build up build up
let it all down

run your fingers through your hair

build up build up
run on down that hill

scratch your nose one last time

build up build up
don’t fall down yet

we have no time to breadth so smile and walk on down that road 3 years ago

And then
I had had
enough

Off of my
bananas I
asked most
polite

But they
didn’t listen
to my many
warnings

So I grabbed
a can of aerosol
waterproofing
and a match

There was a
great heat
and ball of
flame

It was like
a fruit fly
Vietnam
flashback
with
bananas

))){3 years ago

I dreamt my hands were
Replaced with yellow roses.
Some things were more
Difficult; everything was
More beautiful. I no longer
Want to be useful in this
Life, productive, practical,
Who I have been. I want to
Be who I am, though it
Seems impossible, magical.
To those who would mourn
My divine mutilation, I can
Offer only the glory of
Gold-tipped blooms wiping
Your cheeks as vast unseen
Gardens flow from your tears.

[Six months of poem-a-day writing! I rock!] 3 years ago

Isolation of individual;
Failure of revolution;
Inevitability of war;
Brutality of money;
Turmoil of culture;
Lucidity of guns;
Logic of power

Repetition of eventless day;
Voicelessness;
Vivid mirage of control;
Distance;
Casualties of causality;
Decay;
Trap of responsibility

Until looking up,
seeing the smile,
and changing ideology
(Oh, it is crucial
for you to smile!) 3 years ago

is here

I can’t tell you how many mornings I say, “Damn it! I gotta write a goddamn poem!” It’s the most satisfying creative practice I’ve ever done. Tomorrow, Sept. 30, will mark six months of daily poem writing. Here’s to another six!

_{if anyone mentions a book, I will succumb to exhaustion and weep}3 years ago

Of all I wanted not to see,
Test results, xrays, tired
Doctors, the line in your
Limp small arm, it is the
Fear in your eyes that
Undoes me. I cannot
Protect you without
Endangerment. I am
Sorry. I understand
Nothing about this,
Have not found the
Divine here. I am
Supposed to make
Things better; this is
My job. You are not
Getting better and if
You must go, take me
With you. I refuse life
Without you alive. Pure
Drama; I will live and
Some day I cannot now
Imagine, will laugh and
Not feel the immediate pinch
Of guilt. This is probably true.
It does not help us now. Crawl
Into my lap, line be damned.
Let us take comfort in the
Warmth of flesh and
Love while we can. 3 years ago

At forty eight,
wife, college kid,
car, house, job,
some religion,
fun traditions,
made over the years,
family trips (just the two of them),
two weekend days,
and slight addiction
to the alarm clock…

Stops the car
on the tracks…
metal screech. 3 years ago

She feels the flutter, delicate
Muscle beating against blue
Grey skin. She needs to eat,
Sleep, calcium for the tick,
Exercise to chase away the
Demons. She needs to do
Anything to exhaustion.
The flutter again, as if she
Were knocking on her own
Eye socket, asking herself
To see what’s wrong. What’s
Wrong is what she sees, how
She is seen. Too dramatic,
Too emotional, always too
Much for a normal life. It
Flutters again, on the left,
Like a bird fighting the net,
The strongest part of a
Weak cry for help. 3 years ago

Each grain of sand however small
Builds the desert, I thought, wanting
To do something impossible
So I chose a bicycle that
Looked fleet-wheeled and coaxed it to go
Beach-riding, the adventure of
Its life. I promised something real,
Rubbing red eyes when the wind kicks
Up, the smell of erosion, boat
Splinters, salt breeze hair, fossils. All
We needed was forward motion,
I explained, as it gleamed chrome at
Me, winked in the sunlight,
Reflecting an infinite sky
Pure as devotion. I saw this
As meaningful, raising my
Foot to pedal dauntless,
Thinking us alchemy of flesh
And metal, not motionless, no
Not that, not even as one wheel
Sank fast followed by the other
Into a glittering stretch of
White forever ahead of us,
Settled if not retrievable. 3 years ago

Ritual garb unobtrusive, I pass for a
Native, running into the time of the
Next me, across beaches, up, down
Hills. I walk slowly, reach for the
Balancing moment, heels braced on
The wall, hair tickling my laced
Hands, lift and pull, resisting the
Cables. The outlook is good.
Change is coming. I settle into my
Bones, feel the flesh lengthen and
Warm, one more minute and I can
Rejoin the women at the watering
Hole, take my bottle, my bag, my
Arched lock and pencil into my
Daybook the next week’s workouts,
Relieved that I passed, one more
Time, for a native. 3 years ago

Grasps the wheel greedily
always loved driving
and to have a nice car,
at age fifteen,
to drive around
felt like a dream.

“Drive the guys
wherever they want”
get in return
food and shelter
and a weekly pay (even modest)
to parents and sisters.

Orders are clear:
keep it to yourself,
and no questions!
Laugh, if you want,
at a drunken guy,
but not too much!

