Thursday, December 31, 2015










Peruvian flake 
              Christmas 
                                                                    with pie lid charlie brown xmas tree ornaments 
say it ain't so 
    strike up the band 
       Buddy Emmons on pedal steel
Play it Buddy 
 from the Starlight Room 
  in beautiful San Francisco 
 it's cold out 
                  but we walk fast 










en situ
smoking and eating
T-bone Rasta Hat special
   brownie
      the heater is on
   lemonade tequila and ice
 riding out the end of the year
2015
See Ya! 
    

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

oh Lies
and Hate 
 Perfidy 
              is in there too 
            define great 
    she said
                            the red hats
                                         (Depardieu a Russian now,
                                      that fat drunken turd)
             a passing shot 
   the passing lane 
                                                     slow moving people stay right  
   we talk fast 
                                                      but we don't understand anything     
Puedo Hablar Mucho 
                              Pero No Entiendo NADA
                                see the way 
             they tell you 
                                      the fear 
                                                it's there 
the way they hold their Ketel one and tonic
                                                         the lime quivering  
     bullocks 
son 
                     ballsackian   
                            misogynist 
                      racist 
                   fascist 
                               grand manipulator 
                               Borat-esque
                                but Putin- real 
                              flying and diving 
                                  insulting 
and winning 
 insulting and winning 
fuck that asshole 
thats what they're saying 
    fuck that asshole 
        


 

Falsutations fellow ferrous bearing
  philatelists!
     Stand on ceremony!
       Awaken to the beating heart
           ten thousand sea creatures acknowledge you
              and thus it was seen
                  still you waited
                     believe in sonorific emptiness- the dry corn husk
                          of imperial certainty
                             believe in nonembraceable warfare
                                 a syntactic malamute
                                    chained to a breathing dragon
                                       the disencampment seriality of worn out
                                           paraphrases:
                                               Et tu, Brute?
                                                   there but for the grace of...etc
                                                       time waits for commercials to end
                                                           the avarice teachings of secondary religion
                                                               God is great, God is good
                                                                   Lord we breathe fire unto thee
                                                                       in hopes that this day
                                                                           this day
                                                                               is ever thus,
                                                                                   see?
           
the sun 
waffled 
 a thick syrupy 
 mess 
      the sky dripped 
 with nitrous funny car fuel 
we swam the river of solemn 
       entrance 
                                                           to the broken tiles of tomorrow's troubles
                     shopping for baffling material 
in anaerobic silence 
 was discomfitting 
                                                           still, marked insurgencies abounded 
                   new york times were had by all 
                                                      a prescient revival was acumenically disbursed
to the most deserving,
 as always
 
       



GRATEFUL DEAD at WINTERLAND 1977

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

SAN FRANCISCO
  is

    BEING KILLED!

      great GOD $$$$$$$$
 greedy

for MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE


   regular

people can't afford
  to
   stay
after
they get evicted
so someone can

SELL for MILLIONs
    can't blame people for wanting money
 
but the soul of the city

 is being sucked
              dry
                        LESS and LESS
reason to stay
 
         that's the way
it goes

 right?
             
FUCK THAT








Monday, December 28, 2015










If the fits
 of Nature love
such a poor expression
          for Pan wandering in
      the ruins
 you caused the grass
to sour
    and spoil the milk
            -we drank wine from a goats bladder
and slaughtered a lamb
             actually we ate crackers and
                          cheddar cheese
    and Monterey Jack
I knew the actual Monterey Jack
he lived in a rusty quonset hut
    -he got hit by a train while walking drunk on the tracks
    you can't hear the train coming
        the noise comes after
   Pan was playing a flute
       -it was not a pan pipe
regardless
  we couldn't hear it
either

some steady recourse for
your corporate success
    the bondi tram
      almost took Charlie away
 but it was beach weather like
EVERY DAY
    still things change
     my mother fell and broke her hip
she was being interviewed
 on the tv news about the fire
    but the firemen were
RIGHT THERE
 And then Lizzie moved to London
and the aryan cube-mates quadrant
  began to be unresolved
           we em-Bryce-d
the change
  (he had those incredibly blue eyes)
but all that money talk
 I guess that's what happens
when you have a baby
you asked if I had a girlfriend
   or a boyfriend
 and then suggested
         your older sister
thirteen years older
                   -I could go with her to the Dominican Republic
in April-
   But I like young women
 young and cute
  - oh you said
   she's married
   but you could take her away
         oh and she has two kids

for some /reason/
bereft
   keeps 
                                 coming to mind 
perhaps the cold rain                                    
               you tried to explain sleet -
                         we sided with 
           the morose 
     sleet is gods tears 
      you said 
   but you live in Oregon
 
