Selections,
"The Golden Age Doesn't Pay"

1, IBM

';'';'';'
;'';'';'';'
;'';'';'';'
;'';'';'';' (space bar)
FfffffffffffFffff

gblglj
thy jhl

gl
'

sabn

11, Prayer: noon reverberation

see summer's recurving claws snatch him
unemployed sun
sleep the brain is heart
make the people whole
see the drowsy smile unfold
unconscious breeze
slake the thirst is empty
make the people full
see sleep wash over sifting his soul
unguent of being
sound the deep is dark
make the people light

12, of shattering time

sleep will not arrive
yet
it will not arrive
caught up in a moment --
a tidal bore bearing down
upon a shell on the beach.
if end if, then end.
the apparition
of precipice
breaks no calm.
this moment cannot dispense;
it stands, a transient spectator,
forever.

20, need be this prayer severed?

there's this gelatinous ecstasis
a robotic rainbow representative
grasping sliding
rumbling round the interior
of my tensile top
spinning spinal cord

what thoughts might have been recalled
someday catapulted molecular
temporal reorganizations
of a life's span into the future
lodged in seaside chairs made of hardwood
a fuzzy old man
a creaky old woman
nodding a sweet warm drowsiness that
gently sucks on wrinkled antiqued necks?

The thrum thrum thrum reply
final and cataclysmic
the landed ogre's
broken fingers
grating glowing ravines
raising a never before seen wind

What visions might have been remembered
a month's
returning to old haunts
touching moments when highways
stretched in instantaneous infinitude
beckoning like
the tongues
of women
ten different colors shapes flavors?

that instant click closing on a sliced wedge of diced sun
a polystyrene and tin cusinart night descending
slamming shut hard electrocardiographic aphorism
wires and lives tremble and glow
before that white to black instant
that instant flash

what moments would have been shared
with that one
whom almost instantly
would have known the same?
( but we don't think in such terms
a year's removed blackboard speaks
framed in smudgy minds thudding )
what life
would have been ours?

this polaroid panic lands a radar heat flesh sensing second
it rolls then skitters screeching round about my soul
becomes museum shelved a technicolor development tank
or a cement mixer drum inside blind tumbling inside
a graduated grind of sliding wind tobogganing in ears
is a pinched slash of unnerving light

24, Lifetime lost poem

maybe a year ago there was a poem
which became the ideal written definition
of the poet and art,
a perfect poem set aside in nook
and cranny of mind,
most probably lost for all time

it is visible now only in dream
or hazy memory,
quite beyond the reach of human fingertips,
it hovers, a magic lantern of the mind
hunting for a match
to light its memory

one could spend a lifetime trying to retrieve it
to touch it for a second,
but seen far away,
upon focusing or awakening,
it is instantly lost,
left behind, a flickering finger points the way

27, Summer's Eve

love hated is knowledge alive.
the wind reminds
clear green leaves to chatter low,
saying the sun
will burn
my anxious skin.
I am so sure of my
self's uncertainty.
iced stupor sustains
unwanted tears,
gray buttons
roll across blue
silk sunshine.

28,

yesterday
I wrote a nasty letter happily

today, in the afternoon,
guiltiness put me to sleep
as public transit growled
by the street window

the heels of unknown women
pumped sharp holes into sidewalk cement

unlike men who climb mountains
caressing their broad backs
to win a handful of crevice,
this attempt crawls feebly towards
life's reason,
its drowsiness denies the slap I mailed

as if it were my lips to sooth,
I expect to wake up in your dreams

29, because, you have met death in person

love explodes
every time we see that the keyhole is jammed
with sticky grit.

you tell me,
I have no intention of dying soon.
I ask, who put you into
leonine vision?

you deuce the sun
for moonbathing
at Sables d'Or --
ludicrous on the rocks,
in the belly of the Black Sea,
a picnic infant gobbles ferrous sulphate.

when you gab I laugh to hear
a herald
laying down a subversive offering
at freedom's foot.
wise wild you smile to say,
I am happy.
you are sharp,
etched,
sleek of form,
neither telescope retractable
nor locust extensible.

make sure the mainline
is caught
when the barb pricks
and the plunger sucks
your thin blood flags
pink clouds
poise back
rush home

the wan moon
doubles your scarlet shadow,
such are the shoals
of your ambivalent flesh

