Sunday, November 19, 2017








the truth can't cash
these irregular 
   wanton days 
  delivery 
 of rain soaked 
newspapers 
feet covered in 
rubber-banded 
 plastic bags 
    riding 
on   
riding 
on


 
   


Thursday, November 16, 2017


my memory
  like broken pottery
   cast into the sea
      worn smooth
     and rounded

Monday, November 13, 2017

a stony 
brew 
 left through 
the pickled cartoon 
    shenanigans:
two coyotes 
                    and a badger
 fearless fly 
             comes to save the day
                           but still armageddon in the news
                         the bar is lowered again 
                             so you head to the bar 
                     forget 
forget 
forget 
                believe not 
    believe the worst 
if you will
        acme tnt 
        painted tunnels 
    THIS WAY ------>>>>>>>
       meep 
       MEEP 
  somehow we rise from the explosion
   with a dumbfounded look
                  hair and face scorched again
      
    
   


Tiberius 
was no longer 
              interested
  he fled 
            to the beautiful isle
   the gem 
 the jewel 
       in the sea



Tycho Brahe
           lost his nose
       in a duel 
                   the astronomer 
      saw 
                       a nova stella
    and wrote it down 
              some said his artificial nose
  was gold 
  others silver
                                                 but
                                                         when they exhumed him
  they found traces 
of brass
                           no matter



we didn't go to the blue grotto
  that day 
    she was 
   a bit too persistent
          instead we 
                                         hiked (or did we take a trolley?) to the church 
   on the mountain top 
    we had lunch 
    in the back 
   and nearly 
got shot 
  by a pheasant hunter 
       he ran off with the bird
  under his arm 
 unharmed 



in the water 
I found 
 smooth stones 
    but not stones-
    pieces of glazed ceramic
worn smooth
and rounded 
 by the sea

  
         

Sunday, November 12, 2017

the braun
e-stein 
    equi-tide 
galvanization demands 
 purged of articles 12 and 15
                        -footloose bombardment of non-nucleide imparcelment slippers
    syntax corrected on the 11th of November 
   Messrs Q &R
                                            sympathetically incentivized 
                                                                 toward animalistic tendencies 
                                       displaced said slippers 
                                    on the dirty landing -
        the steerage photos
   albumen 
   stood encased by 
 the window   
    until gerdie slipped 
and broke them 
                     summarily dismissed

 
i forgot
 the tide
 the time
 we took
 to get here
       now looking back
it just doesn't seem
right
the
way
you write it down
  where's the emptiness
    where are the dead spaces in between
 still,
you seemed to think
nothing has changed
   but
there's a world of difference
     now
   what is it
 something stupid
i'm sure
  not worth consideration
so fuck it
       play another song
 how does that one go

 

Wednesday, November 08, 2017




Charybidis
    sweet nectar of the streets
   befouled
     and ancient
like the faeces
of the gods
     bright brilliant
morning
gifts given
the miracles become
     pedestrian
       jupiter
saturn
mars
    a panopoly
 of
   heavenly bodies
   leaving only their
offspring
war famine disease
 love treachery inspiration
  we can read the stars
      gravitational waves
    move tide and time
but not the freaking traffic!
    

Monday, November 06, 2017

oh 
the dear bonnie 
 lads 
      so youthful and 
                                        filled
 with spirits 
 ghosts now wander 
these halls 
                 lives spent 
                          some taken 
                                      some given
 but still 
we live on 
                    and new blood
    is spilled 
                   wine is spilled 
                  we drink the 
  wine 
     it ain't Jesus's
      but the blood of 
the grape 




the caryaitids
  circled the light
as we
set up
the
   streets
     down in the
  acreage
     the chemistry
was
  evident
    some strided
others ran
 the words were too much
   so they
passed large vials
   of glass
   between the
coconut palms
   one man had a pet mountain goat
another
 a dwarf pygmy tiger
    electronics were suffering
we steadied our ohms
   on the kitchen table
 the one with the red and white
checked tablecloth
 