       

Sunday, December 27, 2015

The circus
like a loaded weapon
       the stream of water
pours through
the thoughts
of the elephant
  time is a marked man
   this makes no sense
     the bullet has eyes
for the strong live in weak houses
   say you are dreaming
and I will not
wake you
 and when the pain subsides
 the sky will open
with sleet
 so sayeth Algor son of Balgrunt 

Monday, December 21, 2015

across
the Rub-al- Kahli
   The Empty Quarter
   
raiding parties
on camel
  They had never seen a Christian before
the Sultan would kill any infidel
  
they found the watering hole
 but that was it
  no more for weeks
     


The droid
slept by a fallen menhir
it waited in alchemists patience
     dreaming of spiritual gold from lead
       the satyr,
one of a class of lustful, drunken woodland gods, 
watched from the forest 
his troop of ithyphallic male companions
had gone 
  to the beach for some volleyball
 







THE TREMOLO 
BACKBEAT 
                                           we sway in waves of stoned sound 
     feeling like the ground is moving
 undulating
 as the guitar crashes and burns                                                        
                      the drummer is a dented cymbal and rattly tom
     the bass player is a train coming in to the station 
 the singer is dead                                                                          
Long live the singer!                                      
a terrific force of
    Nature
pushed my mind to find shelter
   the gale force winds of your
    sorrow
 sent lightning bolts
     from the volcano
        mudslides of cynicism
           rankled
 we changed out of wet clothes
 and dried our hair with towels
the tv was on
    we made cocoa
   

Sunday, December 20, 2015








As your thoughts
melt behind the sun
we stand and watch
the readymade
beginning
of an essential tawdry
mistake
   sympathetic
it seems understandable
the paint is not even dry
 and we sharpen the thoughts
yet
do not stand
in the shade
William Blake
  the sights are beheld
in misfit eyes
  and stolen from the cradle
 oh theres no ghost in the night
  we don't need ghosts
and they need us even less
  so watch out
 its meaningless
I know
  you know
where the time runs
   a million light years from here
    there's a guy selling hot dogs
   so
BUY ONE
  









mini chocolate chips
 and iced coffee
       for breakfast
               the sun is
not shining
    I've got three pairs of socks on
and a down jacket
    my sister just texted me;
If you had a tv you could watch Betty White!

     

  

Friday, December 18, 2015

Onward 
downward
upward
seams
or toil 
memory 
sinks
behave now 
seems
 right
like
the fly is 
growing
the
crow
flies
we are the 
seam
we try 
too hard
we block 
the clouds
we lift 
we sweat 
we toll
the bells
not for thee
not for thee
go now 
see the future
in the entrails
of the bull
the ides of December
 we grow 
like the sun
we fly thru space
at 600,000 miles
per hour
mote 
in the dust 
flaw in the 
iris
tell me 
now
where is Paris
the streets 
and swings
the 
random chair
I guess
what I'm saying 
is 
I need to 
get out 
of 
bed!
 

Thursday, December 17, 2015





backwards 
walk backwards 
talk backwards 
think 
again 
yes 
backwards 
legs before feet 
hips before
torso 
breath
before 
lungs
thought before 
brain 
ever 
speaking 
our backwards
 thought 
 spilling 
it like food from 
the fork
the fork pulling the food 
from our stomachs 
 the hands 
slapping 
the child 
before she 
talks 
go backwards
again and again
speak backwards thoughts
again and again 
fill the gun with bullets 
to shoot ourselves 
again and again
you kill with a thought

 

relief!
oh plenty
                                   the canker of sinfullness
                                         marches to the drums
 the fife 
            the fiddle 
          LIBERTY 
       thy name is hallowed 
                       now hollowed 
                         the holy is the laugh
                         carefree  
                                   and easy?


diving up 
to the sky 
                            swimming in the bookstore!
   I can relate! Seriously
    there but for poverty go you and I

