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

as he left 

  the far end of the 

    coach 

plagued with thoughts 

 of juniper 

     and misogynists 

        April in the city 

  too much pollen 

                           -trees bursting with blooms

sneezing from every room

- a dry dusty scratchiness

                            fingers fumbling with plastic sealed 

           antihistamines
 the sky in the valley 

                     looks unapproving

                     the green hills are holding on 

                                                but not for long
just have to hold out
for a bit more
he knew

    

  

the gun 

wasn't loaded 

       but the penguins were

     now they're missing 

                      we filed a police report 

but they said you better call 

                                someone who gives a fuck 

   we didn't know who

                               Jeremy Corbyn?  

                      Tito Francona? 

   Ahh those 2004 Red Sox
                                   What a year!

some 

ego maniac

like the sun 

      sits in a chair 

   and watches tv 

                    on his watch 

scratches his head 

       and the neighbor dog barks

   

Georgie's banging 

 the chords

                    An American In Paris 

he hits so hard

 and fast 

       Ravel heard how much money he 

made 

                          and well you know
    no just listen
                      an American Music
    like Steely Dan 

       up in Annandale-
Before the musicals
  George had a job recording
player piano rolls
from 1916 to 1927
                        before they had recording equipment
those days
  -you can still hear him
play but as a ghost
               and what a lively ghost

  

what do you 

 believe?

   is there a 

 place where the moon 

    shines? 

a place where rivers go to dry?
a place with flowers and bees
and stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald?

some say it exists- those people 

are called by various names-

   listen and then act

accordioningly-

   polka polka polka 

   /// leather sandals 

  and a bucket of mini coronas

don't make this shit up

      but they sweat 

in the noonday sun 

are you with me here?

       catch a ride 

    to the coast 

you'll see-

      get a corn dog

    at the fair -

      ride the tilt-o-whirl
     the past is catching up!

     pretty soon

it will be here -

 so don't stop

    and don't look behind 

      or you'll turn 

to salt 

                 you crybaby 

     

   

     

 

a refrigerator 

   filled with cans of Tecate 

 no less 

                                           and a deck with a beautiful view 

 had to walk up that hill tho 

and I walked back down again 

after generally 

                 having a lot of fun 

   yelling at each other 

about which record to play 

"You picked that?"

crusty flower 

watchers 

    crashing hard  

                      nose bit into the sand 

                              just had that thought 

 i thought 

    but it didn't matter

                          not with all the panting 

                                   and crimson hot pants 

 giant black and green caterpillars

beer on ice 

            but I didn't like the weird 

                                 GIGANTIC something flavor 

      some people are happy just to sit in

                               the middle of the desert watching butterflies

I walked right by him 

 but I didn't see him
almost went into his persian rug RV

 Later came the date palms 

                  ask me some day I'll tell you about THAT

 'tweren't no thing though
     not with all the flowers
              crashing on rocks to sleep

                                         dreaming of boulders crashing on the 

   highway road just bulldozed 

 clean from the last go round

Desiderata

                    Sphinx of downtown 

  Bakersfield 

      laying in wait 

 for the servants of cash

       stillness born 

 from suffering twenty hour days

hands still holding the map and a
wet box of safety matches

-catch as catch can- you say 

    but the animals

  are fighting in their sleep

        a Siamese cat has awoken

      the mice could hold steady
 Desiderata sighs
  "the shit I gotta put
with"

     

          

poisoned 

 by the 

 nowhere air 

 -the near 

- the far 

-poisoned 

to the point 

    -to the blood 

poisoned by the 

    thoughts 

    -again 

and 

again

 and 

again 

and 

      again 

        to the edge 

      to the side 

     to my mom 

        poisoned by the 

          me 

myself 

 the I 

 that does 

 this thing

  -again

and 

again

 and 

again 

and 

      again
-oh but wait -

          -no don't wait 

- don't fucking wait 

  I'm tired of people waiting 

   people who wait

              people who wait
like Miles Davis 

 people who wait like Miles Davis 

     on the step 

        listening to some unknown 

 sound 

      like the wind 

              or a dead real estate deal

                                    that's what I'm talking about

    

       

              

      

NOW I FEEL IT 

IN THE AIR 

NOW I FEEL IT 

GOING NOWHERE

CAN YOU HEAR THE DRUMBEATS OF THE 

STONY FACED AND SAD LOINED WARRIORS

SAD SAD SAD 

 PICK UP YOUR SHOVELS AND MOVE 

ON DOWN THE ROAD 

SWEET CHILDREN

OF VERMONT

SOMEHOW WE REALLY BLEW IT

I SAW IT ON THE INTERNET

AN OLD WOMAN CLOAKED IN PATAGONIA

ARGUING ABOUT SOCIALISM

THE JESTER LIED TO EVERYONE SO THEY MADE HIM BAKE COOKIES

I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE 

HOW QUICKLY WE FORGET THAT BOOK WE READ

WHAT WAS IT CALLED?

 THE SELLOUT

 

dreary
old
 saint pile
of junk
   books
     books
        and more
           books
   two typewriters
 one sewing machine
   and still no ladies come to visit
  I can only blame myself
    or maybe the heat

the quixotic 

 cobblestones 

    of tracking the 

            tv

   damn

     cook a steak 

           white rice 

 and worcestershire

   sun is pounding on the side of the building 

  twitter says the fog is barreling thru crissy field 

    56 degrees

      bring it!

 

the franchise
driven
 (like a hearse)
 of post mortem fascism
tearing across
  the usual subjects
 fodder for hate
    and xenophobia
 stealing from the blind
 and giving to the rich
  robber hood-lum with
 a blonde comb-over nuclear
   disaster
 crossing sticks with
 friar death &taxes
    conning the lot of them
   stay the course
     "If I'm ever wrong I'll apologize"
 and proceeded to be wrong for
 the bazillionth time in one day