Poem - as useful as

i miss you
but i was to you

as useful as
a typewriter

Poem - and i have even more to learn now

why does disapproval last for so long
it seems stronger than everything in the world
even outlasting the capacity to love
only a fool would not give up

but the motion to love
so subtle and absolutely prevalent
cannot be argued against
cannot be quenched

ok then we'll go on down the road
i guess it ain't as bad as it seems
i've gotten to know all about love
and i have even more to learn now

plus there are dishes to be done
laundry begging to be folded
stories to be told & fond lies
to be said

--------

For Shel Silverstein

Poem - for 42 years old

my hands look old
and i observe the gray hairs
why do they only show on the left side
of my face?

dripping dripping as i hear
for a january thaw all sun out
tomorrow 40 degrees
for 42 years old.

-----------

Oak Park
Winter, 2010

Linji Bunny

In the backyard, I made an imprint of a Buddha in the snow today. When I walked inside and shut the door, I looked out and saw a bunny run through the yard and it decimated the imprint in a twinkle. Imagine that Linji, the bunny must have seen Buddha in the snowbank and ran & killed Buddha!

-----------

"Students today can't get anywhere: What ails you? Lack of faith in yourself is what ails you."

Rinzai Roku

-------------

Oak Park
January, 2010

Goodbye, John

During my trip to San Francisco, I found out that John McGuinness, a friend of mine whom I hadn't seen for a number of years, was killed riding his motorcycle. I met John while working as a counselor at a summer camp in Northern California. Then, as in the tributes I've read about him, he was smart, funny, generous, and caring. He had an irrepressible smile and was great with the kids he counseled -- I think John was one of the best summer camp counselors I ever worked with. Above all, he was a unique and wonderful person, he carried this through all the days of his life.

John died in early September -- September 11th precisely, riding to work. Like many motorcyclists, he was splitting lanes due to slow traffic -- in most states motorcyclists are allowed to do this because if you don't, the bike will overheat. It can be done safely, but there is a degree of chance. You're hoping the automobiles ahead of you are paying attention as you approach them, and they won't do anything crazy like pull towards you as you pass, or even throw a cup of coffee in your face because they're pissed you're on a motorcycle and somehow winning a contest on who can get through traffic faster. Eventually through riding and close calls, all motorcyclists get to know one certainty: anybody can crash. If you're lucky, you'll be around to crash more than once.

I had a motorcycle accident. Too much speed around a blind corner to find a tight turn ahead. My braking put the bike into a shimmy. I was thrown off the front like a spear, landed on my helmet, saw the asphalt grinding past my face shield inches from my eyes as I slid on my head. The motorcycle was damaged enough to be a total loss, I shattered my wrist. For quite awhile I longed to get another motorcycle -- motorcycles are as fun as they can be dangerous. But when I heard that John was killed -- John who has ridden motorcycles constantly his whole life -- I realized that I'm never going to ride again. If John can get killed on a bike, I don't stand a chance.

Living near Chicago, in Illinois, a state that doesn't have a helmet law, every time I see a motorcyclist out on the road without a helmet, in cut-off jeans, no jacket and flip-flops, I get a chill up my spine. This was before I knew about John's accident, John who rode smart and with the right gear and the proper helmet. Now when I see someone doing something stupid like this -- riding without any safety gear whatsoever, with no conception of what it would be like to fly off the bike and hit the asphalt at 50 miles per hour, I think I might cry.

But one of John's co-workers summed it up, saying, "I feel that John, with his energetic, forward-looking nature would not want us to brood too long, but to send him our most loving thoughts." So John McGuinness, I'll miss you, I send to you and your family all my love, and like the song goes:

We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day....

------------------

Dedicated to John Edward McGuinness
December 14, 1963 - September 11, 2008

Poem - and after that

for Paul Maddalena

-----

look over there
with me

look over
fields surrounded
by muted hillsides
when it rains
the church far away
normally a dusty
peach color

glows radiantly
bright pink
standing out
while about ready
to fly away
from such
drab
surroundings

i think
when it rains
god must go over there
and do something fun
like
to serve free ice cream

and after that
take a nice long
nap

Poem - in the end this journey

try to get it right
comes out mangled flat
lopsided

plan for all contingencies
something happens didn't
see it coming

like everyone else go through
a period of embarrassing
prolonged settling

get along down the road
down the path but it
never seems to make any
difference

but in the end this journey
is much more than we are
prepared to accept

--------------

for

Jim Sorrells
English 4A
May 26, 1987

In the Tenderloin

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Poem - all creation would know it

the book might be by the bed
you may read it from time to time
or it may have been discarded
it may be forgotten or simply shelved

i have no idea where my work goes
and what kinds of life it lives
i wish i could see one small part
of the stories sprung from my stories
alas i can't ever know

i wonder if this is how god feels
because after seeing a large part of the world
it is obvious to me god cannot see
everything that is happening
all things taking shape after
he started it all in motion

god must not be able to see everywhere
at all times like a santa clause
otherwise from my point of view
god would certainly cry & if god cried
all creation would know it

