If you catch a rainbow
you have to throw it back
because there just aren’t enough
to go around anymore.
Rainbows don’t grow on trees
you know & most of them
pop up out of nowhere
and fade away fast.
So if you catch a rainbow
throw it back for me
will you please
pretty please?
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Friday, November 28, 2014
The Princess’s Poem
Here she is in the woods again
(surrounded by giants)
trying to get to grandmother’s heart
where stepmother can’t see her cry.
She longs for some help
from a wizard she knows
but he’s home in his garden
with problems of his own.
So plunging her arm
down her throat
like a hunter
she hauls out a shimmering fish
with razorlike teeth
& ears that can hear her
& grandmother’s
beautiful eyes.
Here she is in the woods again
(surrounded by giants)
trying to get to grandmother’s heart
where stepmother can’t see her cry.
She longs for some help
from a wizard she knows
but he’s home in his garden
with problems of his own.
So plunging her arm
down her throat
like a hunter
she hauls out a shimmering fish
with razorlike teeth
& ears that can hear her
& grandmother’s
beautiful eyes.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
poem to mom, owed to Alzheimer’s
and there you perch in your birdcage
high atop the trees and neighbors
observing the undulation, marveling
at the colors the world makes as it rots away
spying on leaves better left alone
compassionately watching them let go & twirl
broken helicopters spiraling down
resisting gravity with nothing but air & style
when they finally hit the ground
they seem to settle in for the duration
content to wait until it's time to act again:
meatless bit players in the animated carnival of love & fear.
and there you perch in your birdcage
high atop the trees and neighbors
observing the undulation, marveling
at the colors the world makes as it rots away
spying on leaves better left alone
compassionately watching them let go & twirl
broken helicopters spiraling down
resisting gravity with nothing but air & style
when they finally hit the ground
they seem to settle in for the duration
content to wait until it's time to act again:
meatless bit players in the animated carnival of love & fear.
My mother, Musette
My mom lived at the bottom of the ocean in Glenside, PA
where ages ago fish would wiggle
through her beautiful hair & leave eggs there
before their bones became stones and relics and ruin.
Mommy sat and sorted the trees that populated the hills
of an ever-undulating neighborhood
where the one real choice was up or down
and the colors of the leaves flicked past her eyes like time.
Mom slept inside a cozy box constructed by her sons
who’ve loved her without knowing her ‘til then
and the dog she adopted barked at everything,
bringing back the joy and noise of all her men and boys.
My mommy lived at the bottom of the ocean
and when I called her on the phone
her ploy was to ask as a joke who I was.
“Yours,” I told her and told her again.
My mom lived at the bottom of the ocean in Glenside, PA
where ages ago fish would wiggle
through her beautiful hair & leave eggs there
before their bones became stones and relics and ruin.
Mommy sat and sorted the trees that populated the hills
of an ever-undulating neighborhood
where the one real choice was up or down
and the colors of the leaves flicked past her eyes like time.
Mom slept inside a cozy box constructed by her sons
who’ve loved her without knowing her ‘til then
and the dog she adopted barked at everything,
bringing back the joy and noise of all her men and boys.
My mommy lived at the bottom of the ocean
and when I called her on the phone
her ploy was to ask as a joke who I was.
“Yours,” I told her and told her again.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
in your eyes
a little girl's riding her horse right through town
following the trail of an outlaw she loves
collecting a menagerie of aromas and dirt
she looks down on the pedestrian world
now in the bathtub she screams loud & laughs
tickled to be all a-rub-a-dub-dub
splashing suds on all that she sees
making water her weapon of joy
I saw her today as I passed by your eyes
I felt her heart beating still wild
she said hi who're you where're you going right now
she said hey look at me I am me
she talks like a fisherman's daughter
with words that explode in the heart
she catches me drifting and sinking
and hauls me in safe to her boat
a little girl's riding her horse right through town
following the trail of an outlaw she loves
collecting a menagerie of aromas and dirt
she looks down on the pedestrian world
now in the bathtub she screams loud & laughs
tickled to be all a-rub-a-dub-dub
splashing suds on all that she sees
making water her weapon of joy
I saw her today as I passed by your eyes
I felt her heart beating still wild
she said hi who're you where're you going right now
she said hey look at me I am me
she talks like a fisherman's daughter
with words that explode in the heart
she catches me drifting and sinking
and hauls me in safe to her boat
Sunday, August 17, 2014
2 lives
Her mother used to put him in her playpen with her.
