Thursday, June 30, 2016

i see that narcissists are like animals
with no comfort of an animal

nor with any generosity like an animal
nor with any regal bearing of an animal
nor with any industry of an animal

but with a vulgar display
and a hatred like a dying creature
sickened with disease


fog recedes the sky racing blue

where does the wind
come from my son asks

or where does it go

i tell him of hot rising air
and transparent domes

high pressure that soars

cold air from the sea
will speed past us for miles
to the orchards of sebastopol

from there swirl up

over the apples and grapes
and all the redwood trees
and all the pioneer burying grounds

it will know everything

the rocks and fields
solitary farms and hideouts
even lost pirate treasure

my son nods and we agree

thus strange magic associated
from whatever shimmers in the distance
and stray birds so knowledgeable


Bodega Bay

if i could move fortune with my will
i would bully it constantly

do you feel the prerogative

when i see you pretending
smiling happy not to be yourself

i see me too dancing prattling
yet incapable of hiding what i think

to be seen and to be pitied or hated
how horrible and exhilarating

do you feel the prerogative

go walking walking walking
as if you will escape yourself

your cunning grip your secret lies
hid by a river or buried on a mountain

locked up in africa or smothered

or known over all things
like a billion scattering of stars

do you feel the prerogative


Wednesday, June 22, 2016

on the converted green belt
where trolleys used to run

they pick up tiny dog turds
in biodegradable bags

the grass is neatly clipped
each blade of a limitless number

like thoughts that come
and vanish in a relaxed mind

both could meander on
seeming forever

only interrupted by a curb
or a street


neat brown seaside house
in a smart row of them

but this one has
a window

that is not centered

it is to the left
and no doctor can fix it

palm trees are long
swaying over green benches

a hush that says you

the sky is gray
but later the sun

will get through

waking men and women
of industry and promotion

gentle shiny cars
will nose out of garages

streets where

random thoughts
drive gentle shiny cars


Southern California
The day after the Summer Solstice

Thursday, June 09, 2016

some are epic surfers
others fearless mountain climbers

you have a talent
for getting the last word in

these last words
so ridiculous

like the click
of an old cap gun

with no caps
a stuck spring


Wednesday, June 08, 2016

i dream
i was flakes of snow

i wake up
i see i am flakes of snow

thank god


Q: Where is the cloud?
A: It is either here, or I don't know.

where was it in a dream

where was it in a dream
in 1972 or by the fireworks over the cement wall
of pets long gone and finals passed
of cities that change before my eyes
i had it right here
a whole life searching for it though forests of memories

waking up hearing the machine shop

nothing to be found
nothing ever lost