wonder if jesus liked chocolate or if his favorite cloud
was blue just at sunset i'll never know


to Jesus

Monday, September 22, 2014

Poem - but only if given away entirely

why be right about suffering or heartbreak
or be the bearer of bad news

instead why not work in secret
so everyone wakes up to a new brought day

and no one even suspects
how you furnished it and at what expense

they can have it and so can you
but only if given away entirely


Friday, September 19, 2014

I Make up Stories

Like you, I make up stories about things than never happened, based off personal experience. But I don't have the discipline, or chutzpah, of a novelist. I should be the hero. I am not.



I Read Widely

Like you, I read widely, and then I formulate opinions on things I know nothing about. But I have read about them.



Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Poem - when any friend shows up / there is a celebration

your lips move when you read
only the most important things
like poetry or montaigne

you still have imaginary friends
at 47 years old and you are offended
when they don't stop by to play

but like montaigne or blake
they are old friends real or not

when any friend shows up
there is a celebration
in the real world


Poem - she said have no hope

she said have no hope
abandon it altogether

then you can be happy
and i see it is true

you can't explain it either
because being happy

with or without hope
is the rarest thing of all


2014 .8

dedicated to Jñana

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Poem - it is fortunate to be in love

i can write a poem and not tell you
i'll tape it to my sunshade
or inside a drawer and think of you

it is fortunate to be in love
and be totally anonymous

because you're unaffected by my feelings

this is a revolution in my thinking
to love and have no contact

i'm taking the longer view now

we are all doomed
to be separated


Monday, September 15, 2014

God Fans out the Cards

God fans out the cards. "Pick a card, any card."


"Why not?"

"You're GOD! You can make those cards do anything you want."

"I won't cheat."

"You're GOD! Omnipotent beings can't cheat."

God sighs, but I can see he is very entertained. "You're not making this very easy. Please."


God fans the cards. "Pick a card, any card."

I pick a card.

"Did I ever tell you the time, while I was making the Universe, when we got to the fourth day, and we had to decide how big to make the Sun, Moon and Stars?"

"You did a nice job. I like how big they are."

"Oh, well thanks. I wasn't asking for your approval."

"I was being agreeable."

"When I say the word "happy" -- what is the first thought that comes into your mind?"


"Good answer!"

"And the second thought?"


"Even better! You're on a streak today."



Friday, September 12, 2014

1 Act Play: Columbus to the Navigator


                                        CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS

                                 (Pointing to NAVIGATOR)
                    If you say "AH HA!" one more time, when I discover a new island -- I will pack you                           back to Spain in chains.



                    Land ahoy!


                   AH HA!!!


Another short story

When I think of a life hack, I think of someone hacking with a meat cleaver.


The captains short story written on a window in felt tip pen

In space I dont have to explain everything. or anything, I am the captain and I can shut off your air while you sleep.


USS Cynus
April 2099

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Poem - i am broken / like the 3rd blue moon now in one day wane

i am broken
i will disappoint you
i will make you angry

i am broken
i will go out of my way to help you
i will never give up

i am broken
i will invent stories
i will tell the truth

i am broken
i will apologize for things not mine
i will take the blame of others

i am broken
i have great fear and great faith
i have determination and serenity

i am broken
i will feel sorry for you
i will feel sorry for me

i am broken
i will wake up every day like it is new
i will always choose to smile and not frown


i am broken
i treat you with respect
i treat my family with respect
i treat my enemies with respect
i treat the bugs with respect
i treat myself with respect


for Jñana

like the 3rd blue moon now in one day wane
i am silly i am old i am young i am new
i am foolish i am wise i know nothing i know everything
i am doomed i am perfect

Tuesday, September 09, 2014

Poem - To Robert Funge - down it goes / with a hundred things or more

bob funge is dead
but he lives in my mind
because there is a part of my consciousness
where there is no time

there will always be a place
in my soul and heart
where it is fine to drink
and a place where bob is working
at his desk on poetry

he'll be at the house
on elm street in san carlos
with the yard gone to hell
and the room where the drapes
gently fell apart

bob didn't care about clothes
or money or property
or dumb stuff like that
he only cared about poetry
correspondences and baseball

he mostly only cared
about poetry

he worried about only
two things
his son and his daughter

daughter couldn't
get clean

so when he couldn't sleep
he'd walk the streets of the town
at night the cops knew
who he was

or when he got angry
he would walk
the streets at night

or when he was worried
he'd walk again
at night

i see him walking
at night and working
on poems

down it goes
with a hundred things
he told me and we laughed about

i can see one of his books
from where i sit now

the ultimate tribute

down it goes
with a hundred things or more
he told me and we laughed about


Dedicated to Robert Funge
Sept. 13, 1931-
Mar. 22, 2013

Tuesday, September 02, 2014

Poem - and if you do know

don't realize
everything you didn't think about
was thought out
was a message

hotel room
restaurant club
how you cocked your hip
and smiled

and if you do know


Friday, August 29, 2014

Things I Wanted to Post but Did Not

No __________.

Tell your ___________ to stop ________ you.

A nice way to live because you're going to ___________ .

A lot  __ _____   ___ of ______  _____ because __________ .


Things I wanted to post but I did not.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Poems - like a coward

some poems are too accurate
they tell the truth or reveal the facts
so starkly

with such a shock
i have no intention of exposing
and though they are the best poems

i have ever written i have thrown
many of them away

like a coward


Writing - From "Drafts"

I'm sorry if I offended anyone -- but if I did, fuck you. Seriously, fuck off. Because, all that matters in the end, is the work. We all have to do the work. Isn't that hard enough to do the work.