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

the work
of late
 has been
   a series
 of random
   thoughts
strung together
with no rhyme
 nor reason
in hopes that
 perhaps
some inner creature
might shine forth
like a beacon
   it seems though
 the creature is more drug addled than one would have hoped
  and the light is more like 
the flick of a bic in a dark alley
and
 for that
I apologize
to myself
and the world

   

Tuesday, December 15, 2015








some rabble
babble
echo
of
 the sonic
 distress monitor
   the lizard of back streets
say leather
please rearrange that
addled  twattled
 bi funk ian
    protozoa of my hip check
swivel suit - unzip
the twister
blister
mister man of rockingham
  say do i remind you
    of the
time we got lost
in Eastham?
   
   







wandering through leaf strewn memory
we sidled up to ambiguity
    this western-movie cinegraphics
          shoot em up
    with car chase scenes
you spilled your Sprite
   on the girl in the next row
      we ambled out
like two raccoons
on an evening stroll
   but we did stop for
Whoppers
or was it
 Milk Duds?
  hard to say
 memory is a fickle thing
  I know we spent all your money
 and had to walk home
 but it was lovely rain soaked evening
 
mal-shitty-ess,
 discontentiness,
  de-railified,
 de-fargo-filed,
    de-franco-philed,
 armisticeiness,
  sheer nyloniest,
   fracktually,
 e-bundantly,
atypically,
etc.
  
         

creative differences aside
 the revolution 
was 
left 
in the 
dust 
     the 
barefoot 
                peasants
walked

we 
  watched 
              our
                favorite
 show 
see?  
                        across the meadow  
    a rock wall
     a leprechauns circle 
     we did the do-able 
               forgetting and remembering 
                                you washed the car 
                         I made sandwiches
  whats next?

Monday, December 14, 2015

secondary euphemisms
 bi-morphic anomaly
      he sweated through his shirt
        and threw the orange peels on the floor
             there was no waiting
                the police cars were outside
                     he lifted the tunnel latch and dropped down
                        closing it behind him
he tasted the cool dark air.
                   
smokey top 
                        with corn bread
                         a greased filigree 
with a side 
 of anchovies 
                         and deep fried clams 
          the sound of tires being slashed
                                       some do and some don't 
              we all have to go home some time
             
                           
 
 

Sunday, December 13, 2015

jews are not you
its never any good to talk about
unless you know, Isaac Bashevis Singer
his magician lover practical
wander

  in a book
       in two books
           in many many books
   I had a girlfriend who read
      Graham Greene's
  The End of the Affair
      for months
         until I got it
   but I guess I wasn't really
 paying attention

silly how we can fly through these books
     
 


the relentless
politics of swine
led to the slaughterhouse
       "they have no intelligence"
factoried
    systematic
     sylvestering
             i did i did
  see
 a putty tat
     feather flies out of mouth
paint a tunnel on the wall
   'the Future'
  meep meep
     ah what's up doc
(leaps back in rabbit hole)
the meandering Poseidon
    a ruefull disturbance
  tuna boat politics &
     secret signs from a hillside-
the chaste valet
parks his needs
    in the burrowing stoicism- see, the light
from the kitchen window
matching cups and saucers
  painted chairs
    don't brag
     it won't cost you a Hamilton







Saturday, December 12, 2015



some said he always had a cloud over his head
Satsuma



       Satsuma 




              Satsuma!

          Haha
   S  atsuma                                          
Orange
blossom 
   flower 
tree
Feign 
       Stupor
                     Stupid mirror
torpor unfeigned 
                             slow to the inside 
                   And He's a Hoarder 
                For the win!

