Friday, December 26, 2014

To Be Us


I saw it 

I saw

My heart breaking

She was with him

His hands touching her

His ears hearing her

His lips

Too much

I wanted to possess her

Possess her time

I wanted her and I to be us

I did not want 


To think of them being them


To feel my heart mutilated

My body felt limp and useless

I felt useless

She was everything

And without her I was


Difficult times

Until it passed

Then I was whole again

When we were us


I made it

Sunday, October 19, 2014


Cold foggy dusk by a lake
Fireplace with tea
Book of poetry
Naked with you under a quilt
Piano tinkling downstairs
Dog curled on the floor
Misty morning run in the woods
You in a rocking chair knitting
Slight sweat after raking
Cary Grant movie on TV
Singing Beatles songs together
Warmed pot of beans and cornbread
The first soft snow
Tossing the football
Deep sleep up early warm shower
Holding hands

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Life's Questions

What have I done?
It's the saddest of questions
Uncertainty being a yoke one wears
Always everywhere
The gnawing sense of not knowing
The truth if your own existence
Confusion mixed with doubt
Spiced with a dash -- perhaps -- of psychosis
And why not?
Absolute surety can be an awful thing
Leading us to dead ends
To be lost is still to be looking
Seeking asking wondering
It is to be alive
The curious are stronger

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Mirror Mirror

How I railed madly at you
How I stood before you in anger
How said such harsh words
How wicked I must have seemed

But you were brave
You were steadfast
You did not bow
You did not waver

The raging tumult inside me
Came cascading out in great bursts
Misdirected at you
But surely hitting its mark

What a tragedy to have done this
How you must have suffered
What an injustice done
But you carry on still

It was me
And you are me
O foul mirror
Look at what you’ve done

Tuesday, October 14, 2014


I am hearing the mindless masses
The words they speak like endless gasses
So many utterances with no direction
My mind forever attempting deflection
On and on their voices do prattle
Shuffling through life like so much cattle
Observations are so obvious and trite
I try to ignore them with all my might
But their voices everywhere do fill the room
Which thus descends ever deeper into gloom
I do my best to shed some light
But am afraid it is a hopeless fight
The conversations continue they never cease
But through this poem I've said my piece

Monday, October 13, 2014


Sleepless tossing nights of angry insomnia
Long hours of staring at self
Bewildered by passionless thoughts
Tomorrow waiting patiently while I struggle
No place to put yesterday
Today never was
I fumble through my mind searching for minutes
The hours thus evaporate
And a tincture of quietude bursts loudly
Unforeseen questions dwell with angels
Released at inopportune times
Placing awkward contemplation
Square into the forefront of a woozy mind
Mind mind mind
And I don’t won’t couldn’t wouldn’t
Resolute wonder battles ennui
And I can find no home for the hurt
All is swirling and I am lost again
Dreaming awake of a 1950’s Berkeley coffeehouse
Where I scribble notes on crumpled paper
Where cigarette smoke hangs resilient
Where conversation is interrupted by laughter
And coughs and clanging dishes
The coffee is getting cold
There are nickels on my table
I buy a refill
Amid whorish comments from a silly schizoid
I scratch my head and wonder at the woman
Standing by the door idly stroking her long black hair
Knowing somehow that we will someday be lovers
And that my novel will be published
By a small local press
And she will give me babies
That I will drive a Volkswagen and be
A very Sixties kind of guy
But first I must continue my scribbles
And hope for inspiration
Or am I still here in the 21st century
Trying to get some fucking sleep

Thursday, September 18, 2014


There was the morning commute
With lots and lots of people
So many in a hurry
Somewhere to go
Something to do
money to be earned
Lots of excuse mes and pardon mes and oh his
and staring at cell phones and sighing
and yawning and suppressing flatulence
and pondering and planning and wondering and wishing
Oh yeah the wishing
Lot of wishing
We all do that
Don’t we
Wish this wish that wish I was wish I wasn’t
Wish she would wish she wouldn’t
Wish it would wish it wouldn’t
If if if if
But first
Have an important meeting

Friday, September 5, 2014

String Beans

There are string beans on the plate
They are next to the mashed potatoes
They wait expectantly to be eaten
But oh they are subtle just biding their time
They are a sharp green and skinny
It's difficult to tell if they are limp or hard
Only a bite will tell
Will they be eaten or left to be scraped into the compost?
We must wait to see

