Stealth held over
By the fire
  Breathe
Quietly
For the eyes are watching
 There is no now
  Only tomorrow,
And what's gone

Bagged
Blagged agin
  Frostbit
 Sandy snowballs
  In NH
  Long ago now
 Oh dreams
  Like a Margarita
  W salt
   In Puerto Vallarta
PV
   1994

Strange focus
    On this camera obscura
A tiny hole
   In a very dark room
    (Like planet earth in the universe?)
What are we taking a picture of?
God!

Dreams of fame
  Starts with an Alaskan journey
 Bub

The transparent
   Creatures
     Smiling
Laughing
 Drinking  beer
The music too loud
  The night still warm
    And drunk
We sway
To the bleeding hand
Punching chests
  A pocket bottle of Jameson
Passed around
To save money
  Ellstin talks to the girls going by
“Hey turn that frown
     Upside down.”
Z wanders around smiling
And laughing
   Hey YO!

Stiffened
Like sullen weight
  Together with the rocks
Gathered to make a wall
 On a beautiful October day

2012

JURY DUTY 2

The personal
    & the political
  marred by waxed
 eyebrows &
  bail bondsman
       Somewhere I left
my past, somewhere but
   not at that sushi bar
  maybe in this improvised
  Irish coffee

2012

JURY DUTY 1

My personal
emotional concerns
  would you recognize
them in yourself?
would you be able
 to follow instructions
 From the Phoney Baloney
 smiling square jawed
fascist? His face should be on a poster
for the unaware
  the death of my
father is not reason
 to be dismissed from
jury duty but an
airplane ticket is

Creature nine
Reads the news
 Still we try
He sighed
  The floorboards are warped
Walking takes some care
  Windows are open and look out on the rivals
   Buildings stand in the wind
Sighing
 Or something
 Ocean breeze in this ocean town
  Foghorns rattle the dishes
   And keep us awake
 Creature nine rolls over
And dreams of floating
 Floating away
On a river of sighs

Desperate characters
  All of them
 Roaming around
 In Hyundais
 And gazebo bound
 Silk flowers in their mind
Loving the day

Clap the
Fuss
 And bandywine
  Sterile magnetic force
 Turn April into May
June to August
 And then
 Caesar will let the cats free
 To walk with you
 In silence
  The newsperson will shout
And scare them off
   on tv
  And other places

Oh sad
drivel said sad drivel
 Sad
 Return again through
Barren nights
   Stupidly
    Stacked
Everywhere
  Returning
 Broken and
    Bullet creased
Dire in the
  Dead streets of
 Memnonic devices
Watching the clouds
Over head
 Till sand rushes out
 Sand of a thousand eyes
Sand of a thousand tongues
  Talking incessantly
Talking
Drizzling
  A thousand times a thousand
Times ten thousand more
Containers of pennies and handkerchiefs
  Left in the sand
Waiting for godot
Waiting for Dune
Waiting for archimbaldo
And his vegetable head
 Waiting for a ticket
 To get on a train
 And get out of here

The arduous
Existence
Of light
 And memory
 Try to breath
 Run
  Feel the air in your hand
 Your hair is
No longer
Golden and
Orange
  Step fast
Now
 See the cars piling up on the highway
Guess where you will be
In ten years
 Or just wait
 Everything comes
  Across the Rockies

Why would you freeze
 By the northern sky lights
Like a deer
 Like a doe
 Like moe
   Whacked in the head
By a two by foe
 Slipping on the
 Cocaine highway baked Alaska job site
 See?
 What you said?
 It is what it is
 Or not
Maybe it isn’t
 But it’s still
Far lit blue eyed turbulence

We swam in the pool
The water was lovely
  Summer is nice
  I’m going to the east coast
In September
 He named his son Sony
Like the company
  But we are still friends
 At least until he gave away my
Herbie Hancock ticket
But you know
Or maybe you don’t
 Either way
 Summer is nice

