Poem - the pot boils

the pot boils
i lit the fire under the pot

man was i satisfied
until the pot burned me

woe is me
goddamn the ugly pot

the fire
the spoiled happiness

Poem - turn from this and life is open

mysteries arise in the heart
some are horrible without consciousness

you could imagine a shining white mountain
that you will never reach

a view from the top
that will answer all the questions you ever wanted

turn from this and life is open
and it is 9 am with plenty of things to do

--------

Geheimnisse entstehen im Herzen,
das einige ohne Bewusstsein schrecklich sind.

Sie konnten einen glänzenden weißen Berg dich vorstellen,
den Sie nie erreichen.

Eine Ansicht von der Oberseite beantwortet alle Fragen,
die Sie überhaupt wünschten.

Umdrehung von diesem und vom Leben ist geöffnet
und es ist 9 morgens mit viel der Sachen, zum zu tun.

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

5.27.11

Monster Patrol

Daniel is 4 and has a plastic sword. It is 8.30 in the morning, and his big sister has gone to school. Danny tells me he is hiking around, looking for bad people to kill. We're in a small 1 bedroom apartment in Newport Beach, but for him, the location to patrol is 10,000 square miles of frozen wastelands, arid deserts, deep jungles, tombs, and insanely high mountains were monster snowmen live. Some of the snowmen are friendly, it should be noted -- they are his allies. After some adventures, Dan puts on his fluffy bath robe over his pajamas, gets his fire truck book and says, "This is just the perfect thing I need right now." "No more fighting?" I ask him. "No -- the monsters and I agreed to take a break for 7 days. Whew!" says Dan. "You can say that again!" I reply.

The Giant 300 Foot Tall Cat

"So before I fire you, why were you late for work this morning?" asks my boss. We're sitting in his office, as if I was not going to be fired, his feet on the desk.

"There was no way I could have made it to work on time this morning." I say truthfully, for the first time.

"And why is that?" asks my boss.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I might as well."

"The freeway was completely blocked at the exit to the office by a 300 foot tall cat."

"Jesus Christ!" explodes my boss. "Is that the best fucking excuse you can come up with?"

"It's true." I say. "Look out the window."

My boss disdainfully looks over his shoulder, sees the giant 300 foot tall cat in the park next to the hi-rise, and screams.

Cat

he cheerfully cracked the secret of the universe
and nobody believed him because he was
a cat

.

.
.

Which Reminds Me

Which reminds me of a dream I had last night. There was some kind of problem, and the solution for it was quite simple and sane:

1. Dress up like a banana
2. Eat bananas

If you have any problem you cannot solve, try those two steps.

Poem - Another Dawn

another dawn
peeks over the hill
and lays over the field

the details roughed out
every swoop of a bird
like an aria

Poem - Fine Golden Cotton Candy

--- for Shel Silverstein

the first place sunlight
touches in town
is an empty lot
with a freeway over it

boy i like that place
where the day is so new
it is supernatural

tomorrow i'll bring a pail
and catch the first rays

i bet you what i catch
will look like fine
golden cotton candy

Poem - Christs and Buddhas

I see Christs and Buddhas in the air. I was
not looking for them, and it should be a beatific
vision, right? But it is crowded in the yard,
like a happy gathering of linebackers in a too-small room.

With the heavies, I happen to be there, the runt,
just lucky to be here. Not a blade of grass
disturbed. Birds flew, the regal Black Phoebe
ate a fly.

-----

Dawn
Escondido

Poem - Damascus

in damascus the song rises up
several times a day
from old
stone walls pigeons all fly
at the same time
in a feathery rush

oh here i am
i wasn't thinking
i wasn't
even here
until i knew i wasn't

i know i'll forget
and remember again
and again
like a grain lost by god
between sun and stone

time will move on
these walls will tilt more
they will
be stained more black
the birds will soar
into the air with the song

as a new person stands here
i do not know

Poem - I water the Lawn and I go see

I water the Lawn and I see
seashells entwined with rays and lyrical
swaying curtains of kelp. A school of
sardine-fish trip me. I smile shyly
at a beautiful mermaid who has
gold flecks in her long hair.
What is the
problem with this, when my neighbors
imagine terrorists under
the bed or hicks
with cleavers in the garage?
The day sky is as blue
as a robin's egg, the light clear
as it is full of heat. I see in it the
walkable thin bridge between here
and Heaven, while
you may be convinced
a bomb will fall through it
like a whore off a diving board.