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Imagined it

Rainy afternoon
In a museum
Few others
Violin music soft and lovely
Lost in colors
Of paintings
Sit at museum cafe
Drink tea
Look at postcards
Still raining
Resume tour of paintings
Now cello music fast and deep
Tall beautiful angular woman
Walks quickly
Long dark wavy hair
Frowning but smiles at me
On bus
Reading poems

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

A Magnificent and Sad Perfection

She was above all else beautiful
There was an aching sorrow to this
As if it must hurt to be so exquisite a creature
Tall and elegant and perpetually self aware
Never unconscious of her effect on other people
When she first looked at me
It was as if to dare me to hold my stare
A second longer than is polite
But even so I stole another glance
One dies and dies again when treated to a kiss
From such a person
(As I was once)
Knowing that is an experience
That it will never be equaled
Let alone repeated
And eternity has been thus met
But moments are fleeting
And her love was a wisp of one moment
Sadly withering
As her beauty never would

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Modern Living

Sadness reigned in the land of rot
And spot
Where poor pretty people lived quiet desperate lives
Of angry dissolution
And no one troubled to know why
Only pushing and pulling at one another
Unsure unaware unawake
Can you find nothing or everything
Or something for godsakes
When you don't even trouble to look
Out damn spot
How the modern world doth treat us
Pitting person against people
And populous against populous
With angry shouts at bums
And louts
Who turn out to be our others
Ourselves in other guises
Charity begins at home
And ends on streets of soaring sadness
We don't love
We struggle and grasp
And all too often we
Die angry

Thursday, June 12, 2014

The Days of Perfect Nature

The days of perfect nature
I want to be there
As the cool Summer mist
Wafts into the dusky evening
But I will seldom cry on these
So attuned am I to the passions
Of others in my home
I look upon lovers and rivals
The same
Trying to find where we
Can drink and sup
Without wondering at the eternal
But this Tuesday feeling
Is encroaching on my thoughts
As last I look to you
And kiss the sky above us
Nothing and everything
About how the universe does love me
And I -- sweet one --
Love you

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Promise to a Blowhard

I won’t write about your stupid politics
Your messed up priorities
or you outlandish behavior
I won’t write about your ill informed opinions
or the mindless drivel you spout everyday
from a soapbox of your own construction
I won’t write about your idiotic screeds
or your nasty rants
or your hate filled diatribes

And I never well
You don’t deserve the attention
You should humble yourself before the world
and ask for forgiveness for your misdirected anger
and blatant prejudice and thinly veiled racism
You should shut up right now
right your wrongs and make amends

You have polluted the airwaves
and cyberspace
for far too long
and I’m sorry that so much attention
has been given you
No more

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Melancholy Memory

Redolent of childhood
And sorrowful Tuesday breakfast
The open window poured through the mist
Lights from the dusk shrouded my empty purpose
So deep sighs of tomorrow filled the room
This was my melancholy fate
The towering reminiscences of the cliche fighting poet
Deeply I watched the corners of day recede into night
And from my perch atop the memories
I waited for tuneful reminders of what I said
So many years ago
When I was full of hope
How I've wasted the intervening years
All this informs my imagination
So I
Live like I must

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Sunday Damn Sunday

Children playing outside as dusk approaches
A car passes purposely
No movements few sounds
Touches of anxiety
Sunday before a fall work week
Another early rising awaits
The sleep won’t be enough
Hunger gnaws and thirst beckons
A movie has been watched
Books to read
Plans to make
A crow expresses itself loudly in the distance
Melancholia grips
I am from China
I am from Peru
I am from Switzerland
I am from Belgium
I am from here
We are all together
The internet has too much
Idle time wasting madness
Legs ache from today’s run
Finish this and then write some more
Damn Sunday night

Thursday, May 1, 2014


Faintly I lied
Softly I cried
Deftly I sighed

The suitable ravings of the respectably mad
Feeling outrageous and secretly glad
Wondering why they are perennially sad

The boisterous dancing of the gleefully hip
Interrupting their studies for just one more sip
Deriding their mates whenever they slip

Happily I said
All in my head
Intellect now fed

The bursting words of a penitent man
Trying to exclaim everything that he can
Wonderfully detailing an intricate plan

So quietly now do the fresh faces roam
Farther and father away from their home
Bless them they recite a magnificent tome

