PlentyOfPhish

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




.

Terrible Accuracy

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







.

Pops the Goon

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Always Imagined

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




.

Bodice Ripper - or - Thundering Romance Story

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

All I Need is One Spoon

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

Asking Three Times

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

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

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


-----

Quail Meadow
July 2013

Poem - The Flower Sermon

..... like this

.







/





`







.

....

Poem - I don't need to know the news

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

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

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

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

Then we are split by the life around us
because it isn't on the news

 

And the strong bright day

or trembling love will never be reported

----

Poem - at the end of a darkened street

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

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

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

avoidable these errors
because we rely on people and dreams

Poem - Astonishing

it was just a song
I listened to

the same song when
I first got to know you

and when I heard it
it reminded me of everything today

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

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

Poem - making food for me and you

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

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

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

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

and i should go to bed
to really sleep and dream

then it all will make sense

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

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

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




*

Quail Meadow
June 2013

Poem - Voices

in the middle of the night
dream voices speak crystal clear

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

lingering too the feeling of their certainty
and cheerful wisdom




8

Poem - Library of Alexandria

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

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



-

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

a. One

b. OM

c. How many lightbulbs do you see?

d. Does a dog return to its own vomit?



.

Researched

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

Poem - a little bluebird of happiness

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

tack it to the wall
so comical there it becomes real


8

Poem - A Dedication

(after Richard Brautigan)

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

------

Dedicated to Old Magazines
Water, and the Mineral Lead

Quail Meadow
2013

Poem - Just Like Now Just Like Now

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

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




.

Poem -- It Was Peaceful

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

or

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


------

Quail Meadow
May 2013

Poem - the person aiming/ the gun of their mind

i listen to radiohead
and i feel funny

hopeless and hopeful
perfectly ballanced

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

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

to this place now
in this poem?

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

Poem - White Shoes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How I liked working with you
twirling vines on a rake

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

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

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

Haans Onwerkelijk

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

noon
flat white

i can't
get past it

i can admire
not being able to get over it


----

Quail Meadow
May

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

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

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

Poem - To Your Feet

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

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

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

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

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

--

Quail Meadow
May 2013

Poem - I will be grateful

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

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

But there is a Ocean nearby
past grassy hills/

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

How does it melt
away like dew/

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

Poem - i know where writing comes from

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

Cake, Meanwhile

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

Cake, Meanwhile

Poem - a comet, a tear

a comet, a tear
hello!

where have you been
all these
years?


----

Quail Meadow

Poem - just like you do, too

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

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

----
Quail Meadow
April

Poem - To The Beach

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

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

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

i am swimming above you
to the beach

Poem - I Sit in Human Silence

I sit in human silence.

  - Merton

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

mouthwash
razors
shaving cream
food to eat
a pretty girl

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

Adopting a Puppy

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

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

Chris and the Kitten

Chris: Whatcha doing there?

Kitten: I'm playing!

Chris: With what?

Kitten: I dunno! It is skreegily!

Chris: It is paper!

Kitten: .....

Chris: You're playing with 'paper'.

Kitten: ....

Chris: The THING you are PLAYING with is CALLED PAPER! PAPER! PAPER!

Kitten: I'm playing!


-------

Quail Meadow
April, 2013

Lucifer fell because he/ was weak

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

I glide through traffic
with my middle finger
extended

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucifer fell because he
was weak


------

Irvine
2013.4

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

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

next site has a review for an anal plug

next site tells how 1960s architecture kills kids

i hate the internet
but now i'm posting a
poem

In Flight Rivalry

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

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

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

Getting Promoted / An Aria I Do Not Understand

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

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

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

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

Honk

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

Someone in a truck honks a horn.

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

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

*

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


----

Quail Meadow

Cats

There are two cats here, both orange. They are not mine to keep, just to take care of for an 'indeterminate period of time'. Has this ever happened to you?

In the evening, the kitten takes tentative swipes at my feet, it feels like the batting of butterflies. I figure if it was big enough, the kitten would be happy to chew my head to a bloody pulp. The bigger cat grabs the kitten and puts it in a headlock & bites the kitten hard enough on the nape of the neck to make the kitten cry.

I rescue the smaller cat. They eat wet catfood like an addict would go for cocaine. The kitten is also partial to nibbling on wires. Then one of them takes a mean shit in the catbox.