Please don't be mistaken: I like to get on with everybody, even if I don't agree with them. But I' m not posing, and I have no time for distractions.


From "Drafts"

Poem - no rose tattoo


no rose tattoo

no tattoos
of anything

every scar
has a simple

hey -- this one
was when i was
hung over
and destroyed
a motorcycle


know what
venice looks like
on a winter day

venice italy


tripped on

cried when
it snowed on
new years day
in paris

just a bit about
love and fate

but no rose

Poem - i blame god / for my crashing

riding my bike
the bike lane

it is dark
and i crash

crashing hurts
but there are no cars
passing when i crash

i decide to get a soda
from the convenience store

i blame god
for my crashing


Monday, August 25, 2014

Poem - we can / stay sober at my club

night customers

johns and god

fine dining
salvation nearby

just enough
time for rescue

friends dying

come to
my sober club

we can
stay sober at my club



Poem - some


don't discriminate between
fast food take out
or poetry

actually they'd like
the hamburger

rather than a few lines
that could make



Tuesday, August 19, 2014


i am old

than history

before you were born
i swam on the lids
of egyptian coffins

before this
they spied me
over ziggurat gardens

and before this
i hovered over deserts
that met oceans

no one knew
where the water ended
and the starry skies began

i felt all the ages
and all mutiple are mine

most fruitful of the triplicate



Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Poem - help someone and save yourself

  the Darwinian excuse for not helping
  the false boost to ego it provides

is a horrifying thing

  it betrays and denies the ones
  who gave to you

  later you will not get
  any help at all

  as you watched
  others struggle

  it will be your turn
  you will struggle and drown

help someone and save yourself


Poem - unconcious

I started forgiving
when I realized your suffering was so intense
it was lobotomizing you

Also making you high in a way
where you had no idea what you were doing

You were unconscious
but you acted like you were aware

But you were not conscious

You dream and I was a dream figure
to you


"Sometimes I’ll get a call or email from someone five years after the last contact and I’ll think, oh right, I hated that person. But they would never have known, of course. Let’s see if I still hate them. Very often I find that I don’t. Or that I hated them for a dumb reason. Or that they were having a bad day."


And I realized, reading this, that sometimes you meet someone and they are having a very bad year -- or a string of bad years. They might not know how to stop the bad years. So those kind of people you have to be especially kind to, as they enter and exit though your life. Because we are all visitors.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Poem - learn from poetry

why write poetry
or even try to understand it
they ask

this day
is a poem that started
with the sun rising

if you don't
understand this day
learn from poetry



Monday, August 11, 2014

Poem - unavoidable blessings / are scattered throughout

you can look
and find the wrong person
over and over again
blinded by prejudice

because nobody
will change and they don't
trees won't convert
into cotton candy

or gold or that
perfect novel but humans
they don't quit looking
and choosing

unavoidable blessings
are scattered throughout
tripped over cursed
then appreciated


Poem - Looking Back

we were a perfect match
vain stupid and scared

many people are like this
so we were not special

but wasn't it nice to think

the kind of potential damage
to be done to others

through our own self-obsessiveness
this was roomy enough

to build something up out of whimsy

like a country to get lost in
or a dream to go bad

promising all would be well
if it was gotten at any cost

i will remember you

there is a new view out
a new window big and white

some things will never change

barely remember what was
so solid before



Friday, August 08, 2014

Poem - even though

our neighbors felt compelled
to welcome us

even though
we were from out of town

but we had bought
the unlucky house in the neighborhood

so it was fine
and they wished us well

there was a lawn party
everyone smiled

when the house
was vacant

i imagine
they smiled again


Poem - Oak Park

i would walk past
the house

where hemingway wrote
many of his first short stories

i saw it intimately in every season

and also the house
where he was born

up from the high school
in oak park

some oldster remembered him

even the streets in certain places held
his echoes and even scenes

he wished he could have

with the bravado
he encased himself in

because oak park is like this

so trim and prim
with the wide lawns he derided

where anything
drunk or stray didn't belong

god had no hard feelings
when the place was created

oak park has no hard feelings

thus hemingway became the
storyteller and the braggart

the lying hero and the wanderer
drunk and killer of others and self

just to get away from oak park

now ernest is dead
and oak park is just the same

the immortally serene location
where the wisconsin glacier stopped

the shore of ancient lake chicago

crown of the continental divide


from recollection

Thursday, August 07, 2014

Poem - The Invisible Restaurant

i just opened a restaurant
with no waiters
no menu
no food
no physical location

you and i are
in there now

what would you like to order?


let us sit here for a second
and enjoy the moment


The Invisible Restaurant

Poem - splendid

like flashes of lightening
they go through your life

now i have a receipt for gas
and a pencil no. 2

there are some who will
unlock the secret of life through

i have a pencil no. 2
and a full tank of gas


Tuesday, August 05, 2014

Poem - Another Poem to the Angel of Constantinople

i'll stay off the subject of poetry
or how love saves the world

i think about the angel of constantinople
and of holy duty or vows and purpose

the angel was sent with responsibility
into a world of wiles and faithlessness

but the being was undeterred
because it knew

no matter how the errand turned out
there are 100,000 more at least

that will be showing up
at any time any place

if requested


aug 2014

Monday, August 04, 2014

Poem - and deep down

i have nothing to teach you
i am a liar

i lie with my eyes and my heart
with every ounce of my brains
with my spirit
with my whole life

but in me there is something
that cannot lie

cannot be untrue for
even one instant

and often
this halts my lies in progress
and has me sit and meditate

if you watched me
through all my talk

and saw that i was quiet
and was still sometimes

if we found some lasting
happiness with this

and we gave that
to others

a bit of happiness
you and i spread
with nothing
gotten back

just a bit

with my spirit
with my whole life

then i'd be

a holy fool

and a liar
become one

as everything
wears out

and becomes
new again


Poem - un-upset

i'm a shoe
a tear
a replacement
a battle lost

i'm that tree
that filling station
that leak
that sky



Poem - practice kindness all day to everybody

practice kindness all day to everybody
and you'll realize you are everybody


from Jack Kerouac's

Practice kindness all day to everybody
and you will realize you’re already
in heaven now.

