thursday before christmas

thursday before christmas
a murder of crows circle  

cawing loudly flying up 

flying down but not landing 

i watch them from

the kitchen window 

it reminds me of 

this plastic skull i have

almost life sized with 

lights inside it 

the skull is black and 

sinister 

the lights glow gently

change colors slowly 

deep blue purple orange

yellow blue green 

burning in the depths

i always wanted to show

this skull of mine to a

dear friend 

i think he would have

liked it 

he would have understood

i keep it on my desk

i think of my friend 

the crows have gone 

------

For Jack W

see yourself with a new car/ the beautiful suede of the seats

see yourself with a new car

the beautiful suede of the seats

see yourself as an emperor

about to be killed by the mob

see yourself as a farmer 

with hundreds of acres to mow

image the ocean's embrace

cold absolute and dark 

visualize a clear winters day 

sparkling bright and 20 below 

see into the edge of a volcano

churning lava steam swirling

abide between extremes 

like bubbles in the stream

not harmed by anything

flow quickly or slowly 

through the savage rapids

waterfalls off the highest cliffs

float 

become like water

go into the earth

turn into air 

become one with the sky

some dash up poems/ with frightening lucidity

some dash up poems
with frightening lucidity 

i hope to strike lines of

errors while i drub

we could sit under a decent moon

while they forge on to literary heaven

0

he said i wanted to go on the journey

he said 

i wanted to go on the journey
but the way got in the way

which isn't an excuse

the way turned out 

to be very big 

---

Poor Phil's

Oak Park IL

i wandered in thoughts and didn't realize it

i wandered in thoughts and didn't realize it
until years had past but catching myself

laughing about all the wasted potential 

what i really could have done when seeing

where i am now frankly amazed at the outcome

still like a tree or still like an owl i heard  

last night and all the angels that flew regularly

all over the earth helping you and me just

in the nick of time we all think but the angels

are professionals in hope diligence and faith 

let me lay out all my wares in your mind

they are baubles and trinkets do you like any 

here are three prefect nights and one stainless dawn

here are all the stars i ever saw and a few sweet lies

take them with both hands they are free

---

LB

10.19.25

it doesn't get any better than this

behold the joyful beach goers
hiding their smokes and their drinks 

nipping and sucking on them 

large colorful towels with music 

mirrored sunglasses of faces

bellies on the sand 

the whole universe takes on a 

a grand fuckin' unctuous tone 

it doesn't get any better than this

it doesn't get any better than this

my father/ my son

my father
my son

hurry hurry

i am going to you

or you are coming

to me 

.

.

.

there is 
no urgency

i have decided 

to hold out

timelessly 
with unending love

----

in the past

in the past 

way past i was able to see

things clearly with out a lot 

sentimentality so i thought

i was sorry if it hurt folks

this truth i could see but sometimes

they needed to know  

what i knew

now i realize

i am drowning in sentimentality

as i always have been 

and in denial of this 

my excuses of clear thinking

were flimsy delusions 

that have wavered all these years

like fields of grass

----

LB

i don't believe/ we go to any heaven

i don't believe

we go to any heaven 

because heaven

is now 

as for hell

god rehires us on

the spot if

we ask

---

Boot Lake 

monday morning at the beach high tide

i.

monday morning at the beach high tide 

but almost no surf

waves as high as my ankles

the sun rises higher

peeks into the cove

light spilling down into a pool of sea

a curl of rocks & swaying seagrass

creates a translucent dream in water

chased with bubbles and foam 

like a place i'd assume

a goddess or miss nyad would emerge

so chaste so shy delicately dripping 

ii.

an enclosed getaway seen from the sand

table for two at an open double window

i've never seen it occupied

the rendezvous faces the sea on a cliff

there's art in the walls and cunning signal flags

sometimes they leave an outside spotlight on

it's a sodium arc oldish yellow pointing down

into the void to a spot on the sand 

they might sip tea at dawn's first light

or late in the night eat rare steaks

otherwise it seems like holding space

holding space commanding a sweet view

holding emptiness and being far away 

i am that tragedy and so are you 

iii.