-----

50311
Sunset Heights
Escondido

Poem -- The phone does not ring. It means

Das Telefon klingelt nicht. Es bedeutet,
Ich bin nicht in Schwierigkeiten, und ich bin
nicht in der Liebe.

Warum muss es so sein? Andere sind bekannt
für ihre immense Eitelkeit zu
diese Dinge.

Oder ist es weil ich beschlossen haben
wie leben schwach liebenden
Sein, klapprigen & traplike.

Pfui. Wie miserabel und schlecht
wenn dieses zutreffend ist. Nach außen ein boyscout,
innerlich ein Räuber.

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

The phone does not ring. It means
I'm not in trouble and I'm
not in Love.

Why must it be so? Others are known
for their immense vanity towards
these things.

Or is it because I have decided
to live as a weakly loving
being, rickety & traplike.

Ugh. How miserable and evil
if this is true. Outwardly a boyscout,
inwardly a mugger.

Poem - Death Life Love / Tod Leben Liebe

i.

water
stomach
window
death

tree
mountain
water
shining
death

cafe
cup
money
death

night
star
wind
death

ii.

house
life

earth
life

friend
life

iii.

mother
love

father
love

silent

--------

i.

wasser
magen
fenster
tod

baum
berg
wasser
glänzend
tod

kaffeehaus
tasse
geld
tod

nacht
stern
wind
tod

ii.

haus
leben

erde
leben

freund
leben

iii.

mutter
liebe

vater
liebe

schweigen

Poem - To the New Spring Bride and Groom

we the couple after the rain
outside we walk
in the sweet petrichor
coffees-to-go snugly
zarfed

in the park a spot
of chanking offsets
the scroop of a bridal gown
for a picture w/ groom
backward armsayes*

but the knot is tied
and fingers are ringed
with the slimmest gold
glabellas (or not) to come
i wish them well

the woman sports a feat**
and the man takes badinage
but no roorback imminent

this union as sublime and
toylike as a nef
yet neither have taken to it lightly

and both are bold yet shy
brave yet hesitant
they will go home tonight
together
alone for the first time


-------

* armholes
** a loose lock of hair

Easter Afternoon Gypsy Proverb Dreams

I take a nap on Easter afternoon, and right before I'm all the way awake, I'm dreaming about 'gypsy proverbs' while looking at a grainy black & white television image of the tarmac of an airport somewhere in the former Soviet Union. A husky voice, with a strong accent says:

"A man will be known of how lovely he is to women, by the number of dogs they have given him as gifts of appreciation."

Poem - All of This

at the circus i burned
the apple cart

i kicked apples
in people's faces

i broke all the rules
and i missed the cart

the circus left without me
as i slept

i woke to empty streets
and i wept

i wandered interlocking fields
like vincent van gogh

at night a million stars
looked on silently

god should have admired
my bravado

but there is no escape
even in the attempt of escaping

(To hear the audio of this poem, click here.)

Poem - Colonel Whisper

shhhh shhhhhhhhhh
it is my friend colonel whisper
steely eye
no salute required

he stalks in and sums up
the clasp with one
imperious glance of 'not in charge
but should be'


-------

To ______________ __________
From ____________ ____________

Poem - Circling

serenaded by vivaldi
and glenn gould fugues

he lives on tomatoes
green tea and broccoli

and what he really wants
while meditating

is knowing how to live
without poverty of imagination

like being more than
and educated hamster cage

like entering the
human family

or a girlfriend w/ motorcycle
& coffee

*

alas he reads and dreams
of mystical emergencies

not being roused by phone
email or chat

Poem - Poem to Cat

the cat does not sing
he does not bark

he lays where
the cat nip was poured

,


he looks at me
with amber eyes

and waits for me
to stop typing


,


i ask him a question
but he still looks

there is absolute
looking here


----

10.29 AM
4.12.11

(For an audio recording of this poem, click here.)

Poem - Nap for Lunch

for lunch
i take a nap

i dream
i am a sailor
from the 1600s
on jeopardy
about to answer
a tricky question
from god almighty
about the nature
of the universe
while the set
is on fire &
the host of the show
converts to
a cannibalistic
sect of a cargo-
cult

i wake up
and i am not
amused

i check my
computer

it says i am
disconnected
so i re-
connect