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