Sunday, August 03, 2014

The Patient 9


and a note
in my cold uptown flat
where everything

seems varnished by
blue light

i want to 
come back

i crumple it
it crumples
o pride

i am so cold
i have no idea
if i can be warm


who need help more
her me or them
or him

if i love her again
will she leave me
again i ask the wall

over and over again
i ask the wall

a blue wall

The Patient -1


i am nineteen years old
and i meet the girl
who will be my wife
for the first time

i give her a ride
out to the island
where her friends are
for the weekend

she laughs at my
old boat with the
peeling blue paint

later she and i
try to catch fireflies

while her friends
argue and get stoned


after this kiss
so lightly

and for so
long on my burning lips

i don't see her
for three years

The Patient - 0


before it all began
i felt happy for some reason
and so did my wife

we had been unhappy
for a time with
strange arguments

i think i was happy
because she was happy

for some reason
she would not tell me
exactly why she was happy

we took a walk
in central park

we watched it snow

we held hands like it was
a long time ago

Friday, July 25, 2014

Poem - i dream of a mouse / in a box

i dream of a mouse
in a box

a copier box
no a computer box

no it is a
printer box

and it is
a rat not a mouse

no it is a

no it is a

i go to
the kitchen

it follows me
and i let it out

into the
back yard



Thursday, July 24, 2014

Poem - Forum

go there to shine
not to be found

as a self-said
king or queen

a selfish story
because it lauds

and you wrote it
with praise in mind


Poem - many are just extremely / grateful and happy

there are people
who forget their purpose

or forget what they wanted
from when they started out

they don't all end up
feeling lost with a haunted look

many are just extremely
grateful and happy


j 24 2014

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Poem - if you understand the deathless essence / in all things preferable and not preferable

the compassionless attempt
to arouse pain and unhappiness in others
matching their own experience 

most realize on some level
even subconsciously this
towards others is wrong

the cruelty we do is inescapable
a vindictive mind will emphasize this
out of self hatred

so turn away from hatred
lack of compassion
and cruelty

avoid it like you would avoid
drinking poison
or burying yourself

pray for the benefit of others
especially your enemies
and bow at their feet

they have shown you the way
by illustrating the insane
futility of hatred

if you understand the deathless essence
in all things preferable and not preferable
you will have won

for you the race will be over
for others who knows

they will race on



Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Poem - i can't have bad feeling / toward the leaf in you

even if i feel sad
it is okay because i know
change is happening right now

nothing stays put
things come and go

tonight i'll sleep
and spend an eternity
in dreams

a few hours or 5.000 years
would feel the same

so why be blue
over anything

each of us is like
a leaf facing the winds
of their own mind

i can't have bad feeling
toward the leaf in you


Poem - and i never knew / anything about you

another poem
for you to read

the one who has nothing
or knows poetry

tonight you sit there
staying in or thinking
to go out

window shade drawn
television on

in a room i never
was allowed to see

someone on the phone
for several hours

other people calling
who never get through

it is a small kingdom
and you are absolute ruler

staying in or thinking
to go out

10 x 13 or 15 x 12
i'll never know

though mom comes in
with questions

and your father
slams the doors

and i never knew you
anything about you

it is obvious now

Poem - I'd rather go/ watch it snow

I don't know
why they are there.

They never seem
to do anything
except send little
innocuous messages.

I'd rather go
watch it snow.

Then take a nap.

Or eat a sandwich
reading a



For Richard Brautigan,
who'd write something like this
after online dating.

Friday, July 18, 2014

Poem - The Patient 7 & 8


the claim to find his body
it is not his body
i almost ask if there
is a pack of playing cards
in his effects

his things are
laid out

no torn ace of


my wife leaves me
for my secretary

Poem - The Patient 6


when i get the letter
that starts with
when you get this note
i shall be gone for i have
'found myself and
i will be gone shortly

i rush to the hospital
he is not there
having gone missing
thursday night

the police and searchers
comb the woods
and check all hotels and
bus stations homeless camps
bars etc etc

i show them the note
they wonder why
it is torn at the bottom
they look at me
darkly suspiciously

they confiscate it

but later i find
the torn off section
secreted in the crevice
of my car door

it says
as an expression
of my gratitude
i will be back for you
JMS 1 
with a ace of diamonds
torn in half

when the police
ask me if i found
anything else i lie
about this note

i lie
and i sleep
in my lies

my wife says
if i feel like
you're starting to carry
you patients in your head
and they can't get out
of your head i might have
to leave you

and i sleep
and then wake up
see new cases and pretend
any patient is out
of my head out of sight
out of mind

i look
at the ace of diamonds
and avoid reflections
when i do so

Poem - Anchor Point

anchor point
a dream with no regrets

a desire
you notice but do not break

as soon as
you stop looking outside

you start becoming


Thursday, July 17, 2014

Poem - The Patient 4 & 5


in the middle of the night
i dream of the patient
my wife wakes me up
you're arguing with someone
and talking and talking
about time and ladders
stop stop

i wonder if i might meet
myself older or younger
and both of us not have
any idea who is who

you should take
some time off you never do
says my wife
your patients
be just fine and as 
crazy as ever when you
get back