Friday, November 03, 2017



defiant 
   truculent 
    ambiguous 
             but the blues 
                       keep raining 
                        down 
hey 
fats 
 so long 
(not you)
    
   walkin blues 
              still
           strap your boots 
    on 
                                  we got whiskey 
   yeah but 
        my head hurts
                                       the sugar daddy man 
                       can't 
                              slide that bottleneck 
                          the rain is letting up 
        i'm keep on 
keepin on

 
 
 
  


a
stones throw
from
the pickle
you're in
not
 a casual embrace
but
you
 steel
yourself
 for a fortnights
misgivings
  then throw the swim trunks on the bed
 and try to
reach that
gin and tonic
 slide
     braced again though
you wished
for nothing else
 strange
how things
can change
  so quickly








Dominique Lowell ©1992
sighted
 the 
 carrier 
   pigeon 
     endless sights
 from 
beyond 
3rd st
      taking a brown bag 
 bottle 
from your pocket 
and walking 
walking 
until    the poetry 
catches up
     some barrier 
to your senses
 something that wasn't there 
 before 
but now 
you can't shake
 
  

Thursday, November 02, 2017

why did I buy that
 I was looking for inspiration
  something new
 something different
something
fucking
anything!
 haha
 oh well
 I'll wear my fart on my sleeve
so to speak
 tear up the stupid
with more stupid
 the tepid
the uncontrolled
 the waistrel
pissing it away
   something is saved
though
something

Wednesday, November 01, 2017

day one
seemed like a dream
it didn't really go so well
    people texting
wandering around
 talking to an artist for
a really long time
in his garage studio which opened into
a giant work space
  he gave me a hit of LSD in foil
god knows when I would do that!
 he was kind and he was busy working as we talked
moving the little wood shapes
on the board -
from the top the shapes looked in a regular geometric pattern
  but from the side view
they were going all different directions
 tension amongst the order
hidden tension

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Sin
Synergistic
    Singing
In Sing Sing
Upstate
Up the
River
In Ossining
  Past the
Robber Barons
To the land
Of groundhogs
Spotted
   psyche
On the
stone steps
 fallen leaves
 Spotted and red
flush
With the
   seasons
 fated prevarications
  The blindered horses
   In Central Park
   Turning their heads
   To look me in the eye
 

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Stranded
   O The jersey shore
     Aaron Burr
   In Weehawken
 Now some kind of sanitation
Pipe on the small beach
   I'm duelling
  With my lethargy
Hiding in movie theaters
   Stalking the wild
New York day visits
  The A line
To the L
The 4, 5, or 6 to the Upper
East Side
  The robber baron
Mansions
Collected great works
  And lived like
Yer mom
 Oh sorry
That just popped out
  Eating like every day
Food
  Spicy tuna triangles
Pull here
1,2,3

Sunday, October 01, 2017

the 
egalitarian
diffusion 
techniques:
  stir gently 
then 
whip!
add
   three 
spoonfuls 
of 
     cynicism-
 mix liberally/conservatively
  with 
    an ounce 
                          of apathy and a dash of narcolepsy-
               strain to bursting 
thru 
  cheesecloth
     pour out
                                        the majority of everyone's benefits
 and serve
as angry
voices
                      on social media


some
    kind
    of
  virus
   respiratory
       coughing
      head congested
     thing
going
around
 
 but that
didn't
stop
  me from
going out last night
because
I'm
an
idiot
 haha!


Wednesday, September 27, 2017










ragweed
   pollen count
  on
 a 84
degree
  day
in
     San Francisco-
summer
  comes in
fall-
  remember that!

some robot
   mind
left
     the perimeter
meted out
gains
    and steadied
the accents
  an apoplectic
      psychosis
          stole
into
several
layered
   ruminants
and
and
and
  the venal
props
were
    sent
   to be
marshalled
   in Fremont


alligator 
  wine 
    mix it 
  up 
but look out for 
mice!
                



