Monday, June 30, 2014

OBJECT PERMANENCE

So what?—if the sun
is pinned rosy 
high and enormous

in the bright vivid  
flush of sky-
blue up above us—or if

instead—the next
day we wake up to find 
its ebullient 

and dwarfish
pathetic light vanished—

or at least 
lost in thick clots of 
grey 
white—neverending?

In real life
the sun—the actual
one

that sheer
faraway 
fierce spinning disc of a thing—

is just not the same—
as our idea 
of what it means

for a thing
to become once—and then keep-
on becoming!

the sun
that we've come
to depend on daily.

And what I mean
is precisely 
that it's almost impossible 

to notice 
such actual sameness!
without at least resorting

to calling—the fact 
of that
single great 

star's unwavering 
presence in our neighborhood—
a pattern.

Friday, June 27, 2014

DENSE FOG LIFTING

In the morning 
a few maple leaves—
low hanging 

stirring gently

to dissolve—
any lingering 
pools of chilly 

melancholy—
still obscuring
the fleet 

new light—of this very thought.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

WASTING POTENTIAL

There are literally 
so many 

increasing-
ly accelerating—billions

and billions 
of tingling little

pieces of information surging—
invisibly 
ineluctably

out in all directions—
and countless 

effulgent  
bold
tantalizing 
inter-
galactic 

globular
clusterfucks of possible 
worlds they could create—that it's 

never
felt stranger—

yet
more apropos—

to just keep 
on pawing 

at this 
smart little
screen on the toilet 

until each 
of my
two legs—falls uncomfortably

fast asleep.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

THE INTEGRAL CALCULUS

Things you can't
measure—you've just got to

estimate. Things
you can't estimate—you've

just got to—appreciate!

There—what once
was bearable 

is now—plain useful.

SOLIPSISTIC IN MY SPARE TIME

Sitting rumpled
damp and

lowdown—in a nonetheless
trumped-

up and
loud pivoting chair—my slippery 
existence 

starts to dilate
while I'm waiting—

accosted by several thinlipped
and skinny 
iced tea offers and

such chill!
satellite 
radio blasting;

even the crumpled up 
hair on my head
is starting to feel

a little 
less real 
than I'm sure it did 

just a minute before—on curious
account of this
insidiously 

frigid air! currently—snaking
like heck
around this little chrome

hell of a barbershop.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

HEADSTONE

Seeking only
license—still

the zealous 
stop-at-nothing

young—are stirred
to dig 
and just 
dig down—

eager
and wanton—to 
remake
and remake more deeply

all the earthly letters! Not to mention
reshuffle 
all the numbers—in order 

to keep the story 
going—and so 

on
it goes—

long before
and after those pretty
inartistic looking carved-out dashes

which themselves seek
only silence.

Monday, June 23, 2014

ON THE CUSP—

Move along quick
strange-
looking Ashland 

Avenue back-
alley trash man!

This ain't 
your plain-
old—or whatever

busted-
up manila rocket ship!

Really weird—
how
we'd been furiously 

searching—the entire universe 
for another 

dead ringer for planet Earth!
before crash-
landing old Frigidaire here 

on the corner—
of what looks like the same one?

Though honestly
I guess we'll
actually never know—for sure.

Friday, June 20, 2014

GONER

Compression 
socks
cargo shorts

baggy dad bobbing—

up and 
down to keep his 
dauntless

pace at the red light—

just can't seem 
to move
fast enough—out of the

city for me!

DAREDEVIL

Hail little 
cobalt 

hot cat creeping—
greeneyed underneath 

a merely
idling Windstar!

Here's really hoping 
you just a little 

quicker 
than that—to catch 

whatever
ratty thing you're after!

BRUNCH FAST

Stiff coffee 
and a warm buttery—

Mozart horn 
concerto—anyone?

Thursday, June 19, 2014

THE MIRACLE

In the beginning—
even 
the word

that first
spoke itself—
must have been 

deaf. Even
that face—moving out 
across the surface

of the waters
in all directions—was blind
and felt 

no motion.
Being 

pure light—
it could never 
itself—be lit;

nor warmed,
nor wet,
nor caught,
much less—thought about.

In fact—it is that,

only that,
and 
exactly that—the certainty

upon which
all 
I've said 

since then
is founded;
the idea

that a thought—
even 
this thought—

even 
the first 
and most 

perfect pure 
thought 
in the universe—basically 

has literally—
no idea!
what it was thinking.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

GRACENOTES

Perhaps only—the 
shyest and

quietest of 
blushing poets know—its overwhelmingly

if not precisely—the subtle 
little uncountable

zillions!
of spangled strawyellow 

summer suns refracted—
in each

faceted droplet 
of condensation colonizing 

every curve
of its nonetheless 

crimson-
flushed cheeks—

that make
a furtive thing 

like a chilled
nectarine—worth mentioning.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

AMENDMENTS TO ULYSSES' CONTRACT

Actually—hang on 
sailors, I want you
to wait!

until I can just
barely 
begin to make-

out each floozy 
little curve 
and stray
nape of that ancient 

and ooey-
gooey 
warm jiggling 
squirt of a melody—

and only
then! I mean—only

after that! should you
tie me
tie me
tie me

tie me
tie me down—fast!

to the 
tottom?
no—
the bop?
no—
the butt!

of the mast.

Monday, June 16, 2014

SCINTILLATING—

The way the hopeful 
public grammar 

school wall mural—
facing 
north on Division

Avenue—really sparkles!
every time

another
ambulance passes.

DAILY PRACTICE

Sometimes I'm blind 
and pretty
rudely just—punching up

a helpless white 
page with 
circuitous words

until—we're both
of us so 
dizzy we can

no longer tell—
whether this 
is a space that I've violated 

versus 
one—
that I've made. 