Say what
What is that
 Oh Carl Yastrzemski
 I can spell his name
 The sky is like innings
   

His kitty kat
Is dead
 It’s a fucking bummer
  This
 After all that
Lonely soul earth SEA
CRASHING  with that fucked up mule
 Who is that mule?
 Freaking Dante at the
 Gates of Hell
  And God up there
 On that steep ass mountain looking down
 One little light on
Just some carpenters working at night
    Where was Henry?
 Was even there
 And the he says
 Fuck it
 I’m getting OUTTA here
 Packing up his little rucksack
 Hitches past the American families
Starched and feminized
 To the bus station
 And on to Ferlinghetti
  Who tells him yr kitty is dead
 Dang this just the first fifty pages
 And I remember the
 Sweet wine nightmares to come
Jeez!

Do you even know know what I’m saying
  No no no way
 There not
Thing there’s
 Just nothing
 Beyond
D the cupboard
 Beyond the
 Fancy word smith
Of feeling effigy
 Strange fruit
  Hanging well
The wedding is on
Somewhere else
So there’s that

what face 

portends 

death-defying acts 

of streamlined chrome

rear mirror joy?

look back into the sunrise

drive on through

the cactus infested 

heatland

borrowing thoughts from

cans of cold Miller beer

passing the night signs 

still lit

and glowing

we need to get breakfast somewhere

I heard 

from the back of my brain

flappity flap uh flap

create 

time 

stand still 

like a bullet 

gasping 

grasping holding your side 

some time 

the days 

are just days 

days and days 

 what time are we meeting

the movie has been changed 

no you can't leave early 

see 

there it is 

right at the end of the row 

   I'm full of 

popcorn

 and the floor is sticky 

Boris Karloff please 

Lon Chaney 

 travelling through my mind 

 create light 

stand and jump 

hop and giggle 

feel your pulse 

it's beating

hey is that
 a billion stars in your
 pocket
 or are you just...
  oh golly gosh
     what star would you go to
if you had your druthers
   say how about
THAT ONE?
   which one?
      hmm
    

Crosscut 
    brush strokes
    of evil death
eyed landscape painters
  interspersed
with Venusian
   tirades - what ?
   say whatshisname
  whitman-esque
    re-writings
on a dead planet
   waiting to be retrieved
by the bar code bar graph
reality seekers
of Katmandu-

Waiting for
 the embrace
   of a warm cantina
 in the face of California
  summer coastal fog
    one tired
  out by 12:30
   and now they serve
margaritas
 but by the pitcher?
  probably not...
     we could walk the sand
and watch the seagulls
practice
   their french fry
dive bombing
   but still laying here
 waiting

back to the scene
   of the crime
      guilty as charged
   with littered birthday cards
      scattered on the shoulder
  some ignition module sensor camshaft snafu
    but what if
        ahh too late for that now!
 now we have kids and red hot links
    cyanobacteria
      and barking Kenny
    Reg is chill
 and ladies in swimsuits
    and beer
 more and more BEER
   and G&T's oops
   crawl back into the
van
 and
pass out,
  good night
    

drowning in the
    sea of flame
           holding hands
    with the twins
 we go round
    and round
         round we go
           round and round

talking to someone
   else
 but hey I PAID for these
      tickets
 oh never mind
      la dee da
       she said
      like a shark, I
       guess
  still there's only so much time
in a creative gladiator ring
     send in the
 beast of prey
    I'll swim for the
      border

across the stormin norman
  highway of no redemption
 blood is oil
   we wash with it
 every day
   feeding it
regurgitated to
our baby chicks
  there you go
yummy
   with computer driven
forks 
algorithms for wiping your nose
  believe it
 its here
   standard models
  starting at
 125
     accesories
    include
  de-lousing
   and sibilant
      erudition