 ---the degree of fortunado
  mc sidewalk
streams
 of solemn silence
in the wake
 of the noise fronted
   cartel
 you are a bona fide
   tide of wishing
     the sunsets are
 gorgeous I hear
  somewhere the song is heard
in a corner bar
 or in a car radio
on the highway
with the windows rolled down
and the AC blasting
we can get away from this
 we can fly away
   or we can sit tight and
    listen to the glasses clink
and the laughter
for tonight
 and again maybe
                        tomorrow   - supercilious
cunt load 
   yer tales of whoa 
 are dimly lit passages 
of a nincompoop nabob's
                          interior bastardization/denial
bereft 
of the bequeathed 
with airs 
of flour 
and turpentines
an ascot de t bone steak
 the cook is remiss 
in his
\great god grill\
we have newgenerationfinance
  and chili crabs
     -contiguous
         cheroot-ski
 bailing on flooding
 sinking in the gloam
    smirking with venus
  the apple is far from the tree...
 - - - cold dead fingers.com- - -
sez
yer guns are for the taking
yer gunz are doing the killing
yer guns
are killing yer own children
13 9-11's worth of dead Americans
Thirteen 's
an unlucky number, see?
----pledged
mortificently in the hallway
 the towels were laid
 to catch the water
dripping from the ceiling
 dripping from the
stoic glances
  your car refused to start
 and your parents wouldn't call a cab
  we stole your cousins bike and rode to the
bar
we played Loretta Lynn
and The Cure on the digital jukebox
  and drank
until the rain stopped
your cousin called the bar and said the car was working now
 tomorrow we would catch the ferry
  back to the mainland
The grey
   Angels
Breakfast
Kafe mit brot
She said
Baden Baden
But the trains
Were not running----
the state is a dry match
waiting to be struck
   years of brush
  years of dry
  turned everything to tinder
 you walk out into the sun and
the air sucks the water right out of you
 we had a giant fire at a campground
    the wood was hard and dry
    we drank whisky
  we got into fights
  the pine needles laughed at us
 we were stupid----
I doused the fire
and stood
staring at an orange cat
 it was 86 degrees
 in the shade---We had a house in town that my dad had rented. It was late August when got there. It was hot but overcast. A man and a woman who lived nearby told us there was going to be a lightning storm. The man had thick glasses and was wearing polyester pants. The woman's hair was piled up high on her head. She said they were going to drive up to the hills to watch the lightning. My sister and I looked at each other and then we looked at my dad. These were the kind of situations that my father did poorly in but I don't recall what his response was.
death defying acts of wastefulness
incredible stunts of unsustainable energy consumption
mind boggling displays of everyday cruelty
greed of biblical proportions
it's really not much
fun
jews are not you
its never any good to talk about
unless you know, isaac bashevis singer
his magician lover practical
wander
GOP in a Mayonnaise Sandwich Islands

sing
of the munumunupukupukua'a
sweet silent
standard bearer
for the
islands






 

      
the Colt .32 had belonged
to my grandfather who died of a heart attack in Marathon, Florida in 1965

  When I was in high school
 my dad showed
me where he kept it and where the bullets were
  right next to the bag of pot he grew
    between the corn stalks
      in the garden
the pot not the gun
 I kept adding oregano to the pot
   as I pinched it
     - he didn't smoke it
   but I ended up smoking oregano





 
a poster of
 Richard Brautigan's
  Trout Fishing In America
was nailed up in the garage

Friday, December 11, 2015

the majority of 
         clean implacable 
  non - asian 
                         impresarios 
stranded in a sea of shopping carts
  does this follow 
 I read Moby Dick once 
        oh hecka simplified 
   we are the world 
                        we are the children 
   some gum sidewalk adventure 
                   sticks and thrones 
                        will break your heart 
                                not unlike love
            or Alzheimers
                  try to forget 
                                   the bad times
     sweet holy Jesus!
         

Sunday, December 06, 2015

                      so little clarity 
in the over saturated info feed 
                                so little air to breathe 
on the screen 

on the screed 
 in the internet of people 
           truly viral 
infectious 
                   and unhealthy 
             look for the helpers,
                                              they're playing 
                                      at a theatre near you
oh the 
furious 
     divinations 
                          of  a stab in the dark 
                                                   the meerschaum pipe of life choices

Wednesday, December 02, 2015

the coffee is strong with this one

      - dark roast vader
the bi-ennial 
stations 
                   of the cross 
with   
 a roll on the field 
and hearts un awakened 
 time slips by and the skies are not 
 the answer 
 you have 
 the reason 
you have the senses
              you are not the you you thought 
  quotation marks 
 ampersand  
   period 
                         wells dug in the desert 
    cinnamon buns 
             thrown out the car window 
                                                   travelling at the speed of light 
(aren't we all)
are we all
 going back in time  
                                      becoming our memories
   such a beautiful time 
                                full of pain and anguish
                                       and odd recipes 

   
      

