Tuesday, August 17, 2010
On The Subject Of Wind & Fog & Rain
1.
this morning i walked my kid
to his summer school bus
and he asked me daddy
why is it foggy
and i thought
about it a little
and told him i did
not know why
it was foggy
see that
is the great
thing about fog
2.
ways in which
to measure wind
keep front door open
while nursing cups
of coffee in your foyer
watching it flap back and forth
shutting your eyes
and pressing ear up
against screen window
hearing it rush and ripple
through the crabapples distant
trees all the world all the universe
3.
drinking coffee
in the morning
already drained
beside red fish
in blue fishbowl
in the kitchen
and from
behind curtain
of the wilderness
comes the sudden
clap of thunder and
finally alas the rain
turning the lichen & lake
& lagoon brighter
verdant, vibrant
creatures creep
in from out of
the forest
everything
evens out
in the end
4.
always loved
the sound
of thunder
its rumbles
bringing me
straight back
to childhood
communicating
to me while i was
camped out
holed up inside
the movie theater
5.
literally coming out
dazed, delicate
to the mist
sweeping
& feathering
the puddles
of the parking lot
almost an extension
to what you just saw
6.
hong kong gardens
& bowl-a-rama & the bones
of a newly-crashed helicopter
lying in a mangled smoky
heap on the side of the road
returning to your paint-by-number home
stroked in sun
and soaked
by the black
& white
silverscreen
light of slums.
this morning i walked my kid
to his summer school bus
and he asked me daddy
why is it foggy
and i thought
about it a little
and told him i did
not know why
it was foggy
see that
is the great
thing about fog
2.
ways in which
to measure wind
keep front door open
while nursing cups
of coffee in your foyer
watching it flap back and forth
shutting your eyes
and pressing ear up
against screen window
hearing it rush and ripple
through the crabapples distant
trees all the world all the universe
3.
drinking coffee
in the morning
already drained
beside red fish
in blue fishbowl
in the kitchen
and from
behind curtain
of the wilderness
comes the sudden
clap of thunder and
finally alas the rain
turning the lichen & lake
& lagoon brighter
verdant, vibrant
creatures creep
in from out of
the forest
everything
evens out
in the end
4.
always loved
the sound
of thunder
its rumbles
bringing me
straight back
to childhood
communicating
to me while i was
camped out
holed up inside
the movie theater
5.
literally coming out
dazed, delicate
to the mist
sweeping
& feathering
the puddles
of the parking lot
almost an extension
to what you just saw
6.
hong kong gardens
& bowl-a-rama & the bones
of a newly-crashed helicopter
lying in a mangled smoky
heap on the side of the road
returning to your paint-by-number home
stroked in sun
and soaked
by the black
& white
silverscreen
light of slums.
On Not Contemplating On A Bowl Of Fruit #6
and so it is my candid belief that everyone eventually
somewhere at some point or time in their life is just
trying to get back to the ripe womb and that this
is an instinctive spiritual dynamic subconscious
psychodynamic and whether inherent or simply
just weary and wasted suddenly develop some
kind of natural inclination whether out of want or need
or simply some necessary sort of manifest destiny
and instinctively head towards the heat down south
yet some only make it as far as the carolinas some
in between north and south some even choose believe it
or not cause they want to save and live more economically
mississippi and alabama some to savannah, georgia
hot l'anta and if they get real lucky make it all the way
to the promised land they always dreamed of the sunshine
state of florida preferably ft. lauderdale or boca with a nice
warm safe and secure condo and rules and regulations and
earlybird specials with other old folks and screened in porches
and perfect manicured views planted right over the third and fourth
holes so what was it i had said before about returning to the womb?
somewhere at some point or time in their life is just
trying to get back to the ripe womb and that this
is an instinctive spiritual dynamic subconscious
psychodynamic and whether inherent or simply
just weary and wasted suddenly develop some
kind of natural inclination whether out of want or need
or simply some necessary sort of manifest destiny
and instinctively head towards the heat down south
yet some only make it as far as the carolinas some
in between north and south some even choose believe it
or not cause they want to save and live more economically
mississippi and alabama some to savannah, georgia
hot l'anta and if they get real lucky make it all the way
to the promised land they always dreamed of the sunshine
state of florida preferably ft. lauderdale or boca with a nice
warm safe and secure condo and rules and regulations and
earlybird specials with other old folks and screened in porches
and perfect manicured views planted right over the third and fourth
holes so what was it i had said before about returning to the womb?
