Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category
lookin’ for my soul, oh, vagabond-buddha /
oh, hiawatha, wanna be with-ya /
which way, sistah / just call me mistah
starshine-superfly / don’t know why I jive
just stayin’ alive another day / another way
another sylvester-saint in the daisy-chain-
gang / cool-hand-luke no cahoots “what
we have here is failure-to-communicate”
whack––with a cane––ouch––down the hill,
bake me a cake / and put in a pill don’t
leave it in the rain don’t talk me out of
my imaginary pain / my imaginary pleasure
lookin’ for a leisure-suit at goodwill to
freak out my grrlfrien’ then-go-to-the-mall & buy some
bling-bling / wanna make her sing / so many
things get lost in the shuffle.
Else loved Where, and they ran away and got married.
They began a kingdom, called Elsewhere, and it was a place where
very many people, in all parts of the world,
wanted to be. It got pretty crowded.
And then No showed up.
No was shadowy, but handsome, and, well,
he had a certain magnetism. Where became mesmerized.
Poor Else, he suddenly lost Where, when she ran off
with No. Then Elsewhere wasn’t anywhere anymore.
And No and Where went to Nowhere land,
which is just 100 miles south of Neverland,
and they could not be found again.
life is fire
whether i am sound asleep
or totally wired
life feels more like going down a river
than driving down a road
with a map.
one way or another the river will take me
completely unaware of what is between now
The main thing about being alive
is, no one knows.
alligators lick the shore
near the lawn of the outdoor party
lightning bugs & cicadas & lanterns
of all colors other small lights
scattered magical all around
inhibitions drop like clothes
in a dressing room
& have one last look in the mirror––
I know nothing––
I have lived in its house for many years.
I have floated in its starless infinite liquid black ink with no compass and
no clue where I might be drifting, or if I am in motion at all.
I know nothing––
its sense of humor at unlikely times,
it’s sudden bursts of brilliance and peace,
its terors and night-sweats and lack of light that is darker then space,
darkness-beyond-darkness that takes you to the highway in the rain,
makes you want to live again,
makes you want to roll the dice with your one last gasp,
your last arbitrary wish, your last lucky penny,
roll the dice as you are falling
even if you may never see them land,
or know if they’ll come up lucky 7, or snake-eyes, or craps,
even if you know you may never know
let your shadow do the walking
little horse race
let your shadow do the talking
let your shadow take the hit
everything goes right through him
he don’t care
he so very flexible
on rocks, on water
stretched out at sunset
he always changing every which way
depending where the light is coming from…
or how many lights are on…
or, like a flash.
and when you play with him
and dance with him
and pose for pictures with him,
he don’t mind all that.
he is changeable.
he don’t pretend he’s only one person.
he don’t pretend to have so much substance.
he knows he can’t hold onto anything.
he knows he’ll disappear when the lights go out.
rain erase me and clean my face as i stare into the sky as you fall.
rain come find me and bring your clouds the sun is burning into my skull.
rain let me taste you let me drink you and become you carry me with you to the sea.
rain help me call you help me see you and dance with you , your tiny drops all over me.
rain my sweet sister , my brother , my mister , my mama , my saviour , my disaster.
rain. yes. welcome. welcome sweet rain. it has been so long. my skin needs you.
rain come again and stay a little longer and wash me away and bring me back in
from the rain.
now inside the thunder whispers of another room.
disjointed arabesque of mountainous fortitudes.
wallover sychophants like Houdini penumbra.
whichever way upside-down space is everywhere.
fire burns always since time began counting.
everyone loves a disguise when running from the law but
no one can run from the silver lined epiphany of our deliverance.
(senseless maybe? i had to look up
half the words after I’d written them to
see what they meant, or fit, or get a clue
to what I was talking about, but, I’m not
sure I did… but I’m not sure I didn’t either).
outside in the dark
morning is blooming again.
my sleep is fitful
why isn’t it friendlier––
it is so restless . . .
where does it want to be?