Road 

into California

long ago

Ocean and dry 

Oak trees and I forget what they're called

thistles golden 

and dry

Fog rolling over hills 

and dry

California 

Say what you will 

Green Gulch

Kathy drove down the hill to the Zen Center Farm

Singing and honking her car horn

So happy to be there

Did the people meditating appreciate her joy

Zen koan like a slap

Laughing and honking wooHOO

 He said nothing 

showed nothing

It was a lao tse 

Kinda tse tse fly

You'll be very sleepy

Soon

 No trace of William Napoleon Norris, grandfathers dad. 

My uncle found his name in a listing at an orphanage in Georgia. There were two boys there with the same name.

My uncle said he was the Chief Engineer at the Jacksonville Traction Co. but I haven't found any verifying documents. Supposedly he was a boozer which fits the family pattern. He left his wife after she came down with rheumatoid arthritis. They said he got mad and walked out because there was no butter on the dinner table. Grandpa and his sister Gladys destroyed all memory of him and wouldn't talk about him. Gladys was a teetotaler and I don't remember Grandpa drinking that much. The old woman lived with Gladys and her husband Carl or Carlos in Florida. My uncle visited when he was in high school and said the old woman wheeled herself around the house on a little cart.

 I drove to Bolinas

on a foggy Monday morning

I hadn't been there in thirty years

They used to remove signs explaining how to get there

but now you just follow Google Maps 

It wasn't crowded 

An older shop lady at the coffee window said

They're all at Target! School starts next week!

An old man with a run down hippie shop was printing some tshirts behind the counter

How much for the sweatshirt?

With tax it's eighteen even

Thank god for people like him

I gave him a twenty

Keep the change!

 The casual exclamations

of Howard street

and barriers to the lost Fort

Washington came thru

But now mostly Koreans

They had to craft a law saying store signs

had to include English 

 

 TECATE

WAS A LOST CHILD 

IN CUERNEVACA

SHE HAD NO EYES 

NO EARS 

BUT SHE HAD A MOUTH

AND SHE DRANK

LIKE THE GODS DRINK

WITH SCORPION CHASERS

AND PLYMOUTH ROCK DREAMS

SHE HAD SEVERAL THREE CORNERED HATS

AND A GREEN SET OF OCTOPUS DRESSES

SHES SLEEPING NOW

SSSSH DONT DISTURB HER

 I rode the thirsty so thirsty stallion

Black as the night

Thru glaciers and brambles 

I rode the stallion

And here I was 

Not anymore here is gone

There is no here here

That makes no sense

Go buy a dictionary 

And look something up

Before I chop your head off

Or make bacon and eggs

And English muffins 

And bury you in the basement

 even dreams are a let down

bummer eh!

Ah well 

Whatcha gonna do?!

 I wonder why

everything has turned to shit

I blame myself

"If only..."

 

 I gave up

There's not much I was really after

just a few good paintings

and a lifetime of beautiful young women

the women all disappeared pretty much en masse

But the paintings continued 

in one form or another

they weren't all winners

but I had fun making them

That's all you can really ask for

 I stowed my soul below

the sickened body

I had no shoes 

or cares

Newspapers were my bed 

Laudanum was my god

we feasted on April opium

Gave thanks to Pinchewon 

Our forgotten brethren soldier

and took the 7:38 bus to work

 catching the stars of a fleabit morning

We sleep too late

the pills we took finally making 

time inconsequential or something

so shredded wheat milk bananas

and COFFEE 

and dreamlike thoughts of a midwest man

Unmarried in the religious sect

he seemed sad and lonely

corn and turkeys and giants tractors

 I walked to Montgomery station

2.6 miles 

Then I took BART to 16th st

got a taco

Woot

 Granted ok

I think I'm pretty freaking fucked up

but I'm just a regular person

or maybe not

Or

I'm a genius!

A mad man 

In the form of a white Anglo sexing precedent

Beknighted by the Queen

Queen of marigolds and poppies

And King Manzanita 

in his frosted low grade coal mines

309 miles from the oceans 

and thousands of tiny shells outside his barrow homestead 

 

NYC 2024

 

 The heart of nothing

Was left to you

In the barricaded libraries

of paperbacks 

James Thurber, Arthur Cowell, 

and others 

You'd lain there with a friend  

tripping on the barricaded lsd

and saw a pattern on the white wall -

A piece of marble glued above the fireplace 

with sealer used on atomic bombs

your dad said proudly

Projectiles with depleted uranium he said 

would penetrate the beveled armor of Russian tanks -

The pattern

Which both you and your friend saw 

was just a ski logo

repeated K2 K2 K2 K2 K2