Bad Film

To falsify time
Where bad movies are good
Shot with the same enthusiasm
As a masterpiece
Or maybe just a hope
That one day
Time is kind
Grain is dispersed in a beautiful array
Displaying every blossom
Of red blue green
As the centerpiece of eternal spring
A marriage of vertical and horizontal
Leaving nothing to the imagination
Everything off set
Has already been cleaned up
Swept away
With tokens of appreciation
Left on resumes
As credits roll
Careers are born
Peaked
Descended
Ended
A story rarely revisited
Except on cable

Hindsight

We still believe
On either side
After a while
There is no argument
That points north
No right or wrong
Just a side
To wobble amongst
A council assembled
Doctors agree
Middle of the road
Always the best
Cause and effect
The scientific methods
Allows us all
The power to fail
Or at least have something
Like a kick in the pants
On an old slapstick silent
All the names changed
To protect the people
That never matter
Unless you meet them
And then really
Only to yourself

No Joke

Foul Hope
Left dropping the soap
continual slip
continuity flip
Al Roker's daily comment about the silent husband is wearing thin
while he tries to keep it off
keep it up
fuckers
Keep fucking with the status quo
blow holes
Damn dirt dogs

Do I need roller skates?
Can they cruise through muck and shit?
At what point do I just slip?

A conscious choice
to become something you are not
less gatherer
more garnisher
less hunter
more coveter
A lasting impression
and the joke goes...
...I can't remember...

Funding a War/Finding a Girl

A greedy sickness
Irregular beat beat
Irregular
After so many sprinkles
Cupcakes
Lavatories
Pin pointing
Storming forth with clouds
Dispersed, and looking down
Wanting to appear whole
Calm
Dangerous
Only to be left feeling
Mortal
Tawdry
All in all, it's puppies and little boys
Playing with their pee-pees
Cockie doodie
Oblivious
Behind the curve
Stabled
Managed
And yet, you are not glowing
Red and gold
No Shiva
No Vishnu
Just weathered and skinny
Like a stretched out version of yourself
A lifeboat of yourself
A shelf, protrusion
Rind of yourself
Crystalized; fractals
Showing only the metallic pinks and greens
The oily 60's crushed between a microscope slide and a thin film
That film that keeps replaying
With insurance commercials
Late at night
Only 7.99 per unit
No matter how vegetarian or toxic or abused or deteriorated you are
I don't think I will ever know the story, much less the plot
An interest in science
An interest in things that tick
Things that throb
Things that jump when you touch them
And an interest in power
Invested in your own sacred harvest
Because no one else ever should
Show fragility
Candor
Promise
With daddy in the sky
And mommy somewhere hidden
There are only a few bones left
To crack
Dissolve
Retract
You have most likely figured out the world by now
But would never share it with me
Bloody wet
Deeply punctured
Flawed

Evesdropping

Hawk G-d
The experiments went well
I mean, were painful
Despise the facts
3 days walk
Cancer
One on my best
Itching mile

Talking Off the Ledge

I lied when I said I could do this forever
I lied and I cheated
Cheated myself of an out
And lied because I knew we'd never leave

In a broken down chess tablature maneuver
I hover upon the clever lever
Choosing to be repeated
Rather than becoming firm and stout
Myself
A cuff apart from sleeve
In the tunnel of seed we are all hungry naked

Misery plays lights on my face
I wanted to ask those who knew me
Was I ever happy
Or are there just pictures of me smiling

Such a knife twist thrust suck pinch
The basest of cases I trace
Back to when I was a boy and had no one
Myself; a flea, badgery, almost dainty
Even when I was dreaded, nappy, sappy
Did I harvest anything I could begin piling
For my beloved, who only prays this fever dissapates

It's the forced architecture
The face first forced work work force
The dirty everyday bombs
It's stifling, and worse yet, I quit smoking

Any conjecture regarding this lecture
Should be filed under: Divorce
Not a course of action I am willing to protect or texture
I am not a man of psalms
I am a man of joking, odd, hurtful poking
It's the shanking and sodomy that keeps me out of jail
Otherwise, a fine place to raise thoughts
Little figety baby ideas suckling on scruffy cheeks
Weakly teething with hair for gums and steak for brains