Mindful I wrote
Clutching my throat
Soften this note

Monday, April 28, 2014

What You Deserve

Have I?
Have I failed you?
Have I been too little of something?
Too much of another?
The wrong kind of still others?
Are you truly happy?
And if so
am I part of the reason?
And if not
am I part of the reason?
In my own way I have tried
I have wanted to be
What you deserve
Which is far more the I can do
But yes I have tried
Especially lately
Wanting to be 
Hoping to be
Trying to be
Can you ever forgive
The awful times
When I let you down?
So many I know
So foolish I was
So intent not to be anymore
As we grow older 
I am determined
To be
To be what you deserve

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Here It Is

I don' know where it all comes from
But here it is

Changed clothes but not my mind
Walked to the gym arrived in time
Ran six miles and a half
No pain in either calf
Sauna and a shower felt good
Then on back to the neighborhood
Pretzels and smoothie of fruit
Root a toot toot
Watched a movie by Werner Herzog
Went outside was barked at by a dog
The wife and I went out to dine
Filling my belly felt might fine

Here it is
Those words I mean
I guess the brain decides
Which ones to use
(I don't always seem to choose)
Words and sentences and even
I don't get it
But I dig it
And later I read those words
And I'm all like
Where did those come from?
The answer is good old me

Saturday, April 26, 2014


This is the last of it
No more words
It’s all empty and meaningless
And beyond love or hope
The imperfection is palatable
The soaring lows bottomless
There are no ashes
For the Phoenix to rise from
Only dregs so sad and forlorn
Tears of futility
Dominate the landscape
Where from the void
Comes reckless death
Embroiled in hell
But kernels of truth can be seen
A dash of honesty
The reality is not all bleak
Because always there is
These thoughts and desires
That transcend somehow
The death of wonder
Love peaks through
And we can believe for a minute
That maybe

Friday, April 25, 2014

Kathryn -- Again

There I was and you were so beautiful
We were together and you were so beautiful
I see wonders and amazing lights and
I feel delights and experience joys
But you are so much more
There is honor in life if done right
There is dignity there is saneness
There is purity and there is truth
But there is nothing
As beautiful
As you
Clouds and rain and sun
Only the touch of a baby
The laugh of innocence
The waves on the shore
Dare try to compare
With you
Who are
So beautiful
Soft voices in the night
Light kisses on the mouth
The sincerity of a hug
You are so beautiful

Sunday, April 20, 2014

The Perpetual Squalor of the Empty Mind

Oh god the pain
The tearing at the soul
The utter devastation of lost tomorrows
All gone
Sand is all
And the dust
The dust everywhere
Lack of reason or hope
And the perpetual squalor of the empty mind
The futility of grasping
All is out of reach
And left here waiting for death
For the release of this pain
And the eternity of quiet
Here still the wrenching
The mind twisted by knowledge and lies
With an unquenchable desire for more of each
Not able to make good cause
With enemies of understanding
Just in puddles of dank sweat
Dripping desperately to the bottom
Where light's absence is the only surety
And therein depression shouts awkwardly
Beguiling somehow
Seized in the tentacles of sorrow
Wondering how to do anything
Anything at all

Monday, April 14, 2014

Oh the Past

"The stars were icicles of mockery." - From Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac.

The deadened night reached back into yesterday
There by the gleaming moon was all that I
had ever been
And wanted to be
The silent noise and the roaring quiet dissipated
I could still see the younger me full of hope
Without a plan or a goal or a vision
Dark clouds and a soft wind and a chill
all at two am
Made for a wistful sense that
there was little that could be done
The present was on going and the future a dream
the past though
Oh the past
Here was where I happily dwelled
Rectifying past mistakes
Righting wrongs I had done and that were done to me
Making me live anew
Editing and revising and fixing and correcting
As if what had transpired were written and not lived
I reached back into long past decades with an eraser
and a pen
And there made perfection where crystalline mistakes of
obvious blunder had once existed
This was my night of heroics
Wrongs righted enemies slighted dissipation blighted
I would go on now
Knowing that I had dwelled again
in years of ago
Oh the past my fickle friend
Not my memory but who I am
You I see as clouds against the stars edge into
the night sky
Don't hide from me
What is past is
Always and forever
And I will re-write you yet
On cold dark nights of starry dreams

Up Up and Away

Climb climb
I've got to rhyme
Higher higher
Away from the pyre
Steep steep
I sow I reap
Abyss abyss
I can't miss
The top the top
Woes are my crop
End end
I'll never bend
Cry cry
I wish I could fly

Thursday, April 10, 2014


Shut up Josh you talk too loud
For too long
Saying nothing
Like a lot of people
So much time and space polluted
By empty words
The blatherings of empty minds
Going to great lengths to fill time
Hating the empty moment
Smashing your silence with their drivel
And avoiding
Any actual exchange of ideas
Or feelings
Or reactions
With meaningless trivia
Blah blah blah
And worst of all
Never listening
For talking is listening
Not one upping
Not using what is said before
As a springboard to pontificate
So can we talk about this?