But whenever I get pissed off at them, I remember I was way more irritating, in about 100 different ways. I probably still am. So I trap them both under one hand each, and pet them until they don't feel like running away.

J Pants and Gyroscopic Personalities + How Tall George Washington Was

"Gyroscopic personalities!" I read on a webpage.

"Don't say it." says J Pants.

"What? What could I say?"

"Here we go." he sighs, folding his hands.

"The concept makes my head spin! But it keeps me steady."

"I thought you were going to say it was a concept not worth falling down over."

"Or it's for people who are up & up, and like to keep going."

"Horrible. But don't lose your balance."

"I'll just keep humming along here..." I say airily.

"Yeah, but then later in the day you start to wobble and whine." snorts J. Pants.

Here comes into the room.

"Wobble and whine?" I say, taking umbrage.

"WOBBLE AND WHINE!" shouts J. Pants, throwing down the newspaper.

"What on Earth are you two talking about?" says Here.

"Gyro -- oh never-mind! We were talking about how tall George Washington was! Six feet two."

"Six two? SIX THREE!!" shouts J Pants.

Oh God, why do we imagine such terrible things?

He has willpower like a rusty knife with a ceramic skull on the end of it. The ugly skull has glass gems in the eyes. The knife stinks. Oh God, why do we imagine such terrible things?

*

He has willpower like a white battleship. The ship sails proudly, fast and clean, and is the envy of the world. Oh God, why do we imagine such terrible things?

*

He has willpower like a Cathedral. When you enter the forbidding ornate doors, your are in another place of silence and fortitude. Statues of saints mesmerize you, and you fear damnation. Oh God, why do we imagine such terrible things?

*

His willpower is like a dread mountain that no one has made to the summit.  He will try, and die alone on the frozen approach. All who go with him will also perish. But he must go, he must try, he will beg and cajole other to assist him and believe, because he is fascinated with it. Oh God, why do we imagine such terrible things?

Poem - Yep

There's really no end to it
when someone leaves

They're still around
here and there

Like the echoes of storm
or happier times

But over time I suppose
you get used to them gone

They get replaced
or you'll forget

From time to time they may
crop up in dreams

You might say "Have not seen you
for quite some time."

And they say "Yep."

Mountain Kissing

"I thought that said 'Kiss the Mountain'. Sounds like the title to a Zen koan or Taoist story." I say.

"Mmmmm." says Chung Tzu.

"You'd need a big pair of lips to kiss a mountain." I can't help saying.

"With a mouth like yours, you'd probably be able to kiss two mountains." says Chung Tzu.

"Yeah, I guess a mountain would really like me. Even two."

Chung Tzu appears to not listen to this, but later I hear him chuckle.


-------

Quail Meadow

Frog School

"Frog School was closed from lack of difficulty." I say, reading from the computer internet.

"Or Frog School was not closed from lack of difficulty." I read.

"Or there is no Frog School." I say, reading.

"When people see something, they want it to be all kinds of things." says Chung Tzu.


----

Quail Meadow

Poem - hang out above me ' darling

hang out above me ' darling
so i can tell you ' how much i resent

my errors ' why not
we all desire an icon ' while we curse

Me and Mr. Miller

"Some of my best poems were threatening, so I threw them away." I say.

"Crazy threatening?" asks Mr. Miller.

"No, accurate."

"And you tossed them?"

"Because I didn't want them to offend."

"Don't ever throw writing away because it might offend someone, especially if it is the truth. True is mostly offensive."

"Why?"

"Because we're all full of ourselves."


-------

Quail Meadow
Late March

Lao Tzu Says "Not really."

"I have no discipline when it counts, and I am infinity capable of deluding myself." I say to the air.

"Not really." says Lao Tzu, petting the cat.


>

You Bet!

I bring a banana peel to the meeting and I deliberately throw it on the ground in front of someone. They see it, and they step on it as hard as they can. They end up slipping. I save them in the nick of time from a nasty spill.

"Geeze!" they say.

"I have a bag of them in the car." I lie. "I'm using them to ward off those who would do me harm."

"I feel sorry, whoever they are! Banana peels are very slippery!"

"You bet! Don't try this at home, kids!"

We laugh like idiots, and several people look over and wonder what just happened.