Monday, September 25, 2017

the 
craft world 
the lovely 
crafted world 
 a beacon to 
the light 
of nights
stowed like 
 a raccoon 
on a hi speed train 
jack kerouac'd 
to death
  some sonic 
misapprehensions
 like a rat faced 
insinuation
to a starving ghetto
blaster 
eating 
pupusas 
by candle light 
in a bombed out building 
 in Gaza
with the tv on 
 and no electricity 
how do they do it 
don't ask
still the mice 
are in the 
cabinet 
and we shine the 
polish
 on the police cars
 talking 
about 
this or that 
it's another day
in Brisbane, CA
and we have to go 
pick up the 
marijuana
drowning in a sea
       of stupidity
               say,
wtf
     oh it's not
    tear open the package
     who ordered this
         you did!
   no
I didn't
    did you have the
foresight to see
      yes
yes I did!
oops
more lies


   

dried out 
sequins broken 
               on the floor 
                       six vodka tonics
       the sunlight 
                asks for 
           nothing 
            
                    

Saturday, September 23, 2017



he said no
ear buds
   c'mon down and check it out
he said it's not like it used to be
   I used to go there and
  have breakfast sitting looking at the bay
  they had this big long bar inside
  it was a giant empty space
    i think it was a dance club at night
    but I only ever went for breakfast




                       the world's
worst
     thanks
i made it myself
       touched by a janitor
            the
     lost writings
of a
    beat sorcerer
          living in the
       real world
  unfazed
  by
esoteric
   messages
     (gadfly)
              he had the
hoarder
 gene
   collected
       takeout
containers
   NO WASTE
      but that's neither here nor there
             somewhere a Winchester house
is being built
in the back of your mind
   

Thursday, September 21, 2017



  klunked 
the 
                              head bone 
  on 
one dismal 
    day
         itchy 
 scratching 
            worried 
                  - not fun 
 somehow
    seldom
     reading
the
news
  blues
            still
wtf
     

Wednesday, September 20, 2017



the quiescent 
mind trick 
                               sad eyed lady of the
     stormy meanderings 
 in remote control 
landscapes 
 barrel riders 
and hoop dancers 
       we pledged the worthy
 sacrosanct 
                            duck and cover 
                                         kiss your ass goodbye
  nuclear pledge 
                                    unchastened by kool aid 
                                         and cherry pop tarts 
 stinky 
     bottles of booze 
               tiparillos 
                          and lids 
                       of weed
    qualuudes and snorting 
speed 
      fucking around in playgrounds 
      sex in giant cement 
pipes
  we did that 
                 and watched the cops drive up
                        fuck it and ran
                stupid fat cops 
         cut your hand on the fence 
laughing
           and scared



     
            
       
    

Monday, September 18, 2017












there was no
 casual explanation
      you could blame society
you'll be ok
maybe not
  still
it's like the Batman
  theme
 POW!
    BLAM-O!
       CRASH!
 it's too hot in here
       J frank Parnell
never said
  what
fuck that
   
   
I threw
the 
I ching 
and got 
                Dog Day Afternoon
                         "Sonny. I can't do it!"
"Okay, let him out. Let him out!"
    still there 
were other possible 
 meanings maybe 
The Plugz
                              or a quesadilla with mayo
something's not adding up
      a photo from the 295
       backside 
                                                 where the rubber meets the road 
said the man from Goodyear
 or was it Firestone 
throw the sticks again 
muchacho


 
 

Thursday, September 14, 2017

the 
faceplant 
caracole -
      the 
                    cuauhxicalli 
on his tummy
   Chacmool
   moments 
      in the moment
                seething 
                                    there's a fly in here
           hamaka 
   sleeping 
             so long Garci Crespo
con gaz
     don't drink 
   the coca-cola
signs
       everywhere
at the 
Boca de Tomatlan 
                                    the road goes inland
              dogs wandering aimlessly 
    ridiculously underfed
                           ribs jutting out 
     silver rings on trays
       

   
 
             

Wednesday, September 13, 2017



static
on the bedstand
   bleeding cups
      and torn
books
    fog and sun and rain and lightning
  searching through the notes
"a reciprocated dormant equilibrium
is calibrated in non-effusive stasis"
huh
  the blinds are
halfway up or halfway
down
   still
  I'm wearing socks and sleeping during
the day
yawn
  banging at the headboard
     sending postcards
to Maine
    writing but not reading
time to change
  it up



Tuesday, September 12, 2017



shopping
in the
   quagmire
  being led
down passageways
 to raiders shirts
    for twenty six bucks
  sized up
and
down
   old pumas
   so dirty
in need of retirement
   salespeople
hiding
 in the wings
     a gate opens
      they fly away
    we escalate
  to sales
floors
   trying on
 the old face
    for a new
smile
 but the security
device
on
your face
   goes off
   purple ink
    everywhere
 you run
 and get tackled
   by an elderly woman
   in the accessories dept
she buys you tea
  and you talk about her
niece
who's at
Bennington
studying communications

 

Monday, September 11, 2017



stuck in
mobile
    sinking
like an
 aqueduct
    the river runs
off
yer back
quack!