the ramrod
   thru the barrel
      the plague
         the carrion
    marked
 by swingsets
    and spandau ballet albums
       across the sight
     spilling from
 the ears
    of the maiden
an echo
  what the f...
  still the IHOP
special is good
   but they forgot
the fried shrimp
   and no thousand island dressing
honey mustard
 

stop the train
 but there is no
train
 just the sound
   somewhere in the woods
  granite rock
for miles
   so what
 who cares
    the water though
      cold cold cold
   

the moon comes up like a
  sack of broken doorknobs
    why would anyone have such a sack?
 these things just happen
 'put it in the sack'
   great dusty reminders of
lives lived that we would rather
 not know about
    so why am i
 comparing it to the moon
 coming up
    maybe going down would be
more apropos
  n'est pas
  the sack of dusty doorknobs
    came to life in the form of
 a man
 who was a piece of shit
  and the people loved him
     because they too were
sacks of dusty shit
 and they knew it
   and they were tired TIRED
of trying to be
   healthy and helpful and good
and concerned
  they loved their
dusty sack of shit-ness
    it suited their lifestyles
wardrobes
  cars
  houses
   everything
  so finally a man of the people
 who was Wealthy
  and on TV
  a regular televangelist
  for GREED
       telling them
they no longer needed to feel bad
   for their awfulness
      that they could hate
   and be nasty and ugly and mean
and it was OKAY
   for him, anyway
 (the dusty sack of shit doorknob)
   the rest of us
  could just
"go back to etc"
  
  

 what railroad men
 there are no railroad men
 they're all dead
     the trains are a buffalo ghost
   tramping the plains
       but soon the floodwaters will
run over all that
   like some biblical prophecy
from a drunk outside the ohlone river casino 
   so proud
 we sit and sufficient accolades
 from the crowds
make us blind
   ah the songs we once sang
  ah mama can this really be the end
    nope
 not yet
 young fool
    who has never seen a john ford movie
  fuck him
 anyway
    now we have WAY better movies
   but we have no soul
       so MAKE MONEY
cuz we all gonna die!
 

I'm so SLEEPY... the stretch marks on my brain as I catch the last rays of a summer meal...the arrows of greed are lodged in my medulla oblongata...say hello for me to the boys down at the bar...we whisper our thoughts to angels...hello...hello... is that your dog... he's tearing the skin on my ankle...little viper...that's the thanks I get for taking him for a "walk"...still the gnomes of tomorrow are not like these...goddamn those dwarves and Snow White...

the depth
charge
 of your
     sovereign choices
 sank my battleship
  I mean submarine
 73 submariners went down
 but they knew the risks
     still
    friendly fire
can be a real
bitch

there were no longer any
   Ramona eyes afternoons
 or evenings
    the days had seemingly ended
   now there was just
  Time
     time to kill
      time to live
         time to drink
            time to take out the garbage
      so you took a walk
and in the windy bright
afternoon
    the flowers
   were your Ramona

bastid son
     of a morose
son of a gun
 gone
    for the night
  barkin
    Ray Bradburys at
 the carnies
     while holding
    a soft serve
vanilla cone

frozen in the
 time light
     san francisco 4th of july
      police sirens
 in the neighborhood
   pancho and lefty
       hiding out in cleveland
    heights
        the lily pond is
 algaed up
    sox getting beat again
       snaking thru the rhodes
scholars
    step it up
      sweet corona
 lit and puffed
 up

I'll wait 

   for the corn 

 to cook

     breathing in and out 

 sirens blaring 

                            outside the open window 

   fire engines

    is it quiet 

   though 

     i dunno

    i've lost the 

   ability 

  to truly feel

 did i ever have it 

    crying isn't it 

                that's a response

   oh just be 

  who you are 

   and forget it 

  maybe ? 

      no 

 that's not it 

         breathe 

 in and out 

and keep doing that

the noose 

  tightens 

     "first time?"

  another friend 

    is gone 

       

