ahh the pickled decay
the pickled
       pickled decay
we cannot sway
  the pickled decay
       see how they stay
 see
  the way
    they
 true to a fault
    stay clung
to the dottering dault
   the pickled
pickled decay

Nobody knows
 the troubles i've seen and it's 4/20
  and my goddammed neighborhood
will soon fill up with
chevys and hondas
and scions
   trying to get
their occupants
to Hippie Hill
to celebrate the demi god
stoney pot kine bud
half or fully baked
in the california
san francisco breezy
sunlight a beautiful day
ruined by too many people 
drumming and driving
from Palo Alto and Pinole
and San Mateo
and wearing patchouli which
originally some stoner told me
was used to mask the smell of Death
 and I've got to get the goddammed windowless van
out of a perpendicular
 parking spot
and drive to Berkeley
  maybe i should get high
and i'd chill the f out

the pickled decay
of the dark fermented forest
  lay the rugs down
      next to yellow and orange flowers
     save a spot in the
barren circle - an elves circle
   where the sunlight shines in and
no trees grow
  if you find a hat at the edge of the circle
leave it there
  it would not remain your possesion
armored brigands
 could not hold it 
 
  

decidedly unmesmerized 
   by the frantic dealings
 of everyday life
  the apple stops here
and gets eaten
   but we count the minutes
- ready the battered emotions
  make a pot of soup
and a couple pieces of toast
still the rain of April
  comes and goes

throw bits of
   diseased dog meat
 at the enemy
  give them the plague
use the barrel of gunpowder trick
on someone's mom
   while she's picking up crumbs
from the shiny linoleum
 what?
no WE WATCHED JEREMIAH JOHNSON
 beautiful scenery
   that robert redford
    even as a mountain man he had great hair
 

strictly almond avenue
    did you have a good time?
      the sun was really fucking bright

did the swivel
  marked the spot with
     a chlorinated pool
emptied the lung juice
  into a can of tomato juice
     empty
 so you here again?
he tried to slice my bike tire
   i kicked him
rather ineffectively and
 walked into traffic
    the bus was long gone
   i rode downhill past children sleeping on the sidewalk
      cheers rang out
 as the word spread
  THE KING IS DEAD!
    but we needed reassurance anyhow
 and I got an order of papas fritas
and a lemon ice
  poured a half a bottle of bourbon
into the thermos
 and headed for the exit
save something for tomorrow
  she whispered

Nyack, NY 2006

as the aspersions
piled up small creatures
 took root
 burrowing and
making a home
raising kids
  driving a three year old station wagon
  with a bumper sticker
    "Honor Labor"

ah the 

bony glimpse 

sweet glint of 

       foul humor

 you laugh 

 but it's not funny 

      there's the road 

       ... which way 

      straight until you see

  the sun

  there's new lands 

         but the way is still 

the same 

 till the earth

     until your back hurts 

       but sweat and toil 

  no more 

   now is soon

 she said  

weird
like i've known it all
before
   weird like the sun with a ring around it
is that weird
  weird like the cement sidewalk
    walking to buy a pack of cigarettes

                                                            oh sun drift 

by the murky sky 

            sentient beings

                    weird like that?

     no, not that 

               turtles have been around

 for 200 million years

fuck turtles

   

the dancing bears
 opened the gates
to Legions of the Dead
   I saw you there
    walking in a warriors helmet
one eye looking out
     -the lights twisted
curving and trailing -

the river
streamed no fortune
  the ribbons were not cut
   no bridges for these feet
     no times of clocks gone astray
         the land of no nothing
            wore a hole in your soul
               bummer bummer bummer
 strike the match
   burn the tempest
      close your eyes
 the headache will go away
   

SF MOMA

I had no use
for the postage blues
  yellow envelope
I sent you books
and photos
from the boardwalk
  wooden days
    black straps
       grey baseball hats
   ships of broken wood
  

thru the cranberry
   in the wake of the dream
      the tears were under your chin
        there was some nakedness
            now i'm left here
               wondering what the fuck
                 
the cranberry
 what is that
       where does that lead
          thru the countryside
              the sunny day
                  with giant clouds
                     like Godzilla
                         or another giant thing

no, that's not what
    the song is about
         the meaning was a puzzle
              explaining something about
                  the mystery of existence
                       wrapped in purple robes
                           and left by the side of the road
                               poor child

but we go on cause we're fucking hungry
     this place?
        okay I can eat that
          

-wikipedia

• The 'April Cross' is a giant white radish hybrid that bolts very slowly.
• 'Bunny Tail' - Rosso Tondo A Piccola Punta Bianca. It is slightly oblong, mostly red, with a white tip.
• 'Cherry Belle'
• 'Champion'
• 'Red King
• 'Sicily Giant'
• 'Snow Belle'
• 'White Icicle'
• 'French Breakfast'
• 'Plum Purple', a purple-fuchsia radish, tends to stay crisp longer than average.
• 'Gala' and 'Roodbol'

the jersey pushed
   the door closed
 he had
his hand on the
  saddle
   but the horse had fled
"that weren't no talking horse"
 he confided
  "what did you say you wanted?"
"the tapes"
  "we got green, white, or blue."
"i'll come back tomorrow."
 outside the sky
was like a french new wave film
   I dodged along the sidewalk
 as the water
 lazily dripped
   I saw the fatboy watching me from inside
his '63 Belvedere
   "Stupid fatso!" I yelled
and then took off
I heard the door slam
but I was already gone
   ah we had some good times!
 later fatboy would choke on his
own tongue
never heard that happening before
  and i didn't believe it
the jersey probably did him in


 

 

some days it does
and some days
well, fuck it!
  but the event horizon malappropriation police
are knocking inside the door
 go outside and see who's not there
"it's not a leprechaun"
"ask him where the pot of gold isn't."
move back to the cider wall
   and see if it will cure you
    the staunch opinions are always voiced
in the breakfast hotel
 " EGGS!- powdered and crap sausages, toast it yourself, orange juice
 and no omelet chef today- back tomorrow."
It's not a joke
   but they did get indicted
for labor violations
  she kept saying they had
"underworld connections"
  so we had to work overtime without pay
and no tips
 still we ate regularly
tri-tip on sundays
   chips and fish
on fridays
  
 

First Day Of Spring

we had corn fungus
  for lunch
 it had a different name
   it was okay
like a pizza but
 too much tortilla

the snapper tostada
was much better