33, as art is to life

desire, the near but never meeting,
does not belong to herself,
she abandons to chance
the equality of our ends

life is not lost to lying art,
we thrive,
and life arts, a half-tone
beyond the frequency of our dispossession

41, icbm's hateful wife

waiting impatiently
for metaphors
I spy the rude, opportune pane

like a riled up sniper
energy draws out the focus of my bead
on the cock I guess you want

your cunt
lurks behind a tatty
curtain of despised sacrifice

tnaw ruoy
saw I
thirty metres hard

49, Row G, Seat 15

it is difficult to talk about anything important.
well after the moment comes the witty reply.
I have never decided to do anything,
but I am made to create.

man and woman start out as children.
before hindsight achieves,
the chance to act overtakes
the result of action.
will power is not connected to desire.

sex subdues thought.
the end of this story is unknown.

a girl fell in love with the baby in her man.
the birth of her daughter
showed her what the kid ought to look like.

making love is
much easier than writing a good poem.

love lives, at the time, in a lover's arms.
she knew love for her daughter.
and she said she loved her man.

expectations make you do what you're told --
same thing as believing everything you read and hear.
simple to make a moment break eternity.
the social shape leads individuals
but the free mind makes the act meaningful instead of arbitrary.

43, the freedom we want

the freedom we want
owns all our thoughts.

we cannot buy
the deepest want.

our freedom is a poem
befriending each dream.

the trouble is, we see the desired end
before we get going.

freedom begins in a vision,
a needful shudder.

52, the song and the poem

the song
and the poem
are not speaking.

the song and the poem
are not aware
they are in the same room.

but they want
to rhyme and say
the world to each other.

( it is not so simple as
pretending that one lives in the throat,
and the other, in the eyes. )

songs say all
the poem claims
the song cannot say

the poem is lower
than it wants
to be

is there a happy ending ever?
neither poem nor song,
language is a question.

forgive me,
next time, I'll be one,
not the other.

54, joint-venture-limited-time-soul

poetry never admits
to the trepidation
blank pages inspire.

sometimes the bold word,
feeling timely,
seems naive.

though the words welcome
attack and laughter,
the poet does not.

this way of well-being --
an edifice of contradiction --
is made of inspiration and weakness.

the name means nothing,
and is no one.
but the person is the word.

so why write high light
when understanding is speechless,
some other mind than human?

the answer is spoken
because the page
is blank.

at the beginning,
is a clue,
a woman's skirt.

ink flows
to undermine favorite words,
tippling on disbelief

personality,
the scale model of heart song,
is a gift we force.

hard to see,
the wish is
a hissing sybarite

curving back
into the picture of
undiscovered love

the real fellow sits
as the womb distends
one more infinity

soul is the multitude
life loves,
and words poem

55, leper dove comes on to adrenalin butterfly

making our heads into each other
you ensure my convenient I
falls into the make believe girl you are.
this convincing ceremony is a comedy.

oodles of lost chances,
plus the odd vile path-crossing,
air society's despondency.
the squabble to lick menses!

left with imaginary you,
I am like a man lugging
a hammock and a condom
across a treeless plain.

is your never forever?
what about the now you hate in me,
was it once a love you wanted?
tell me, where are you?

the sea is

adrift the storm
bestride attentive men
who make a living they do
with funny to imagine
means and details
performed in
sistripetal uniformity
the intake of egress divided by progress equals
the future of your heart & my mind
ideas wake us up at the right moment
sometimes i'm all for the invasion
of appetites upon the steady waveform of our
better wisdom
the conditional conscience
is the sea change of our desire
how forced the air of our meagre wisdom
we doodle and cry
laugh instead
and lift the lid
upon word joy's
sorry grateful jest
the not there
the being withal despite
having to be quiet

impimp 2

impetuous impish
is my piteous impetus:

hallowed be thy thighs
and forgive me my kisses
for thine is the thralldom
of my wish-fulfillment
forever and never,
yours I remain,
an allusion
impious

the machine

the machine
gives back much more than it steals:
you sit while it waits
walks, talks before you think
I'm okay in it, it makes a good job of me.
You mustn't fear unreal things,
laugh at my dismissive,
we are only self-hidden from hope;
and wanting truth is a single spot
of water pointing at my mouth...
fingers grasp my heart
and wish flies at desires,
you can never try life
you are alone -
already, so the happiness
doesn't miss you,
you eat it for forgetting

give you what I am !

the man is waking the woman
the heart moves a finger
owes its blatant touch
to your sensing it;
but the man waking
in the woman
feels her like a moon
scattered upon
evening waves.
She is love: she feels
you for her, asks yet,
are you for her forever?
yes, yes, no, no
ahhh!

forgive not sin

forgive not sin
but in yourself
for having such silly
ideas as those
given to you
by the vast
populace
of strangers
called history:
they haven't
your clue,
for who we are now
doesn't have to
see
how much
we've changed...

for me poetry was

for me, poetry was like a plum
on a tree
rooted in soil
upon a land
that wasn't mine...