On Not Contemplating On A Bowl Of Fruit #5
and think in casually searching for homes today
out there over the superhighway in the lonestar
state seeing one described as–“beyond perfect”
in a country club like environment, located directly
on the golf course (think it might have even said
something like with–“your own private pristine view
of the third hole”) from all appearances, it seems to me
that every true-blooded american’s dream is to one day live
in a country club community (maybe even gated) directly on the
golf course, i suppose their own personal and private panaromic version
vision of heaven, and don’t know, i guess, can you really blame them? you
will when you find out who your neighbors are going to be for the rest of eternity!
i even got things a little confused and thought it may have
said something like–“calculate your mortality payments”
out there over the superhighway in the lonestar
state seeing one described as–“beyond perfect”
in a country club like environment, located directly
on the golf course (think it might have even said
something like with–“your own private pristine view
of the third hole”) from all appearances, it seems to me
that every true-blooded american’s dream is to one day live
in a country club community (maybe even gated) directly on the
golf course, i suppose their own personal and private panaromic version
vision of heaven, and don’t know, i guess, can you really blame them? you
will when you find out who your neighbors are going to be for the rest of eternity!
i even got things a little confused and thought it may have
said something like–“calculate your mortality payments”
On Not Contemplating On A Bowl Of Fruit #4
today i decided to go on map quest
and put in from hell to heaven as
this is the way i've been feeling
as of recent and the directions
said just go with your instincts
the dream within the nightmare
feeling like a weary cowboy at
day's end needing a mixed drink
like mrs. robinson trying to seduce
felix unger in central park after his
wife dumps him for winston churchill
simply smoking his cigar all alone
at the yalta conference slogging into
my wrinkled and ripped origami boat
taking it back through rough papercut
seas to see what went wrong in my
self-destructive troubled childhood
through subterranean labyrinths
shortcuts and tunnels ripping
off stores and transfixed
and turned on studying
mathematical proofs
and formulas with
the window open
just slightly ajar
hearing the birds
and babbling brook
smelling formaldehyde
and fried chicken through
screen doors of summer
the crazy brothers next
door always beating
each other up
showing up
on top of
their porch
like a bunch of
cowboy casanova studs
hollering--"what's up!"
in their ten-gallons
pushing in the
popsicle stick
doors not so sure
i understand now the whole point
of the marriage game i mean when
does that whole holy matrimony thing begin
damn if my wife doesn't touch me soon i think...
and put in from hell to heaven as
this is the way i've been feeling
as of recent and the directions
said just go with your instincts
the dream within the nightmare
feeling like a weary cowboy at
day's end needing a mixed drink
like mrs. robinson trying to seduce
felix unger in central park after his
wife dumps him for winston churchill
simply smoking his cigar all alone
at the yalta conference slogging into
my wrinkled and ripped origami boat
taking it back through rough papercut
seas to see what went wrong in my
self-destructive troubled childhood
through subterranean labyrinths
shortcuts and tunnels ripping
off stores and transfixed
and turned on studying
mathematical proofs
and formulas with
the window open
just slightly ajar
hearing the birds
and babbling brook
smelling formaldehyde
and fried chicken through
screen doors of summer
the crazy brothers next
door always beating
each other up
showing up
on top of
their porch
like a bunch of
cowboy casanova studs
hollering--"what's up!"
in their ten-gallons
pushing in the
popsicle stick
doors not so sure
i understand now the whole point
of the marriage game i mean when
does that whole holy matrimony thing begin
damn if my wife doesn't touch me soon i think...
On Not Contemplating On A Bowl Of Fruit #3
on the food channel you fall in love
with this beautiful doe-eyed voluptuous
mexican woman in her turquoise blouse
in a retro contemporary ktichen and brilliant
panaramic view of downtown los angelas looking
like a cross between j. lo and gloria estafan stuffing
a bird with stuffing and rosemary and parsley shoving
her hand in and out of the cavity rubbing some pesto rub
all over the top then pouring on the chicken broth all like some
kind of surgeon with those big brown eyes smooth olive skin pouting
lips beautiful pear-shaped bosoms all eager and enthusiastic under that
turquoise blouse with the great panaromic view of downtown los angelas.
with this beautiful doe-eyed voluptuous
mexican woman in her turquoise blouse
in a retro contemporary ktichen and brilliant
panaramic view of downtown los angelas looking
like a cross between j. lo and gloria estafan stuffing
a bird with stuffing and rosemary and parsley shoving
her hand in and out of the cavity rubbing some pesto rub
all over the top then pouring on the chicken broth all like some
kind of surgeon with those big brown eyes smooth olive skin pouting
lips beautiful pear-shaped bosoms all eager and enthusiastic under that
turquoise blouse with the great panaromic view of downtown los angelas.