Prose for John Camacho

I had to leave; mostly to get away. The people broke me. Broken, my friends laid mourn cloths. Once cloaked, I needed escape. The exit strategy simple: get away. The method, all I knew: highway intercourse. I braved some parties. I challenged some long-time diversions. I finished an album. I left. All that said (spoken, written), I was destined to be alone. At some point. Tragically, unabashedly, alone. New pitfalls, lucky breaks, distant attempts at communication; there were laws that didn't apply, tools I had never applied, jobs; applied. After all that, I found the highway again. It took me close to the edge of what I once knew, but, upon returning, after a long expanse of no return, I was viewed as a ghost. Treated to frills set aside for visitors, vacationers; I was alone. Not rejected and not trusted; somewhere there were hugs and embraces, distanced. I did return once in full. As full as I could be. Accomplished and hollow. I don't think things were ever the same. But, I remember who you speak of; and it brings me back: a movie theater where a band played where the screen once flickered with images of Hollywood. I had seen my first R-rated movie there. Without adult supervision. Later, down the road, I tried to manage a small tour for these gents. It partially worked. Was generally well received. I guess I could see some genius in the family blood. They were always extremely engaging; everyone drawn; in. And still, I'm left jealous and scraped. Raw, burned, rashed. What happens when you stay? If you've never left? What happens is all I can say. All the great sparks, the intrigue, the phenomenal bath you have all created. The broth of rich and tender. The soup of smart and knowing. I tasted it. And, I wanted to say, "and I spit it out." But, I didn't. I drank it down, savored it, cherished it. Here I am, but vapors, telling you how I lived. How tragically tempered. And, that I want to join your sacred circle as I am. Spiritless, transfixed, invisible.

stained

smudged
under several coats
all dialogue unmemorable
what remains
seen on vacation
memory of a day
youthful steam
Always playing or not knowing
playing
sleep over?
maybe
mid-sleep-faking fumblings
start with a spoon
an arm
a hand
moving slightly out of place
anticipating no reaction

a welcome push
down
rewards that renew
heat
sinuewy
more pushing toward, against
(but these are the games)
Pot limits
odds
favor
always wanting
always waiting
Deflating

In breath and rating
Someday will be never retribution
And then maybe that next morning
maybe just one day after
school
clean as a dirty little whistle
hair up cleopatra
towel wrapped above breasts and so adult
begging pleading eluding daring neverminding
a swipe
from where it all goes down
one finger tip
and a snide remark
A time when nothing (no war or famine) could halt the progression
nothing hiding the glowing eyes
no brush no cover no reason
but still
It's not enough to change that feeling
with one finger
as a statement that would last still today
the blood of your fathers and mothers
the blood of your children and grandchildren
remain on the wall
my mother's house
to this day
so when on vacation
with my wife
laugh
tell story
someone brought me
nearly all the way there
but just shy enough
to stand eye to eye
lonely longing; nervous
not touching
well
maybe a hug

a press and release

and then years

coats of paint

a rusty dot

an heirloom

if you ever need it

The One That Stayed part 1

beta-satellite

sub-miracle

a friend to fire

outer circle

maddening rings

fiddles and blades

golden sheath

blanket, zipper, fold

not fully executed

good enough for ever

stringing together

a series of events

and making it

good enough for now

the peaceful journey

of terminal pain

endless rain

and several smoky outposts

leaving a question

where to go

never pounding

covering

coveting

making sacred

a deliverance of oils and dust

hoping to be half

counting beans and days

watching the lifeblood of trees

continue so slowly

keeping eminent time

on the backs of crustaceans

in the center of figs

squash and papaya

apples and pecans

all of life's riddles

ridding themselves of woe

the bitter seeds

slipping past each other

only grinding long after

their day has come

sometimes poison

sometimes remedy

a likeness to gold

flittering into the atmosphere

as massive shifts 

take silly breaths

and wait for cue

--

6.22.08

Retired; Artist

You're pretty you make me sick
Finish your sentence so I can hate you
Deviated serpent
Anhile plager razor
Somewhere on the coast
Light catching your sunny sundress
For the cost of potatoes
Burrying hatchets in salty salt
Your plans to perfect the unintersted appearance is killing me
The flowing gown the loose gestures the bent neck
It's killing
Delivering some long story
In fourteen words or less
Her feet smelled like tofu
Her hair was a ratty mess
I'm sorry you
- nine more -
had to hear this
I've forgiven myself
I'm leaving
--
6.20.08

Plat Form

Respond with verve
Chucking kids with vomit as idioms
Train as forcefield
Fuck you, fuck field, fuck force
I stain filaments of bacon with potassium
And choke levels of life with impotence
You don't want to fuck with me
Hideous
Heinous
Predictable
Coming through like jail bait
Levitating in a moment
Where
All
Else
Charges the ground
Your fear is questionable
But only for you
Thank god I have surpassed such extravaganza
I'm bout it bout it
A revolutionary subject of concern
Solace
Peace
Revenge
--
6.18.08