Across 

 the saccharine sea 

    of yesterday 

Marched into the glory days of 

     youth or something 

    you stopped to deliver a profound 

message 

     but invariably forgot 

   the line
  what was it?

the quiet
  aluminum bat
  echo of summer
     has joined
    a bright foggy day
  in Sanny franny
   whoop tee whoo!

crispr bow - tie

       the andromeda of 

          face changing 

     ooh 

   what the fuck
                                                 seems like I've been here before
  it makes no sense
    but the bloom is off the rose
      yet they smell so sweet
        so you comb your hair
       walk down the block
          smile
       fercrissake
                              least a little maybe?
      something will give
                                       when you give it a chance

    

   

death-defying 

   acts 

      of cowardice 

      displayed 

     as 

    a variance 

        in the 

                              time/space paradigm 

   re-programmed 

 as 

                   a sick day/ptl

                                              using known sagan coordinates- 

Imagine!  code 7seven

                               on the upkeep barometer

                                            best to step back now 

                  these ergonomic chairs 

   are killing my back

     sometimes I think 

     that's the point 

 

 

 the baffling 

 mirror 

     of drink more 

        drink now 

        the staid 

 boredom 

 of the 

    hours 

 spent shining 

     shoes 

      or spitting at bugs 

  - leave the green yards 

    their fortunes long 

      spent 

 and delivery 

 now on line 

    with the screams of 

 your mother 

    as the tv sings a lullaby 

    you know it 

   don't you 

but 

whats to be 

 done 

     

Dominique   ©1991

the brilliant 

                  steam of slander

     echoed 

  in the trees

     smoking 

   outside and watching 

    a casual friendship 

descent 

    with boats and 

     money issues 

        can you read the text?

      some liked 

  some not 

   so be it 

    or not 

      chase the wooden dream 

    the arc of the 

       eyebrow 

   oh really?
    gather up the 

   empty glasses 

         and say 

      good job

she didn't care 

 about the stories 

   of glass elevators 

      and running to a house 

  in the night 

                                the oompa loompa painting 

 was gone from the living room

    hell the whole house was torn down 

    something about an old native american 

   curse 

        still George had at least a thousand deer antlers 

    on his barn 

       his sister ran over my dog 

                              driving by the house at 70 miles an hour 

dog got through the fence

                               old halloween midnight black dog
                                            chewed up my books and then got run over

I cried my eyes out

If it's not 

out now 

      slide the past away 

like huck finn

                               or Robinson Crusoe 

      the windows 

 are open 

 but there's nothing 

 to see 

 except 

 the remnants of a past 

 you've pieced together 

 from 

    books 

 and records 

 and maybe 

an old t shirt 

        

         

oh sad 

 cheese whipped 

       fountain of youth 

      california misfix

      misfired 

   in pine tar scandal  - 

 down the bruegel

   belongings 

    starry eyed

      and centrist leaning 

   sad 

 sad 

   oh sad 

    onion rings 

      stay the course! 

    don't get 

                      Walt Whitman-ed
in a patch of dry 

    eyed crying jags

         - I listened and could not hear

-I spoke and could not say

 O Bright lights

    bring on the 

Night please 

   and watch the barometer 

move 

   back and forth

looking at book lots
   on ebay found a seller
in a small town
in NJ where my friend lives
   sent her an email
asking if she knew him
  she said she didn't know him
but he lives on the same street as her
   AND SHE WROTE DOWN HIS PHONE NUMBER FROM A SIGN LIKE THREE HOURS BEFORE SHE GOT MY EMAIL

...weird....

KEROUAC

Jackie boy        

            stayed 

       up all 

    night 

                                 high on benny 

writin 

  about his 

       saint 

   of a 

    brother 

                   SAD 

    eyed 

          and 

        not drinkin

   but writing

  his way to the 

           gates 

          

     

       

"This sandwich is kinda dry"
Evan put down his sandwich and looked 

around for, perhaps, some 

organic tahini sauce 

or something like that
"Those Antiwar protesters were a bust

we got nuthin"
"I'm gonna grab some vegan mayo"

Sherry checked her phone. 