Sunday, September 10, 2017



some
grasp
 at straws
    others
spill the beans-
 coffee beans -
  others don't have
their meds
  and stand out in the middle of the street
at 6:30 am
  talking to themselves
     and then follow you into the cafe
       and make Ali cry


Saturday, September 09, 2017

the ostrich 
   ran past 
  the party 
     you swore it happened 
  Aunt Rachel 
       said you were dressed nicely 
    which meant she 
   probably thought 
     stripes 
     and polka dots 
 didn't belong together
     


Friday, September 08, 2017


maitre' d of the
 orange juice
      stationed
like
  revolving arcs
      petty bourgeous
tap taps
 the swing is full
     we sleep beneath
the jungle gym
  and the stars
throw headlights into our eyes
       



Monday, September 04, 2017



prying
the flowers
from your
eyes
    with sturdy
manipulation
   you broke a glass
threw it
actually
at the waiter
 the police were being called
 but you paid them off
with hundred dollar bills
   and then we went to Arby's

Sunday, September 03, 2017



the beach was 
like a refrigerator door  
 that wouldn't shut 
    we sank into our places 
 in the sand   
the sun 
was blistering 
   the laptops frozen
    we called for lattes 
 but no one heard
        someone 
down the way 
had a radio
playing Maybelline 
   over and over 
     we built a fort out of driftwood 
                                       and Pringles
  but the philistines 
kept coming 


the buoyant dreamer
  Swiftian
   using the drooping eye
as a failsafe
  avoidance technique
rummaging through
cantilevered prognosii
 in a maze of linoleum hallways
   "is there gas in the car?"
overhead
   the smoke
 from fires hundreds of miles away
 in a heat wave
 cars honk
   people sweat
     
  
 

Thursday, August 31, 2017


 a river of
crosses
 and crossbows,
hallucinating,
you saw
   an ocean filled
 with Coca-Cola bottles,
     close,
very
close
to west cliff
    now
just bits of plastic
   from Isla de Mujeres
   to Alaska

   


the day of
the hammer
    not claw
    or ballpeen
        I guess mallet
 or small sledge
    to vanquish thine
enemies
    to crush their skulls
     dash out their brains
      mangle their fingers
        an effective tool
          since ancient times
now I just need a winged
helmet



Wednesday, August 30, 2017

stuck in the 
    slot 
        you watched 
but left feeling 
less than - 

 echo that 
   the fabric 
reminded you of 
      old sidewalks -

less than that 
 you wore an 
overcoat 
  on the greyhound to NY
  sling 
sly 
some 
stupid 
        the city of alphabets
                                    and drunks in doorways 
1982
    two years away 
              in the back room were cutouts of nude women 
taped to the wall
    it smelled like fixer 
                                   you still have the photographs 
                                                 somewhere


style 
    cues 
 mark 
the territory 
          words 
are 
       you kidding
                   shoes 
         shoes 
      shoes 
           see the world 
             fly away 
                                            everything is changing
  
with 
the late night light 
shining 
                                 (thoughts of bb guns)
   and a large truck passing by 
           a silver painted hand gun
         a broken back
                                                   old copies of mad magazine
             taking LSD
     and playing frisbee
                                                                you wore mirrored aviator glasses
              (now you're dead!)

Monday, August 28, 2017



spit 
trees /////
    wait-
are you?
     no 
not that...
                                  somewhere, I think
     I'm the one 
 who
       /////
   you always 
 do that!
              ah maybe that's why...