i wonder who is
loonier and who is sane
i say half joking

that settles it
she says you're going
on vacation
to the lake house 
start packing 


before we leave
i let my secretary go
because i discover he is right


when we are at the lake house
the phone will ring sometimes a long time
because there is no answering machine

but when i go to answer it
the line goes dead

the phone never rings
at the same time of day

the phone never rings
for the same amount of time

kids crank calling
i tell my wife
convinced it is
something else

she unplugs the phone
and we light the lanterns
the lake is black
and huge

out over it are a few
bobbing lights

Poem - The Patient 3


a quantum dislocation
is going to occur
he tells me as he looks
out the window

we don't know why
but this universe at some point
splits into two branches

one branch discovers 
that the shift
has occurred the other
has no idea it happened

it may have happened
by now he says it is hard to tell

we may be in the one that knows
it happened we shall see

persons found that neighbors
and people they hated
for many years 
were in fact themselves
due to accidental
time travel from one universe
to the next

he laughs a great deal
at that

then he writes in a journal
for a long time without talking
then remembers me

sorry he says
i have to stay organized


when i am
dropping him off at the
hospital he looked at me frankly
thank you for being
so kind and listening
i know you don't believe me

he looked at the single light
shining harshly over the entrance
i'll see if i can
come back for you

look for a sign

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Poem - Beuna Vista Dr

we took a old threadbare blanket
as a stack of encyclopedias

and it was a fort
under attack from indians

or we were pirates
taking the brady bunch hostage

and sailing to the rescue
at gilligan's isalnd

i was gi joe
with kung fu grip

you were black bart
with a white hat

we fought over
an old american flag

you took it home
i cried

Poem - The Patient 1 & 2


he can see the past in mirrors
so he avoids looking into them

he says i am not a voyeur by the way
i see in that reflected chrome on the desk
sometimes your secretary has sex
in here when you are out

remember: nothing is as it seems
he smiles at me sadly

he documents his movements precisely
so his future self will rescue him
with a quantum ladder

yes he says  multidimensional aliens that look
like flowing paint and swatches of light
are coming to destroy the earth 
in 2022


he carries a small tablet sized
erasable white board
and a black dry erase marker
when we go walking to get some air

i put a string on the marker
so i don't drop it
he says

whenever we see a news van
or security camera he quickly
writes the date, time and a message
to his future self

7.17.14 AM PST
40.7127° N, 74.0059° W
BORN JULY 11 1967
37.3000° N, 120.4833° W

i wish i could calculate this
in relation to the galactic center
he muses with a sad smile
possibly someday it would help

i'm like finding me
in a quantum haystack 
but i know i promised to keep
looking he assures me

i want to ask him
how do you know you'd keep
but i refrain

Monday, July 14, 2014

Poem - we'll be cowboys / for sure

we learn how to draw
space ships in 1973

these craft are
like from the 1950s

spidery struts
and circular orbs

lozenges hold
liquid propellant

the sides marked
ever so by huge fins

silver with a USA
and a star

we'll be cowboys
for sure

out there

in the asteroids
and mars



Poem - i have nothing / on my mind

i have nothing
on my mind

i am a pencil
and you are paper


Poem - in vivid denial for what they do

wasters should be filled with shame
paradoxically they are generous

like a wreckers great yellow
fire on a foggy beach

in vivid denial for what they do
utterly forsaking

after the comforting sight or sign
once embraced


Sunday, July 13, 2014

Poem - There's no way to hold onto anything / good or bad

I think about you all the time

Everytime I think about you
it wears away a little bit at the memory itself

Because you are no longer here
the recollections are not replaced with new ones

So you are finite now

I keep remembering you
and eventually there will be nothing left

Like how ice melts into water

Then the water evaporates too

Sad about this, then giddy
how someday I won't even know you were here

By remembering
I am gradually eroding whatever ghost remains

Every trace of you is gone

I'll have that in my head too

There's no way to hold onto anything
good or bad


San Jose / Oakland
July 11 2014

Thursday, July 03, 2014

Poem - st. francis never pays / never tips

st francis never pays
never tips
and never asks for anything
you don't want to give

try taking him
to breakfast or brunch
what do you think he

July 3 2014

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

Poem - having no more / to ask for

for a year lived in fear and anger
being incapable of letting go
then just self pity of the revolting secret kind

the kind of sadness that one does not admit
instead tries to overcome through austerities
of the brutal kind bowing bowing bowing

a second year of inner nonsense
of hate of hurt of confusion
being incapable of letting go
more austerities more bowing
endless mantra

    let go
    let go
    let go

third year filled out papers
moved apartments
getting out of anger

hear the machinist next door
grinding rails

walk to the ocean
having no more

to ask for



Poem - like a star twinkles / and can't be sullied

standing in your gracious bathroom
or gracious house or gracious party

like you are dressed by invisible hands
food magically appears of endless

i think of heads on coins or a ships prow
the figure that serenely braved any

looking out with a smile
beyond men and gods

like a star twinkles
and can't be sullied


Friday, June 27, 2014

Valley of the Minotaur Game Found -- Artwork

My dad saved it, my mother found it. I have a copy of Valley of the Minotaur. The disk looks good. There is a service in Tustin that can transfer the files.

Previous post about VOTM, with some background info on the game.

Dream Debate on the Properties of Rain

that night
it was simple
we debated on the rain

if it should fall up
or fall down

and how
evenly spaced
should the drops be


had a chance to share

and no ones
feelings were hurt


Summer 2014

Thursday, June 26, 2014

The Great Black Bird with a Pearl White Beak

"Birds fly in my windows, and tell me things. The little darlings." he said to me.

"So that is how you know what is going on?"

