a wonder was born on to this sphere
to bring joy and gladness to all who
would meet him and his parents gave
him a name which he later lied and said
was roger
this was the day that roger was made
you should rejoice and be glad in it
for this is the day
this is the day
the roger was made to bring joy and
gladness to all who would meet him

intimacy incarnate in
monkey on monkey love
(stay tuned for poo flinging
starting now except
on the west coast)

on confrontation today i fled to my nothing box. a small place inside of me where i keep nothing. and to where i retreat when what i desire is nothing. in said box i find nothing at all. i’d say it brings rest but that would be something and altogether more than i’m seeking when i seek nothing in my nothing box.

near the back of my throat
cough, swallow, die
these are not choices
simply the order of events

bleach the truth right out
and level it with wrong
make it not who or how
or why and what but only
about feelings and then
in a world without spores
even mold cannot survive

i’ve made an agreement
upon receipt of certain credentials
(which may or may not be
purchasable online)
a beard will grow
and i’ll finally know
if you married me for my looks

i’d never admit it
but i put way more hope than
energy into that thing you
said no to.

the hopeless romantic has a problem.
if he’s truly a romantic it will end well
which will ruin the plight he’s learned
to love.
said plight, gone from life, makes the
romantic struggle. how can he be optimistic
about the future when the now is so
good?
we learn to enjoy our lives in hope
for hope is necessary to endure the now
and then the hope is realized. and we’re
at a loss no longer in need of hope
but of thankfulness.

and so i begin to ponder my favorite
bands/poets/writers/thinkers of old.
how can they feel the way they do

still?

it’s been 15 years. is that girl still just
out of reach? why haven’t they caught
her? fear of a lost muse?

i’ll serve you on bread
or better yet a cracker
insufficient you be
all alone
in want of a snacker
but with my love for you
comes love for yeast farts too
i’ll cut you up in pieces
my illustrious cheeses

‘plimsoles’ they called them
in their not-forgotten
british background best english
and we strode thirty of us
in line up a mountain
single file
(don’t disturb the traffic)
(don’t die en route)
to a waterfall
you were surprised i’d never been
and smiles on faces that never
smile
lit up and dove in
i sat for 30 minutes under the pounding
water in my shorts
i watched in silence
heavy water drowning out the joy around
me
so i can enjoy mine

then we stop, add shoes, shirts
and stride thirty of us
in line up a mountain
single file
(don’t disturb the traffic)
(don’t die en route)
to a hellhole we named ‘home’

i’d love to pour into something
like i used to pour into you and
stop believing i’m a better man
with a slightly elevated blood-alcohol content

i’d love to love something like
i love my pipe. my tea. my beer.
to find a love affair like that
with paper

instead its the pages i never fill
the words i never write on white
in black or blue pen
it’s empty notebooks i feel somehow
begin to lose heart at their unloved fate
wishing ‘if only a true lover of words
had embraced me’

a pianist knows his next note
by virtue of the previous and
his fingers follow by leading him
where to go

in much the same way my thoughts
spill forth from my mouth as victims of
every word spoken to me over
the years and i feel trapped in
shrink-wrapped reworked quotes
plagiarizing vomit from other mouths

lost

unable to paint a canvas
of my own without my fingers
following learned instinct

knowing just what to say after this
word because
they’ve

heard it all before.

until the day my teeth
sleep beside me in place
of you, my beautiful wife,
i’ll follow you to bed
each
night
and gum on you instead

we should all believe the world
revolves around us
they said in a movie about truman
with a man around whom the world
already revolves (at least in part)
we went and watched and for mere
moments believed we were he and therefore
worthy of note

today i write words into oblivion
they may be viewed once or twice or thirty
but the world will sleep still
i cannot stop the sun in the sky
or take your breath away long enough
to affect who you will marry

but i can hope
as legends live
long after they die
these words wont
represent me
but perhaps
a humor i embodied
your laugh will not endure
forever

but twinkies will

effervescence
on gin destroys
the essence with said
effervescence

we huddle in to
each-other-warm
where one body wont suffice
gather round tables
as though to worship
a lazy susan

plow food into our faces with
sticks and laugh at
failed attempts to evangelize

reminisce the future
leadership, change, adjustment
as i sit with
prophet,
businessman,
preacher,
manager,
pastor,
researcher,

sharing table, susan, bowl, meat, bite
and love(mixed)jokes(dreams)
tomorrow i’ll leave this behind
them behind

to pick up where i set down

today i drank to beauty
i poured one out for her
i romanced her mind because
she’s in love with another

one of the ways i know you will forgive me
when i tell you i have dirt on you you cant
afford to ever let get out in the open for
all to see just how strange you are despite
your best attempts at masking the feelings
you have for the people around you and
even though it seems childish almost like
you’re back in high school hanging out in
the mall near the orange julius because that
just happened to be where the cool people
hung out and you were always one of the cool
kids even among the crowd of losers that’s one
of things people say they liked about you
telling me about that one time you used a pillow
to do the unspeakable (but apparently others
have tried the same thing with more success
than you admitted) till late in the evening
probably around 3 when i pressed if you really
wanted us to leave or if you’d prefer we stayed
and you said you enjoyed our presence and
that we were therefore welcome to stay as
long as we’d like and that was when we knew
we were going to be good buddies that it would
last despite you being somewhere all the way
across the globe and i know it’s only 3 in the
morning there but you’d want me to stay if
i were there.

Let me be your chemo

Would you prance, if I asked you to prance?
Would you have fun, and never smoke crack?
Would you fly, if you saw me flying?
And would you save my mole, tonight?

I can be your chemo, baby
I can make chronic pain stay
I will suck at you you forever
I can take your breasts away

in modest times
we wore our faces
full of beards we could
not bear to bare in public
before audiences of
both men and the ladies
to whom we preached
the awkward lies
of global cooling
to soothe those of
weaker consciousness
the ones our mothers
told us we should include
on the playground
but despite our good
intentions we dared not
approach their leper
like social status