I have nothing of my own

‘that's good, then,’
say the skilled in soul:
‘maybe you can love.’

epitaphe cravanté

Their pretty feet wet upon daring dew,
Lovely women pause by my decrepit hole:
A thousand years since I changed your mind
Little Davey flowers here still...
All I can say is: remember,
May your heart grow no colder
as you get too wise...

who I am is what you say
 
I am a big chemical signatory.
a witness to you, my gritty neuroses
steams above these several poems.
my music wreathes your baseball park soul.
wait, it gets easier to understand later.
I say I don't know who I am
because I always feel different
than I did just before my song.
what I say is how I feel,
and how I feel is why I am.
so why I am shows me where,
and when to arrive there.
life is just the question
we forget to answer.
if I give you a bit of love,
you need to love me some too.
even if I don't know who you are
love comes after you believe
I really do care for you
( refrain )
life just doesn't remember
what we knew was true.
men tend to write poems
while women give in to love.
you make a way of life
out of wishing I had a kinder heart.
you are the difference I can't tell.
( refrain )
life is the gender we exchange
because I forgot to male your fee.
love wants to understand so much
with just a careful touch.
our skin is all we have
to keep love living in us.
why haven't I felt yours yet?
( refrain )
life is happy to cheat you
of all my love forever.
you're a bigger girl than the dummies around me.
I do need you to decipher the trite problem
I have made of all this minutiae, it's legendary.
you know I don't care for all that sexual gossip,
but the truth of your pleasure embarrasses my barren life.
( refrain )
life is a lonely comeuppance.
you better hope I never happen to you.

save us
 
we each feel good to give something
to the reservoirs of self-respect,
but why does sizing up our lies and excuses
do so little to change our minds?
we foil the finest hopes and dreams.
save us from our slumber.
save us from those who deceive us.
save us from they who can't help themselves.
save us from the frigidity of women.
save us from the cruelty of men.
save us from everyone who wants to save us.
where is the vision to make us know
one gun lost means another one sold?
doing what has to be done
makes monsters into human beings.
the left hand has to be friendly to the right.
( refrain )
my anger doesn't understand
why I don't always do the best thing.
I rarely see anyone acting smarter
than I usually refuse to be.
the west wind leaves me behind every time.
( refrain )
stop selling guns and don't plan to buy more.
build computers instead of burning oil.
everyday men fail love
to murder women and children.
at least think about giving the sun a chance.
( refrain )

the death of love

poor girl spanish thai
philippino american
indian white
country girl
the death of love isn't medically inspected
but she's flown in
fresh as pacific prawns
the city only makes her ask
what am I supposed to do now?
so what she can read and write
who's going to give her a job?
the death of love is a slough
stocked with easy comers under the heading
escorts in the yellow pages
in America there's a guy driving round in car
it is lonesome for him to live in a little box
the one thing guy and gal both know
is that he earns more money than she does
the death of love is giving birth to a baby boy
she names him after a pack of smokes
sure she can feed him fortune cookies
Hong Kong is loaded
with money and tourists
husbands will travel very far
to leave their wives behind
the death of love is bereft of all confusion
she spends a lot more brains buying black lace
than adding up all that ritalin
my little city is hot and dirty
the streets are perfect
for a bunged up girl
to stumble down
the death of love is never afraid
her teeth and nails might not be sharp enough
to scratch out a crazy bruiser's eyes
girl it is easier than you think
laying on your back and opening your mouth
besides it's fun to pretend
your john's wife must be ugly
the death of love is free of everyone's pity
in fact if I had a bit more money
I'd lay with a whore or two yes I would
harlots are so young and perfect
or at least they were a couple years ago
before those long hours of free coke
and the lousy aggravation of a grim pimp
the death of love isn't dying at all
it's a good living
for a poor trapped girl
the death of love isn't dying at all
it's a good living
for a poor trapped girl
the death of love isn't dying at all
it's a good living
for a poor trapped girl