Monday, April 7, 2014

Coming Home From Work

No F trolley so had to walk up to catch the 30
Through Chinatown
Cue a big frown
Cutest tourist toddler in the world across from me
Laughing and cooing not boo hooing
I read impassively from Kerouac novel
Answered texts from youngest daughter
She's a scholar jump and holler
Twas a smooth and groovin' bus ride
Especially for the 30
Didn't get down or dirty
Sad smiling faces especially one Asian woman of
Not quite middle age she seemed wise a real sage
Read and texted and looked about give a shout
Quick walk to BART past obese stinky homeless bum
Had maybe too much rum
Crammed down to BART station bad sensation
So many people on their way end of the day
Got seat on train eased my pain
Read more from book as I ain't no schnook
Ride home loud young men cussing
Too much fussing
Out of BART and walked on home
In weather too hot enjoyed it not
Waiting here was my wife what a dear
Time to relax and kick off my slacks

Noisy Noises Disturb the Nosy Oyster

"Adolph Hitler's voice in the taxi horn...." - From the poem Cadillac Squawk by Allen Ginsberg

On lonely fantastic nights of searing bliss
I do ponder a lovely fair haired miss
But I also turn my heart to see
An even prettier women living with me
That I have such a beautiful wife
Is certain proof of my wonderful life
And that I hear noises from afar
Does not mean that my minds ajar
For cars do honk as they pass by
And in the distance is a baby's cry
Damn you ears you hear so much
Always sensitive to sound waves touch
The crazy old neighbor blasting his TV
Makes me fume for quiet I plea
When at last the hush does surround
My imagination does leap and bound
I think of incredible things that I will do
How I'll write books that are fresh and new
Then with my wife I happily chat
Only rarely do we ever spat
Her kisses on my lips do light
And my joy cascades through the night
Noisy noises do come and go
But my life is grand and this I know

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Real is But So is All

“What a horror it would have been if the world was real.” - From Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac

The filthy subway station platform is real
But so were my mystical childhood adventures
The angry screaming mad woman is real
But so were my ecstatic teenage sexual fantasies
The horrible deaths and torture reported in the news are real
But so are my the laughing joyful poems
Real you are voracious and greedy corporations
Real you are scheming lying politicians
Real you are murderous criminals
But so are you real orgasms
But so are you real laughter
But so are you real dreams
All the realities of the world
Competing and arguing but all true
Horrors side by side with joys
Slaughter and dancing
Mayhem and kisses
Violence and understanding
I am real too
And so are you
So are we all
And so too what we do
And so we do

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Some Years Ago

Driving with my dad down desolate streets
On a dusty Saturday afternoon in 1967
Melancholy negroes walk down sad sidewalks
Quite Mexicans pass them sulking
Dad has the radio on listening to loud nothing
I talk nonsense and he pretends to care
We pull into a sad parking lot
And veritably jump out of the car
Dad runs an errand that bores me
I hum a Beatles song and imagine a baseball game
I look on proudly as Dad makes a purchase
Then he sees an acquaintance and chats
He proudly introduces me, his son
I am polite to the white haired acquaintance
Then we are back in the car
Dad cusses about a bad driver
I am used to this
Looking out the window I see a lot
And it is all nothing
Asphalt concrete broken down buildings
Boring drive until we turn up a street where there are
Of course dad makes derisive cracks about them
I think they're interesting and different and maybe fun
(I've yet to be high but its coming)
We finally get to leafy neighborhoods
Happy houses with children in front yards playing
Dad pull the Oldsmobile into our driveway
He races me to the front door
He always wins cause he's the dad

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Forenever Young

There is no today now
There will always be tomorrow
There has always been yesterday
This second
This minute
This hour
Never happened or will
They were always in the future
And will forever be in the past
Now is a false construct
It doesn't matter anyway
Nothing does by which I mean
It all has meaning
In being meaningless
And so I return to you Buddha
Knowing that you are the only reality
Yesterday tomorrow and forenever
Forenever young
Old timer