Poem - i mourn

i mourn ' my selfish monologue
not measuring ' to my experiences

o dreadful ' selfish wrapped up woe
when virgin day ' is above me unspoiled

----

3.25.2013

Poem - 3 years not a drop/ of the stuff

3 years not a drop
of the stuff

so many come
and say they want to
need to
have to
must
stop

you could go into shock
or turn away and say
this is a
problem
i should
not see

through my worry
about me i get close
to you
through
seeing you
i can start
to see

--

March 23 2013

Marginali

Ex favilla novam vitam

Summa votorum attigi

From the ashes new life

I have reached the summit of my desires

---

3.12.13

Irvine

Wanting to Know

We have a minor earthquake today, not a big one -- just enough to shake the monitors in my office. I joke, what would it be like to be in an earthquake, while it was snowing? Has it ever happened?

I find a video of a blizzard in Japan, while an earthquake tosses fishing boats around in the water like toys. The water is ominous and dark, while debris from the hills flow into the harbor like blood. Why do I want to know the things I want to know? 

Writing - Accepted

He can't get his password to be accepted, so he hugs his computer and says, "You're the best computer in the whole world. Really! The fastest, nicest, greatest computer ever." He tries to get into his mail again, and can't. "I love you so much." he says to his computer. Still, he can't get into his email. "Computers are one of the best things in all the whole wide world!" he exclaims, and is still locked out.

He pauses, and decides to sing the computer a long melodious song. He tries his password again, and it is accepted.

Poem - (for today)

the flashlight is love
and it works as long as we keep loving

so if you are in the dark
and feel like cursing or asking why

love a bit & see what happens

Only More Questions/ I Still Dream of Books

I miss wondering about things for years, and never being sure if I'd ever have the answer to what I was wondering about. Those were the days of 'pre-internet' -- where to find out about something you had to go to a library, and dig through microfilm, or old back issues of technical journals, periodicals, or newspapers. There was an element of chance, availability, of luck --you'd have to scour the shelves, or probably you'd heard of a book that enlarged in great detail what you wanted to know, but it was out of print, but someone saw it on a bookshelf in an apartment in San Francisco in 1966. Or if they had the book, you could only borrow it for an hour.

Before the WWW, I had dreams about books! Mysterious books. Elusive ones. A book seen out of the corner of the eye, a book that was supposed to be hidden. Books that were out of print, or lost, or ones that I saw once and never again. Now I can find out about anything, right away. But despite all the information, there are only more questions. I still dream of books.

Crows in the Trees

I move through the night in dreams. In there, everything is strange, yet perfect, if you accept what is going on. In the morning, I awake to a world that I wanted to fix, but it is broken, it cannot be fixed. I have so many things I wanted to be different, it wouldn't be that hard to have them be different, or people to be just a bit different? How could it hurt someone to change just a fraction, from their locked-in anger and hurt?

But I see. Out here, everything is strange, yet perfect, if I accept what is going on. I think in the dark. I turn on an electric candle.

**

Bang! Daytime. I see crows in the trees.


-----

Irvine
Mid February
2013

(No Title)

the moon shone on the ocean
like a cheap thrill

that is what i can do and ruin
all is see




.

Poem - OK

He is sick again.
The cat crosses his path, boom! Trip.

He sleeps.
He dreams all of Italy is plaid.

He dreams.
Christopher Columbus invented the ball-point pen.

He wakes up.
What is the difference of history here, or there?

What things appear double, triple, multiple, but are just funny reflections of an ideal that does not exist, beyond just being an ideal?

But then loving, truly, because it is a good thing to do.

Because stars don't. They just exist.

Because money does not. It just is here.

Because the sea does not.

Because there is no outward reward.

Doing the right thing, and never having it tracked or recorded.

Doing the kind thing, even if it heads you into oblivion

Right motivation, wherever it takes you.

OK

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

I go to the dentist and I get my front teeth fixed. They are astonishingly beautiful. It is like having Christmas, Hanukkah, New Years, my birthday, and the 4th of July attached to my gums. I smile at the receptionists on the way out, they cheer. I smile at the birds, the sky, the buildings, the road, the cars, people on bicycles, the clock, telephone poles, streetlamps, parks, trees, and semi-trucks, all the way home. Some folks stop and wave at me, I am sure of it! Hurrah! Back at the apartment, I smile at the cat, he does not seem to notice. I give him extra food, he rejoices as much as I rejoice. Hurrah! Hurrah! Fixed teeth!