Concerned about her toys, she’d sit and stare —
waiting for him to make his move.
But he didn’t.
He loved only his teddybear,
straw-colored buddy who’d disappear sometimes
mysteriously like memory.
Until she’d find it,
save it from the wastebasket
where it sat, tidied-up & waiting
for someone just like her
to return it.
So she did, perhaps in thanks
for his lack of greed
or just because she worked that way.
It doesn’t matter.
She disappeared to grow a family,
he to save and savor a world
where everything could grow.
Which it did.
Then one day she remembered him
and hauled him back to life, back to love
back to herself, who held him tight
& stuffed the straw back in.
===================================================
for Buddy Furlow
8/28/92
Her mother used to put him in her playpen with her.
Concerned about her toys, she’d sit and stare —
waiting for him to make his move.
But he didn’t.
He loved only his teddybear,
straw-colored buddy who’d disappear sometimes
mysteriously like memory.
Until she’d find it,
save it from the wastebasket
where it sat, tidied-up & waiting
for someone just like her
to return it.
So she did, perhaps in thanks
for his lack of greed
or just because she worked that way.
It doesn’t matter.
She disappeared to grow a family,
he to save and savor a world
where everything could grow.
Which it did.
Then one day she remembered him
and hauled him back to life, back to love
back to herself, who held him tight
& stuffed the straw back in.
===================================================
for Buddy Furlow
8/28/92
When hearts fall apart
they do it a little at a time
as if the pieces might never meet again
like americans on the move whose lives
relocate in their sleep
who pay their bills by phone
and double up to sleep alone.
I keep my heart in a plastic bag
so when the time comes
for you to give it back
it’s easy, safe, convenient
and the air that it’s been missing
won’t rust it while I learn –
a good old roast with freezer burn.
And I don’t intend to give yours back
in the same state I was in
but rather mess it up a little
so next time it’ll pick a partner
who can take it lying down
and doesn’t want to push and shove
an everyday event like love.
they do it a little at a time
as if the pieces might never meet again
like americans on the move whose lives
relocate in their sleep
who pay their bills by phone
and double up to sleep alone.
I keep my heart in a plastic bag
so when the time comes
for you to give it back
it’s easy, safe, convenient
and the air that it’s been missing
won’t rust it while I learn –
a good old roast with freezer burn.
And I don’t intend to give yours back
in the same state I was in
but rather mess it up a little
so next time it’ll pick a partner
who can take it lying down
and doesn’t want to push and shove
an everyday event like love.
Friday, August 15, 2014
The 300 lb. heart
She had it twisted out of shape
back before her eyes turned in
and age appeared too early
like a bug with no table manners.
She got it broken, a hairline crack
that’s hard to find
until she lets you into it
which she does to get you out.
She knows that starving
is something she must do
to a 300 lb. heart
who won’t stop eating her for lunch.
She had it twisted out of shape
back before her eyes turned in
and age appeared too early
like a bug with no table manners.
She got it broken, a hairline crack
that’s hard to find
until she lets you into it
which she does to get you out.
She knows that starving
is something she must do
to a 300 lb. heart
who won’t stop eating her for lunch.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Full moon haiku stack
Full moon is out there
confounding society
with mad gravity,
sucking the water
we carry around with us
out of our brain pans,
causing us to clash,
to confront unconsciously
ourselves and others.
Streets and sidewalks now
under its influence are
bumping arenas.
Close calls confound us.
Confrontational pinballs,
clueless lunatics,
we pretend all’s well
as the moon’s wry loony swell
amplifies our hell.
Gunny sacks get dumped,
conversations escalate
to ultimatums.
Old relationships
are re-evaluated
on a cosmic scale.
Innocuous jokes
suddenly conceal meanings.
All is amplified
just because a speck
of spinning satellite dust
stares without blinking.
Perhaps it is time
to let awareness guide us
and ride out the tides,
and humor help us
deflate the dark energy
and wake up alive.