“All is going
to be all right…”
he keeps repeating
and the rough collar
of the new shirt
irritates his neck. 3 years ago

Your heart is fleeing
something and your pulse
beats fast like the ties
under these ever-stretching
away somewhere rails.

You’re on a night train and
your interest lights your
eyes and quickly your hair
is in the wake of your smiled
hello which the doppler effect
snatches away.

The lights of the carriage
are reflected in the
stillness of the water
that the trestle bridge
crosses like a dark arc
between two stellar systems.

Night water beneath which
the vibration of the train’s
passing causes ripples in
making the nearby stars dance.

And then

))){3 years ago

Like anyone, I have danced on a
Train, lifted a cauldron over a
Cricket, stolen a cow gate and
Replaced it with garters and
Fishnets. As all of us do, I have
Pulled a child out of a transparent
Tube at the bottom of a swamp
While the villagers ignored my
Cries for help, started a bonfire
With an heirloom earring and
Candy floss, leapt from a camel
Barely in time. It has been a
Boring but useful life, no big
Complaints; though my third eye
Waters in monsoon season, I’m
Glad that I stuck to the known,
Unlike those adventurers, fools,
Who choose sailing on unknown
Seas over the safety of daydreams. 3 years ago

Corey finds out
he’s Jewish
the other day.
His father
admits it
outright while
his brother,
fuming, stares
red bolts
into the platter
of bratwurst
in the middle of the table
because he was
ashamed
slash
angry
about it.
I always
thought so,
but I’m
glad to know,
Corey tells me.
He’s somehow not
surprised over
the keeping of
his father’s mother’s secret. 3 years ago

It is immense recalibration,
Turning to one you love and
Asking a necessary question
That stings like raw honey in
Your throat, knowing you are,
These days, all nerve and fire,
Likely to misunderstand, to
See the water balloon as a
Weapon, the pat as a slap.
A simple thing, turning,
Though you feel forty years
Of history fastening lines to
Your shoulders and ribs,
Asking you please to step
Into this bucket of concrete
One more time, it’s all to
Keep you safe. You can’t
Shed shackles like snakeskin.
You can choose, turn, ask,
Trust, believe and refuse to
Cuff your own heart. 3 years ago

“Do you?” She asks,
and looks in his eyes,
seeking traces
of honesty,
or affirmation,
something.

It’s not a choice;
it’s not a skill
to try and perfect;
some hearts are just
not built to get pierced
and feel the pleasure
and fly free…
He stops the haste
of the run-away train,
“Such a beauty!”
And runs his finger,
in admiration,
on the familiar path
from her silken cheek,
right below the eyes,
all the way to the chin…
trying to hide
his own handicap
under the cover
of appreciation.

Ugly trades,
love for regret
or trueness for love…
One, two, three, four…
Whose pain is more?
Not even time knows. 3 years ago

I’d been dreaming about
losing my teeth
for months when I chomp
down on some
Christmas Candy
and lose #23,
the second incisor.

Forever disfigured, I become
a toothless, white trash
monument of shame.
Not a triumphant
or curious or
incredulous thing,
like in my dreams where my molars and all
just plunk out of my mouth
into my open and waiting palm.
Nope.
It fucking hurts. 3 years ago

I have carried my water to
The dying, guarded my
Embers to warm the cold.
I have forgotten to reserve
For myself the choice part
Of the meal, as befitting the
Strong. Hunters eat first. I
Have tracked down and
Found for you confidence,
Freedom, a path out of hell.
I am thirsty, chilled, tired.
If you find yourself above
The abyss, below a tiger,
With mice eating the root
To which you cling, you
Might admire the flower
Or gaze to the side and
Notice my picnic. Wine,
Blankets, butter, bread,
Cheese, cashews and a
Deer dripping blood for
Our striped friend. 3 years ago

If you see me beam,
My secret happiness
For the day is that
Shirt is color-matched
With the inside sole
Of my tacky,
Retired running shoes.
(Until I call home)

Distraction and survival
They are related
Like distant cousins
But more clubby 3 years ago

Wishes

I have not yet decided if memory exists
for the preservation of love
or if love exists
for the preservation of memory
or if both exist for the preservation of thought
or if every thing exists for
the destruction of every other thing

no matter

projection, burrowing into the future,
triangulation
of wishes,
how we each disappear, moment by moment,
into our nearest and dearest possibilities

ego, knowledge, limitation, loveliness,
ugliness, ennui, nobility, evil and all suspended

for the moment it takes for a moment to die
and where it goes then
into story, legend, or even
(or is it always) love, love as
a swaddled horde of atoms toddling toward
something, forward, unwinding the sheet
until the unwise hive is released
no wiser, no stupider,
only certainly more completely
a lamentation of bees

I have yet to decide,
but am happy sometimes
to have such an
unsettled mind 3 years ago

each tear falling from my eye
represents the elements of life

each tear falling form your eye
represents the pain I can’t fill

each tear falling from her eye
represents the fact that there are more of them than us

each tear falling
represents the good as without it we would have no tears

[my brain trying to figure out the whole opposite forces of nature, of life] 3 years ago

You’ve left me
and there’s
emptiness before
you’ve even been a
part of my life.
I can’t help but
feel I’ve missed
you completely.
Want to feel you on me
and get to know
the mouth
with the words
and taste and
swallowing.
Let me have you. 3 years ago

I always touch
flowers on a table
to see if they’re
real.
I always touch
a proffered shoulder,
elbow, spine or dick
to see if I’m
real and
because I’m a
coward. 3 years ago

LL calls:

“There’s a huge dust storm
that may end up in New
Zealand; they had to close
Kingsford Smith Airport. I love
you.”