 
 
  
baffled by the
   funghi
      fungo
morning fog
   white
 grey
concrete
 motorcycles
   serendipitous
      glucose
        meters
             neon
   with a
"sincere smile"
     suspended animation
   wily e
     see?
no, not really
  the tunnel is just painted on
  
 

Wednesday, August 23, 2017


some
inebriated
   masses
  at
the pulpit
   of
 negligence
         woke and bespoke
   sharing
nothing
  caring
not at all
and
 proud of it
 like shameful
     wrecks
on
the sea
   talking about
how
beautiful the water is

Wednesday, August 16, 2017


He never went to Vietnam
  He's not Jewish
  Liam and me
  we're gonna fuck you up
    Damn it Walter

sometimes you eat the bar
   and sometimes the bar eats you

Sunday, August 13, 2017



the fierce
  endemic
ritual
  sneezes loudly
     some still sacred cows are
pasturing in the violence
  great
   leave the broken stone walls
      battered
   and
provoked
   there's no shade
 there's no
rocks under the snakes -
 nothing is hidden
   that you don't already know

     
  

Friday, August 11, 2017



why
the wherewithall
   the somnambulist
     centers
the stony bridge
 seeks
and escapes
the narrow confines
   of his own doing
    yet still
     seems sleepy
    shakes the ice coffee
      the ice rattles
footsteps in vans
 worn and stickered
    reading the pavement messages
     "joey"
    "this city sucks"
     "jewish"
    a man runs through traffic, laughing
  

Thursday, August 10, 2017


flowers didn't exist
  when there were dinosaurs
nor did donuts
or any number of things
 mammals were mostly small things
they took to flying
 birds are the only modern dinosaurs so
they say



 


Careering
   down a mountain side
    catch your breath
       and watch the sun
burn a hole in the
...
 


 

the bent freezer of Samadhi
   burgers and
roller coaster
  wait staff


Saturday, August 05, 2017



I guess the advocacy of tin cans as shoes was not a
defining moment in my circuitous
route to Happiness

Nonetheless, things being as they were, I was intrigued by
the notion of memorizing
a reasonable contextual event,
in my memory, as it were

Therefore I eased the brakes on the 2003 Astro van®
and thought about the White Rabbit (not a car)
It was called a Caribe in Mexico (the car)
-some unsavory mechanic in Puerto Vallarta
stole it from my aging father

I was there (in Mexico) to deliver the sad news
that his brain was getting smaller (physically)
He accepted the news and then attempted to move
a light bulb on the ceiling because it was "too close to the ceiling fan
and might shatter"
it had been in the same place for fifty years
I steadied the ladder as he removed the bulb






down by the
 sun
   drenched
 alligator
  tears
you cried
  I built a log house
  filled with desperation
  and bad jokes
  and bad poetry
it was nice for a while

i gotta keep moving
  there's no rain
    blues falling down
       i'm standing at the crossroads

I guess I sold my soul
  sometimes you just don't know
    he seemed like a nice guy
       his face seemed a little red

(beatrice has a phonograph
   but it ain't got no winding chain
      -we played it on the sofa
   we played it side the wall
   my needle has got rusty
   it will not play at all)




Friday, August 04, 2017


















Sketchy


a real shit show
   back it up
 the streets are full
       don't talk like that-
    you memorized the entire poem
and would recite it for a nickel
   at the dinner table
       penny a minute
     listening to julian bream
play portugese arias
  still the pumpkin pie was homemade
as was the whipped cream
and coffee
after much wine
le blanc de blanc
  you stumbled out into the hot sun
to whisper to the lizards
   run run or i'll grab your tail
   

Sunday, July 23, 2017


the ambitious ambiguity
        amphibious
           and amplified
                appealed
                   like an apple
                       apprehended
                           with aplomb











Cendrars NGFF

Friday, July 21, 2017

serial monotony
like a toad
      like  a road
    serial thoughts
         seemingly original
        serial thinking
 our thoughts
think us
 stuck on the road of thought
        the pattern
               repeats
                   in endless decay
simplicity and complexity
   so hard to see
we're the white lines or the dead armadillos
    'the middle of the road'
     stuck in the headlights
         danger
               bison crossing
                   the train derails
                   if it comes off the track
                   be a headlight
cool Colorado range
 head out
light out
   get off the road
         of decay
                               