Saturday, March 29, 2014


This page is blank
Not littered with my words
This mind is blank
Not littered with my thoughts
This day is blank
Not littered with my actions
Maybe I can write good words
Maybe I can think good thoughts
Maybe I can do good deeds
Today will be different
Clean slate new chance fresh start
I can commit to it
Just maybe

Telegrams of the Human Soul

Telegrams of the Human Soul
A lesbian smoking a cigar
A mother chiding her children
A teenager acting cool
A motorcycle too loud
A crow cawing repeatedly
A jogger panting
A soft towel
A dog's fur
A piece of paper
A hot cup of tea
A tasty cookie
A luscious strawberry
About love
About death
About all that I had seen heard felt and tasted

Friday, March 28, 2014

The Language of Poets

Allen Ginsberg and Arthur Rimbaud are in my kitchen
I think they are planning on cooking me dinner
I don't believe in ghosts
And they are dead
But there they are as plain as water
Gabbing away in unheard words
What do long dead poets talk about in your kitchen?
Are they discussing words?
Differences -- perhaps -- between French and English poetry?
Say what language are they talking in?
The language of poets -- no doubt
Maybe they will prepare for me a feast
To eat of words of poets would be nice
So flattered that they are here

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Proper Breathing Technique

Swivel and shout
Hop to and fro
Wail on the sax
Now start a riot
Yell beep beep
Strike a crazy pose
Scream east to west

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Well Are You?

When in old movies they ask: are you nuts or somethin'?
It's a rhetorical question
Otherwise someone would sometime answer
yes, as a matter of fact, I am
no, I do not happen to be
But really
who -- if crazy -- would
admit it
or know it
Isn't a sign of insanity thinking
Crazy to think about

Long Ago Picnic

The picnic rages at the light
It cannot stop its flowery flight
From deep in my memory I see
The vise like grip it had on me
Chasing a ball into the creek
More than that sphere that I did seek
Flaming burgers on the grill
The potato salad lost its chill
We did eat we did run
It was spiritual to have such fun
The sun began its daily descent
But our young legs were not yet spent
Parents chugged beer or sipped red wine
While for a longer stay we did pine
But into cars and station wagons we had to climb
The joy we'd experienced was sublime
I see you picnic looking back on the years
You evoke no joy nor sad tears
You were a magic picnic it is true
But with this memory I am through

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Where Were You?

I raced my heart to find you
but you weren't there
I toppled mountains of jealousy to overcome you
but you weren't there
I fought raging howls of anguish to earn you
but you weren't there
I endured roiling angry troubles to see you
but you weren't there
I asked myself every paradoxical riddle to solve you
but you weren't there
And so the question lingers day after day
Where were you?
Did you hide?
Were you in the arms of another?
Did you disappear into misty dreams?
Have you always been there
Right beside me
When I would turn around
And discover yesterday
(Did I mention that I love you?)

Monday, March 24, 2014

The Ing Was My Thing All Day

The streaming dreaming scheming happiness of my life
Waking and peeing and showering
More ing please
Making lunch eating breakfast dressing
Still more ing please
Walking riding transferring walking again
More more ing please
Photocopying preparing greeting
Bring the ing please
Teaching teaching teaching
Smiling correcting instructing
Continue with the ing please
Snacking joking grading
Munching while lunching and crunching
Pile on the ing if you please
Still more teaching some grading some form filing
Leaving and walking and riding
Don't stop the ing yet please
Arriving and greeting and hugging and kissing
Sharing and dining and relaxing
Last round of ing please
Reading and writing and at last sleeping
The ing was my thing all day

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Walk On By

Concrete and girders and noise and sweating workmen
Pretty girls walk by unaware of being ogled (or are they?)
Soot and fog and dust and urine scented subway platforms
Pretty girls walk by unaware of being ogled (or are they?)
Decaying rotting stinking offal in the filthy streets
This time no one walks by nor dares to
Long happy smiles in the park where children laugh
An elderly woman shuffles by and adds her sullen features
to the scene
Rapacious ugly scheming corporate types bugger originality
Spontaneity gives way to canned music in ads derived from
those pop songs we used to love
Fundamentalist preachers pretend to give a message of hope
but just spout hate speech
And I want more pretty girls to walk by unaware or not
Politicians call each other names and engage in silly battles
Never minding about improving the lives of their constituents
Many young people don't care anyway and want to die soon
So they shoot each other and do
Laughing howling screeching stomp in a theater having a grand time
Then go home and stare at their computers until it's time
for another restless night of sleep and half dreams
I walk by somewhere but am not a pretty girl or
even a girl or pretty
Tax breaks help keep the super rich mega corporate CEOs ultra rich
Fascism has a new face and its not from Revlon
Poor people anguish over what they can afford to eat
While conservatives complain that the poor have refrigerators
So some of us work off frustration in the gym where
pretty girls walk by unaware of being ogled (or are they?)
The world spins and spins and spins but not so you can feel it
but we all know it
People meet and fall in love and dance at their weddings and
have children and buy houses and fight over bills
They putter around in their gardens and fix their fences as
pretty girls walk by sometimes not noticed
And buildings are erected but their erections are longer and
stronger than the ones penises have (funny joke, eh?)
And now and then things change for the better and
improvements are made and lives are saved
We stand outside to dedicate memorials to the people
who helped make the world better and as we do
Pretty girls walk by quite aware of being ogled (or are they?)