Full moon is out there
confounding society
with mad gravity,
sucking the water
we carry around with us
out of our brain pans,
causing us to clash,
to confront unconsciously
ourselves and others.
Streets and sidewalks now
under its influence are
bumping arenas.
Close calls confound us.
Confrontational pinballs,
clueless lunatics,
we pretend all’s well
as the moon’s wry loony swell
amplifies our hell.
Gunny sacks get dumped,
conversations escalate
to ultimatums.
Old relationships
are re-evaluated
on a cosmic scale.
Innocuous jokes
suddenly conceal meanings.
All is amplified
just because a speck
of spinning satellite dust
stares without blinking.
Perhaps it is time
to let awareness guide us
and ride out the tides,
and humor help us
deflate the dark energy
and wake up alive.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
shaving your legs
I was just dreaming
of shaving your legs
the same ones
I've shaved before
on various continents
in bathtubs big and not
and in this dream
you were comfortable
sipping blood and champagne
out of a tall clear glass
humming tunes to yourself
as I knelt to attend you
doo whacka doo
look at you
whaddaya know
suck my toe
you were singing
while I barbered you
and bathed you
and loved you
I was just dreaming
of shaving your legs
the same ones
I've shaved before
on various continents
in bathtubs big and not
and in this dream
you were comfortable
sipping blood and champagne
out of a tall clear glass
humming tunes to yourself
as I knelt to attend you
doo whacka doo
look at you
whaddaya know
suck my toe
you were singing
while I barbered you
and bathed you
and loved you
the juice
you are the juice that runs
off the plate and into me
the draft that fuels the fire
and keeps my cells alive
concentrated stamina
in liquid female form
the color of blood and fruit
sweet tang of angel sweat
slither down my throat
and turn me inside out
circulate and percolate
and ooze out through my pores
without you I am dry
just dust without a home
ash descending on the sea
you are the juice that runs
off the plate and into me
the draft that fuels the fire
and keeps my cells alive
concentrated stamina
in liquid female form
the color of blood and fruit
sweet tang of angel sweat
slither down my throat
and turn me inside out
circulate and percolate
and ooze out through my pores
without you I am dry
just dust without a home
ash descending on the sea
without you
people would die horrible disgusting deaths
presided over by me and my maniacal gleam
eyes plucked from sockets would roll
down streets drenched in blood and bile
without you seasons would change
irrationally gleefully destroying civilizations
pretentious morons would commit painful suicide
rather than face the fury of a youless me
oceans would boil at my touch
mountains would turn to mud and shit
every tiny penis behind the wheel of an SUV
& every plastic mammary gland would continuously quake with fear
obsessed accountants and technical assistance dickheads
would make arsenic their new boring linear aperitif of choice
corporations would crawl back into the abyss
from which they sprang pretending to be humans
without you governments would stop sending me mail
fearing their families would reap the rewards of my righteous wrath
obsessive bosses would resign on the spot
heading for hills already teeming with rejected despots
rollerbladers and other amateur athletes would order and insert
costco loads of plutonium-leaking cruise missile suppositories
without you this monkey feces world would get what it deserves
people would die horrible disgusting deaths
presided over by me and my maniacal gleam
eyes plucked from sockets would roll
down streets drenched in blood and bile
without you seasons would change
irrationally gleefully destroying civilizations
pretentious morons would commit painful suicide
rather than face the fury of a youless me
oceans would boil at my touch
mountains would turn to mud and shit
every tiny penis behind the wheel of an SUV
& every plastic mammary gland would continuously quake with fear
obsessed accountants and technical assistance dickheads
would make arsenic their new boring linear aperitif of choice
corporations would crawl back into the abyss
from which they sprang pretending to be humans
without you governments would stop sending me mail
fearing their families would reap the rewards of my righteous wrath
obsessive bosses would resign on the spot
heading for hills already teeming with rejected despots
rollerbladers and other amateur athletes would order and insert
costco loads of plutonium-leaking cruise missile suppositories
without you this monkey feces world would get what it deserves
fools that we are
we fall for it every time
like dopes who fell from heaven
we stumble in and out of others’ pain
our delightful wheeler dealer circus
riding along with us in the ambulance
making music out of dopplered sirens
and tapestries from blood and shit
that’s what we do me and you
in between reruns and videos
we rock and roll beneath the stars
and splash god’s face in the pool
and thank the fool who made all this
including us and our silliness and depth
upon which the universe and all its creatures
can count ‘till the day they die
we fall for it every time
like dopes who fell from heaven
we stumble in and out of others’ pain
our delightful wheeler dealer circus