Poem - st. francis pray for us

st. francis pray for us
we are all sinners i think to you
you're the only one to understand

we went to detroit hung out
with strippers talked at the bar
until the night was worn out

about philosophy and
faith god and
read them our poetry

they were amazed and asked
where we came from and we told
but they still wondered

i saw a statue of you
in white marble in a church
in chicago a day ago

you were hidden in an alcove
up a few sets of stairs
by the main doors

Poem - to conclusion and a kind of absolution

to Gary Timmons

with about an hour
before i meet with my attorneys
i go to st. peter's church
on west madison street

after more than 15 years
i sit in on a mass & watch
the ceremony and remember back
on all those sundays in the past
always going to church
and saying prayers but really waiting
to get out & play the whole day

now i have all my responsibilities
being a reluctant grown up
so i'm not praying with the idea soon
the service will be done
like i always did before
i don't want it to end when it does

as the service lasts i look
in the varied crowd of worshippers
i see the pretty lady secretaries and attorneys
a few quite close to me and i wonder
how seeming now
pious meek and devout so still
what would it be like to meet someone
who goes to mass on their lunch break
just before christmas

there is no judgment here but
these girls are as amazing and exotic to me
as if they came from another world
when the eucharist is consecrated
and the people go up i quietly leave

i confess i wanted to be this devout
unselfish
not taken up by pretty things
i tried to be this way when i was younger
but it wouldn't last

the break the separation
it does not mean i do not love god
it does not confirm i have lack of faith

all my faith was like a guide
unto a whole wide world
conducting me out of braced morality
into the embrace of the almighty
blessings
beyond temporary earthy beings

some saints and believers understand
what i am talking about and i still
wonder
as the magic of the mass glides
to conclusion and a kind of absolution

My Personal "Coat of Arms"

dedicated to Evan

I have decided on what my personal "Coat of Arms" will be. This realization was unasked for, invested upon me spontaneously by the Fecundity of the Universe. Wow, thanks Universe!

On a shield, above, there is a starry sky. This signifies the endless possibilities available to all of us, if we want them. Combined with this and below it, is a lovely leafy tree, with a giant red cardinal bird in the center of the tree. The tree signifies both the Universal Tree of Wisdom that Gods hung from, and also signifying the Tree of Knowledge, or Death -- neither can be avoided. The cardinal bird is there because I like cardinal birds.

At the foot of the tree a blond virgin reclines -- with the Sun at her head, and the Moon at her feet. She cradles a skull in her lap. I'll tell you what the blond signifies and the Sun and Moon if yer too stupid to figure it out. Fairly steamy, productive, fun, hard work, etc.

There are a few sheets of paper, for writing, painting, and drawing by her side. Nearby, a few baubles and books as well, for the enjoyment of publishing and the gaining of knowledge.

Below this, my private motto -- EGO operor non exaggerate. Is est insolitus , quoniam is est verus. -- or -- "I do not lie. It is strange, because it is true."

Finally below all, the touch of an endless sea, just peeping with white froth. Because the adventure starts, and potentially never end, until the Sailor following the "Fixed Star" in the Heavens is satisfied & ready to be at Home.

George Washington, Revealed

Now, most people don't know George Washington, "The Father of Our Country", started out as a young time traveler -- frankly a bit of a scamp with loose ethics -- who thought it would be a Gas to set himself up for awhile in the late 1700s AD in Colonial America, Virginia. Should have been a cakewalk. But unfortunately, when George Washington got out of the machine, he put his goddamn knee straight through part of the mechanism that precisely aimed spatial telemetry on the front-end of the gravity surge, rendering his transport bust. Some would say "Pinner" to this. The breakage could have been avoided for about 5.22 USD, by G.W. installing a basic cage around the parts in question, but he was hasty and didn't think he needed something like that. For 5.22 USD, circa 1985. Oh, well.

Being stuck indefinitely like a freeking monkey in the zoo, and also being taller and obviously better bred & fed than all the weedy drunk insane podunks around him, it was unavoidable that he became entangled in the politics of the day. And due to his concealed superior knowledge of Modern Military Tactics, he found that he could deal with the British using the slender resources that would be provided by the stupid Continental Congress. But the Revolutionary War was a giant pain in the ass, and he was glad when the British gave up. Lafayette was nice at first, but later turned out to be a poncing pontificating Frenchman who never seemed to have mud or shit on him & never would shut up regarding opinions on things -- anything.

After some years had gone by, G.W. had to wrangle through being President all the goddamn time -- while George lost all his teeth. He did have a perfectly good set of modern dentures he manufactured, but preferred to not wear them out of "discomfort" of them being Wood. Not wearing dentures allowed him to become a formidable grumbler and mumbler, so he didn't have to figure out what to say to the ninnies and nincompoops that surrounded him with their ceaseless cajoling and need for sage advice when George Washington couldn't give a shit. Yes, being thought as a Great Hero and a Great Man certainly became quite tiring, especially if you had not been able to listen to the radio or 4D HHDD television for several decades.

Basically, it took George Washington, originally from Phoenix Arizona, circa 2022, about 30 years via the new United States of America to manufacture enough rarefied metals and minerals to fix the damage to his glazed reflecting/ recuperating hive-chambered multi-dimensional gun so he could get the Hell Outta There. I hear that he is recuperating in 2099 or 3122 AD, quite happily at Club Med Mars III.

If you bump into him, tell him I said "Hi". I don't know if he knows he ended up on the one dollar bill. Portrayed without his dentures. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to know how bad he looks.

Toydar!

There is Radar. I've been told about Gaydar. Daniel, 3 years old, has Toydar. When June thought Danny was distracted she tried hiding a Christmas Gift at the bottom of a box, with several things on top of it, hidden in a closet -- it took the kid about 10 minutes to find the toy. June has no idea how he could have found it out. Daniel has also found another possible Christmas Gift after June hid it behind the toybox in the living room, when Daniel was out of the room. It took Danny 5 minutes to find that one. And Dan's Toydar is just getting better and better, the more things are hidden from him. I'm imagining Danny Boy one day with x-rays shooing out of his eyes, effortlessly seeing though walls and packages -- on that day, to hide something from him, we'll have to shield it with lead. Viva la Toydar!