high tide receding with gentle waves

at the place where seaglass has been gently placed

he reeks of cigarettes and marijuana

i wonder if he can smell it

we all reek i assume mine is sweet

to some i surely offend

now that i think about this

all i can do is sense

he faces the sea he takes a selfie coughs

he reeks and the sea reeks

but the morning light is right

near him i find purple sea glass of the rarest kind

under where he stood i find a piece that looks like a crystal

and dogs run free the pristine beach is marked

but no matter while we are away it will redraw

our stink molding somewhere else

and more seaglass but i must go

we all must go

i never had it so good

for instance today

like last saturday

in the morning
i'll buy you a large coffee
and a croissant 

at the french cafe

down the street 

with locals 

and tourists

you won't remember

to ask until we get to 

the boutique just like

every saturday morning 

there's the same plane

flying north and 

the same strong sun

and hint of breeze

then i'll give you

the coffee and croissant

with a zarf on the drink 

& some added cream

i'll drive to the library

just like last time

and get new art books

i tried my whole life

to become something 

like every sports car

i see with the top down

i thought wanted 

what i could imagine 

and there could be

no unhappiness

in plotting

no regret in

gilding the lilly 

no regret dooming

my enemies 

now in this life

i know what 

saturday is like 

every saturday

has nothing to do

with conquering 

or getting even 

settling scores

i see so many

with a distant

look in their eyes

i never had it so good

I want to write a story about how I’m going to remember you

I want to write a story about how I’m going to remember you, in a narrative like Kurt Vonnegut would imagine -- first we pull you magically out of thin air, then we put you into smoke, then vapor, then moisture, we put you into ashes and with a flash you go into an old body that is very still and pale. Under a sheet, then Voilà! You breath and you spend a few days visiting and then from time to you stay in different hospitals always getting a little bit better, stronger, more clear eyed. You tell stories, you help friends. Then as the years go by you get younger and younger, have a happy marriage and interesting career starting as a know it all but always learning something new every day. Giving up knowing it all, all along, finding one laughs more. Admiring waterfalls, mountains, rockets and rodeo queens. A fast car. Bunches of roses for lovers. Dreamy nights. Bright stars. Becoming thirty then twenty then teen, running and jumping and laughing and finding a crush then school, home, mom and pop in brighter and ever tightening circles, dawns and starry nights, orchards and field, your favorite dog, you’re small and fast and you sense the rhythm of all little things like waving strands of grass and polliwogs in the creek and you’ve got your blanket and then soon you’re being held close, everything amazingly given to you, now in such a safeness you don’t know where you are you’re in solace that gets bigger and bigger and even more peace, a humming and thrumming, until these definition between you and bliss becomes totally moot and even irrelevant.. sweet motion until there’s no sound no dark no light not taste touch thought or sensation, no self and no not self … just bright and aware and full of a seeing, wise delight without any boundaries that goes on beyond infinity and hope and fear


For Jerry Thompson
1935 - 2025

it is like being in a new world

it is night

i feed the neighbor's cats

they are on vacation

i have a key

i go into someone else's

apartment

i try not to pry or look

around

they have the old electric

stovetop we wish we had

i feed the cats to the

specified amounts

it seems to be quite a bit

for just two cats  

but that is what they say

they want for the cats 

when i'm done i wash 

the cans and the fork 

i still try to not let

my eyes roam around

when i go out and

lock the door

i stand with my back

to the apartment 

and i just stare 

at the courtyard

for about three minuets

it is like being in a new world

imagining they see this

view all the time 

into my day

into my day

a struggle 

or a battle

oh god let

it be neither

of these

let my day be

clear and free

light as a feather

with only good

intentions if 

i let it be

"Was that you lingering in my peripheral vison?" I ask Chung Tzu.

"Was that you lingering in my peripheral vison?" I ask Chung Tzu.

"Was that you trying to not be seen? Sulking about?" says Chung Tzu back. 

"I feel burned!"

"You are not fire, not of fire, around fire, in fire. But even with fire, or no fire, there is no burning. Look to the ashes."

I stop and I give him a sincere bow. Chung Tzu grunts in agreement.

---

New Years Eve

2024

getting things wrong

getting things wrong
but because of my errors
my sin
i have a chance to make it right 

*

of forever

god the sculptor
chipping away parts of stuff 

flaking bits of me too in the way 

of forever

(he keeps smiling at me

so i'm not scared)

A Kind of Whimsy, Too

 "It is funny how I keep trying to leave here, and just then something different will come up every time and stop me. It is like I am in a dream, or in a coma in a hospital but I don't know I am unconscious." I said and everyone there smiled at the way I said that -- how familiar that would feel & how it was also a bit of a dramatic statement, but it had a kind of whimsy, too. We all smiled, even the ones who had animal heads, and then I woke up. 

But He Hoped Not

He was up before the sun came up. 

At the car dealership, while he was waiting for the brake job to be done, he noticed a woman had little buckles on her shoes, or slippers. 

Someone answered a phone. The dealership would be closing at 2PM, because it was New Years Eve. 

He heard a car salesman in the other room talking to a prospective customer: 

SALESMAN

What kind of vehicle were you thinking about? 

CUSTOMER

Well, this would be for my girlfriend ...

SALESMAN

I see! What kind of car do you drive? 

CUSTOMER

A Nissan Altima.

SALESMAN

Nice. Blah blah blah blah blah. 

He couldn't see the people talking. He wondered if the girlfriend was there too, just quietly standing there while the two guys talked, but he hoped not. 

he said

he said 

you don't have to give up to give up

or to know to know 

possess or not possess

for the purpose to grow

then he laughed 

*