riding along with us in the ambulance
making music out of dopplered sirens
and tapestries from blood and shit
that’s what we do me and you
in between reruns and videos
we rock and roll beneath the stars
and splash god’s face in the pool
and thank the fool who made all this
including us and our silliness and depth
upon which the universe and all its creatures
can count ‘till the day they die
I sit helpless
& watch the blood drain
out of my poems
who used to run wild
pumped full of adrenalin
& speed
spraying sweat on onlookers
dazzling & disorienting them
with spiky hot & cold showers
& huge loudmouthed rainbows
that punched perfect holes
through their unbelieving eyes
now the poems lie here dying
victims of their own success
chained to life-support machines
my hand reaches for the plug
& watch the blood drain
out of my poems
who used to run wild
pumped full of adrenalin
& speed
spraying sweat on onlookers
dazzling & disorienting them
with spiky hot & cold showers
& huge loudmouthed rainbows
that punched perfect holes
through their unbelieving eyes
now the poems lie here dying
victims of their own success
chained to life-support machines
my hand reaches for the plug
Monday, July 21, 2014
It’s a good thing I didn’t write you a poem this morning because
it would have been wasted on the woman who woke up in our bed.
To tell the truth she scared me and made me wonder
what the meaning of life and living really is.
She barked at me and pushed me around and pinched my tits
and by the time she was done venting there was little left of me.
As I was washing the fear off of me she smacked me in the ass
and told me to stop flaunting it I swear to God.
I missed you more than ever this morning with this poem inside me
like a lump of living rock from the Big Island.
It’s my offering to you, not to her who would never understand
or accept the intricacies of my vicious devotion to you.
All that matters to her is pleasure and pain, heat and ice, charisma and chaos, bodies distended and writhing beneath her touch.
She’s your defender, one who steps inside your hurt and helps
demolish the obligatory agony of openness and innocence.
Tell her who I am so this doesn’t happen again,
or maybe you prefer to keep your poet to yourself.
it would have been wasted on the woman who woke up in our bed.
To tell the truth she scared me and made me wonder
what the meaning of life and living really is.
She barked at me and pushed me around and pinched my tits
and by the time she was done venting there was little left of me.
As I was washing the fear off of me she smacked me in the ass
and told me to stop flaunting it I swear to God.
I missed you more than ever this morning with this poem inside me
like a lump of living rock from the Big Island.
It’s my offering to you, not to her who would never understand
or accept the intricacies of my vicious devotion to you.
All that matters to her is pleasure and pain, heat and ice, charisma and chaos, bodies distended and writhing beneath her touch.
She’s your defender, one who steps inside your hurt and helps
demolish the obligatory agony of openness and innocence.
Tell her who I am so this doesn’t happen again,
or maybe you prefer to keep your poet to yourself.
bird feeder
you hung a contraption
outside so you'd see
them flutter and gobble
and flutter away
you sit inside watching them
as if each one were marilyn monroe
victims of their reputations
encased in wings that hurt to use
landing on your balcony
on their way to somewhere else
where all the food is free
and no one wants a thing
where no one carries guns
or photographs perfection
and birds are allowed to be birds
without ever having to die
they visit your bird feeder now
and pretend they don't know that you're there
spying on them from your cushy chair
mixing good seed with middling
helping them presume every bite is the best
on the house with no strings attached
like it's nice to believe of the world all around
as you fly through the air as you fall
you hung a contraption
outside so you'd see
them flutter and gobble
and flutter away
you sit inside watching them
as if each one were marilyn monroe
victims of their reputations
encased in wings that hurt to use
landing on your balcony
on their way to somewhere else
where all the food is free
and no one wants a thing
where no one carries guns
or photographs perfection
and birds are allowed to be birds
without ever having to die
they visit your bird feeder now
and pretend they don't know that you're there
spying on them from your cushy chair
mixing good seed with middling
helping them presume every bite is the best
on the house with no strings attached
like it's nice to believe of the world all around
as you fly through the air as you fall
morning poem
what a dream this morning
you and me two noodles entwined
bouncing up and flopping down
eyes bulging hearts bumping
we must have sounded like haiku do
when they're on a break or bender
cut loose from bonds of perfection
allowed to fuck and fly
syllables and symbols sloshing around
inside a cup of wonder
passing fluids back and forth
with goofy glee
bodies like ours don't need a sun
to give direction or purpose or light
we generate all the warmth we need
above and below the covers
there's no place I'd rather be
than inside your homey cave
warm and soft and spewing light
in and out of us.