Poem - The Melt

at 32 degrees
it feels warm

no snow falling today
nor freezing cold

the whole world around me
changes as things melt

endless drip dripping
as ice disappears

showing black earth
peeping beneath it

Poem - and all the things you've seen

realize, still it is possible
for every dog has his day

and all the things you've seen
amazing! terrifying! ridiculous!

Poem - like a school of fish if you could imagine/ what that would be like

for Richard Brautigan

i remember you talking angrily to yourself
(or to people somewhere else)
in other rooms of the house
then after awhile all rooms of the house
were filled with your words
then after a time words literally
pushed me out the back door of the kitchen

following me in dark empty streets
to a car or bar or hotel room your words
endlessly repeating themselves here there
occasionally i could forget but mostly
the words worked around the room

like a school of fish if you could imagine
what that would be like with angry words

Poem - is it a car carrying/ a lost suitcase?

i have a boot heel
that squeaks like
a mouse

i waited between
4 PM and 8 PM for
lost luggage

the beer in the fridge
it was deceptive
it was empty

i can hear children
playing downstairs
to xmas music

here comes a car
going down the road

is it a car carrying
a lost suitcase?

Poem - tell me you love me

tell me you love me
even if it isn't true

tell me you love me
even if you're not certain

say it even if you
don't mean it

give this sucker for love
one more smile

Poem - that big holding me to it

she leaves her scent behind
like the pyramids of egypt
illogically i think but
that big holding me to it

Poem - they were invented for/ love

i think back about
how you are so beautiful
and you trust me

despite the fact
we met &
it ended with goodbye

we have jets and trains
bus and cars i think now
they were invented for
love

----

SF
December 10, 2009

Poem - holding the book in/ my hands

old poets read
then the young kids get up
they read
i sit & watch
holding the book in
my hands

Poem - food or water or whatever is irreplaceable

he gets that light racy feeling
in his heart he might feel faint
when he looks at her/ but doesn't tell
how he feels
almost like a child who doesn't want to go
he wants to see her face every day
even if he just walks by and says "hello"

when they talked he tried not to stare
when they walked he managed to walk carefully
the time is passing/ their meeting
is ending
he is mindful of this and tries not to be mindful
their meeting is ending like running out of
food or water or whatever is irreplaceable

Stairless Stair Misses Someone & Finds the Haunted Staircase

Getting ready for the reading. Now one person is keenly missed, who won't be there, but that is okay. And it is good, because Stairless Stair found a haunted staircase at the office he works at. Miners with bags of gold, whiskey, and guns clomped up it a hundred and twenty years ago. The haunted staircase was there all along, found by accident, still echoing the past.

I Still Love San Francisco, Stairless Stair

After a month of anticipation, I arrive in San Francisco, to see old freinds. And I also notice how fucking filthy the city is. Shit, glass, trash, smashed up furniture and things all over the place. There's a disassembled toaster oven scattered on the corner of Dubois and Church, my freinds say it has been there for about 6 months. I walk around. Wherever I go, in any neighborhood, I meet about 1 - 30 bums. All the bums I meet are crazy. "Oh where oh where! Is it here, or is it there? Have ya been to the STAIRLESS STAIR?" asks one of them. I have been there. I think I am the stairless stair. It starts to rain horizontally. But I still love San Francisco.

Confession

(The reprise in italics, to J.P. Donleavy)

i.

Like me, you didn't have much to do. You were sick of staying in a small, silent apartment on a Sunday afternoon. So like me, you got yourself together and started off down South Oak Park Avenue to go do something, like harmless window shopping, or visit the bookstore where I saw you again after the time I walked by you on Lake Street, pretending that I didn't notice you.

In the used bookstore, I was surprised to see you. As before, I secretly admired your poise and your smooth brown hair, how your hair spread out over the shoulders of your white jean jacket. I said nothing to you, because I didn't want you to think I saw you first on South Oak Park Avenue and followed you up Lake Street. I didn't want to appear to be completely ridiculous.

But here you are again. I can tell you are lonely, and like me, you read just about anything, and I suspect you have no close friends. It could be you are going through some tough changes -- getting divorced, like me. But what can be said? Nothing can be said, regrettably. I try to forget about you.

Later, outside the bookstore, I see you one block up with your back to me, coming out of the GAP. You've not bought anything. I comprehend I'm in a crazy groove of certainty, tuned with the universe: I know if I wanted to catch up with you, the next place I'd be sure to find you is in the fresh bread section of Whole Foods. I don't bother to go there because this would be weird; you'd know for sure I was following you:


We may be far away from Victorian times and conventions
But still, even today, meeting a strange man in the street
Without a proper introduction
Is no way to meet a man
For the first time, alone, amen


ii.

I go off to a bar & grill nearby for a hamburger; it is a nice place where I am sure you wouldn't visit this afternoon. As the pretty blonde waitress take my order, I see you will not be coming in here. I wonder if you ended up buying anything at Whole Foods, or when you dropped by the GAP for a second time.

Later, I clearly see you walk home along the same route you took from your apartment -- I can see you walking with the same poise and your fine brown hair spreading nicely over the shoulders of your white jean jacket, slowly, with no hurry at all in the world!