Waking Up

My son is sleeping, I am silent as if in a silent movie. I make exaggerated movements to be quiet, and I wake him up. "Go to sleep!" I order. He rubs his eyes, then agrees, and goes back to sleep. The covers are heaped up, looking like a crumpled animal. I think about the dream I had, how the Earth was invaded, and extraterrestrial were milking humanity for grease. I wonder if my son will ever have the strange dreams I have.

All is Well

I wake up at 5.20 AM, in the dark -- I turn on an electric candle. The light flickers over Buddha's face, looking at me serenely, with a secret smile. Meditatively, I sit on the cushion for a few minutes, then I get up with inspiration and calm. All is well. Then I bang my foot on a toy truck and fall to the carpet, grasping my foot in agony. I take a shower in a seething disgusted mood.

*

After the shower I have calm again. I go outside on the balcony, the sky has a hint of the rose dawn, increasing. I feel, and then the sleeping dog on the balcony above me, unseen, begins to retch. He retches and retches, and then vomits a long glistening stalactite of snot and bubbles, that hangs gossamer-like in the clear dawn air. All is well.

----

Quail Meadow
02.03.12

Hole in One

I had a dream that God and Buddha were playing golf at Pelican Hill. They played with one bag, and I was the caddy.

Every time Buddha hit the ball, it would go where Buddha wanted it to go. Whenever God would hit the ball, he'd slice or get in a rough lie. God was very upset.

This kept on going for some time. God kept getting more and more upset.

"Why are you so much better than God at golf?" I asked Buddha.

Buddha looked at me, and smiled. "There is  no difference."

"So why is God not playing as well as you?"

"It is your impure vision."

Just then, God made a hole-in-one.

To Get There

He read and wrote challenging poetry as a young man, when he got out of college he didn't change the world with a bohemian free-as-air lifestyle -- he became a stock broker sometimes making 250,000 a month, putting most of it up his nose, with 4 kids and a beautiful wife. Then he burned all his bridges systematically ricocheting down through rehab, each one less nice than the last, divorced from the wife and her new boyfriends, and he missed his kids that he didn't know. Later he was a night clerk in a 7-11 in Laguna Beach, wearing an ugly second-hand Hawaiian shirt. He was looking at his reflection in the glass doors while it was still pitch black outside at about 4 AM, when a drunk came in and he confused the drunk for his reflection, but he was sober.

He knew he was sober then. He felt glad. He had nothing and he was so glad. He also knew he had become one of the epic inexcusable fuckups he always despised, and more. He was a piece of shit; by his hand he had ruined everything. He had no more game. He put his hands on the top of the glass counter and looked out.

Some words came into his head like they did all those years ago, but these were different words, not to impress or change him or anybody anymore. He wrote them down on a paper bag. The writing was terrible.

He could never write. But he could laugh about it. He had arrived in the present moment after taking about 35 years to get there.

"What you laughin about? " asked the drunk bum.

"Thinking." he said.

The sun came up over top-of-the-world.

Dreaming About a Flood in the Thai Jungle in 1975

I has a dream last night, I remember it because it was immediately before the alarm went off. In my dream I was in Thailand, back in about 1975, deep in the bush. It was early in the morning and it had just rained, the river had flooded its banks. There was not a dry place to stand on for miles and miles under swaying trees and deathless jungle. Nearby was some kind of trading post on stilts, blaring out American disco. When I heard that, I turned and saw Andy Gibb wading through the tea colored water with a pretty guide. He was wearing a loose grey scarf and khaki adventure shorts, and he was frankly amazed & amused at the same time, hearing his music being played in the middle of the Thai jungle right after the river had flooded.


----

Irvine
5.30 AM PST
02.01.13

Finding Bob the Rabbit

It is a very ordinary day in my life. The orange cat on the red couch looks at me like I have a ticking bomb on the top of my head. I boil water, and the cat keeps looking over my head, like something is there. Finally, I put my hands up over my head to where the cat is looking so fixedly. To my surprise, I feel something up there. My hands come down, and I have a small baby rabbit. I decide to name it 'Bob". Later, after I get over my high fever, which turned out be 103, Bob the Rabbit is gone.