On Not Contemplating On A Bowl Of Fruit #2
and so this whole thing gets so obsessive
and silly almost developing a high school
mentality suppose without all the hurt and
pain and humiliation and suffering from the
safety and security of your computer
screen all for the sake of curiosity
maybe even trying to redeem
or get closure or insanely start
things up again looking up old
girlfriends just for the fun of it
or more accurate cause i got
nothing better to do with my
downtime or existence but to
check on the status of old girlfriends
while for example found this once vicious
bee-otch i used to go out with now works
for colgate-palmolive out in california with
a great big gleaming smile and two perfect
blond daughters hanging off her, looks exactly
like she did back then, only twenty years later
a bit more pale and pasty without the seductive
powers, some might even say more mature, beaten
and battered, a ghost of her former self, shrink-wrapped
laminated, not quite as good looking or attractive as i remember
but remember the manipulation and her girlfriends, how she made
breaking hearts, laughing and whispering, going back on her word
going back and forth playing with emotions and promises and thoughts
a rare and timeless art, complacent and nonchalant, art of ridicule that
broke all rules and bore absolutely no resemblance, borders, boundaries
to basic human rights and decency, then when they become these mothers
with their new and improved souls and roles, suddenly all of a sudden all
holy and sacred, prim and proper, pimps for prophet, vixens of virtue
upstanding citizens of the community, yet if you only really knew
the things they pulled in their past, how they took advantage
took minds, hearts, and souls for hostage (matter of fact
took the whole damn body and anatomy) interesting
how things don't actually seem to change a whole hell
of a lot, disproportionately proportionate to unfortunate
character and behavior, see-through and predictable
from the past to the present to the here and now
future, now the heads of boards and organizations
to preserve names and reputations (even bestowing
on each other awards and citations) whole resumes and
grocery lists of anacronyms, how exclusive still feels a bit
absurd and abusive, how life just seems to get a bit phonier
without the humor, riddles without build-ups to the punchline
or passionate implication of innuendoes and rumors, survival
of the fittest, the life cycle, growth and development (men still a bunch
of suckers and idiots) of the very emotional and whimsical female gender.
and silly almost developing a high school
mentality suppose without all the hurt and
pain and humiliation and suffering from the
safety and security of your computer
screen all for the sake of curiosity
maybe even trying to redeem
or get closure or insanely start
things up again looking up old
girlfriends just for the fun of it
or more accurate cause i got
nothing better to do with my
downtime or existence but to
check on the status of old girlfriends
while for example found this once vicious
bee-otch i used to go out with now works
for colgate-palmolive out in california with
a great big gleaming smile and two perfect
blond daughters hanging off her, looks exactly
like she did back then, only twenty years later
a bit more pale and pasty without the seductive
powers, some might even say more mature, beaten
and battered, a ghost of her former self, shrink-wrapped
laminated, not quite as good looking or attractive as i remember
but remember the manipulation and her girlfriends, how she made
breaking hearts, laughing and whispering, going back on her word
going back and forth playing with emotions and promises and thoughts
a rare and timeless art, complacent and nonchalant, art of ridicule that
broke all rules and bore absolutely no resemblance, borders, boundaries
to basic human rights and decency, then when they become these mothers
with their new and improved souls and roles, suddenly all of a sudden all
holy and sacred, prim and proper, pimps for prophet, vixens of virtue
upstanding citizens of the community, yet if you only really knew
the things they pulled in their past, how they took advantage
took minds, hearts, and souls for hostage (matter of fact
took the whole damn body and anatomy) interesting
how things don't actually seem to change a whole hell
of a lot, disproportionately proportionate to unfortunate
character and behavior, see-through and predictable
from the past to the present to the here and now
future, now the heads of boards and organizations
to preserve names and reputations (even bestowing
on each other awards and citations) whole resumes and
grocery lists of anacronyms, how exclusive still feels a bit
absurd and abusive, how life just seems to get a bit phonier
without the humor, riddles without build-ups to the punchline
or passionate implication of innuendoes and rumors, survival
of the fittest, the life cycle, growth and development (men still a bunch
of suckers and idiots) of the very emotional and whimsical female gender.
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