"Yes, I trained birds to go about and then come back and give me the news. I'm very proud of them." he said.

"How do you teach birds to go about and then come back and tell you things?"

"Oh, that is easy -- with rhinestones, bits of strings,  and snacks. Works every time."

"Anything unusual happen?"

"Yes, I have noticed that occasionally there extra birds that I did not train, that come by. A bit unusual."


"Now and again. Hard to tell."

"Oh, and what are these birds like?"

"I can't generalize -- you see -- they tend to be very different, each one. The unique birds."

"Are they bigger than the birds you use?

"Well, some of them are bigger, some are faster, brighter, darker -- some are quite dangerous. You never know."

"And what do the special birds tell you?"

"Oh dear, I call then "non-repeaters". Because they never come back."

"And what do these "non-repeaters" tell you?"

"All kinds of things -- especially breaking news, sometime on things that are yet to have happened, or are happening far away. It can be upsetting."

"Oh, like how?"

"This very pretty small one, littler than a hummingbird came by just before you came here to interview me. And it told me."

"Told you?"

"That you are dead, you died yesterday. Freak accident."

And I tried to open the door to leave, and I saw he was right. And then the room seemed to be full of birds, and he was a great back bird with a pearl white beak.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Poem - nothing unusual was happening in my dreams / early before dawn

nothing unusual was happening in my dreams
early before dawn

i was meeting with bright beings and angels
and talking about the good things
that could be done today
over coffee in a diner



Poem - dust on the photos

dust on the photos
look like stars under the scanner
a blanket of them over
your bridal shower and triumphant wedding



Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Getting Tube Socks in a Dream

We do this wrathful meditation practice for several days, 16 hours a day -- and I clean the glass cases that Dudjom Rinpoche and Thinely Norbu Rinpoche's relics are in.  And one night I dream that the wisdom deity, Troma, she's there in the room, you can't see her. But she is there.

I am sitting in the translators place, next to where the Lamas sit. People are coming up to me, giving me a single pair of black fuzzy tube socks, in a gallon ziplock bag. There are some shiny little candies or offerings in each bag as well.

I get about 600 or 800 of these offerings, or gifts. I have no idea what it means, but thank you.


Pema Osel Ling
Just after the First Day of Summer

Monday, June 23, 2014

Poem - Waking the Innocent

i'm a stranger in my own life
the moon has burned down
 not the barn
and the barn is brighter

i'm a beggar cleaning cases barefoot
 apologizing to the saints
with sawdust falling on precious stupa maseratis
monuments covered in gems 

i'm a fool who wants to get lucky
an idiot who marches up and down the hills
 believing fit people
must have more faith

i'm the one praying at night or early in the morning
before dawn praying my heart out but finding 
 i just wake the innocent
from great dreams


but no trouble at all 
the moon comes back from nothing
 all the time 
over stalwart barns stuffed with treasure
never-mind what burns


Santa Cruz / Huntington Beach
Two Days after the first day of Summer 2014

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Hundreds of Firefiles

That dark afternoon, it honestly felt like the world was going to end. Multiple thunder storms and tornadoes had touched down all around Oak Park. People locked their storm doors and windows to keep them from being blown open. He could see lightening stinking all around the building, every few minutes. The frame of the flat groaned. But he couldn't take himself away from the window, holding up the sash, seeing the wind blow things down the street -- of cars hurrying, their headlamps weak and indifferent. He would take a break, and lay down, then get back up and look out the windows more. Then it passed. Beneath masses of moving ragged clouds, the sun was low in the sky.

It was still steamy and warm. He walked into the backyard, the garden was huge and green. He saw hundreds of fireflies. A bit drunk, he almost saw them with the astonishment of a child. The wonder faded with the calculations of getting to a bar. Subtle, looming guilt.


Lombard Street
Oak Park IL

Monday, June 09, 2014

The Case of Beer

When he got sober, about 2 or 3 weeks into it, the neighbors downstairs had a party, and they left a half-open case of beer in the stairwell. The stairwell was enclosed. He'd walk past the half-opened case of beer for months afterwards, several times a day. The tops of the beers got dusty and white. He didn't drink. But he walked past that case of beer a lot.


Lombard Street
Oak Park
May 2010

Thursday, June 05, 2014

My Life is Like a River

I did something important today, and when I had gotten it done, I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, and a twinge or remorse. Realization came to me: I have a certain amount of immaturity, even in my mid forties. It keeps me from doing things, sometime important things. It has also caused me conflict and heartache. I can clearly see where it originates from, and it has to do with the way I grew up -- but my parents can't be blamed for it. It has to do with certain attitudes I chose to adopt, and forgot. I feel bad, in a way, I imagine it has been frustrating for my parents to see me making certain mistakes. My mom and dad are excellent parents. They gave me and my sister everything they could. The good news is, I have never appreciated my parents more. I love them more and more, the more I comprehend what they did for us. I'm terribly lucky. Or very lucky. I can see some of the things I kept hidden or denied from myself, and now I can actually do something about them -- or even act differently. Certain flaws of character. My life is like a river, and it is connected from one end to the other. But ultimately there is no end, or start.

The last miracle is to be able look at myself, see where I seem to be falling short, and not be angry with myself -- or with others. This has been coming to me as well. It takes some spiritual work to get there.  It comes from being less selfish towards myself and others.



Friday, May 30, 2014

Poem - i have no idea / how i dream

i had a dream 
that it was raining
and the spirit house
which had a statue of dudjom
was in the woods in front of me

a long time ago i stood in woods
in front of a statue of dudjom
a house with magic eyes
of yarn and sticks
a plaything 

my dreams are
echoes of what has gone
before yet i did not comprehend

some say i dream to correct error
others say to learn from all
every single thing

like a wave 
my dreams will subside

or like a tide they could

i have no idea

how i dream


Thursday, May 29, 2014

Writing - You Won't Be Flying With That One

I thought it said "A Suede Lawnmower, Pulled by Crows".