Closer and Then Fading Away

Noon. $9,000.00 in blocks of twenties, suddenly handed to him from the teller, the bank full of people. Getting over the fear and the shock, still completely out of his mind -- the weight of all that money oppressing him. Nothing making sense now. He kept his head down, saying "Excuse me!" and "Pardon me! and "Excuse me!" urgently all the way to the glass doors, sunlight dazzling and the outside world beyond shining like Hell. No one stood in his way.

He walked for a long time. When he stopped, he didn't recognize what part of town he was in. He heard a siren coming closer, and then fading away.

**

Back in the bushes, on his knees, he had the money on the ground in front of his clasped hands, and he actually tried to pray -- to God. He tried to pray sincerely to God, and he said a prayer that he would make this money last forever and ever amen. $9,000.00 would last him forever, because he needed it and he could now make it last. He would. And then he got up, he felt a little better, and scored.

**

Two days later the money was gone.

He Told This Story a Few Times

He told this story a few times, about answering the question: "What is spirituality?":

"Shoot an arrow into a field, and find it. Paint a bulls-eye around the arrow. That is spirituality."

-----

Canyon Club
2012

Poem as a Note to Self & Padmakara

30000 guru yoga
earnestly i seek thee

slipping in the clutch
appreciating little things

-------

to PK
jan 13

Chung Tzu Points

"I feel like sometimes saying, 'I can't go on.'" I say to Chung Tzu.

Chung Tzu looks up at me and smiles a knowing smile, like it was a joke.

Bill Shakespeare comes in, papers and books sliding out of his arms and going all over the couch and the floor. He leaves everything askew and he sits on the couch, his feet on the coffee table.

"Need an idea quick on a new drama I gotta write."

"Ask him!" says Chung Tzu, pointing.

-------

Irvine
Jan 2013

New York Poem

small bits of ice
off the twigs of a tree

in the snow
by your feet

marked the meter
and style of 37th street

proves to me
the city is alive

and writes
in every weather

for beautiful women
like you

------

Gently Snowing all the Things in My Life

I was never angry at the rain, or when it snowed. But I was wrapped up with other things that happened in my life, that I had no control over. I want to turn over a 'new leaf', but you can't do it by wanting it, or saying you'll do this. So I think about it raining hard, and then turning to gently, gently snowing everything -- all the things in my life. In each memory of feeling, a snowflake falls without any noise, in glittery fine perfect flakes, forming a perfect carpet of impeccable white.

Laundry

I washed laundry, I sorted laundry, I tried to make sense of it. Laundry kept showing up all over the place. Under things, piled up. I kept washing it, drying it, I ruined it. I was ruining your life, like I was ruining the laundry. I didn't mean to ruin the laundry, or your life. Hospitals. Photoshoots. Fear. Almost making it to detox. There is a problem. Now no problem. I feel radioactive.

I aim to get better at everything, which is the whole problem -- unrealistic goals. I fold laundry, just my own laundry, and understand why people loathe me. They hate me because of my grasping, and how I can't stop.

----

For Rachel

Procrastination on Evil

"An evil man, who thinks his actions are good. Isn't that the very definition of 'Evil'?" I ask.

"Fancypats talk for 'Procrastination'." says Padmakara.



-----

Irvine
January 2013

Mt. Saddleback Has No Snow

"I know what I'll write!" I say.

"Yeah?" says Chung Tzu. "Mt. Saddleback has no snow."

-----

Irvine
Winter 2013

Just Out of Sight

George was having a good morning sipping coffee and going through email, when a few things happened related to other people. Then he felt he was Dead, in a Prison of the Self. A bit much, so he reined this in and settled with being a bit 'blue', probably 'under the weather'.

*

Looking at his reflection in the window, George wonders, "What would the King of France do?" The waitress gets his order wrong, on purpose, at the Kozy Mug Cafe, next to the historical post office on Lake Street.

Still looking at his reflection -- with a separate motion of the object perceived. He realizes with a shock he is not looking at his reflection, but an actual person, whose outwardly expressed fruitlessness matches his own.

Gosh gee whiz, what a crack up.

*

At the pet store, George looks at fish in a tank. They know nothing of being observed, and don't care or know to care. To the viewer, with the glass reflections, there could be double the amount of fish in the tank, even triple. There's no way of knowing how many fish you could see, or fundamentally what one's own reality is, if you couldn't change your point of reference.