Poem - snowflakes do you make noise

falling snowflakes do you make noise
i wonder & stand close looking to the
swaying
dried grass

------

Dec 3
Oak Park

Me and Dorje Drollo -- Chicken Pot-Pie

Dorje Drollo comes in. Dorje Drollo!

He looks around the kitchen. He sees that the oven is on. He looks closely at what is in here, cooking, bubbling.

"Chicken pot-pie?" he asks loudly.

"Chicken pot-pie." I reply.

"Chicken POT-PIE!!?!" Dorje Drollo roars, laughing, knocking a pot down.

"CHICKEN POT-PIE!!!" I yell, half laughing.

"CHICKEN POT-PIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!" screams Dore Drollo, sparks flying off his eyebrows, the house shaking to the foundation.

"CHICKEN POT-PIE!!!!" I scream, holding onto the fridge for dear life.

"Sounds good." says Dorje Drollo, when the dust has settled.

Babies are crying downstairs. I think the cops are coming to the front door.

"Yeah, it is good." I reply. Because it is.

Poem - there's too much pain

-- Another shitty poem, but I like certain parts and I didin't want to fix it and break the good stuff

there's too much pain
(now i've copped it -- actually took
a position on this)

ok but the pain isn't that bad
i have a high tolerance for pain
through several doomed &
disastrous relationships
a broken wrist
lacerations rejection

going on looking optimistic because
it helps others feel better
and why rain on a parade
joy is rare don't fuck it

and

everyone makes it through
we all do make it through

you can say you didn't make it
but if you ain't dead
you're just fine

Poem - what the hell is failure?

some jackass said
"failure is not an option"
but in times like this
what the hell is failure?

we're all collectively
making things right &
getting things done
despite everything

i don't see anyone giving up
nobody is quitting but
it hurts and we get along
we get along and it is done

Story of the Bum

I have this bum look going on. It isn't easy to get the bum look going, you have to work it. I still get everything done, dot every 'i' and cross every 't'. But when you see me, all you'll see is a bum.

Probably tomorrow I'll get a haircut and practice good posture, then you'll think I'm someone else -- a guy who is as clean, flashing and fresh as a newly minted quarter.

Flashback

When the winter wind blows but there is no snow, just a lead colored sky -- I have a flashback of the summer gone, when I was alone in the backyard trying to get a nice tan on my legs.

A Short Story in November, Before it Started Snowing

This weekend, on Sunday, I cleaned someone's kitchen. I don't know why I did it. But the kitchen was clean when I was done.

The person I cleaned for didn't give a goddamn. They wanted the kitchen clean, but when I was done, they were mad and stood disapprovingly in a spick-and-span kitchen.

Now I know acutely why some religions believe in the Fall From Innocence, and blame it on Adam and Eve.

Poem - what you think

i dream i have a large house
old and a bit scary

here is wide staircase in blue light
and the house is actually me

it is built to test people

everyone i've ever met

but watch out what you think
we all have a large house

with a big staircase that is scary
blue with ghost lights

Poem - This Will be Posted on the Free Notification Area at my Local Supermarket

home
car
store
(poem)
cart
aisles
food
checkout
bags
(poem)
car
bags
home

Dad Calls

One day, my dad calls me up, at work. This rarely happens.

"Son, are you alright?" he asks, very seriously.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I reply, mystified on why he'd be asking me this question.

"Are you really alright?" my father asks.

"Absolutely fine." I reply truthfully.

"Are you sure you are okay?" my father says, obviously not convinced.

"Yes. I am perfectly fine. Why are you asking me this over and over again?"

"Christopher - is there anything you want to tell me about?" says Dad, trying another tack.

"Tell you about what?"

"Has anything happened that you want to tell me about?"

"No. What are you talking about?"

"Are you SURE there's nothing you need to tell us about?"

"No. I'm fine. I have no idea what you are talking about. What is going on?"

My father says that my grandma was called by me, and that I told her I was in Jail, in Mexico. She wired about $600.00 to a Western-Union in San Diego, to bail me out.

"Are you SURE you are not in trouble?" asks Dad.

"Dad, I'm not in trouble. I am not/ was not in Mexican jail. I have no idea who did this."

We conclude the conversation. I call my grandmother, who is very upset, but is also happy I was never in Mexican jail.

"I answered the phone, and I heard a faint voice. It said 'Grandma!' and the first thing I though was you were in trouble. So I said 'Christopher?', and the voice said, 'Yes!'"

Poem - let him go at dawn

i get with this because bob isn't around
he'd be saying "what do you mean?"
i miss him

bob worked 30 years
and he hated his job
and he retired immediately

then his life started
it is an amazing concept
but he waited that long

while he waited for his life
he'd walk the streets of san carlos
in the middle of the night

the cops got used to him
the solitary wanderer with a beard
who wouldn't show an ID

bob wore them down
even when they'd arrest him
let him go at dawn

Poem - to jack

i'll read your letters
and then i'll write to you new letters
that hopefully won't be
as old dead letters can become

i'll read your signals
and return to them new signals
because i can't write to your eyes
or your mind 30 years after the fact

pretending to write to a receptive past body
is what you enjoyed doing and this joke
within a joke is seriously taken as funny
and at the same time heartbreaking

at first mind tries confidently to circle it
weigh and codify the narration but you
sly devil you knew mind could not solve in the end
but at least a reader tried to do it

you knew all of this and it keeps going
now the jest has a life of it's own
born out of play gambling that the spark struck
might keep and catch in the darkness

Poem - two

two fragments:

everything was new
and then things got old
and old was funny

all of my possessions
i covered in gold
for a 24k lifestyle

two observations:

i hear a truck in the alley
grind bang grind bang
whhiip! grrrruuunnnn

and the fan on the floor
continued all along narrating
whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

----------

Written in Oak Park at
11:11 AM

Revenge

He wants revenge on the meal he ate.