How do you get crows to do that? They could grip the suede, I suppose. Big crows, too -- probably a hundred. That damn lawnmower could FLY. It would be a FLYING CROW PROPELLED SUEDE LAWNMOWER.

Then I see it is "A Selfmade Lawnmower, Pulled by Cows".

Which is good, too. But you won't be flying with that one.


May 2099

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Poem - it looks like i am dog paddling

when i grapple within the nothing to grapple
it looks like i am dog paddling
to god

even if god does not exist something beyond me
does note how i dog paddle
in the air

this thing i choose to sense is in my breath
in breadth width and height
sacred geometry

they built churches around it or hells
to encircle what cannot be

it does the hokey-pokey jumping inside
and outside every thought or
feeling i have


May 2014

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Poem - when they said

they said when
someone who you put
in a position of trust
hurts you greatly

they should be
treasured like a guru

and i wanted to
cry and hate you more

but i didn't cry and
my eyes were dry and hot

later i meditated and
reflected on my endless
hypocrisy and how i am
stupid and useless

then i go back
to valuing you and others

who have insulted
and demeaned me

as the highest of
all & see what happens


To Chenrezig

Poem - this we dream

the only time
there is time
is when we are asleep

this we dream


may 2014

Short Story: The End of Something

She leaves him with a burning hatred of hookers, strippers, pornography, and lying.

The End


Thanks to E Hemingway

Friday, May 23, 2014

The Only Time

She turns to me as a sun sets behind her, through long venetian blinds.

"The only time it looks ugly, is when I cough." she says, a bit upset.

"Why do they call them venitian blinds?" I ask her.

She ignores me, sitting on the edge of the bed, and looks pensively into space.

I take a look around the room -- it is decorated from the 1950s.

Who is she, and how are we related?

How did I get here?

I don't know.



Let's Get Honest

They said "Let's get honest." Then, later, they said "Nevermind."

Everyone felt much better.


2014 5

I Have a Piano on My Ferris Wheel

I have a piano on my ferris wheel. When the piano is at the bottom, the wheel turns slowly. When the piano passes the top, the ferris wheel turns a bit quicker, as it descends.

Music can be heard, lyrically floating through the air -- it is a a bit faster when the wheel comes down.

People come and stare, and then ride.

A few stay, and play.


Bolsa Chica
HB 2014.5

A Bird Flies into the Room

A bird flies in the room, because I have no screens on the windows. The bird has a small pipe and a scarf.

"I like your scarf." I say

"Thank you" says the bird, and it twirls the pipe in its beak. "Do you have a light?"


Bolsa Chica
Huntington Beach 5.14

The New Era was a Sham

The new era was a sham, but the old era was just hyped up on guns and meth. Art was out and so was writing. If you couldn't see it or watch it, then it wasn't worth remembering.  But it was fun too. We wandered the burnt out huts of this land, and we gathered the shoelaces and MREs, and our violent forefathers had been eradicated by their own envy.


Cherry blossoms fell and the water took the blossoms and they floated on the pool like tiny boats.


I found an old book about the story of an Italian Knight who spontaneously combusted after drinking strong wine in the 15th century. I don't know what strong wine is. It sounds like medicine. That would be bad medicine.

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Poem - impossible life / filling me with such joys

impossible life
filling me with such joys
visions i became
and built up i fell
and in falling i was built up
like a see saw
and what i saw i see
the ghost refelections
my heart still beating
like a drummer
of a traveling band
that never quit
and never found home
impossible life
becoming possible in
this surrender
this shedding
of predudice
towards reality
but damn such
tears and moonbeans


for Latif

Wednesday, May 07, 2014

Peom - when he died he left a slip of paper/ and it said

when he died he left a slip of paper
and it said

if you're reading this and i'm gone
gone from the room

don't say i'm in a better place because
every day here was a heaven

and each time was new and pure
ending and restarting

besides i am not gone
i'm everywhere now

past present
and future


you can have all my stuff



Friday, May 02, 2014

Poem - Since Newton

More poetry from my smart-phone

Since Newton
I've sincerely believed

Every apple has
a great invention in it

And every idea
is edible too

-- Alcatel Phone

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

My Phone has the Soul of a Poet

I've been letting my phone text for me, by accepting all the words it comes up with for "auto-complete" when I type things.
I see my phone has the soul of a poet. Today it wrote:
Give me just a little more time
to get along with the moment

Because I'm not planning
on going anywhere else



Now Everything is Made out of Box-Tops

I wake up in the morning, and I see everything is made out of box-tops. Reality has this slapped-together-box-top yieldingness. Did I just write that word? Yeildingness. Like everything you can touch and walk on, is made of layers of sandwiched box-tops. Naturally, due to this, everything is slippery and springy. I see that there are some very valuable coupons printed on the firmament of this alternate cosmos. I'm rich! I hope the Universe never converts back to unvarnished molecules and the brutality of naked atomic structures.


Quail Box-Top Meadow
Box-Top Irvine, CA Box-Top

Monday, April 28, 2014

I Dream of a Celestial Realm

I have a dream I'm in a Celestial Realm, everything seems to be made out of crystal. It is a place of palaces, and exquisite gardens: petals seem to be falling from the sky. I'm minding my own business, when a tall beautiful woman, like an angel, bumps into me and I bang my head into her boobs. I get very shy. She laughs because she sees how innocent I can be.


