Like People

Like people
Stripped of luggage
Maintained in the hair arts
Subjugated to a stoneface Courier
Huddled over a steaming cup
Behind a straightened sheet of clear
Looking out from what appears to be
A beautiful vantage
Feeling good
Not nervous about being captured
Chased or eaten
By bigger things
But actually satisfied
Open to soak up the promise
That a crisp winter landscape brings
Fielding the idea
To graze
Roll around in so many flowers
Really getting in there
Spine, ribs, neck, back of head
Then up and alert
Perking to witness
Any stir
That may have gone unnoticed
During a full stretch and hum
Then fiddling around
With any idea
Following it to its full potential end
Bringing it, not to slaughter
But to water
Followed in kindness
And set before a great river
With sounds from the four corners
Echoing in salutation
While others
In some other box
Just outside the rush and chop of ice melt
Can't help but act
Like animals
--
10.30.09

When I Say You

To drive home the point
Threaten to punch yourself in the face
A lasting impression
Stay committed

When you are making movies
In your sleep
And you are just no good on camera
You are a fraud

Making money by doing what you love
Is almost as rewarding
As stumbling onto a career path
And taking off the blindfold halfway through in a sweaty panic

Making bread from scratch
Tastes so damn good in your mind
And might even be better
Than talking about it

All the temporary things
Fragile as a newborn
Faced with a rambunctious dog
Sitting back and watching things develop

Herein lies the poem
As everything lies
Dirty dogs scratching new fresh faces
And it's not you it's me
--
10.29.09

Chabon Circa

Turn over rock
Write your name in the dirt
Cover it back up
What does the worm say your name should be
if not what it already sounds like?

Not as scary as things are made out to be
Doors left open
Stay open
Not like a stick holding up a crate
to draw in the eyed

Crap being turned out by hacks
Not for kids anymore
Leave it to the professionals
Those that may not have kids or may have just entered
the spring of their fertile terrain

There among the lilted leaves
further down the path
Playful sounds that keep us free
Free from knowing about what horror
spreads its meaty carcass across
the silver screen

Maybe looking for tadpoles
In the reservoir of the neighborhood's young
Central to their separate domiciles
Those huts that breathe like small welted skins
Blistered from excitement

And with any luck at all
The ones that learn to skip
With also learn to fall
Into each others arms
In spite of what voices the worms may deem
as necessary to summon
--
10.28.09

Fence, Buggy, Canteen

Delineation
From here to there
A subtle ring around hell
For sinners who drink
But not much else
For not being something more
Bought in bulk
Not packaged separately

A post with ties
Stitching the landscape
Painting it red
Playing video games until dawn
Killing zombies
Innocently enough
Right out of the box
A little of this and that

Starting and stopping
Cutting off the path
A hot mess
Hooked on whatever is out there
Dying to be wrong
Missing the simple things
No pretty bows
Loose and hard to find

Enclosed or excluded, simultaneously
Feeling the pull of demons and angels
Spending less overall and getting more for the most part
--
10.27.09

Buckled

Not sure which motivation to use
The one with the biggest punch
In each individual pile
The threshold for judgment
Being the only guideline
The use of anything in whole or in parts
With mild distraction being sinister
Unwavering focus the ideal state
Any permutations caused by outside influence
An abomination
And yet, the only system of weights and measures
Inside it's so dark
Why anything would survive in there
On purpose alone
Beyond a whim
Not enough room to maneuver
Nor light to function
Air to be breathed in such trivial streams of bubble
It's no wonder
Things that straddle
Cinch and saddle
Suture the great divide
Hand in hand
With spear and canoe
Briefcase and coffee
Fixations inside any swirl of dirt or sherbet, rubber sole
Make for a jumping off point
Not while riding a horse
Unless for pure enjoyment
--
10.26.09

Evidence

Dearest Friend,
For competitive purposes
Sadly, there are no landmines over here
It's a shame you can't smell that
Anything that sweet has got to be bad for you
Toxic assets is all you here about these days
Populate the numbers
Middle East
No place to lockdown the economy
There is no lockdown
Loss leader
The way we do the formatting
We're not going to get a response
Just drop in the numbers
Draft the email and shoot it
After this, it's not rest, it's just nothing
File under: why did I quit smoking

Dearest Friend,
I am so far from my food
From harvest to plate
I can't imagine a cabin
With a little case
Filled with paints
And brushes and junk
We were never really that good
I was never that good
I see cheap suits and I object
I see nice suits and I objectify
People comment - they like descriptive language
They like painted qualities
Never give them what they want
They hate you for it later
Not you, dear friend
People get mad at you for borrowing things for too long
Or not attending a birthday party
That said, I know you feel the same stresses
That of stagnant water
A creepy feeding of the beast
A village of women out of control
A town hall of judgement
A careless father
Mother with vanishing promise

Dearest Friend,
As I translate woe
I can honestly say
I may be happiest on a train
I know the rules, too
You can disappear
But you have to give everything away
You have to give it all
Then there is no cabin
No second car to get you to the cabin
Maybe a lonesome disease
Some last great challenge
Maybe a bottle to the head
Everything goes upside down
Question: Why did I stop moving
Question: Why did I let myself stop
I don't know
Not everyone was built for a suit
Sometimes bald is beautiful
In both cases, I am neither
This much I know
So I refrain from wearing suits
And I am dreading the loss of hair

Dearest Friend,
Don't worry
I know when I give advice I sound righteous
That's how it goes
We all give advice that we should take
We all slip into the shade for a drink
We all scratch our own itch
The difference today
Is that there are several billion people
That would rather be doing what we are doing
And we know better than to stand still like this
We know where the open road meets a junction
You always put a flag
Or you stay on the open road
Those are the rules

Dearest Friend,
All our flags are gone
They were placed in a circle
Creating an arena
And the lions got them
Chewed them down to stake
We knew better than to drop flags in a ring
We knew how to not become fast food fast
Instead of fire we chose battery
Now: With a fucking battery attached to my back
On a lonesome road
Sadly, there are no landmines over here
--
10.22.09

You Belong Right Where You Are

With careless eyes
Not caring enough anymore
To want for anything
But a certain pride

All signs pointing
To an enlightened state
Not for nothing
It couldn't be impossible

With catalogs and mailings
Commercials and previews
Everything is an angle
From your perspective

Inside the warm honey punch
Stirring like a magic wand
A favorable temperature
With a candy sheen

Not to be left out
All signs pointing all ways
Left in a cave of discontent
For a moment of recognition

Your only tomb
A shallow bin for sifting
Laying down in parts
Good bad zero one

All methods of accounting
Leading you to this very point
Apex of ape attraction
To ancient lipstick, supple wrists

When you wear boots
We say, "aah"
We we say, "aah"
You are at the dentist

And it's the simple things
The binary placement
The coding and strings
That make this adventure possible
Make it stop
STOP

In the virile end
Throbbing with thrombosis
Protruding with proboscis
Elusive as a honeysuckle
Festive as a fruit bowl
Pesky as a fruit fly
Gravely pulled at like ore
Holstered in testimony
Cradled in allegiance
Home is where the hominy hits pan
Driving down long roads in a tinted van

Some crying baby
Waking the restaurant
Those that suckle spikes
And make this all possible

Our silent sponsors
Dull as the day their egg split
Carry on the code
For your ultimate enjoyment
The Lord's Prayer in zeros and ones
And in the crusted jungle
Stale as soft banana chips
We weep to the leaving
Weep for the longing
Weep at the reunion
Weep for the belonging
--
10.21.09