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Is your curiosity dreaming now?

Is your curiosity dreaming now?
Has it gone hiding again leaving you
to face hard truths alone?
Are your sensibilities sleeping?
Have they grown weary of you
and your constant demands?
Is your conscience on holiday?
Has it needed to escape
to get take a break and let it be?
What will you do with your mind
and soul
so scattered?
How do you go on with such
divisions in your ranks?
Elegant and softly you must
As though everything is okay

Friday, March 21, 2014

Tao You Doing?

I took me forever to do nothing
But I did everything in no time at all
Time was eternal
And never even happened
In the future I was in the past
In the past I was today
Today I am the future
All is nothing
And nothing is
Is isn't
But then again it is
Or not
Not that it matters
Because it does
So very much and little
I'm happy to see you

Relieved and Heartbroken

How often have I been
Relieved and heartbroken
At the same time
The relief of it being over
the loss of the tension
the uncertainty the anxiety
done with those
Ahh but the heartbreak of it being over
the loss of it forever
the uncertainty of what was next
Deep hard memories cascading
from the past
Troubling me with their messages
and reminders
of all those moments shattered
or simply gone on
happy days lost forever
And I breathing sighs of relief
And crying tears of heartbreak
There was never a paradox
to me
It was all the same
either way
both ways
With being relieved and heartbroken

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Somber Mediocrity

Silently on streets of somber mediocrity
I did meditate
Alone among the bustling winds and singing birds
I did contemplate
Lost among the thoughts so clear
I did not equivocate
Surrounded by the quiet roar
I did not prevaricate
On a glowing Spring afternoon
I called upon the angels of a godless sky
Where upon the soft glowing sun
Did send its rays as to sigh
These are the thoughts that comfort me
As I wonder just who am I
And the ceaseless cries of caring
Do play its mournful tune and die

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Etiquette With Applicances

I just apologized to the washing machine
I thought it was finished and tried to open the door
It was still spinning
So I said: "oh, sorry."
Guess for a second I forgot
The washing machine is an intimate object
Wow I'm kind of funny in my silly way
Or just slowly going nuts
I've been like on the fast track to insanity for
I wanna say decades
But getting back to my point
At least I've demonstrated manners
In apologizing as I did
The washing machine was maybe embarrassed
To be interrupted
Course I often burp and say excuse me
While home alone
Maybe I'm being polite to the furniture
Nothing wrong with that
So if you'll excuse me internet
I'll be on my way

Who Am I and What's the Reason Why

Who was I that acted like that
Was I different haven’t I always been me
How do I change so
Yet remain who I am
Why was I such a fool
So many times
For so long
In so many different ways
And why have I not become perfect yet
What with all the mistakes I’ve had
To learn from
My life twists and turns
My psyche stretches and burns
I’m racing my melon headed self
To a non existent finish line
And stumbling over microbes of my own doing
The whole way there
How do I do this
How do I remain me and yet become
Someone else
Anyone with any knowledge as to my true identity
Please contact me

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Young Mothers

Pretty young mothers pushing baby carriages
Silky dark hair bouncing off their shoulders
White shorts stylish sweaters happy smiles
They are so lovely and so content
And so purposeful with their missions
Pushing their babies in the mid afternoon air
Light breezes on a mild day perfect for walking
They chat of so many things and nothing
How nice to have conversations that are so meaningful
Yet laced with the trivia of their days
The babies are quiet wonderful cooperative children
Their tall handsome husbands are off at important jobs
Making money sufficient to keep a family
They’ll be home in a few hours
Kisses for the wives cooing for the baby
Dinner will jointly be made
Until someone has to change the baby
Then daddy will see to the meal or mommy
But it will be a robust dinner featuring a delicious salad
The new dressing will be just perfect
A glass of wine -- or two -- is enjoyed
Talk is of work and the baby and plans for the house
Happy beautiful mothers and such a happy day