He wants revenge on the meal he ate, because he didn't like it.

He wants revenge on the meal he ate, because he didn't like it, and because he did not realize he was unsatisfied with his meal until the day after.

This was the day he was walking down the sidewalk, and he heard a lovely part of an opera, out a second story window. He was taken by the music, his heart lifted unexpectedly then he turned and saw someone eating in a restaurant window.

They were eating what HE WANTED -- what he really wanted LAST NIGHT. When he couldn't MAKE UP his own MIND.

REVENGE!! REVENGE!!! REVENGE!!!

He manages to keep this internal. Back to the cold water flat, 5 flights up. He has a suspicious landlord who acts like the rent is never paid. Under a bare bulb, he finds a few novels and collections of poetry by authors who died poorer and led more miserable lives than he. But this is cold comfort.

Minutes later he cuts his lip on a broken glass he didn't notice was chipped, and can't help but laughing.

Poem - never to be seen/ again

dreaming of people who are
gone

some of them dead others just
missing

we go through a garden then to a
bar

all the same stuff like we are
awake

funny and bizarre to see two
people

a man who i know has been dead
15 years

making out with one of my girlfriends from
college

when i awake both of them lost never to be seen
again

Poem - upside down a miniature/ frog

jack you'd be proud
of me

amazement pain & bloody
hemorrhoids

while look up there on
the ceiling

upside down a miniature
frog

rides a bicycle and we know
then

for sure what has gone in &
what

has gone out all of it accounted
for

Poem - but i can't complain

i was born a long time ago it seems
i worked like i was working on the railroad
all the live long day while people came & departed
i built out to many places and now i've been
working for the railroad drilling this dark tunnel
through the heart of a mountain of solid granite
said would end by now but it goes
on and on and on

but i can't complain

Poem - (no title)

i leave a message saying
i'd like to have the chance to start new again

when i hang up there is no starting over
again

just by me doing this leaving a message
confirms my cowardice

but now i can live with it because i will
not give up one thing

Buying a Watch

I spent five minutes, thirty-seven seconds buying a watch.

Another Goddamn Poem

i wrote something back in
1984 about a coated-
plastic lullaby

but i didn't finish the poem
and i'm reading it now
i wish i understood

me then

Poem - i love her (said by every guy here 1,000 times)

inform the bricks on that wall
i am tired and should go home

tell that waitress who is attractive
i love her (said by every guy here 1,000 times)

A Story About Death

Death smokes double-menthols. No filter.

Poem - did i really have anything/ to learn

did i really have anything
to learn

or just some things
to lose

-----------

She Said to Me

At the bar, she said to me, drunkenly, "If you think this is easy, try being the Eiffel Tower....ALL THE TIME!!!!"

Poem - why do they do this

why do they do this
they don't think why

pick up the guns
their rifles are not rifles

more like branches in the hope
to keep from drowning

they kill everyone around them
not to drown

One Upon a Time

(A work in progress. I needed to start it -- then edit it.)

Once upon a time, not long ago, there was a lonely western town, without a name. It was out in Arizona, in the desert. It was on the edge of a vast wasteland of endless sand, salt, and rocks. The sun shown down, hard and bright, most every day.

One evening, when the sun was going down, in the color blue, rode into town Cowboy Blue. The people of the town saw him coming in the evening. His hat was blue. His clothes were blue. His boots were blue. And his guns were blue. When Cowboy Blue stayed at the hotel of his liking, on the edge of town, it appeared blue.

People of the town wondered what might happen. They had all heard of Cowboy Blue, who rode in Blue.

Then one day, not much later, Cowboy Green rode into the town, in the color of green. People of the town saw him coming in the late afternoon. His hat was green. His clothes were green. His boots were green. His guns were green. When Cowboy Green stayed at the boardinghouse of Miss. McNabb, on the edge of town, it appeared green.

People of the town wondered what might happen. They had all heard of Cowboy Green, who rode in Green.

Then came Cowboy Red. He arrived in the town, after the dawn, riding in red. Like the other cowboys, his hat was red, his clothes were of red, his boots were red, and his guns were red. When he stayed with Ms. Mae in the Rising Sun, the place became all of the color red.

And everyone of the town wondered who would come next, and what might happen.

Then on noon, of the next day, rode in Cowboy White. He rode in the color of blinding white. His hat was white. His clothes were of white. His boots were of white. His rifle was of pure white. It was told that Cowboy White was the fastest gunslinger in the west, save possibly one other. When Cowboy White stayed at the best hotel in town, it became as white.

On midmorning of the next day, the cowboys met in the square, under the oldest tree, a cottonwood.

“What brings you here, my brothers?” asked Cowboy White.
“Seeking.” Said Cowboy Blue.
“Tracking.” Said Cowboy Green.
“Looking.” Said Cowboy Red.
“For whom?”
“You know.” They replied.
“For Cowboy Black.”
“Yes.” They replied.
“Sometimes he comes through these places at this time of year, when autumn begins to fall.”
“Indeed.” They replied.
“Sometimes it is best to stay put and wait, and see.”
“Very well.” Was the response.