Text from the office
'general called wants to do interview'
with the generals phone number
"Okay now we're talking"

" Whoa man, we came here to confront the 

profiteers of War.  This General's piece of crap..."

Ja put both hands up and did the quote thing with

his fingers

"quote unquote memoir is just another 

example of the US military complex 

reaping the benefits 

of their horrific never ending wars."
The faces of the fellow protesters seemed 

sincerely upset by what was going on though 

some were laughing at some private joke
Ja was wondering what happened to Sandy.

She still hadn't shown up.
Ajax jumped in "Yeah man we don't want these

war pigs- no offense BLACK SABBATH Whoo 

great album! 

yeah um what was the question?"

"I don't see anything going on?"

"Did you ask at the bookstore?"
"Yeah they said the anti-war protesters 

  all left, they had the book signing 

and the General left with some young 

 curly haired brunette" 

"Okay, well, good thing we know that!

Fuck!" 

 "Two hours wasted on that bullshit 

general, I guess we missed the protests."

" I saw a bunch of the protesters 

chowing down at that vegan restaurant,

that place is pretty good."
"right now? fuck, let's go interview them!

Let's go!" 

" yeah okay maybe I'll get a sandwich"

Sandy and the general 

 were sitting in the front 

 seat of his brand new Cascadian Silver Lexus 

   trading hits of Peppermint Schnapps

"Wow!' Said Sandy 

"This shit is tasty!"

The general, after bemusedly listening

 to a heated political haranguing,

 had offered to discuss 

  (from an insiders perspective) 

 the economic forces

which had perpetuated and instigated

  the so-called Tecate Wars
he suggested they retire 

   to his car and share a toast to all anti-war

efforts globally 

              to which Sandy had just smirked
but thinking she might gain 

a front page expose for her University newsletter

   agreed

      "Are these real leather seats?"

    she asked as she stroked the smooth, cool, rawhide seats
"yeah that fucking dealership

   totally ganked me on those fuckers, but, yeah,

they feel good, glad I paid the extra 

seven thousand."

 

By the time 

the camera crew arrived 

   the anti-war beatniks had made their scraggly way

 to Sally's Vegan Avocado & Sprouts-atorium

 and were debating 

   whether bringing attention 

 to the General's recently published memoir

 was, in fact, aiding the 

Miltary-Industrial Complex

   Ja Bite turned to his friend

    Ajax and said with a mouth full of sprouts,

 whole grain bread, and tofu deli slices

  "Where's Sandy?"
     "I dunno" Ajax said as he slurped his 

   tempeh bouillabase

"She said something about confronting that 

pig of a generallisimo directly."

 

  

TECATE WARS (cont.)

the drive to el cajon was 

 uneventful. 

   the general parked and walked to the

 Katzberger's bookstore 

 he stopped when he saw the liquor store 

"maybe just a wee bottle of sumpin"

     outside the bookstore a 

cadre of scruffy antiwar protesters 

spotted him and began yelling 

 and waving their handwritten signs

'hmm, maybe I should have bought some security'

                         he hoped his breath didn't reek of peppermint schnapps
'well' he said as he dialed the local tv news station
'there's no such thing as bad publicity'

 

Uncle Carl had a boat 

down in the keys

   we went down there

               we drove from New Hampshire -

when you see for the first time 

   tall slender palm trees and short squat

pelicans and feel 

the warm ocean air breezing 

     across the highway 

it was the mid sixties-

                   I got sick on the boat 

    when we went fishing -

   Uncle Carl married my 

 Aunt Gladys - great aunt- 

                                she was my grandfather's only sibling
  great pictures of them - Douglas, Gladys, and Carlos