"God help me be able to see things the way they are, and not how I want them to be!" says George devoutly, loudly, accidentally.

The shop girl out of sight just around the corner hears him, she smiles inwardly and pretends not to have heard anything special.

This Day a Pirate of Paper Crane

This day a Pirate, or a Paper Crane, he catches himself thinking. Spaghetti for breakfast with his six year old son, who methodically forces other race cars off the track in a video game.

"I'm being a bad guy when I play the bad car." his son says cheerfully. "It's okay. Sorry, Dad."


-----

Janruary Irvine
2013

Where Did You Go Road by Road?

I got here some time ago, but I'm still getting here, if you know what I mean. If you don't know what I am talking about, you'll be coming along to where I am soon, and you'll know all about it. In any case, all is well. Take this day for instance, what more could you want from it? All kidding aside -- all random wants that we think we take seriously, and we say they are not random and flightless. No? Ok -- If you want something or someone, go get it. Go get them. But later if they are not here, or it is not here, why not? And where did you go road by road? Do you think you'd be extra happy with extra? Why not be happy right now?

World Peace and Good Will Towards All People

Laguna Beach canyon. God, in passing, goes by in a red convertible with a beautiful blonde in the passenger seat. God gives me a wave of his hand.

*

Buddha is in the tree. Or I think he is in the tree. No -- not that tree, the other one.

*

Escondido, Rock Springs Road. I pick up St. Francis of Assisi, walking down a country road. The way is dangerous, too many cars. He does not seem to mind, looking over to the fields and the happy birds as he plods along singing a Psalm.

*

Buddha in another tree. No -- not that tree. The other one. See?

*

God is five rows over during Sunday 10 AM mass in Napa. He doesn't take communion.

I sidle over. "Why didn't you take communion?"

"Ha! You didn't, either."

"Who was the blonde?"

God looks at me over his reading glasses. "I've seen you all over the place. Laguna canyon, Napa, Irvine, Escondido. You certainly get around."

I decide to pray for world peace and good will towards all people.

The Spirit Makes Giddy the Imagination

I've become a walking mortuary with a bright bird floating above, a bird so bright in the upper window, you can't look at it very steadily. I have a new white Range Rover that is white like the bird, I can see it in the parking-lot, over my shoulder. God save me, I become more aware of my breathing. This is not even meditation, but clothed in the form of introduction. The Spirit moves in with my breath and out with my breath.

#

Hear the roar of the freeway with me, can you hear it? It is here. See the cold sunlight on the blinds, can you see it? It is here. I write a note in black ink on my wrist, to not forget, now forgotten. Do you remember? The world is big enough to remember and to forget. Awareness is bigger than words like 'mortuary', 'death', or 'God'. The white Range Rover is a vehicle, and so is the concept of the world. The Spirit sharpens the pencil, breaks the heart, flies the bird, makes giddy the imagination.


-----

Irvine
Jan 2

During the Christmas Party

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Christmas Eve Evening

On Christmas Eve evening it is raining. I walk into the apartment, and I close the door. As if someone was watching me, the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"You need to come over an screw me." says Claire on the phone.

"Screw?" I reply, and I look out my window. Claire is standing in the window in her underwear, across the street at the Bella Arms Apartments, with its delicate scroll-work on pastel faded facade. As I look at her curves I notice a lot of other people are looking at her, in the street.

"Come over an fuck me right now." says Claire on the phone, gyrating with special emphasis in the lighted window, for everyone to see.

I hang up, and I go to the bathroom. 

In the middle of my sojourn, I hear a knocking a the door. It is three pissed off policemen.

"Would you please go see the lady across the way?"

"Why?"

"Or we'll arrest her."

It is lightly raining. I go across the way, past the transmitting news-truck and the crowd of people, into the Bella Arms. When I slam the door to Claire's apartment, she wraps her legs around me.

"I'm glad you didn't want them to arrest me." says Claire, nibbling on my earlobe.

The crowd outside roars with approval, and this reminds me everyone on the street can see us. Claire  feels nice. What the hell can you do? I close the blinds.