 

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Wednesday, July 19, 2017


stone faced allegories
  I'm sleepy
 I hear noises
  boom
ka-boom
   oh, no, that was last week
  now, just the wind rattling the blinds
and the door
  sleepy
  sleepy
sleepy
 
  

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Life in Sunset Magazine

a stone of a thought
dropped on my foot
   I swerve and
think about the town of Mendocino
 how we used to go there for quaint california weekends
we'd bring sweaters
and eat some kind of clam chowder maybe
or did I make that up
   you couldn't really get to the ocean
because of the cliffs
so we'd walk around the town looking at houses with little fences
festooned with shells and old buoys
  and other sea related junk


Friday, July 14, 2017



cancel the stars
     send out a letter
          shore up the mountain
               write on the road
      there's a wave
    coming
      i see it
in my eye
  dots
 and speckles of blood
     you lay on your back
  staring at the pitch black night
     it's dark
   it's very fucking dark
  still you can hear people throwing bottles
    and yelling
     something is burning
      put another log on
        you think
before the fire goes out

Wednesday, July 12, 2017


the cause of the
curse
 stern and bubble eyed
     like a rabbit
disembowelled
   - staring at the reeds
          watching birds fly
      no one is watching
    a steady stream of tourists
   taking photos
 a lady is selling embroidered blue jeans
       $150
  the smell of pine trees
and dust
     mixed with the diesel exhaust
EAT
 we get back in the car
     and head to Tucson



Sunday, July 09, 2017

trojans
too small
       stick a bird on it
    stuck in the craw
  I'm not trying!
it's too hot
and i'm itchy
    spores
and a black cat
  at 4 am
people wandering
randomly
in the bright moonlight
     yeah just
some baking soda
  old boy
   there was a third man
     stop acting like a fool
 a parrott bit my finger
   go sleep in the van
   smoke a cig
  drink some
iced tea

Thursday, July 06, 2017

Thursday, June 29, 2017

the consumptive
gunfighter
  laid low and seeking out the
--- wishful dry dock monotony
   stalled in sullen
bullet riddled
   euphoria
     steadies himself
and aims
  falls
 and gets back up
   too late
the
 campesinos
have fled
   with their pitchforks
he sighs
and
 lays back down
      takes a comic book
from the shelf
dusts it off
  tears off a bit of a page
and rolls
 up some tobacco
   lights it up and turns
on the tv
match game 73 re-runs
    with Gene Rayburn




Wednesday, June 28, 2017

supports
like feet
of clay
    the sun is painful
   

Sunday, June 25, 2017

sad eyed secretions
mounted like a deerhead
   stacked in an odd display
at the back of the hardware store
  where you bought a metric wrench
to fix the Datsun's leaky spigot
   you left a trail for 3 miles back

 


74 el dorado
burned in the bushes
                 once your dad drove it to the mountains
                - his friends climbed every numbered peak in California
  but the real story was
how many pieces of chicken Nathan ate
  at the all-you-can-eat bbq 
it was a boring story
   
on the crispy
drag down
knockout
   barroom
 mayhem
revelations
    ----- you sat at the foot of the Buddha
    renouncing
nothing - impure thoughts
washed over you
   

Thursday, June 15, 2017

the practical 
consumption 
     of alcohol
      in 
 expressly 
       day drinking 
 seems
   seemed     
   slightly 
     (or more)
                               like a good idea 
 to honor 
the memory 
         but 
in practice 
     led to the eating 
         of steamed potstickers 
with spicy pepper oil
    and some gastric distress
   actually though
   probably 
                   very appropriate
but fuck appropriate 
 the bar was dark 
   and it was a beautiful day
    earlier we went to look for 
  whales 
   

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

spillage,
    the unforeseen  
the teetering
          of a shelf
    some semblance of the past
 decayed
 dusty
dirty
  strung out
    and broke
  pedalling in the night
to an unknown destination
     grave robbers
         saying me me me
              ( I could be in Yelapa right now)
     metaphor;
        the tick
the trick
   the wanton disease
   caressed
   by the thought
lady in night
     WOMAN in
the street
    all signs
forget it
   stay away
      keep out
         no trespassing
             motherfucker
   