Monday, March 17, 2014

No More of Fuckery of Light

I have at times this absolute horror of being alive
Now it is late afternoon bright with streams of light
Entering through the windows everything now
So clear and obvious and not like a dream
But like life real in such angry starkness
And I feel near driven mad by this torturing clarity
While wife putters around performing chores
She so happy and attentive and carefree
I feel the oppression of consciousness
Weighing me to this chair
There are birds outside singing oblivious
To the sheer terror I feel at being part of this madness
Where is sanity in a world so cruel where life
Is so fragile even and maybe especially when all seems
So light and airy and care free and ohmigod warm
I cannot share in this wonderous magic this seeming miracle
I am not part of what makes you sing and hum and whistle
I am of the other a distant tormented man
This light this brightness this warm glow is to me
A spiteful fraud a spurious sham mocking
Always mocking the true failure of nature to nurture
This fallacy this falsehood this bright outdoor natural light
Goddamn it damn it curse it and fuck it
I want no light shining I want no warmth on my skin
I want to be lost in a grey shroud of deep mist
With biting cold kicking my bones
I want the truth and I want it served in large angry dollops
Give it give it give it straight
No obscuring sunlight no tantalizing but fake warmth
No I say again no nothing to even faintly block
The agonizing stupendous rapture of searing pain
No more light nor more where is the blessed night
Where is the beloved fog bank
This and only this and no more of fuckery of light

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Joey Pukki is Dead

Joey Pukki is dead
Once heard he was crazy in the head
Joey Pukki born the same year as me
Born of Finnish parents were we
Joey Pukki is no more
He died a year ago that's the score
Joey Pukki and I were childhood friends
Funny the way life twists and wends
Joey Pukki tried to jump off a boat
But they managed to grab his coat
Joey Pukki had problems with the brain
There were hints he was a little insane
Joey Pukki been decades since I saw you
How was your life what did you do
Joey Pukki I had googled your name
Wondered if you'd attained any fame
Joey Pukki all I found was that you were dead
Nothing else could I discover nothing else said
Joey Pukki is dead and buried
I don't even know if he got married
Joey Pukki so long ole friend
That's all I've to say this is the end

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Pointing to the Emptiness

Pointing to the emptiness
I sup upon the void
Curling in the vacuum
With nothingness I have toyed

Playing to the roiling crowd
Singing of my fate
Laughing at their foibles
Contemplating why there's hate

Daring to go on with life
Seizing moments in time
Angry with love's destiny
To heaven I doth climb

Wondering at eternity
Confused by endless thought
Rasping sadly in depression
These battles I have fought

And so time carries on
I choose to stay in the game
Determined to see it through
Heedless of future pain

Pointing at the emptiness
Ever forward I am leaning
Looking for life's answers
Wondering if there's meaning

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Tranny Crack Addict Whore

The tranny crack addict whore
Doesn't live here anymore
We miss seeing her daily walks
We miss hearing her rambling talks
She smoked using a cigarette holder
She blew us kisses when feeling bolder
Her laugh was a hideous roar
Whattaya expect from a tranny crack whore
But now she's in the county jail
For once she just couldn't make the bail
We hope her withdrawals aren't too awfully bad
We hope that she isn't miserably sad
Her things have all been moved out
Chances of seeing her again we seriously doubt
Goodbye tranny crack addict whore
Sorry you don't live near us anymore

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Practical Showers

My dad would take practical showers
They did not go on for hours
He would not linger and dawdle
To him that would be pure twaddle
Dad was never late anywhere he went
He always said just what he meant
But father knew how to laugh and have fun
He was nice to everyone under the sun
Dad was not a man to waste any time
He thought to do so was a crime
His imperfections were many its true
But I've got to give the old man his due
He took -- you know -- practical showers

Monday, March 10, 2014

My Father Meets Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac met my dad in 1964
In my imagination just now

Hi I’m Jack
I’m Aimo
(They shake hands)
What sort of name is that?
Oh from Finland
I’m French Canadian but born in the US
Oh yeah?
Conrad says you were a merchant marine too
Yeah I sailed during the war
Me too
Care for a beer?
How about Olympia?
That’s fine
What kinna work you do?
I’m a writer
Oh yeah?
My boy Richard wants to be a writer
Yeah well I wish him luck
What kinna things you write
Oh mostly novels
Yeah that’s what Richard wants to write
How old is your boy?
Jus’ ten
Never too early to start
I have another boy too -- older
Good for you -- what work you do?
I’m a carpenter
That’s good work
Can I get you another beer?
Absolutely -- if you’re having one again
Why not?

