Dis bees mah Po-Etry ("mah" bein me, and me bein Brian Bigelow, so don't accept this potry from people who ain't Brian Bigelow, which is me)[NOte: not All of It is entirely serious, and none of it is intended entirely in jest, some of it might even be deep]:

EverydayLives:

drift in haze
 & push forth,
life must end,
 now and forever,
get,
while the getting's good,
& hot,
 & fast,
  & empty,
pray,
while the praying
means not but asking,
 & begging,
for meanings
 & vindications
  of actions
   & remnants
 of a bygone era,
past its prime
 & lingering
  in the minds
of all too many.




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   a solution:

	representing observation
	   above influence,
	        a gorgeous whisper
	     in time
	           says,
	   love is essential, valid, and raw,
	             and the moon,
	         yet upon my water,
	                     urges me
	            to give without ache
 	 the gift of repose.




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 and the Life is in the [k]Nots.

     There can be no good ideas in America,
   here exist only two types of ideas: 
   those that are ultimately lucrative
   and those that are not,



----------------------------------------------------------------------




	Dangling prose:

	    dangling prose
	    of would-be martyrs
	    scorching the sun
	    with a blaze of insight.



----------------------------------------------------------------------






	Form:
	
	  form meets matter
		& matters not.
	  for it all comes
		& goes
		  in the end.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------



\
Poetry is easy:

poetry's 
        so easy,
I don't see
            why 
     everyone
doesn't 
       do it.





\


Fun to:

it
  's
fun
  to
  o.





---------------------------------------------------------------------------------




     I live:

	a life of wax,
	with dreams of honey,
	ideas of silk,
	and a death of water.






------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Madame Bovarie's ovaries:

  Madame Bovarie's ovaries
    are in a bind,
  and the clock
    is ticking
  and running out of time.





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



     Live:

	live drunk & singing
	in the smooth milk of eternity;
	not dying a thousand television deaths
	in the void of life.






----------------------------------------------------------------------------------





    Manipulate:

	staring,
	he urges iron wind;
	watching,
	he plays a tiny symphony,
	for her.




-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No one knows:


no one knows
what to think,
and so,
they are contented
to be told
that life
is as it seems,

& one can do
no more
than hint
at the depth
of reality,
behind smoke,
& seen through mirrors.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




        no Longer:


          Swaying in the sun
                            winds of change
              and expediency
                            of tormentors
                   bear down
                            and steal up
                                         all that could be.

          change by change
                  & state by state
                           I pray
                           this cold-blown wind
                        will end
                 at once
                         and not at all.

         it gets heavy,
                 this burden
                            of old men
                                            and broken-camel backs,
                            of fathers' sons
                                         & sons of daughters,


         this gift of life,
                           robbed so early,
                                  leaves you
                                         and you wonder,
         sobbing,
                            which gift it was
                                             and why it was
                               given,
                                     bought,
                                            & sold.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



	Poetry:

	   too impatient for prose,
	   I fake poetry
	   as a log
	   for thoughts
	   and visions,
	   instructions
	   & inspirations.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------






	Run:
	
	run, bloodless woman,
	beauty beats near
	swimming beneath sky 
	in pink form of man.




---------------------------------------------------------------------------------




    Sliver honey:

	silver honey
	  & blue milk
	shimmer
	  in newfound light
	unseen
	  but always present
	they speed forth.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes:

Sometimes
it scares me
to think,
"perhaps I'm genius?"
& others
it frightens me
to think,
"maybe I'm mad?"
but then
sometimes
I think,
"what if,
I'm just stupid?"





-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Unspoken Thing:


	"everything looks different
	   in the light of Menlow Park,"
	waning & scratching
	   morse code
	      of nails
		 on chalkboards.
	
      screams of students
	   in heads of amber;
	show them,
	    show them what 
               those
		 who've been shown
		    show the world,
	   and proclaim,
	       with red glowing eyes
		& fevered imagination,
			all is.






------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




	
      Untitled:

	rain above rock,
	sky beneath water,
	visions in summer
	of luscious blue roses
	singing their gifts
	to blind eyes
	and deaf ears.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WE AR ALL:


we ar all
glass balls,
armadillos,
& spirals,
spanning the incomprehensible,
& traversing the absurd.




-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------



    You Are:
	
	Sad and sitting
	in the rain
	scrawling nonsense
	on yellowing copy-paper,
	marooned
	on the islands of self,
	staring blindly
	out at the world
	as it rockets by
	at the speed
	of sanity.




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