Proudly Facing the Rivers and Lakes 


Close the door on the right
And open the door on the left

I give the rivers and lakes 
To you 
And the land and kingdom
To him

I
Sit on a cloud
Proudly facing the rivers and lakes
And overlooking the land and kingdom

I 
Stand on the summit
Leisurely listening to the ebb and flow of the tides
And watching the rise and fall of the sun

Under my feet 
99 floors down the pagoda 
Is where the cooking smoke flows

Behind my body
99 lotus flowers away 
Is where other beings reside

Ode to the Smiths

I love the smell of cut grass in the morning   She says with a sardonic grin

I can't focus

Because I am in love with her breasts

But when you rise to piss you see the Wham vinyl

And you are saddened 

Because you can't focus

And you are in love with her breasts 

And you know that it's over before it really began because you are a bourbon and Smith's kind of guy

And you can feel the soil falling over your head

Because you are in love with her breasts.

Dolls

A wrinkled woman, hunched shoulders,
gathers her flesh and bunches her shade 
near the neat and kempt grave.
She changes the toy left on 
the planting plain. This gloaming 
it is a long eared bunny.

peace treaty

this lady

i’d never

seen before

was walking

her dog.

it took

a dump

on my lawn.

she didn’t

have a bag

so she used

a twig

and a leaf

and tossed it

into one of

my cans.

i ran out

raring

for war.

the dog

happily buried

its nose

in my nuts

and sniffed

around.

he does that,

laughed

the lady.

it was an old

golden retriever

with a beautiful

fur coat.

my heart turned

to mush.

i forgave them

instantly

and declared

a peace treaty.

your dog

can bury

its nose

in my nuts

any time

i told her.

she agreed

to

the terms. 

 “A Cousin to Hell”

My tastebuds probably have liver spots now,
letting the chocolates melt in boxes
and soda go flat in the fridge,
while the whisky smiles
like a cartoon sun we know isn’t real,
but still draw in make believe skies
because a ball of fire is too much
of a cousin to hell
for us just to sip lemonade. 

 

Stripper Love

She was a stone cold stripper from a small town
And he liked her that way.

She could peel off those layers baby
Down to her tattoos and a blanket

And when she sucked her thumb like some Nabikovian seductress
With those ribbons in her hair

The crowd roared as she
Pointed to each corner of the stage.

And when that jiz stained blanket 
Landed in your corner of gyne row

And coconut flavored sunscreen
Shot into your hair like a wad of adolescent ejaculate

U knew that once again she was showing all these fucking losers that u were the man
And as you adjusted the readers she spread her legs and 

You leaned back and downed the last of your flat Lucky Lager from the dirty glass
And as Chuck D said “Im like that crazy fucking doll Chucky baby back to live my crazy life.”
Hoo Hah

Kilroy Was Here

I told him I loved him
We were nearer the windows
than the door,
his blonde hair bushy
face fuller than in high school
He looked like a lion

Years later his shrink
told him not to worry over
famine, earthquakes, injustice
His doctor told him to get a stent
His ashes in his sister’s garden
told him wind
will sweep us away

We look like ashes you’d see in snow
from a train
going into the city
you walked around
it was a sunny day
you went to a few bars
you sat on a park bench
pigeons landed and flew



Leverage

Two red bricks sunk in mud under a faucet
to which a black hose is hooked
come to an angle.
To get them up I’d need a spade.

They remind me of a boulder in the side
of a dugout in the desert.
With a crowbar Jim and I
and our (now deceased) friend Henry
wedged it free. It took time, discussion,
leverage, which Henry knew about.  
Round, mostly bald, bilingual,
fluent in Spanish.

His brain surgeon daughter’s husband
sold Amway. There’s an imbalance,
Diane raking in the money, Fidel scraping by.
I spent lots of time in motor vehicles
with Henry.
One day, spotting a biker, he said Diane
did lots of surgeries on motorcycle
accident victims.  
She stopped operating because of arthritis
in her hands.

Henry’s wife, driving, hit a motorcyclist
whose wife drove the law suit they filed.
I knew her.  They settled out of court.
Always, to me she seemed very nice.  

Henry and I spent good number of days
and nights in the desert helping Jim
with the dugout.
Someone else might have used a backhoe,
but Jim wanted to do it all by hand.
In addition to the crowbar we had rakes,
shovels, a wheelbarrow,
bags of cement. Rocks and boulders.
I remember that one boulder, but not what
happened after it was unearthed.

I’m very close


Big defeats
And
small victories

You have hope
you lose hope
and then you die

Walking backwards
towards the future

always looking at the past 
Trying to cling onto a shred 
of a good memory

A bad date
two bags of cocaine
a lake of whiskey

She invited you in her home 
at dawn time telling you 
she sees you as a friend
for the time being

Do you have a boyfriend 
you ask

Yes she says
but it’s complicated 

My life is complicated 
enough you say
coming down from cocaine

A darkness and a loneliness
only you seem to notice

Call me if it becomes simple 
you say
I have enough friends you say
Though you are essentially friendless

I can’t be your friend you say

All the night she rambled 
about meditation and energies
And horoscopes 

And each time 
you antagonized it

You are a pessimist
she said

I’m a realist you said
and kept quiet 
Even though you wanted
to continue and say
you’re so naive and moronic
you talk about my horoscope
and all I do is stare at your lips
trying to be understanding 
but imagining the taste of your saliva

She walks you to the door
morning now, you start to walk alone 
towards your house

On the way 
you whip yourself
mentally

You didn’t say the right words
didn’t nod when you should
Didn’t manipulate when you could 

Wanted to show your true self
a silent Hail Mary attempt
to connect

You punch a wall
and put your hand 
in your jacket pocket
knowing at once your hand
is broken

Ignoring it, walking
dark eyed and depressed
as the pain increases

finally you take your
hand out of your pocket
to examine the damage 

A crooked finger
a bone trying to stick out
of the skin

I can’t drive to the hospital
you think 
so you ride a bicycle
to the ER

spend a good four hours
waiting for a doctor to
see you

Knowing you won’t be able
to work now for at least two
weeks

knowing you won’t return
her phone calls if she calls you

At sea in life 
dumbfounded 
not even pretending anymore
to understand women
or humanity

Walking out of the ER 
with a hand strapping 
hating every reflection of you 

every whisper of a thought 
every cloud and every ray of sunlight 

knowing full well now
that only you can save yourself 

but you being the only one
who won’t.

Chaos


Don’t tell me what happened
White and black
They look opposite
Better forget it

Don’t tell me how it happened
Mountains and seas
They look the same
Better leave them

Don’t tell me why it happened
Nights and days
They look simultaneous
Better sleep through

Don’t tell me where it happened
Here and horizon
They look connected
Better stand alone

Don’t tell me when it happened
Red and blue
They look divorced
Better smash the court

We See You, Whited Sepulcher

On Sunday he sings:
“There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy.”
But Monday will bring
A brand-new controversy
And another fall from grace.
(Though he will claim it wasn't about race.)
By the time Wednesday comes around,
He has already cursed at a beggar downtown
And given money to the John Birch Society.
(So much for his Sunday piety!)
On Thursday, he’s all distrust and fear
Proving his heart unbreakable.
By Friday it’s very clear:
His religion is just recreational.