Sunday, April 27, 2014

Doing Errands in My Dream with the Red Bull of Death in the Passenger Seat

I have a dream that Death and I are driving around in my white Land Rover, in Corona Del Mar. In the dream, Death is personified as a small red bull. He sits in the passenger seat, because he is tired and does not want to drive. Death wants to relax and look out the window as I do my errands.

The first place we go is to drop some books off at the new Library. The Newport Beach Main Library is very nice. Everyone likes going there, even to just have a cup of coffee. The sun is shining and you can see Catalina Island.

Later, when I'm done going about my business, I drop Death off at his house. He is very happy that we got to drive around and see things, and we had a nice time together.



Wednesday, April 23, 2014

I wish I had a ON/ OFF switch

Going into a universe without switches and buttons, I miss those. I have a screen activated phone (yeah we all do now) and the phone is constantly ending up in "silent" mode. I wish I had a ON/ OFF SOUND switch on the body of the phone. Then I could set it ON or OFF and know if the phone was going to be audible when I need it to ring, and silent when I want it to be silent. Because right now about 90% of the time it seems to be in "silent" mode no matter what I do.


Friday, April 18, 2014


The patient says that he believes he has had contact with himself in the future, where in some undetermined year, he has discovered the secret to time travel.

Correction: The patient says that he has been given the secret to time traveling.

The patient says that it is not time traveling, it is leveraged quantum movement. Mental?

The patient says we are only able to do this if a future self decides to share this information in any one of the innumerable universes that exist along side with one another.

Every dog has his day.

Patient is constantly taking notes as to what time things are happening, significant things -- to attempt to leave a trail of documentation for his future self to find.

Patient requests that these sessions be documented as much as possible, with as many copies as possible being distributed out in the widest geological area possible.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Poem - Hearing Children Playing

I listen to imaginative children
at play

they quarrel and yell at each other
easily cry

or just as soon change their minds
and are joyful


Adults are exactly the same
but we hold it in


for Jñana

Poem - with a smile forward

with a smile forward
everything comes into the day

people are not strange
because everyone is welcome

nothing seems awkward
or regrettable because it is embraced

as soon as it happens
room is made for it -- no issues

in this way tension
can't coil up or be cold & bright

and anger can't be
luxurious with memories

instead the outcomes
keep getting interrupted

and you're on your toes
going with the flow with a smile


Friday, April 11, 2014

Poem - The Child Who Lives a Life as a Man in a Dream

I dream of Dudjom Rinpoche
who I never met in life
which is interesting

He tells me many things
and I cannot remember them *

But I remember he told me
of a lively story he wrote
"..written by a child who
lives a life of a man in a dream..."

I bowed to him 3 times
and woke up 5 30 AM

for Jñana

* I think he said we make errors in our mind like children at play, as innocent and enthusiastically as this, with no malice

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Poem - when it rains I imagine amataba

when it rains I imagine amataba
crying with a hundred thousand eyes

when the wind blows I imagine amataba
waving with a hundred thousand arms


Friday, April 04, 2014

Poem - death can be the end / of a mighty dream

death can be the end
of a mighty dream
put into a small box

but there from there
who can say for sure
if the dreamer stops

just imagining now
in a different guise
as a drop in a cloud

becomes a snowflake
ghostly vapor
or a single tear


misread from the internet

Poem - he plays the guitar with his feet

for Mark

he plays the guitar with his feet
hammering out a song or strumming a ballad

and later the young girls who are drunk
laugh like it is christmas morning
sophistication forgotten and they dance

their boyfriends
get really pissed at the guy
who can play a guitar with his feet

crescent moon in the sky blues slide guitar
more drunk people enthralled
at his strumming that instrument
just with his toes


end of evening
bags in the car and amp in the back
he's off to santa monica tomorrow
but he might come back
in a month



Thursday, April 03, 2014

Yahoo, Facebook -- You're Nasty and Gross (and Racist!)

It is getting more difficult to live a non-disgusting life online. I guess proposing to the living of any kind of "life" online, I'm primed for the punishment I deserve. But I'm tired of the ambushing, antagonistic themes from the advertising leading portals like Yahoo and Facebook approve.

It might even be inevitable, being outright repulsive was the way things would go for the advertisements clogging the navigation sidebars. If you're going to get something less than a penny per click, you're going to need to do something provocative to make $$$ from millions of eyeballs.

But it would be nice at least to have an experience online that is free of multiple ads that promise to increase my penis length, or to have an affair.

Or have a online life that isn't sprinkled with super-disgusting close up pictures of fruit and nuts that will enhance my libido.

Or have ads that display in a pulsing visual way, gaping seniors with no teeth, dancing trailer-park trash, or people looking suicidal with charts in the background. It starts to feel like I'm participating in a sinister psychological evaluation.

I'm also not interested in keeping up with the news, and this is a double (even triple) challenge -- because advertisers hoping to sell shit online like to combine gross images, with the news, and then twist it with some kind of latent sexual innuendo.

Yahoo, Facebook -- you're nasty. You're gross.

(..and Racist! Yeah! I know the president of the United States is Black and so is the first lady. Thanks for the tea-party hit ads / conspiracy garbage too.)