My dad soon thereafter left
He came home and played basketball with me
Jack stayed in the bar and got stinko
But anyway they met
In my imagination

Sunday, March 9, 2014

To Wife Again

I wrote about you yesterday
It wasn’t enough
It is so extraordinary
That you love me too
Your great beauty overwhelms
No question of not being worthy
But accepting your love
As I do
My mind a quadrangle in which lives
Thoughts of you
Luckiest man on Earth am I
Kissing every cloud in the sky
As the rhyme begins now
I find it mystical just how
We are together in this life
That you sweet sweet woman are my wife

Saturday, March 8, 2014


You old coot shut up
Shut your curmudgeonly old mouth
Stop talking such utter rot
Such nonsense
Stop spewing the bile
The hate
Begone your anger
Woe betide the sullen musings
Gone the frothing ravings and insane blatherings
Time to silence self and let others enjoy the quiet
No more with the meandering slanders of your sickness
Let the solitude begin
Let the peace and happiness of your closed mouth surround us
We who have endured beseech you
We who have been so patient
End our suffering
Peace be unto us
You owe us that much

Wednesday, March 5, 2014


Hello retarded person on a bike smiling and waving and looking so content with life
Hello young black woman jogging looking like you might be a former student of mine
Hello drunken old man urinating against a building not minding being seen
Hello dead eyes dead skin dead mind walking and talking human form
Hello young and excited skateboarder scraping the sidewalk with metallic wheels
Hello sad lonely sagging middle aged woman alone in your car wishing for a different life
Hello asthmatic kid boarding the bus with backpack half your size and no friends
Hello vapid couple holding hands talking nonsense as if it were meaningful
Hello President Nixon's ghost still so delusional about the liar you are/were
Hello myself in the mirror being me myself and I 24 hours a day -- how are you?

Tuesday, March 4, 2014


Life is

Melancholy sweet sorrowful and sometimes joyful

Do you miss the times when you were single laying in bed listening to the rain at night and dreaming of your future days?

Does it make you sad that these are your future days and they are not what you had imagined?

Or does it make you sad that these are your future days and they are exactly as you imagined?

It's never enough is it?

It's never good enough is it?

It is what it was when you wanted it to so many rainy nights ago

While you kiss the dripping from the eaves and slap melancholia
You know that deep down inside the coming misty morning
There are your dreams floating by and wonder is all about

So pick up Whitman or Yeats or Ginsberg
And read and reflect and wipe a thought away
Ponder the rain and love its magic

Because today you are a dream man
Sleep lightly heavily and adverbly
You are what you imagined only quite different

So be it

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Don't Ask He'll Tell

He spoke in great long burrs of energy and noise
It was as if he was marching forward into a storm head down determined and unstoppable
There was no preventing the torrent of words once it began
He could not be would not be interrupted
This impenetrable force of vowels and consonants mindless and forceful filled the room
It was frightening and awesome and would visit again
The next time someone asked him: how was your weekend?

Sunday, January 12, 2014


The clamor
For my writing
Is distant and seemingly silent
But I hear it
Just not with my ears
It comes from the gone
Like my dad
Who believed I could
And that I would
That I would do it
Could do it
Full circle
Full step
The unedited man
But I took long meandering turns
In my road through life
I stopped for extended periods
In other places
Like a school
Where I taught
Like a lot of things
That delayed and denied
The writer I am
Or should be
Or could be
Maybe would be
If I did
And it is there
I love it so very much
How it hurts and stings
How the bell rings
Signaling that the time has again arrived
For me to string words together
In some form or fashion
To create
The creative
The creativity
Not being snarky
Being true
To the clamor for my writing
From so distant a place
I am

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Waiting for Something

Melancholy late afternoon Saturday
Overcast quiet chill occasional car passing
No music no TV cup of weak tea
Read the same paragraph twice
But it doesn't register
Body fatigued mind more so
Nap not possible
Hungry but nothing to eat
No interest in cooking or buying or even
Looking in the fridge
No clear thoughts but a thousand muddled ones
Lethargy makes a change impossible
Sit leisurely in chair sore from sitting
No thought of moving
Waiting for something
To happen