the sieve and the sand

I cleaned the vaccum,

So blocked up that it couldn’t

Help but whine and whirrr.

Fuzzballs and hairballs,

Paperclips and some pushpins…

Now it really sucks.

the sun blinked
between the beams of
the bridge as i
drove back thinking:

this feels less like home
than your arms.

I try to write a poem
and end up staring at the screen
focusing on the doctor or pretty much anything
wondering why the words won’t come,
where they have gone,
who has taken my words,
and who never will.

if comets could talk
i imagine they’d have a lot to say
about dreams of falling
about the horrors of fire
and about death

huge heaps of extra
terrestrial molten rock
flung from the slingshot
of that great milky galaxy
hurled towards the smallest
rock they could find
hoping damage in numbers can
be done.

hoping, praying, that they
the comet
still have the power of life
of death
to completely wipe out

because we have taken it
with our fossil fuels

now we can cause
extinct

The familiar hum

Shines like some obstructed star

But I know its there.

mailed to maybe my baby’s death

            from his god

and i don’t condemn

and i don’t apologize for

            i can only hmmm:

i’m Him feeling cooked precisely here

chicken chopped perfectly
edible pieces of bone
sucking on a beak

some things sound better
in japanese verse

varicose veins of yore
extra flabby skin galore
jelly rolls all the more

others do not.

people talk of the neither-world
but they know not of who they speak
and then one night when all alone
comes one who flies from neither land

he’ll come into your bedroom and wake you
looking for his shadow or something like it

then walk to your bedpost and smile as he
offers you his hand and some fairy dust

of course you’ll buy in being as gullible as
you always are and then off you’ll fly to a

land neither beautiful, playful, nor infinitely
youthful. and you’ll long to return from your

flight to neitherneither land.

there’s gnomes there.

laughable hysterical overwhelming emotion
perfectly balanced wall art
and other things that piss me off

Thanks for what we want,

but no no thanks for what we need-

Who can really tell?

back to the girl
to love
to sex

back to an interview
to a job
to a future

back to home
to happiness
to life

he eats with his hands

            it’s more deliberate that way

                        cumbersome as it’s done

he chokes through his words

            and convinces his wives

                        robust as he’s along

he never borrows energy from the sun

            because he knows he’d only return it inconveniently

            though he looks just hard enough to see its worth

indeed, he is a mean old man

            as that’s how you start

            and he didn’t care—starting there still

all to often i edit the thoughts
i ought not to have thought
but fail to edit the words
that follow

thankfully i have fingers
which do
most of my public
speaking
for me

and take out all the bad
words like poop

- inappropriate to say in most
settings

haha poop

as I sat on the dock
drinking beer
not catching fish,
the epiphany STRUCK!

very much is how i love you
forever is how long
today is when i’ll hold you

it would be nice if you’d return the favor

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The best conversations I’ve ever had were with myself or while
chattering away with the walls of my living room when no one else was around,
and bursting into laughter from my own humorous remarks.

It all comes naturally
like the impulse to hug, climb trees when I feel friendly towards them
hearing them live subtly in the open, peaceful and quiet
and listening to the playful wind move the tree branches here and there
is an experience of sumptuous beauty,
a world of sounds without words.

Sleepless at night I ask the ceiling to open up and let me see the sky,
and my dear friend the moon comes softly shining,
shares vibrant timeless stories and
looks over me while the stars build up my night dreams.

the syncopated bounce
of the ball–the trees
cast patchy shadows.

i have contemplated many things
big, small, green, and even parkable
things
once i considered
out of a fast food italian restaurant

i’ve pondered
over lakes and cheetoes
but never seafood

thoughts have come
while swimming and looking up out of the water
towards the air
i have wondered,
maybe this isn’t water poured in a hold
but rather our earth
is one big bubble of said pool

things i think and things i feel
have happened with no shoes
and no shorts
often with nothing at all

but i know
thoughts will continue to come
as long as i’m allowed to
come-template

courage in ethos, again in again

i sit when i stand, run when i play.

investing is caressing as human is on the line

and lie

and live

and try

forgiving the trial persecutes the judge

            and do it to be just

            and just because

red carpet and a place called tarshit
wake me to wide isles
“is this materialism?” my communist friend asks.

“maybe” i respond

it must be, in the same way

the test of manliness -
holding oneself horizontally
from a vertical pole

the test of a woman
is how much fake fruit she has
delicately placed around her home