Carlos was his real name
  I think he was Spaniard 

     or Argentinian
      He kept a Winchester Rifle on 

 the fishing boat

                but the sea air ruined it 

Carlos was a building inspector 

                       and he would get bottles of liquor as gifts
but he and Gladys were Methodists and didn't drink

                                so they put the bottles in boxes in the garage 

        

  

you're stealing time 

                 from Mother Nature

but she just winks

and sends a torrent of 

    wildflowers 

                    bursting across the desert-

    the giant,
 finger long,

    caterpillars 

       are stealing tiny white flowers 

    feasting with their gaping maws

                                     insuring their transformation-

   Who is stealing from Mother Nature?
       the police are searching 

                   for the perpetrators
but they're
cloaked in shiny smiles
and yearly reports
the detectives look in all the wrong places
you aren't guilty
when they put the handcuffs on

                              and your alibi
is a dead llama
  

 the drivel 

           the dribble 

 no thanks 

     but where do we stand 

on this muddy life

   down a piece 

                        the charts are off the charts  

whales are trying to talk to us 

                             "KNOCK it off, assholes!"

                                    I'm thinking about the soil 

       God is watching 

us fuck up 

  ah crap

twitched 

 in the twill 

 some sly thought 

 scratches 

                from the inside

 the mountain pauses

                           steam brewing in the kettle

                                   we shake our pant leg

the sky wanders in 

                    slow to take a chair 

                     orders flapjacks & coffee

    and we go back to work

the aging retired General
  stared at the box of his new memoir
 To Tecate and Back!
   He was due at a book signing in El Cajon
   at 3:00
   "Better get my shit together here."
He said as he took a drag off a giant roach
 "fuck wHOO!"

the city life 

    was taking it's toll

           fog and wealth

         at the gates 

                             and everywhere
but nobody could give
 a shit for too long
   there was drinking to do
   and
                            the sky was tired

           

still, the even-tide

shoreless walk in 

the midday sun but

not forgetting tuesday

with a doggie necklace

and a bucket of suds

is that what they wanted
 no but what the heck
  can you be more obtuse
no sorry i can't
 but it's raining again
 yeah so make some soup
    tom ka gai
                      please

 a stones throw 

     from quiet 

the meandering began 

 no it wasn't fraught with meaning 

just another goddamn day 

 some little birds 

            were chirping 

                             outside his window 

 so he opened a beer 

and turned on the sox game

the pile up 

of a large amount of k's

                          cross seam cheese

one out in the ninth

                     fouled off to hang in

tomorrow off to Baltimore

better be careful with this guy

                       Yonder Alonso carves it  

                                down the line

                      walk off by Delmonico

3 run bomb
breaks Boston's heart

snap to 

 simple sez 

        what finds 

 one who doesn't seek

  ahh the knowing...

       of nothing

                             and so damn sure

      but lost in the maze like 

                              like Mr. Torrance 

                                    froze to death

                                          I guess

brackets 

 go backward 

                                      you're winding up the stairs

                                           of tautological dismissiveness-

 dont leave your hand there 

it might get cut off

    when they find out you're a thief 

         but it doesn't matter 

                                                       a little tea and honey will make it alright

 

Gray 

         BLACK 

                                 and a tertiary blue 

 diamond shapes 

extending to 

   comets 

     racing across 

                            the white white night

    toward a mustardy orange 

  and dark dark 

       dripping blue black 

               day

 

     

  

just to be sure 

   he turned up the shades 

  and yes that was 

  it- no never mind 

 it didn't matter 

                       he went back to his newspaper 

                                       and bottle of beer

far end 

of the night 

the cats are yowling 

and fighting 

the neighbor is sober

 screams at the cats 

 and then laughs 

her dog is in the house 

barking furiously

she trips over a box of bottles 

and curses

the fog is rolling in 

a San Francisco kind of cold 

I'm listening to Gershwin 

and I wish I was dead
asleep