Poem - oh look another surprise gift

i think it is enough
i have today and tomorrow

in the middle i have dreams
surprising dreams

revelations about the past
the present the future

i didn't expect it
to be this way

oh look another
surprise gift

masquerading as the
happening moment now

------------

N. Lombard Street
Oak Park

That Wishing Well...

PAROLLES
What one, i' faith?

HELENA
That I wish well. 'Tis pity—

PAROLLES
What's pity?

HELENA
That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think, which never
Return us thanks.

fall is here

fall is here
leaves turn red and yellow

startle & start to fall
without a sound

scattered bits of color
over the whole village

slight now later
full and deep

Poem - sometimes

i cannot have you
you cannot possess me
that was our mistake

i cannot make sense to you
you cannot get through to me
no one ever does all the way

time rolls on things come & go
friends enter then depart
each in their own way

sometimes

i cannot help but stand by the door
think here is where they stood
there is where they left

sometimes

it is irresistible to try to scan distances
knowing it will never be seen or detected
but they are out there somewhere

Poem - and so/ innocent and perfectly fine

cat on the evening of the day
you were killed by a car

first we grieved over you
then gave you back to the earth

what was left was a smooth mound
a small one with some flowers

the blossoms of course signifying
eternal hope and joy

then on the night of the day
in dreams i saw you

and so
innocent and perfectly fine

----------

for "Bubbles"
Toughest Cat there Ever Was
09/10/09

Poem - be free with me

be free with me
let's go

off over the oceans
silly little boat

there is the fixed star
navigate the way

most people stay
and rather pray

Accidents

He smokes and has all kinds of smoking related accidents. He accidentally burned his jeep down -- I'm not joking. The fire department filled the jeep with a foot of water, and the good news was it was still drivable after the fire. Just a bit melted in some places. He burns his fingers on the tips of cigarettes, he lights them on the wrong end -- one time we were sharing a cigar and he took it and put the lit end in his mouth. He realized that mistake at the very last microsecond and spit the cigar and ashes violently into the air. The still lit cigar landed on my hand. So my pal says, "What can I do? I'm constantly burning things, my clothes, me, you." I said, "Quit smoking." He said, "I don't think I can." So I said, "Then smoke more for the practice." Last week I heard he decided to quit smoking after he accidentally lit his bed on fire. But then later I heard he changed his mind.

QUOTATIONS FROM FAMOUS PEOPLE THROUGHOUT HISTORY COMPLAINING ABOUT THINGS FROM TIME TO TIME

"Fuck! Fuck!!!"

Ernest Hemingway


"These shoes are awful. I just can't relax."

Louis Armstrong


"What the Hell?!?! Now what am I supposed to do?"

Babe Ruth


"I'm sick of this wallpaper."

F. Scott Fitzgerald


"A Japanese party. There wasn't a damn stick of furniture to even sit on."

Pablo Picasso


"I did the whole damn ceiling. Leo was a prick."

Leonardo da Vinci

SOME RANDOM FAMOUS QUOTES SHORTENED TO MAKE THEM MORE RECOVERABLE FOR THAT SPECIAL OCCASION

"Four score and seven years ago..."

A. Lincoln
Gettysburg Address

"Friends..."

G. Washington
Washington's Farewell Address

"Friends..."

Wm. Shakespeare
M. Anthony, in Julius Caesar

"My only regret..."

N. Hale
Last Words

"To be..."

Wm. Shakespeare
Hamlet, in Hamlet

Ibid - Gone

"Now, I am going to say something...there I have said something."

(An Abbreviated Quote from Chung Tzu)

-----

00.8 Before waking up, he heard her voice, quite clearly from 1975.
01.0 He sees birds in everything, glittering machinebirds twittering.
02.0 The wireless router is not plugged in.
03.0 He is actually an Indian, in a computer simulation. The computer simulation aims to recreate what Manhattan Island would look and feel like in 1609.
04.0 He has about 35 cents of Earth, Wind, and Fire.
05.0 He has a blue pen. There is a jet over there.
06.1 The jet is over there, now.
07.7 Ibid.
07.9 Gone.


----

Oak Park
N. Lombard Street

Poem - he laughs

he laughs
can't remember what he dreamed

while dreaming
can't remember this life, either

Poem - you can't hurt me

i face your anger
you can't hurt me
i'm here hurting myself

Poem - like a soldier on patrol

briskly we rise each day
and seldom do you see yourself
rarely do you realize you go about
your day like a soldier on patrol

Or as an Exquisite Violin

I dreamed there are no real things. Looking at a thing, you realize it is actually not one whole thing, but a collection of smaller appearing things. A collection of aggregates. Looking at the smaller things, each one, you will see in every case, any smaller things is a collection of things. In investigating, you will never arrive at any one thing. You will only find more aggregates. Ego decides you have a foot, this wall is solid, and we had lunch together yesterday. But if you really try to find foot, wall, or lunch yesterday, they are not there. Your mind says they are locatable, and this is nonsense, but they still are not there.

----

I dreamed, I heard a voice, quite clearly. It said a few things.

"There are some questions that have no answers."

"There are some answers that have no questions."

The voice repeated these lines a few times, without the slightest bit of concern, nor irony, sounding a bit like clear running water, or as an exquisite violin.

both will try to trick you

let us sum up:

they are coming for you, and you can't get away.

the universe gives us what we want. just ask, and you get whatever you want.

the schedule is fixed. this is your own recruitment. you chose your own version of the morality play.

abide, or be confused. be mad at the swing-set. be satisfied, or say you were born unlucky. you can sit, or go forth.

hear the voice of god, play with the devil. both will try to trick you.

