Monday, December 27, 2010


Poetry Potluck
One Shot Wednesday

Somewhere there's a girl for me
MAYBE hanging out in a TREE
one day I'll just look up
and THERE she'll be...

And she will not be Miss America,
though she may be dedicated to world peace--
and she doesn't care for fancy cars,
or closing down the bars,
and she will have no scars,
though there may be a small tattoo
that isn't readily visible...

And she will not be Miss America,
though she may have a bikini wax--
and she will be outrageous,
but not contagious,
and she will dig Steely Dan
and love me for who I am...

And she will not be Miss America,
though she may have some type of marginal talent--
like tying a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue,
or spitting her gum farther than anyone.

And she will be hip and sassy
but not too classy
and her eyes will be a trap door you fall into
coming face to face with the Mad Hatter.

And she will say things like: "Did you ever find a penny
that came out of your dog's butt?"
(Hold onto that--it's a lucky one!)

And she will not be Miss America,
though she may be at her best being under dressed--
and she will be all natural up front
for even a little sag is better than the drag
of learning "first hand" that her statistics are inflated.

And she will eat finger food with a fork,
and fork food with her fingers,
how the scent of her lingers...

And she will not whack off
all of her hair on a whim,
thinking that she will look like Halle Berry--
when in truth, like most,
she would more closely resemble Mister Spock--
what a shock!

Oh, the girl for me is somewhere
maybe lost at sea...
how will she ever find me?

She's looking for a poet,
but doesn't know it--
a man with a kind heart,
kind of an old fart,
looking for a new start...

And she will not be Miss America,
but she will pray and she will weep for America--
now I lay me down to sleep in America,
where beauty's only skin deep in America,
and magazine smiles can't conceal
the bewilderment that we feel
at having tossed off one King George
only to be saddled with another--
then lo and behold...we got ourselves a BROTHER!

And the girl for me will see through all the lies, and alibis
for she will be wise, but won't show it,
and she will be beautiful, but won't know it,
and she's out there somewhere looking for a poet
who thinks he may have already blown it--for good.

Oh, the girl for me is somewhere....
maybe hanging out in a tree--
one day I'll just look up
and there she'll be...

Yeah, I think THAT will be the girl for me.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Timoteo--age 6

In this season
So tender and mild
May you once again
See the world
Through the eyes
Of a child

Tuesday, December 14, 2010


Author note: WATER FOUND ON MOON (recent headline)
Previously, ice (probably massive amounts of it) was detected at the moon's poles.

One Shot Wednesday

When I was seven I sent in a coupon from the back page of a magazine.
They left without me in "69--an oversight for which I've forgiven them.
Now, they tell me there's ICE on the moon...
do you know what that means?
We'll establish colonies, shop in underground malls,
figure skate in the sea of tranquility.
Oh, can we go ma, huh mama, can we go?

When I was sixteen I was convinced I would solve the mystery
of the universe, as I cussed and manhandled the pinball machine
in the pool hall that was more home to me than home.
A brilliant lad was I,
the apple of my very own eye,
as I watched it winking back at me from the mirror.
Now, I behold that celestial sphere
and perceive the image of...what?

There's ice on the moon--
we must determine what this means for children of the ghetto
and poets who expire too soon.
We are the only species on a quest for meaning...
and when we find none we proclaim this lack of meaning
must be indicative of something!

I'm searching for my identity--
did you see it pass by?
I had it once upon a time--
butcher, baker, candlestick maker...
and I wonder why we're all so quick to identify
with something other than our common humanity.
And it must be a trick of the eye that from a vantage point on the moon
we can discern no countries...
yet here, even in Death Valley, we can see them all quite clearly.

And as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death
we will be like Evil Kneivel--
rocket jockeys shooting the gorge to glory!
And as the earth rises--an imposing blue pelota swimming in space--
will you sip from your can of Mountain Dew
and say, "Been there...done that?"

When I was twenty-three I saw my soul stripped naked
as the world of matter disintegrated around me
and I knew I was onto something...
but something still eludes me.

There's ice on the moon...
can we go ma, huh mama, can we go?
When the wild animals are gone can we go?
When the cities are ablaze can we go?
When the television watches YOU can we go?
And I wonder how life will be--
Sea of Tranquility or Ocean of Storms...
Lake of Dreams or Marsh of Decay?

There's ice on the moon
blood in the streets
tears in my eyes
salt in my tears...
a remnant of our life in the sea.
And where have our instincts gone?
We, the dinosaurs of devolution
sinking slowly back into the slime
and all the time asking "why?"
And what do you suppose predisposes us
to give or not give a damn?

There is a memory hidden deep in my mind...
an image of that first amphibian that washed onto dry land
and took its first halting stride--one small step for creature--
a giant leap for creature kind.
I was there when it gazed up at that incandescent orb
and wept at the wonder of the thing.

There's blood on the moon
ice in our veins
pain in our hearts--
and somewhere in the night the voice of Marvin Gaye still echoes:
What's Goin' On? What's Goin' On?

And the earth is asking one question:
Do we love her leave her?
And I think of how we demonized the Russians for decades, for their ideology.
The "Evil Empire."
Now we may cheer for them at skating competitions--
their ideology has spun closer to ours.
When we define evil as that with which we are in conflict
then how shall we speak of the conflict within ourselves?
A cat knows how to be a cat.
We must LEARN how to be human.
And it COULD be a trick of the eye
that we see a man in the moon...
or is it just that we recognize our own everything?

Friday, December 10, 2010



In retrospect, my life has been

a blue blur of contradiction

a rolling juggernaut of misjudgment

charging headlong through the rain

and pissing into the wind...

A constellation of calamity

chasing dust devil dreams

down a star speckled highway

in a last-ditch attempt

to catch the champagne

night flight to nirvana...


Well, HELL's my phone number!

Tuesday, December 7, 2010


In an Aztec dream
we rode on a jungle wave,
did a double whammy
on a conga drum,
boomeranged to the boogie beat
of a hot marimba band
on a one night stand--
me and you
in the skunk funk
and the swamp goo.

In an Aztec dream
we climbed the Pyramid of the Moon,
you in your white negligee,
me with just a baseball cap
and my dangling

Ever the martyr,
you were offering yourself
to save the world
from massive drought
with that familiar pout.

In an Aztec dream
the wind was quiet
as the moon...
blue shadows fell
across your smile
as we ascended to the top
where the high priest waited--
his black eyes intent
upon some distant massacre.
(He was a postal worker
who only moonlighted as a high priest,
making his own supreme sacrifice
by working on Columbus day.)

In an Aztec dream
he took one look at you and said:
Sorry...we're only sacrificing VIRGINS today!

You caught me sniggering,
then slugged me in the gut,
and stormed down
those ancient steps
in that way
that you always do.

Friday, December 3, 2010

WALK IN THE PARK (for dog lovers everywhere!)

Oh, we're walking in the park
cuz I promised not to bark
hi ho the merrio
we're walking in the park

Now she let go of the leash
so I can be released
hi ho the merrio
she let go of the leash

Oh we're having so much fun
cuz I just love to run
hi ho the merrio
we're having so much fun

Now I'm squatting in the grass
and it's tickling my ass
hi ho the merrio
I'm squatting in the grass

Now I'm pooping on the leash
and it's such a sweet release
hi ho the merrio
I'm pooping on the leash

Now she's coming from behind
and she don't know what she'll find
hi ho the merrio
she's coming from behind

Oh don't grab the leash right there
or you will get a scare
hi ho the merrio
don't grab the leash...right...THERE!