ING Looking fo IST

ING got up, and felt good. ING decided to go looking for IST. It was such a perfect morning, with things flecked with snow, nice and brisk. The sun was pulling him along. When ING found out at the old apartment that IST had a new boyfriend, and they had gone out of town for the holidays, ING understood. At a cafe ING wrote IST a little text message, wishing her the best and for a Happy New Year, that he was thinking of her. She wrote back right away, and it said "Thanks, what a nice surprise to see your text, and you, too."

Poem - Poem Addressed to December About How I Should Take a Nap

dedicated to Richard Brautigan


december

i should
take a


nap.



-----

Irvine
December
2012

A Short Story About Being Blue and Thinking About Richard Brautigan and How His Mailman Probably Hated Him

When I feel blue, I think about Richard Brautigan, living in Bolinas. He lived there many years, and I'm sure it seemed a long time, with the drinking he was doing. The mailman probably hated him.


----

Irvine
December
2012

A Short Story About the Sky and Hearing a Helicopter

for Richard Brautigan

I hear a helicopter, then it is gone. The sky looks like marble.


-----

Irvine
December
2012

The Hardware Store is One Year Away

The alien spoke: "We all have short lives -- I will live 50,000 years. Over in the blink of an eye. So don't cry, you live on a nice little blue planet, and everything is within easy reach. Imagine if you lived like we do, with things like the hardware store being 1 year away, and a trip to the bathroom takes a month and a half."

Poem - Lorem Ipsum Dolor

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum."

                                                      --- Anonymous


And thus I obsess
I fret
and seek out puzzles that cannot
be known

as if it were
Understandable
or to be Understood
is to Understand

We must
be willing to admit
We'll know nothing
if we have to

in a broken funny
World

Fighting the American Civil War and the Siege of Stalingrad

I realize today that for about 18 consecutive years, I have been fighting the American Civil War in my head, and also participating in the Siege of Stalingrad. This explains my reading material: all about the American Civil War, and Stalingrad. I swore that I was not up to anything, but it was suspicious -- in the recent past I'd purposely read some wildly off-topic books about medieval Japanese origami or environmentally friendly pesticide-free gardening to prove to myself I was not fighting the American Civil War and the Siege of Stalingrad. But luck is in my corner -- I found a 12 step program called Vicariously Historical Anonymous, which is a blend of AA and Al-Anon, and I'll go to my first meeting when I'm done with the Second Battle of Bull Run and the retaking of the Red October Tractor Works.

Press-Conference with the Secretary of the Inferior

The Secretary of the Inferior holds a press-conference. He mumbles under the hot lights, bobbles a stack of notes, drops them on the floor, picks them up out of order. Very uncomfortable in his cheap suit, the reporters harass him. This is the Secretary's second meeting with the press, the first one was an unmitigated disaster, quite off topic -- it rapidly became unprofessional and very personal. This time, gallantly, the Secretary of the Inferior attempts to play along. But he becomes mired in his own words, his head begins to drop, he looks down, he mumbles, ashamed.

Poem - (no title)

desparate for a smoke
i have a roaring headache
i watch john carter of mars
i hate it but watch it

quitting smoking i can't think
like evel knievel the pain
zooms up the ramp
it won't clear the jump

down down down
i smile and laugh feathers
i am bubbles i am sea foam
i surrender

Humans Are Very Bony

We run a medical-spa, we turn our customers into hot-dogs. Average healthy person makes 200 of them --  highest quality -- tastes like veal. We sell them in China. Only 200, per victim, you ask? Yeah -- humans are very bony.

Poem - the growing clout/ of dreams

the growing clout
of dreams

more sleepers
become rich

and have no
recall on how


-----

to the San Jose Mercury News
11.09.12

Poem -- the farther away you get the slower it seems

you're going away
the farther away you get the slower it seems

new things come between us
the farther away you get the slower it seems

memories fade
keen funny details blunt
every day becomes more normal
more staid

the farther away you get the slower it seems

Poem - the stopping place

the stopping place
on the side of the road
just hidden by a bend

far enough away from town

over there an old mattress
that looks like a huge
shrugged off skin

bottles and toilet paper
spent cartridges bullet holes
and condoms

--------

Inyo
1993

Poem - Dream Bike

in the middle of the night
you wake me up with a call
i was in a dream that i built a long bicycle
and everyone in the dream world
who saw it was frightening
they liked it because the bike
was metallic electric green

we talked and i fell back asleep
but the transportation was lost to me
and i know so are you