Wednesday, April 02, 2014

Poem - Hokusai

son of a mirror maker
to a shogun

changed his name
at least 30 times whatever
he was working in

one name new
like a fresh kimono

carved prints of
lakes mountains whores
and actors wind waterfalls
and sex and fires in the snow
mt. Fuji and a sea
that would kill

the outlines
of cranes in autumn

pieces of paper
blown over
to the moon

then back
to the earth


Quail Meadow
Spring 2014

Monday, March 31, 2014

Poem - Unplugged

I stopped watching the news
reading the newspaper
listening to the radio

It was too hard, plus
my culture was out to get me
or drive me crazy with lust
or worry

And I don't condemn my
surroundings and I don't condemn
lust or worry nor my

I don't have to pay attention
if I don't want to


I can actually see my surroundings
and know what time of the day it is now


Now, often when people speak
their words sound like poetry


Sunday, March 30, 2014

Poem - is it possible

is it possible
to be as silly as the moon
or as unserious as a star


Saturday, March 29, 2014

Poem - A Man Wanting to Be Alone

at first unaware of me
he drags a stick on the trail
creating a line

he'll wack at the weeds too
and wave at the air
like fencing with ghosts

at the top of the second hill
he stands by the path
waiting for me to pass

he has a half smile
on his face looking into
the distance like it was a joke

and i know if i
were him i'd wish i wasn't here


Quail Canyon Loop Trail
March 2014

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Poem - while he played the guitar

these astonishing stars appeared
like music -- hundreds of them with no strings

while he played the guitar

and people walked by and didn't stop because
you need to be on time

but we had nowhere
to have to get to because it was time for
guitar music played just then

even if it was just a bit cold
who cared?


outside of Cherry Moon and Mystic Arts
Laguna Beach

Poem - when you forget / you don't remember

when you forget
you don't remember

but i'll remember you
for a long time

like a knife in the back
or a pet that died


TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach

TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach at A.I.R. Gallery

658 South Pacific Coast Highway -- between Cleo & Legion.

5.30 to 8.30 PM.

Come by and get a little paper boat with a poem in it. Happens every Thursday!

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Poem - we ride our lonely memories / like trusted steeds

we ride our lonely memories
like trusted steeds
until one day we see where they take us

so on this day I hope
you celebrate one year solidly


from the canyon club

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Any Buddha Can Be Like a Flame

"Cultivating Buddha, or enlightenment, think about cultivating something like fire. With the right circumstances of action and mind-set, fire, or enlightenment, can appear. Both are manifestations inherent to reality, but enlightenment transcends reality. As with a state of firelessness, it may seem that Buddha is not here, but any Buddha can suddenly appear as readily as a flame."

       --  Charles-Paul Straube


Monday, March 24, 2014

Poem - Reprise

i dreamed of the damned
ignorant they are in hell
accepted the suffering

and in these conditions
even hell-beings
dreamt about love


i der Verdammten geträumt
ignorant sie in der Hölle sind
akzeptiert das Leiden

und unter diesen Bedingungen
auch hell-Wesen
über die Liebe geträumt

Poem - she cries / her relationship is ending

she cries
her relationship is ending
and why why?

it is everything
in the world to her everything
and more

what can you say
buck up what doesn't kill
makes you strong?

some people
fall down and never
get back up


i dreamed that being in hell
you don't think you are in hell

you accept the suffering
like it is normal

and even hell-beings
dream about love

Poem - in the middle of the night / i look up the word 'knowledge'

in the middle of the night
i look up the word 'knowledge'

i translate it
into three or four languages

latin german

the screen on the phone
is very bright

it hurts my eyes


Quail Meadow
Irvine 2014

Friday, March 21, 2014

300 point Smiley

Here is a 300 point smiley at 72 dpi. Enjoy.

"I don't listen much to what I think...."

"I don't listen much to what I think -- it is like investing in a business that I know is bankrupt, run by a CEO that I know is a liar."

        -- Charles-Paul Straube


Thursday, March 20, 2014


TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach at A.I.R. Gallery

658 South Pacific Coast Highway -- between Cleo & Legion.

5.30 to 8.30 PM.

Come by and get a little paper boat with a poem in it. Happens every Thursday!

Thursday, March 13, 2014

poem - walk at dusk / on the hill

walk at dusk
on the hill

a moon rises
window lighted

the sky kept going
higher and higher

into stars without end
into memory


for Alexandra

Monday, March 10, 2014

Moop Frog and Chung Tzu

I saw a frog and I listened to it.

It said, "MOOP."

"You should be croaking." I said.

The frog said, "MOOP."

"CROAK." I said.

The frog said, "MOOP."

I made a note to tell someone what I have seen and heard, if I saw a certain person (or persons).


Later I saw Chung Tzu, dragging an old chicken bone down the path on the end of a dirty string.

"I found a frog that goes "MOOP"!" I yelled out when I saw him.

"Indeed!" said Chung Tzu. We sat down on the side of the trail in the shade.

"What's with the chicken bone on the string?"

"Oh, that? Ha ha ha ha." Chung Tzu laughed. "You noticed it? I've been dragging that thing around for at least a year."

"You have not, I would have noticed."

"Really?" laughed Chung Tzu.


Walking back, Chung Tzu is dragging the repulsive chicken bone on the string down the trail, enjoying himself. People are tripping over the string and getting mad at us.

"That chicken bone on the string is disgusting and a hazard to others!" I said. Chung Tzu laughs.

We come to the place where the frog is, and we listen.

"MOOP." says the frog.

"MOOP." says Chung Tzu.

"MOOP!" says the frog.

"MOOP!" says Chung Tzu. "OK -- here's a rotten chicken bone on a string."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"The frog insists!"

"Since when did you let frogs tell you what to do?"

"MOOP" says the frog.

"I don't know what it is about him, but that frog is totally persuasive!"

Then before either of us can react, a great white heron swoops down, and spears the frog through the body and flies away. We both wordlessly watch it fly off into the distance.

Chung Tzu winds up the chicken bone on the greasy dirty string.

He gives it to me.

"Sometimes if you go MOOP too much, even if its is right --  you can get carried away."


Quail Hill