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

    
        Dominique


               she od'd years ago
turned blue and fell down the stairs
   then became a profligate
drinker
   OE 800 in a chimney sweep
hat
     black dress
photographed lounging
  on piles of black garbage bags
on the sidewalk
 or,
clutching
a doll's dismembered head
or, just sitting in a room
standing
  a latch key poet

Burn it down
she said
BURN IT DOWN


-in a movie
     pregnant girlfriend of the kid
who gets suckered into buying
  a huge stereo system.

singing at the bar
       eerie harmony
two sorrowful voices
       everyone stopped
but that was years ago
    before she left
and went back to Detroit
  to raise her baby,
oh baby
 








  
heavy slumber,
 like a bear sleeping on your
head
        someone texts
about going to see whales
 
 

Sunday, June 11, 2017

cosmic chemtrails
 across your
sky/mind
   the theories are piling up
    every way is possible
you've seen the result
now guess the cause
tinfoil hat life
 protect the chosen ones
 aerial rabbit ears
  noses twitching
smell the electricity
RUN!
or just hop
    to another view
 reaffirming
  in the antechamber
    crushed by velvet conspiracies
       "I KNOW, I KNOW!"
turning to Nature
   though,
  see a thousand colors-
shades of browns, greys, blue, red, & yellow
I guess
  forget about it

Monday, May 29, 2017

plethora
         fuctate

empire of the
          unintelligible

fog blows in
   
is extremist

 grasshoppers
    are political

frogs?
forgetaboutit!

 

Sunday, May 28, 2017

sad
espiritu
    dominie
        the bark of the tree
 cut
and dripping
   river sways
black and white
     we seek
inside
espiritu
     saying
go
come
be
 see
 the reflection
is the reality
the dream
is
 the
mind
   the body
the
 espiritu

Friday, May 26, 2017

traveled 
the stoned 
arcade 
back door 
dreams of 
  what 
 the  
heck
   too hot 
 too sunny 
     one week 
they stole 
150 dollars 
 worth of stuff
                               he even got a windbreaker 
somebody stole some cherry cigars 
  we smoked them and felt sick
got on our bikes and split
 later it was 
md 2020
mad dog!
 

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

'twas a
donnybrook
  - eh?
    I routed the bazzerds
   your meaningless plight is without
sympathy
   I'm shopping in the five and dime
     for a vanilla cheroot
 or plastic swim toys
  but it's really not that hot out
 and the lights keep going out
    maybe a Hamm's sign
       and a cold Michelob
  from the cooler
satiric 
   strafed as 
star of Hollywood
   cement shoes 
or aggregate 
 compilation 
   the synaptic
steves
   of the pyre
 burning sleeves 
     of lace 
 and fences 
       around 10 foot high letters
 we see the bright lights 
in your eyes 
      the shadows know more 
   

 

Saturday, May 20, 2017

I had a dream
I was interviewing Donald Trump
 we were seated next to some large colonaded financial or governmental institution.
He seemed quite sweet. (?)
He said "I'll be doing this for a long time."
I said "We'll see."
Trump was trying to tell a story but couldn't remember anyone's name.
"Uhm, Melanie Klunk?"
"Colonel Klink?"
"Yes!"


Thursday, May 18, 2017









DUMP TRUMP / FREDERICK DOUGLASS / HEIL NO! © 2017

Wednesday, May 03, 2017



miracule
    drakkula
            lives!
   blood swiping
sycophant
   trudging down the
sidewalk
    see this knife?

whatooigottodo
 kick you down the stairs
    "just playin man"
 

Tuesday, May 02, 2017

the Tecate myth
infused the troops with a sense of purpose-
it was either that or
the fear of being stood up against a wall and shot
     'We hail Tecate,
as the Motivator, Redeemer,
Compatriot'
"We also stand knee deep in pig shit and try not to get our heads
blown off"
   Bastante Navarro said as they marched in
the 102 degree heat
  Bastante's mother was a programmer at the
Banque Central and his father worked in finance
  "I should be sitting in an air-conditioned office right now
checking my Facebook." He lamented
"Shut up Navarro"
  yelled his entire squad
they continued marching to the border