what a dream this morning
you and me two noodles entwined
bouncing up and flopping down
eyes bulging hearts bumping
we must have sounded like haiku do
when they're on a break or bender
cut loose from bonds of perfection
allowed to fuck and fly
syllables and symbols sloshing around
inside a cup of wonder
passing fluids back and forth
with goofy glee
bodies like ours don't need a sun
to give direction or purpose or light
we generate all the warmth we need
above and below the covers
there's no place I'd rather be
than inside your homey cave
warm and soft and spewing light
in and out of us.
Breakfast
You’re the first meal of my day every day
cooked to perfection, poached in experience,
covered with creamy sauce and served up hot.
I dig into you with my eyes and ears and mouth,
savoring every bite of you, nursing chunks of you
sliding down my throat, juices dripping off my chin.
Nutrition never tasted so good.
It takes all day to recover from you
and then I hunger for more,
stumbling around in an undernourished daze.
I starve myself, refusing other food,
fasting from pleasure, denying carnal desires
‘til I can feast on you again.
You’re more than a mouthful, that’s for sure.
Tasting your lips on mine, hips flipping me over,
over and over, easy and hard, simmering, flayed,
flambéd and sautéed,
I realize I’ve become the main course,
that you’ve turned the tables once again
and made me eat my words, with relish.
You’re the first meal of my day every day
cooked to perfection, poached in experience,
covered with creamy sauce and served up hot.
I dig into you with my eyes and ears and mouth,
savoring every bite of you, nursing chunks of you
sliding down my throat, juices dripping off my chin.
Nutrition never tasted so good.
It takes all day to recover from you
and then I hunger for more,
stumbling around in an undernourished daze.
I starve myself, refusing other food,
fasting from pleasure, denying carnal desires
‘til I can feast on you again.
You’re more than a mouthful, that’s for sure.
Tasting your lips on mine, hips flipping me over,
over and over, easy and hard, simmering, flayed,
flambéd and sautéed,
I realize I’ve become the main course,
that you’ve turned the tables once again
and made me eat my words, with relish.
When are you going to learn
that learning stops when you grow old
that you can’t keep taking it in like that
and turning it into you?
How long before you realize
that life is life and that is that
that you can’t make any of it better
by being better yourself?
What’s it going to take to convince you
that it’s useless to keep trying
that nobody can better themselves
through hard work and sacrifice?
Go ahead and fool yourself
study your books and hum your mantras
iron out the bad and fluff up the good
in your deluded push to perfection.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
The
Princess’s Poem
Here she is in the woods again
(surrounded
by giants)
trying to get to
grandmother’s heart
where stepmother can’t see her cry.
She longs
for some help
from a wizard she knows
but he’s home in his garden
with problems of his own.
So plunging her arm
down her throat
like a hunter
she hauls out a shimmering fish
with razorlike teeth
& ears that can
hear her
& grandmother’s
beautiful eyes.
1992 0804
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Dancing on Common Grounds
(A Haiku Waffle Stack)
- - -
Last night we all danced,
did the tribal rock ’n’ roll,
bouncing past the past.
Couldn’t have done it
without the boys in the band
blasting us with love.
Musical murder:
music so loud it killed us,
brought us back to life.
Last night we all danced,
found a way back to ourselves
like we’d never left.
(A Haiku Waffle Stack)
- - -
Last night we all danced,
did the tribal rock ’n’ roll,
bouncing past the past.
Couldn’t have done it
without the boys in the band
blasting us with love.
Musical murder:
music so loud it killed us,
brought us back to life.
Last night we all danced,
found a way back to ourselves
like we’d never left.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)