Chung Tzu and Falling Branch

Chung Tzu goes out of the apartment, and later comes back.

"I'd like you to meet a friend of mine." says Chung Tzu. "Here he is -- meet Falling Branch."

"Hello, Falling Branch." I say, and we shake hands. I notice he has on a nice brown sports coat, probably from the GAP.

"Nice to meet you." says Falling Branch.

"I wanted to ask you a question, if I may."

"Go ahead and ask."

"If a branch falls in the forest, and nobody is around, does it make a sound?"

"Only if I'm having a good time." says Falling Branch.

Chung Tzu & a Perfect Day

Suddenly, Chung Tzu comes in.

"Hello brother!" he exclaims. "What a perfect day! You look like you're at your wits' end! You remind me of a wasp who thinks it can't sting!"

I do the dishes. I wash the floors. I clean the bathroom, take out the recycling, the trash, and other junk.

"Feeling better?" asks Chung Tzu, after I am done with my work.

"Not really." I admit.

"HAH!" laughs Chung Tzu. "Don't worry -- this is the way things work: something or another thing will come along and change your mind!"

Poem - be everywhere

me in everything
you in everything

there's no getting out
but why do you try?

the way to go
is to go

travel lightly
with a smile

see heaven and earth
above and below

be everywhere

Poem - happy/ by a tree in the yard

where are the people i love
where are my thunderstorms
where is the mail
where is my nerf machinegun
where are those dreams last night
where are my eyeglasses
where are my snacks
cigarettes
paper
pens

i can only see the open window
by a phone
near some stamps

& a little kid playing alone
happy with an empty
box
by a tree in the yard

Poem - living here at the same time

hot & humid
hard to think
but it is cooling down

june said
if we were on vacation
we'd think this heat
would be exotic

now i'm focusing
on being on vacation
living here at the same time

Poem - hello/ i miss you

hello
i miss you

it might rain today

oak park
august

Poem - i'll go to hell

-- Dear Reader: This is a shitty poem -- but for some reason I'm keeping it.

--------------

if i broke your heart
i was meant to*

if your heart was not touched
then it is a stone**

i'll go to hell for the pain
i've caused***

no illusions about this i know
i'm going to hell****

--------------

* Written without bravado.

** A famous French philosopher termed it, "In this life, if your heart does not break, then it certainly must be turned into lead."

*** Karma. Debate the point all you want, if you do, it is your karma.

**** Hell is now.

Poem - even try to imagine

could be a journey home
not just for the lack of sleep or hangover


driving driving the land rolls out
rivers towns silos railroads flash by
the land rises up into blue mountains
meanwhile i sit here on my ass
and presume to even try to imagine
what it is like

Poem - i imagine you quite clearly

specks of water
then rain rain rain

love

i imagine you quite clearly
as it rains

Poem - let's have pizza

let's have pizza
and then make out

i'll notice you
taste like pepperoni

mmmmmmm
what part do i taste like?

Poem - Separation

father off to the hospital
will stay overnight for observation

son 2,000 miles away
absolutely terrified his father
might die

messages left
mother sounding exhausted
on the answering machine

the phone rings
son picks it up expecting news

pre-recorded line wants to sell him
a vacation to mexico & the
adventure of a lifetime

Today

Today, what a day. Before waking up, I dream I'm going to miss an important flight. I had time, but I wasted it, and now there's no way I'll make the connection. I rush through the streets of an alternate San Francisco, getting more lost as I go on. The irony in this, is, I have been lost in this same alternate city many times before -- in previous dreams of being late for something. So all the time I am getting increasingly lost, I know I am getting increasingly lost. Look, I've been lost here before! Up ahead, I'll be even more lost! I recognize this neighborhood -- the one I was completely turned around in, before!

.....

In the waking world, the phone rings at 8 AM. I get up, and talk to a collection agent. When I hang up, I notice I am naked, and the whole street can see me.

Poem - later something else

they say i shouldn't care
but i'll always be compassionate
i have no choice
it is the way i am

they say i should be cold
calculating and realistic
husband my strength
but love cannot be exhausted

we have no choice but to go on
this is the way it is
but i resolve to make it
as well as i can do it

we have no choice but to go on
the moon last night
blue sky today
later something else

Monday's Obscure Sumerian Proverb, no. 3

"...meadow grass is the milk of a lettuce."

Proverbs: from Nibru
Ni 4166 (Alster 1997 pp. 293-294)
Segment C

http://www-etcsl.orient.ox.ac.uk/proverbs/t.6.2.1.html

A Fortune from the Oak Park Parking Stucture @ Lake & Harlem

At 10 AM I received and indication today, even a fortune, from the automatic parking ticket kiosk at the Oak Park Parking structure, on Lake Street at Harlem Avenue.

As the kiosk vended the ticket, it said, on the digital display:

THE DOOR IS OPEN

Inks - From the Plaza NYC - Birds

Poem - i changed because

i changed because
i was bored
in the churches
of thought

Poem - if he feels like it

if you call him
leave a message
he won't answer
because bill collectors
are after him

if he feels like it
he'll give you a ring back

if he does not
please don't call again
and again and again
and again and
again

Poem - a wide pleasant garden

in my dream i try to apologize
but other people keep getting in the way
they interrupt me when i try to speak
distract you with what they want
endlessly demanding

in the dream we are in a nice place
a wide pleasant garden where the sun shines
see there is plenty of room to move about
i let go and soon you & your retinue are gone
the view remains

-----

Somewhere in Oak Park
in the Midwest
July 2009

Monday's Obscure Sumerian Proverb, no. 2

" Says the man lying on the roof, to the man living in the house: "It is too bright up here!" "

Proverbs: Collection 4
Segment B
4.56
30-31

Poem - all is silence/ in the end

singing to the
silence we
sing

in words
thoughts &
deeds

when we observe
the silence it is
beautiful

unformed and free
uncountable as the
wind

blowing through
going through

all is silence
in the end

Okay for an Adult

I get along with kids, and I especially like the challenge of teenagers. Teenagers, when being informal, will not give you an ounce of pity, especially if they sense you are weak. And every teenager will test an adult to see if the adult is weak, indecisive, and above all -- fake.