Song of Songs

I wondered for a long time
about why I should sing
for all you people
what am I doing?
with all this color and
the words I choose?
the real world is
more real than a song
can sing in sixty words
the medium foreshortens
the message I want
to give to you
why are you looking at me?
don't ask me, ask yourself
why are you looking at me?
I'm moving fast
I'm acting slow
I am doing even less
what do we gain?
we want to avoid
doing something
we want to change
no we don't
yes we do
this movement leaves you behind
I want to give you something
what have I to give?
I give you me
I give me you
I give us all
singing wants
to really understand
the world
look at me
I am moving so quick
my brain is heavy
my nerves are in your eyes
your ears feel my pain
her sex wants my pleasure
I act faster than supplies
can be expected to last
hold on to my useless insight
nurture your thoughts
you have them
I didn't give your ideas to you
so we come again
to the first question
why am I here?
I'm with you forever
I return to touch
your love your love your love
jumping and singing
in front of you
you free people
you joyous people
you unhappy people
you people
why am i don't know
why am i don't know
why am i don't know

A Large Body of Water

tell me
what is a large body of water
what does it mean to you
when I ask
divide 27,000,000
into 5,000,000,000
the dividend does not
help us out
the fish window yes
the fish window is
like barely knowing anything
worthwhile at all
all of the water
sits on the beach
in front of you
it's so huge
you want to see
yes you really do
all that the world
may let us know and love
the large body of water
wants you to swim from
the Ivory Coast
to Bahia Brazil
the ocean is a woman
she undulates as ever away
and she is much further from you
than you are able to see
feel the imploringly vast size
of your lasting loneliness
in my embrace
laugh at me now
I hold the wind
the water isn't alive
the water resembles life
maybe the water wants to live
 I love to see your emotions
on my paper
as I write them in my brain
telepathy happens
anonymous books have gazes
identical to these words I smile
speech happy with light
my words want more love than I do
the water is a large body
at the end of an inland
well connected to a canal
seething with flushed safes

Dockside Baby

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
my woman to be dockside baby
I'm so lonesome
spoon some into me
boys say you're no good
but I'll eat you anyway
look your knee is bent
love me baby
the world is dumb without you
dockside baby drink me
loopy nude thing
don't let your daddy know
where you got that ring
who bought that mink
lust is money love is shit
you are a dancing blow
like wet silk I hear you sigh
ahhhh dockside baby
no one knows but me
you think you're nothing
but those guys really did like you
you want to make a bet
tie your shoes and run run run
I don't care or listen to the news
dockside baby is squirming on my dick
she's deep and likes it hard
she'll do anything and has before
enough cash and she'll smile
stash that humus
hop and slip that rogue
he's nothing and you're all I've got
this world's too long for questions
move your thighs for me
yes like that's it
pump that stiff for lots of money
give me your eyes purring spark
give me all his money
get on your knees and beg me to accept it
what oh what's wrong
right all right
the dawn won't abide by talk like that
stuff like that hot hat
she lies like lead
duck down in my ear
sneeze and laugh
dump that chump because
I'm rumptious bumptious
bellicose and a whale
a scale can't measure this longing
I'm swallowing the time
I could have had with you
only yes you were her and she was you
you knew it too and I'm saying so
so slow by the dockside
baby you bends your knee
pride fashions a dream
wedge your wood sled you could
snow man hoe woman
give pride a rest or whatever you call it
poverty is a brother to love
call it what you will want me
slut me cut me but never forget me
give your boy his lusty cake
hearty hellow and tallow by byes
hape a jape too tape
low up speed down
clowning and heaving
the cookies were probably a backstage coach
like the dust jacket on this book
you took you took my dime
deposit develop compose the ballot
strike nine pay your fine fine
give me spivy make it drippy
suck it juicy
tender was a hooray for yellow
forget it schlepp it hep it risk it
remember to boil it first
rubber mother and sister wish
credit the day you first thought of me
but be wise this guy's onto something
dockside baby has a pert tail
some say I'll over-end you
I kill myself everyday
to never get the chance
she knows me raw
eat you cheat beat you
got to get you
have to have you
it's all so
whiskey white and obsidian