Sunday, June 15, 2014

THORNY DIALECTIC

Sunday morning sauntering 
together past—pinkwhite
rosebush after 

pinkwhite rosebush—my romantic side kept leaping 
and tugging hard against 

my own commonsense intuition—
to reach 
and pluck the finest blossom

and pin the specimen
fast under your headband—
in order to somehow 

further advance—this curious cumulative notion 
I have of how beauty works.

Luckily—before acting
I thought a bit better
of the audacity! and 

the fruitlessness 
of presuming
to tamp down such a wild crown

as loveliness—by snipping 
and sticking it way
out of context.

Friday, June 13, 2014

BODY

Frothy but innocuous 
extract of 
water and 
bitter beans—reminding me 

again how 
there's
sweet soul—in the commonest 
of objects. 

Thursday, June 12, 2014

REGULAR ROUTINE

Dim and numbly sweetening 
her coffee
this morning

the way I've been 
doing since—I can't even remember
I suddenly realize

that each 
and every little
faceted crystal

of humble 
table sugar

has something 
to teach me
about forever;

that it's—precisely 
and entirely

there!
in the blankwhite arduousness 
of simplicity,

in that relentless 
and brutally strict 
repetition—of details
made of
details 
made of 
details—

that infinity—composedly and statically 
exists

having always 
and already 
finished the whole of its

beautifully rich 
and regular work.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

AT DELPHI

From a soaking-
wet perch
on a bridgefull of belching 

John F. Kennedy memorial traffic—
even the ordinarily
electrified downtown

looks curiously 
distant and half-
missing this morning—

replaced instead with
a confounding

and a gray 
edgeless series 
of arcane rectangular 
facades looming in stiff mist—

like some 
ancient objects

perhaps built 
long ago 
as monuments—
to all those who came

and left 
before 
their pale builders—

the entire race of whom
it seems
was eventually 

wiped off the planet—
by its own sick ambition

and a sheer lack  
of rest.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

SAFETY IS A MAJOR CONCERN

The pair of unbuttoned 
clothesfulls
of firsttime 

homebuyers don't care—
how pretty 

or handmade 
the filigree—they're still
disenchanted 

as they are 
expecting—to see 

so much righteous 
and reclaimed wrought-
iron—forged

into bars marring frontdoors 
of 
so many 

imperfect-
ly adorable ranchstyles.

Monday, June 9, 2014

METEOROLOGICAL SUMMER

Newsflash—
summer! happens 
the second

you 
find yourself
sauntering

past—glinting 
hordes of greasy  
black flies aggressively

hunkered— 
so greedily 
across a 

wide wad 
of highly
conspicuous dogshit and—however

fleetingly—think 
it's—
astronomically pretty.

PRAYER FROM THE 25TH FLOOR

Dear god,
if it 
happens—as it probably

must—that I'm more 
or less
stuck

at work—here 
on the
very last

perfect day on earth;

have a little 
heart!—and consider
at least

turning me 
into a fearless-
ly deliberate 

early morning
shift 
window-washer.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

FRINGE ON TOP

Distantly Blossom 
Dearie—carried

here by merest 
Sunday 
breezes—pipes 

her light 
ker-plop—

and just 
like that I 
feel my soaring

insulin—picturing 
clotted cream.

Friday, June 6, 2014

TASTING NOTES

Sip your somewhat- 
fresh
house-blend 

drip drink 
from a 
flimsy cardboard 

vessel in dizzy traffic 
as lazily 
as possible—to quickly extract

that thick 
vague 
and bittersweet

nuttiness—of compromise!

Thursday, June 5, 2014

ANACHRONISM

Walking through the 
woods listening 

to 90's skatepunk—
I could hear

birds during all
those dramatic pauses.

VOLATILITY INDEX

By Jove! by June 
fifth
you can almost 

hear—from out 
here 
on the broad midday streets

each sweaty tick!
of every
single yellowing mechanical

wallmounted clock—that still 
haunts all
of America's flecked and dark

linoleum classrooms—
mocking clenched columns
of steam-hissing fists 

and eyeballs
with each subsequent
loud and dark

clack!—pounding louder
and with hotter
and more illimitable force—against

the eroding brick-
wall
semantic distinction—

formally delineating 
schoolkids
from that—oh so much 

rarer—and yet 
much 
more simply defined

regular kind!

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

REPARTEE

Seems after she's finished 
paying
a modicum 

of attention—
to a humid afternoon's 
worth of outdoor 

fuss by her husband—
the protuberant-
haired woman 

who mans the
discombobulated 
counter—is now able to muster 

just the drooping 
kind 
of workplace remark—that she, 

for one, doesn't
really mind 
the rain all that much—

having earned
the sober
privilege to 

cogently observe—that lord knows
her plants!
could sure use it.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

VISTAS

Stare up standing
into—the infinite

shocking unbounded 
perfection of

a completely cloudless and  
untextured sky—

for long enough
while you're maybe waiting 

indefinitely outside 
for the forthcoming bus;

and sure 
enough—you're eventually 

bound to just 
about lose

the clearly 
rougher—but eminently much

more useful 
perspective—a stubborn 

and obviously
context-

dependent—terrestrial  
sense 

of balance.

Monday, June 2, 2014

ELEGY FOR TESTOSTERONE

Sauntering slow—through
lawn
after fence-

defined 
neighborhood lawn—and admittedly 
relishing 

that fresh smell
of mowed grass—until,
feeling a bit

rushed by the 
thick throes 
of the kind

of wind that often means 
swift rain 
is about to come on,

I suddenly
shivered 
with the blustery 

thought—
that I've 
just never been 

all that
cut-
out for aggression.