Drafty Argument for Functionalism

When my window's

not there—

I don't really 

care if 

the wind—knotting 

in from

the west—or just 

south 

of there—carries

all sorts

of possible low

pressure threats or 

whatever;

I don't want

to be 

told 

how to hold

on to what's blowing (What is 

it

anyhow? All I know

is it's blowing)—sure

as the feeling of

tension

on bare skin

besides—whatever

it is, its 

only

like

this—if it behaves

like a breath

of fresh

air—

then it is one.

Jazz Chords

The blind man

listens

to the sound of hard

water falling

and feels 

his way across

sidewalks to the narrow 

bus stop

accordingly—

Unburdened

Dear dirty 

dump truck—I'm 

so much 

heavier that you!

Despite—

the tons

you're made 

to move (never 

mind the rusty 

ones you're made of) and

despite— 

your crust

of limestone

dust and mud-

flaps only a 

stiff sludge could suffer—

 

you

will never 

know the ponderous

capability of being

carried by another—of being 

filled

by emptiness—with huge 

and clumsy things

like dark 

and awkward

silences—or even

 

for that matter, just the bulk 

pleasure of 

spiting things

arbitrarily—

Meet

The trailing

athlete 

inhales deep

and 

thinks—you just

can't beat—

that sylvan 

smell of shady 

woods. Mostly

because 

it doesn't 

compete—it just

performs 

in 

exhibition.

Flattery

A flat

and—filthy 

diesel barge 

pulling

slowly 

coal

rough and 

shabby down 

the Cal-Sag 

Channel

is

—I'm sorry 

but—

a lot 

like you. 

Each 

day dragging

colossal 

power sources 

thankless to

outlying forces—and 

perpetually

crossing 

bridges—

underneath!

instead of 

over, and so 

brilliantly

perpendicular!—to the 

way 

in which everyone 

else does.

Main Street USA

Busting purple

baskets

of thirsty

begonias—

beautify repeating

street lamps

giving

the rusty public

works crew—

something to do.

Descartes' Place in the Suburbs

Outrageous 

plastic 

pink flamingos

ornament 

the lawn—

of 

the squat 

raised-

ranch—solely 

to promote

awareness—

that pink

is a thing 

that has four letters—whereas

pinkness— 

shamelessly

—has none.