J. Pants Helps Me Get Over Things/ Chuck Norris is Chuck Norris/ Haircut

"It hurts dreadfully sometimes." I confess to J. Pants.

"It hurts dreadfully sometimes." mimics J. pants "Boo-hoo."

"What would Chuck Norris do?"

"What? Kick a hole in the wall, I guess."

"Sounds like Chuck Norris."

"Chuck Norris is Chuck Norris. You, my friend, are an idiot."

"So what should I do to get over this?"

"Stop being a fucking pussy."

"Ha ha."

"I mean it. Goddamn miracle boy."


***

I go out and get a haircut. When I get back, J. Pants is still in the apartment.

"Nice haircut." says J. Pants.

"Thanks."

"You know what your fucking problem is? I know now."

"What?"

"You have too much spare time on your hands."

"Is that it?"

"Yes and no."

"I'll work on it."

"GHA HA HA HA HA!" laughs J. Pants.

Me and J. Pants - or - Y.F.R.Y.D.

J. Pants comes in and sits down. He cocks his hat back and plops his boots on the top of the table.

"I've been reading your fucking blog. Jesus H-Christ! You've been writing a lot of depressing shit!" he says.

"I'll try better." I reply.

J. Pants looks at the ceiling, pulls at his red suspenders, and purses his lips.

"I don't fucking believe you." he says.

"Why not?" I ask him, innocently.

"You sorry bastard! You like what you've been doing!"

"The lousy writing?"

"Yeah...lousy writing, lousy goddamn lifestyle -- too! It is like a drunk who gets off on being a fucking drunk AND THEN THEY WRITE DRUNK MONOLOGUES ABOUT BEING A FUCKING DRUNK!"

"I did that once." I admit.

"YOU'RE FUCKING RIGHT YOU DID!" says J. Pants.

Poem - No Bottom or Top

i look for a lost beer billboard
like another looks for a lost flower
on a city skyline
the color of cement

tonight like last night
the big dipper will rise over my balcony
bigger than the entire city
with no bottom or top

Poem - At First

there is no negotiation with what is
therefore anything other than acceptance is a joke

the good news about this
is you can learn from what is

and be scrubbed clean of
stultifying yearning

at first you may be cold
but later you know you will feel warm

Too Good to Pass Up

I'm going about my business, and I read online that some condemned and notorious criminals from the 17th, and 18th centuries would get executed and have people make books out of their skin. In many cases, small books, for whatever reason. Some of these editions are on display in museums around the world. I guess they would be, somewhere. That kind of story and object of interest is too good to pass up, if you are running a museum.

Poem - A Double Whammy

financial jaws get tighter
after the breakup

when we are down to nothing
god is up to something they say

but oh me oh my a broken heart
and a broken pocketbook!

Poem - Free Time

email is stupid
so i write poems to you

i sleep all night
i get everything done

i have more time to waste
looking up useless things

i work work work work
i go to meetings

i smile like a mute
i look like an unopened book

you'll probably never read this
but if you do

a long long time
will have passed

Poem - USS Arizona

one sunny morning in hawaii w/ not much going on
a bomb fell down the smokestack of the uss arizona
and it was sunk/ nobody thought that would happen
on that day

one sunny morning in laguna beach w/ not much going on
you walked past me when i was at a cafe & you smiled
that particular way/ later when my life was blown up
i thought about the uss arizona

Poem - Silence

number no longer in service
you hang up and look at the keyboard

the silence becomes deafening
the betta fish keeps sleeping in the kitchen

feeling resigned and angry at the same time
you change the water in the fishbowl

you think it would be easier
to have two fishbowls

alone in the apartment you have done this
all without saying one word out loud

------

3.28.12

Very Nice Said the Moon

On the first day of spring, at dawn, I go outside and the first thing I see is the crescent moon just risen over the edge of the horizon. Overheard, the sky was still almost black, with a gradual lightening down by the tips of the mountains. The moon was so nestled perfect from the rising it had done, I could see it could talk.

"Hello." said the moon.

"Hello." I said back.

"Did I startle you?" asked the moon.

"Oh, bless me, no." I said.

"Are you sure?" asked the moon, going higher.

"I was surprised, but gratified." I said.