I reply:

“Australia is blowing
away – it’s already
terribly eroded and
ancient – hope it’s
still there when I
get there. I love you.”

“I’ll be waiting here even
if everything else is gone,” she says.

“I’d be happy in Antarctica
with you; anywhere,” I say.

We disconnect. LL is getting
up and going to work happy
and I wince all of a sudden:
my broken clavicle is complaining;
I’m in a weird position but didn’t
notice it before because I love
my wife.

_{For LL}

))){3 years ago

And now we
double-bolt
the doors
and sleep
uneasy our
dreams full
of images
from forensic
shows

Yes, television
is getting the
job done

The owners of
Glock firearms
are rolling in
the bucks: nothing
like a precision
handgun under
your soft pillow

Yes, ma’am
television is
getting the
job done

And we no longer
think and find
ourselves laughing
at tepid lines
along with the
studio laughter
which is not really
funny at all

Yes, sir
television is
getting the job
done

_{Fishboy does not watch television except for PBS and does not own firearms, but is, like Molly Roberts said once,’Pro knife’; no one ever got killed while cleaning their knife.}

))){3 years ago

What, for me, is inside your hand,
Extended toward me, palm up,
Fingers curled? I have placed
Myself there in safety or shame,
Nested in as a bird unaware that
Her mate has been eaten, sure in
Expectation of the meal to come.
There is love in the deep lines,
Calluses, five finger soldiers
Protect what I carry, bright hope
For dark days, deep faith for the
Glaring scared nights. No two
Hands alike, no two moments.
I’ve made it this far by never
Expecting the good things to
Last. Give me your hand. I
Am learning the value of
Foolishness. Give me your
Hand. I am learning to love. 3 years ago

lying next to you feels like
it does right after I hit
the snooze button while rainwater
etches down my window like
legs in a wine glass, slapping
the ground mercilessly
washing away the sins of
cigarette butts in front yards
and vulgar notes teenagers
wrote with index fingers
on the backs of car windows.

where did you get these virtues
of which ben franklin would approve
I have tested your limits
and you have proven true
again you quelch my doubts
until my doubts are few

constancy is your trademark
if ever there were a healer
I’m sure that it is you
your words are like soothing salve
they coat my injured soul
and resurrect my dormant heart

your touch is like electric light
that travels like lightning strikes
shattering armor and shells
until I lay down my arms
and surrender my heavy shield
that I have grown weary
of holding to guard my heart

your eyes try my last resolve
to hide my insecurities
that peek between the blinds
that cover who I really am
and I throw open the shutters
exposing everything
and still your gaze is steady
and my heart is whole again

your words meet my every need
they stop in rest intervals
and resume in symphony
more beautiful to my ears
than mozart or vivaldi
they minister to my spirit
they freely offer up Love

and when it is that we collide
there are angels and fairies
and enchanted spirit guides
dancing in my cell membranes
decoding my chromosomes
shaking the core of who I am
riding the pony express
hijacked by the savage
not willing to be tamed

and at the end of the day
time loops around in spirals
and I can’t say for sure
where you end and I begin
merging and intertwining
tangled but yet still free
and it is the sound of silence
that raises its voice
and I cover up my ears
for only in heaven
should such beauty be revealed. 3 years ago

Castle
Big Powerful
Fire Protect Work
Brave Powerful Protective Strong
Unbreakable

[my child wrote it – a Cinquain] now here is mine:

Ann
Small Innocent
Newborn Patience Loving
Hope Creation Future Simple
Innocence

[written for my almost born niece, Ann] 3 years ago

Possible, this impossible task.
Doable, what I’ve never done.
The doubt lifts its heavy foot
To tread me into the ground.
I look over my shoulder,
Speak its name, ask for
Its invitation, feed it one
Breath, another, a third,
See it is one more piece
Of the shattered dream.
I start a conversation,
Curious, kind, terrified,
Angry, sad, shifting, ever
Shifting. We visit awhile,
Old friends and enemies.
When it departs, I find on
My desk dried petals of
Flowers so sweet that
Death cannot destroy,
Only intensify, their
Beauty, so like mine,
So like yours,
So like ours.

[I’ve been doing a creative process around the focus desire “I am curious and kind toward all my emotions” during the month of Sept. Our prompt today asked us to write a letter or poem to our focus desire. I had to laugh. Sure! What’s one more poem after 175 days!] 3 years ago