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

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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