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.
Monday, June 30, 2014
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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