Tuesday, December 01, 2015

a 1973 Ford station wagon
   with faux wood siding
 parked at Sprouse-Reitz
 it's a 102 in the shade
and the asphalt is melting
  we bike to East Avenue
and to the rad lab
 there's an olympic size pool
and you can buy Butterfingers
out on Mines Rd. seasonal grape pickers
live by the creek
 you can share your lunch with a boy who only speaks Spanish
we play sandlot baseball
pitcher's hand
 edge-u-cated heel
  we ride bikes with baseball gloves on the handle
at the pit after it rains
  there are pollywogs and
later frogs come up
one year it was thousands
thousands of frogs invaded the field
it was a massacre
 junior high boys
with giant rubber bands
killing tiny frogs
  



epistolary 
deliverances
 manufactured 
in genuflection
simplified in accordance
with 
smoke 
and 
rain 
steel
and charcoal
tea
and rice balls
clemency delivered
the chamberlain
has 
been killed

Monday, November 30, 2015

He 
      who 
               longs 
 for the 


        measure;    
                                     unique 

  to his belief's survival

                          foregoes 

 it seems 



                                    all attempts 
         at Reason
  and will fight 
     until dead 
       against it.
the downside of the series
the fall of the briny 
the wake of Archimedes cup
a branch of Vesuvius
sheer longing in the face of torn nylons 
a ranch house in southern nevada 
the climactic irreverence of a singular event 

Sunday, November 29, 2015

the paint was chipping
   the peanut brittle days were over
     and nacho cheese chips days begun
he wandered Florence looking for a certain pinball game
  'they must have Addams Family'
     He didn't know any Italian
except abbodanza and ciao, bella
he said both a lot and got weird looks
   outside the piazza some young ruffians beat him and stole his phone
    perhaps my spaghetti days have begun he thought
  gypsy children carrying pieces of cardboard were to be avoided he learned
he found a Star Trek pinball game in the back of a bakery/coffee shop
 he spent so much time there they gave him a job
three months later he married the owner's daughter
     he learned how to make bruttiboni and canoli
he changed his name to Fabrizio which means skilled worker
but his friends still called him Roger
  later he acquired a drinking problem
he went to AA and kept drinking
his wife knew but his pastries were much better when he drank

with the fine acre of destitute beginning
with a stones throw from desire
the pass is a green highway
the green is black
and the end is anticipated 
like a dream 
the sunshine tells the story 
fog is the news 
and we stare at ourselves thinking 
how can we think these thoughts 
in the face of such stupidity
we stare at our breath as it leaves our mouths 
the cold is not news 
we dial the radio 
we stream the songs 
nobody says I'll drop a dime on you 
the cold is not new 
 the rain and snow 
the buzz of the airplane 
the smoke from another room
we fill glasses with whiskey or tea
the tooled leather 
we stand on the cement and watch
the television tell us things
violence is fear
fear is violence 
we have forgotten peace 
 we have lost the war
 
clear eyed 
broken tooth 
bindi smoking 
  the fly on the wall
      the gas lamp
                                                  nobody gets one over on Fred C. Dobbs 
   but the gold dust 
                                                     seems like a good day for a walk
                  satsuma 
                                      clementine 
                                              mandarin
                     I'm walking 
                 where is Italo Calvino
                            we almost got shot by a pheasant hunter 
           on the isle of Capri
       but we got a free lunch 
                                        andiamo!
                                          

Friday, November 27, 2015

branches
      baked & boiled
   the police are at your door
         so simply
       steer the ship
       who's banging
               there's a fire in the sky
          the clouds are singing
      swat at the angry fly
       sleep in the bed boat
                 the floating world
              the organism atmosphere self regulates
                       this floating world;
                   carry the knives
                                 carry the wooden shoes
                                     the ghosts are waiting
                               we join them
                                        the sky is awake
                                the floating bed boat
                            ON AMBIENT DREAM WAVES
                                         

Monday, November 23, 2015

the moon was following me
 through the clouds
   I turned the corner
in the shadow of a building
it went by
and smiled
Cold tonight
  cloudy and gray this morning
  but no rain
went for a walk this afternoon
sun came out
  leaves were beautiful
    turning red and yellow
 dropped off a roll of film
  person in line had a big bag of
    35mm film to process
  yay film!