Fixated, we Are mutants

Solotaire. Like pornovgrophy
What are you wearing
Hyou dirty vegetarian
Like a manicured version of prep
Or 50's greaser
You are your mothers worst keeper
Like an asylum
This train is periscoptic
The man comes
To click tickets
And I have the highest
Respect level
There are beers
An openbeer car
It's everything else that make me narrow
The opposite of delight
Is amiable ignorance
Please stop talking
You have lived here
All your life
--
6.18.08

Influence

Wherein we want to do good
President Clinton seems to think
Making friends
Helps

In writing a letter to the CEO at my job
Logic would question (impersonally)
Whether it's a good idea
Or tragic misstep

We may never recover
But in helping those in need
We at least
Transfer blame

Climbing a pole
While making a difference
Eco Czar
Is a real position

Drown

Writing like fat neck
Falls to the side
Restless
Conditioned
Always finding last year's look
Holding on for dear life
Aimless
Mishappy
Tragic indifference

Then scribbling in confidence
Collar open
Bronzed with sun
Thick floppy unengorged cock
A look of defiance
An ass whooping
Friend to steak
Father to little leaguer
Greased glove
Spit
Groomed

Centering with words
Yoga scrawl
Chamomile verse
Dirty mud nap
Favorite sand trap
Beer braised elation
Train flavored indepedence
Waiting
Flaking
Cascading
--
6.16.08

Babylon Platform 2A

Rain
Cools off world
Finds home
In cracks and dimples
Concrete gives back
Slowly
To the atmosphere

Shaded accordingly
It speaks in patterns
Where time plays longer
Before disappearing into thin air
--
5.31.08

Like Galileo

With my ass dangling above a toilet
In the library
I think about my bag as a bomb
Someone eyeing it
Outside the bathroom door
Style: Messenger
Make: Land's End
Toilet seat: where my End Lands
But not in a single occupancy WC
Here I let it hang above
Hunched like an animal
Or a downhill skier

Crossing the street
I realize
I can never tell
If those childhood drink containers
The ones with the foil tops
Are meant to resemble barrels or grenades
I had always thought of them
As flavor grenades
Syrupy
Unnaturally colored
Throat burning
Flavor bombs
I would have never thought them to be
Barrels
And why would I?

As a child
I might have never taken a crap
In a library
Since I was bashful
But now
I drop bombs
Outside the door
In all the isles
And inside my private resting place

Someone knocked on the door
I said, "in a minute"
Like I was a star
In a dressing room
Being given "five"
As opposed to the five
You might give a friend
A high five
Fingers making contact
Four or five at a time
My friend the grenade
My friend the toilet paper
This is the second time
I have been to the library this week
And both times
I have left gifts
Maybe it's my special place
Maybe it's a drop zone
Last time I noticed a bag left outside the front doors
I alerted the bald man
Whose voice was connected
To my five minute call
The short-sleeved
Beige shirt, brown tie type
You can never be too careful these days
People are dropping bombs
--
5.21.08

Stacked Against

I can't win
I tried to get famous
I attempted to borrow a copy of
The Best American Poetry 2007
And the Poet's Market 2007
Only
The lady at the desk
Told me
My library card expired in February
And I owed fifty cents
The fifty cents she allowed me to pay
But the books would have to stay
Until I rectified the situation
With my native branch
Which is to say
I will not be getting famous
Today
--
5.13.08

Sanctuary

I suppose they were praying
Statues themselves
Looking up at the motionless figure
Gesturing
With open hands
Forever

Other than their lips
Frozen amidst the greenery
They are silently watched
By me
Unabashed
Through the library window

Possibly concerned
The grey-haired lady looks behind her
One hand clutching a rosary
I looked up and they were gone
My sanctuary
Still growing
--
5.12.08

Campbell McGrath

Campbell McGrath
Has stolen my words
Not really
But that fucker
has sniffed out my hunger
More genius than a chipped-tooth rat
The trail of anxiety
Is a bonnet
I wish to remove
Leaving ribbon's rough edges
Chewed and gnawed
Frilly and compostable
I am my own illusion
Basking in the break of a page
I need a map
Back home
Some college kid who died
Took me with him
I looked peculiar
Now I spit marbles
--
5.12.08

Bedtime

Intertwined arms; wife
Dog in crotch
Roof could cave right in
She says, "I'm so comfortable"

Elbows locked, warm
Dog at feet
Beam centered over head
Neck cramps

Shoulders unraveled, shifted
Dog and wife twitch
Collapsing heavens
Dreams of squirrels and Chita
--
5.12.08