I met Ellie, a niece of a friend of mine, while I was on vacation. After talking to her for a short time, she smiled, and looked at me.

"I'm smarter than you." she said.

"Really?" I replied. "You know this after only talking to me for a little while."

"Yes."

"That's interesting. But I have a question for you: How does someone measure intelligence? There are many ways to do this...can you tell me which way is the right way?"

Ellie thinks about this.

"I don't like your face." she says.

"Why don't you like it?"

"It's OLD. You have wrinkles, crow's feet by your eyes."

There is a mirror nearby. I go up to it, and I take a good look. Ellie is right. I have TONS of wrinkles, and crow's feet by my eyes.

"You're right." I say. "I have some wrinkles, but most of them are actually scars. The scars of life."

Ellie laughs at this. Because I am not offended by her, she decides I'm okay, being an adult.

That Night

I was thinking about us fighting in Paris. On that night it rained, at about 2 AM, when I was outside by the balcony watching the silent streets. Soft night rain, me smoking a cigarette -- the smoke curling away caught the light of a distant street lamp. Then I heard someone who sounded young and a bit drunk, splashing down the Rue de Rivoli...going home or back to their hotel I hope. She was American, and sang walking fast, "...but not I...I will survive...as long as I know how to love, I know I'll be alive..."

I smiled in the dark, because whenever I think I'm alone on the street, I sing songs like that also.

Poem - these birds/ sing

these birds
sing

dog barking

a car down
the street


Oak Park
July 17

Poem - Far

we swam out
the boy and i

is this too far
he asked

no i said
we're fine

so we swam
farther out

this must be
very far

the boy said
to me

yes it is
but we can swim

out a little more
a little more

see how it is
okay

the boy saw
he could swim far

but still be safe
and he was happy

Luckiest

He was really upset about one thing, and this made his life miserable. He was losing everything he owned, anyways -- he just didn't expect to start to lose, literally, everything else that was important to him. But when he sat down, he realized, when he was successful and had money and things, he was fat, bored, and stalled. Status and things never made him happy, no matter how hard he worked for them. When he was successful, he had no friends. When things were on track, he never did anything for himself. When life was what it should be, he sacrificed his life for the mundane enjoyment of others.

Now that he his truly losing nearly everything he loves, he has an odd sense of freedom. His teacher told him that whenever anything breaks, or if anything spills, this is a sign of tremendous good fortune. He sees that his whole life is in the process of breaking, and so he might be the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the whole world. Imagine that.

Poem - but many things go away and/ never return

i saw the moon last night
it was not a half moon
no

it is obvious to me
that it was actually broken
in two

i've been told time heals
all wounds no matter how bad
they hurt

i'll take solace in this and wait
but many things go away and
never return

7/15/2009

Poem - like a machine

so here it is
a new moment i

want to say beautiful
but i can't be

positive or optimistic
due to my own

faults which are so
obvious and

glaring i can't believe
i managed to get into

this moment but
the universe is like

a machine & keeps
grinding along no

i do not feel sorry for myself
i only tremble in

wonder and awe as
the next moment unfolds

Robert S. McNamara

Robert S. McNamara is gone, at 93. He died in his warm bed. By his decisions, he ended up killing 53,000 American solders. And 3 million Vietnamese civilians. He knew the Vietnam conflict was not winnable by about 1967, but let it go on. He knew, also, that ultimately, Vietnam did not matter, in terms of the containment of Communism around the globe. What a guy.

Monday's Obscure Sumerian Proverb, no. 1

"A goat can be made to go down into water; in beer it becomes stuck."

Proverbs: Collection 4
Segment A
4.12 -- 17

Inks - From the Plaza NYC - Easy

Inks - From the Plaza NYC - Bikes

When was the last time you helped....

We are required to help others, like we are required to help ourselves. Why?

Buddha, when he reached enlightenment, could have decided to not help all sentient beings, lost in delusion, lost in samsara. But Buddha decided to get involved, and help others directly, like he helped himself. He didn't say, "Every moment is pure, therefore nothing needs to be changed." and then smiled at the brutality of the world as merely a varied manifestation of the innate purity. No, he gave the rest of his life wandering and teaching anyone who would listen, the way to realize the end of suffering. He was engaged, guided by this ultimate realization of the nature of mind.

We need to follow Buddha's example in being engaged with the world -- tangled in other people's lives, helping to alleviate suffering. The moment is perfect, yes. But hiding out on a cushion, at a retreat center for years and years, is not being compassionate towards yourself, or others. Buddha was spat on, physically attacked, threatened in all manner of ways, but he didn't quit. He had no permanent home. He gave it all up, so the message of compassion and love could be spread.

But I don't care what religion, or faith you follow! I appear to practice Buddhism, but that is a distortion and a exaggeration. When was the last time you helped out a complete stranger?