#462. dear class
February 27, 2011
i am so
and so
scramble my brain
eggs into sculptures
poem omelettes
tired of over easy
return is another change
in time to
baffle time
and myself
one more time
#461. sisters
February 20, 2011
less
death
in change
this still life
moves bright stars
deeply in darkly eyes
focuses joy overwhelming
now the sorrow of whenever
whatever comes as time to time
#460. List Of Friends
February 16, 2011
List Of Friends
“I think a lot about things, and
I think a lot of, well, a few anyway
think like I think and see things
the sane way I see them. Right now
I’d just as soon groove.
c razy.”
— John Daley
Transition.
What?
a touch?
No!
I don’t wanna touch
it just
upsets me.
No touching.
No risks.
Just self
pity
aloneing
in my room
all the dirty clothes
cracked walls
smelly sheets
they no longer smell of anyone but me.
Being nothing.
Really.
Just dying of bitter summer
first time alone in my life.
just dying.
But
What letter is this my soul receives?
What letter is this
my soul receives?
Is it a pardon?
Is it painful?
Is it you?
What letter is this my soul receives?
Riding the chaos blues
the difference between us
is a list of friends
typed up and laying on my coffee table
my bitter and pained list of friends
I want to tell you something
but I didn’t
wanna say it.
need some ups
can’t clear my head
fuckme
fuck me.
The beginning
again but no
you are not here
satisfaction
I on the phone
reverse the charges are collect where is my proof
you are still there?
porcelain shattered dial tones.
all my ingrown fear and laziness
is rising like the yellow smoke of your last cigarette
to choke me
but the mistakes have been mine.
can’t clear my head
fuck me
fuckme.
Separate
the Earth
the life of all.
the garden is prepared for growing
but the gardener is choking on a mind
twisted toes spread in the mud.
and the children sing
‘dig that phonedaddy’ yo
cloud!
come back here, I can’t catch you!
the fist closes
tendons curved and jammed into the granite crack
two walls faced stone corner
and kills
or cripples
can’t pull myself up can’t clear my head
open
happy letter
“hello i love you”
Fall is may-blessed this year
“won’t you tell me your name?”
Here I am, hunkered down on the niagara, drawing my face up
into my eyes. The Earth is polluted here, making the sunset
beautiful and sad.
can’t clear my head
fuck me
Fuck me.
It has always been the lie
separating me from my laziness.
perfection?
try bleeding for a while
what does it matter whether the cigarettes
take away from the t’ai chi?
dance perfectly!
smoke perfectly!
and leave me the fuck alone
since you do it anyway
do it all the way.
can’t clear my head
fuck me
fuck me.
I have a shy and virgin heart
so I send poems to play.
Tell me, what is relativity to you?
flashed
mashed
potatoes and peas
event
fills a potion of mind
and two friends
now tomorrow
we will drive to the sun
by a lake drive
with friendly
women i
get
tired
of
sunsets
tho
can’t clear my head
fuck me
fuck me.
My list of friends I am afraid
its the shadow
pass it on
it belays me to the light
pass it down
depth of experience
telephone’s disconnected the gap
can be no bigger
than buffalo to st. louis
But
What letter is this my soul receives?
Is it a garden?
Is it a vision?
Is it a basket of flowers and leaves?
What letter is this
my soul receives?
decade dance
“I could have been one of these things first.”
–Nick Drake
My hair
is longer than it looks
new scene
life bed and board
the decade dance
has me in hand
it’s like an aroma
strange words
to hang on iron.
Arched back
bowstring
in tension pulled
to pierce a gaze
catching and killing a spring time
object so simple
a choice
either or
a buttercup
your lover’s strong back.
Before fire, there was lovelaughter and dark to contain
them.
The light showed up fear.
Before fire we met.
Transaction
the speech patterns the game
patterns the eye
and mouths
and hairshining
flying low beneath the ceiling
above the pool table
in the bar we met
and brought about the moving
the months.
Who are the friends?
Biopolitics
deal the cards
dance the decade dance
dance with me.
Move.
Separate the seasons.
rain sun snow wind
MOVE.
there is weather out there
taste the gorge and scree
Move!
a morning summer wind is strong
as the leaves it
MOVES!
(kinda like this
terra d’ ombra earth of shade
decennio d’ ombra decade of shade
decennio d’ terra decade of earth
ombra d’ terra shade of earth
ombra d’ ombra shade of shade
But
What letter is this my soul receives?
It is spoken!
It is written!
It is me
my soul doth receive
List of friends
how distinct it is see
the faces you know
backdropped
by faces you don’t know
standing on line
and then you know it’s love.
my list of friends,
“it’s the eye of God, there’s no bottom—“
–Jack Kerouac
amen.
#459. yahrzeit again
February 15, 2011
the sea remembers tomorrow
as if it were just yesterday
sleep is on its way dreams
of waking to gentle eyes
closing upon open earth
stone that finds ashes
to ashes lost breath
mother to blossom
growing me living
tree remembers
an ocean today
not forgetting
your death
or its life
grown
#458. pittsburgh (for evvie
February 10, 2011
sometimes man its the poem not the poet
time counts up the years and down
meeting space too is sacred water
sometimes man the grey rivers are so cold
and where they meet they are Oh Cold
meeting and roiling new waters
sometimes man february is a song for spring
snow and ice singing on the rivers
helping a child to the morning
sometimes man the function follows form
space and form following functioning
warmth following spring and cold
Zevstar 