"Very nice." said the moon.

----

Spring 2012
West of Irvine

Poem - Barely Fitting

big moon skirts the big dipper
thoughts like contrails
as a sedan comes home below
the garage opens and we see
a tuscan landscape painting
barely fitting on the wall of the
single-car garage

When I Was Traveling Secretly Between Turin and Paris

Last week, when I was traveling secretly between Turin and Paris, I reminisced on how the Government reads everything we write online with little software robots -- in the name of National Security. I had 4,000 baseballs in a handbag next to me, with a miniature ladder made out of pure pressed moon-sushi. Six pairs of identical twins were on the plane, and they all ordered the same vegetarian meal. The in-flight movie was a delightful story about a white dog, a green rhinoceros, and a red penguin with mystical powers, saving post WWII Tokyo from total annihilation.

Meeting Giorgio Armani in New York

In New York, on the spur of the moment you borrow a friend's Armani coat to go to the market two blocks down. You do not particularly care for the Armani coat. The clasps & buttons are too big and the belt-buckle is ostentatious.

Halfway to the store, by pure insane chance, you meet Giorgio Armani. A private car pulls quickly to the curb -- the recognition is unavoidable, he is too close. He notices you, wearing one of his designs & holds his arm out, preventing someone from exiting the vehicle after him.

Giorgio Armani is so close you catch a whiff of cologne, and observe the fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

"Do you like my coat?" he asks you.

"Yes, I do," you lie.

Armani narrows his eyes but smiles, because he knows you are lying.

How Efficient. How Nice.

Hard-charging Martin W. passes out AT THE END of a long night of drinking, after staggering back to his Manhattan apartment. He comes to & sees the cleaners have been there as he was unconscious, organizing and straightening everything up like nothing had happened like magic elves. The cleaners even vacuumed and straightened out him, while he was passed out, and he has a fresh lemony smell. A discreet bill is pinned on his lapel, with a smiley face. How efficient. How nice.

Poem - Where We Are

it is like this thing
the moon

a cotton-ball
or a rabbit's tail

or looking inside
you or me

arms relaxed
faces upturned

not knowing
what year it is

or where we are

From My Notepad

What did you do when you attended the grand opening of the Museum of Sex?

Is there a Museum of museums?

Statement:
Sex is like shaking hands with someone with your whole body, but instead of using your hands you use a _____ and a _____.

Poem - think of me

i give you cookoo for coco-puffs

i give you stalingrad

i give you egypt

i give you lamborghini on the cote d'azur, on a starry night with a beautiful blonde who wants you& money, power, fame -- a nice italian suit of imported silk from china. exclusive reservation to a villa overlooking a black ocean

coffee

dump trucks

money

death

weeping

roller-coasters

there's nothing i can't do, and nothing that i do not know about, thoroughly acquainted with the machinery of the human soul. i ran the french revolution. i helped washington cross the delaware. london was bombed. the underdog won the kentucky derby

i made all of this out of the dust of a exploded star. because you wanted me to. because you begged me to. because you said, go ahead, it will be alright. because you said you'd love me, no matter what. and i trusted you. and i love you and you love me

think of me

think of me often and i am not far away

Poem - The Far Away Light

the fields were far away
and beyond this i saw a bright light

from an isolated house
from a grain silo
from a navigation tower
or a bar
or a secret rendezvous

from whatever it was

and you may wonder
what the place feels like there
who lingers
or how the night moves

the kind of light you pass
in the night of the imperial valley
hurrying to get to san francisco
or back to LA

and when you are miles away
you wonder what the light was
and what secrets
you will never know

Poem - My One Poem including the Judges of the Supreme Court of the United States of America

they all look competent
in black robes
and they sit still
by a red soft drape

Poem - Meditation

Meditation
the ordinary mind produces ordinary outcomes

the extraordinary perception of things
sees that even the ordinary mind
is inseparable from enlightenment

therefore ordinary and extraordinary outcomes
are like children guided by the loving parent mind

-----

A needle on a record groove does not have to have faith over whether or not it is playing, it stays in the groove, the record moves, and it resonates. The needle is designed to perfectly do what it does, all it has to be is be placed there -- everything is designed to work this way, for all things.

Irvine