New Little Room In My Head
I found a new little room in my head,
right at the back, between brain stem
and skull, empty, never used.
Where I finally caught up to science,
and flowed so into the world I
am green, as I dream what is
into a story with a happy ending,
and I decided not to die.
right at the back, between brain stem
and skull, empty, never used.
Where I finally caught up to science,
and flowed so into the world I
am green, as I dream what is
into a story with a happy ending,
and I decided not to die.
The Two Of I
I am my own ghost, me,
creature to be feared,
on calamitous nights
foretold by those who
hate me most, a jerk
fireman who puts out
lies, first responder
I might appear, or I,
smiling skull atop collars
big as plastic dog cones
might serve in my place
to scare everyone. Pop off
their cool and they weep
for me to let them be,
and maybe i will, but
maybe not. The terrified
make me laugh horribly
until they faint dead away.
Not there to understand
people, who bore me,
but i am, i think,
my ghost be damned,
which I am, but refuse
to go, choosing to be near
life, or anything close, my
gaping skull mouth grin
eager for anything not yet
dead, as if I was eating
all our lives as flavors
I forgot I loved so much
and, of course, i a ghost
can dine on this forever,
and so can I, until I puke
on all the fear and lies,
coming from the smokestack
pipes inside most people.
creature to be feared,
on calamitous nights
foretold by those who
hate me most, a jerk
fireman who puts out
lies, first responder
I might appear, or I,
smiling skull atop collars
big as plastic dog cones
might serve in my place
to scare everyone. Pop off
their cool and they weep
for me to let them be,
and maybe i will, but
maybe not. The terrified
make me laugh horribly
until they faint dead away.
Not there to understand
people, who bore me,
but i am, i think,
my ghost be damned,
which I am, but refuse
to go, choosing to be near
life, or anything close, my
gaping skull mouth grin
eager for anything not yet
dead, as if I was eating
all our lives as flavors
I forgot I loved so much
and, of course, i a ghost
can dine on this forever,
and so can I, until I puke
on all the fear and lies,
coming from the smokestack
pipes inside most people.
Simple As Red Satin Garters
Rejection letter to Belousov,
who was experimenting in Russia with mathematics applied to functions and behavior in the biological world.
He was Russian.
The message said it's quite simply impossible
Scientists didn't discover chaos until the 1960s (Lorenz? Think butterfly wings)
(Nature is not a clockworks...not by any means)
Unpredictable results can happen with the simplest equations that should absolutely be correct.
And so formulas are an act of faith
By 2020, scientists are telling us that they found chaos must be an accepted fact of life.
And I wonder if anyone suspects what might work best in nature's insititutionalized chaos?
Magic.
Proven tens of thousands of years ago... if not by dolphins or hawks earlier today.
Because how else do you interrupt a feedback loop?!?!
You know, the endless circle drawn by the ancients on cave and cliff walls?!?
Or the Mandelbrot set equation: zn+1 = zn2 + c
And don't get me started abut gravity's effect on time, and how it stops in a blackhole....and yet it rinses out.....not by gravity.
Or, we could take Alan Turring and give him this choice by the British government, after cracking the Nazi code machine: "Prison or injection of female hormones?"
You can't make this stuff up. Or...
The rules are simple.
Etc.
Self-similarity.
Layer Bake
scientist astronaut priest engineer
poetry isn't magic....just more than 1's and 0's
Nothing Is Nature's Default, So...
My rambling was promised
so the devil don't see me twice.
Rambling all promised, devil
won't see me no more.
Then, I got to LA. Was myself
for one day. Find the devil
right there somewhere
I was? Santa Monica Blvd.?
Dance floor, yes! Club Getty.
She had eyes of sky and sea,
moved like a watermocassin.
Eyes of sky and sea, lord,
just like a watermocassin.
Oh, and me, I see the future,
or a fraction of what's to happen,
a slow slipping mist thrown off
by a giant cloud and sight inside
not far from my forehead. Love.
And I'd tell her who I was, protect her
from a man who loves the road.
Tell her who I was, save her fast
from a man sworn down the road.
How she made each night, her way,
and gets me swirly, in a dream, hers,
and I got to say she was stronger
than whoever me whatever road.
But it wasn't her got me to leave.
can't wait until I'm gone, man,
find all the places wonder hides
the road waited till I'm gone, man,
all the holy places lie
Outrun the devil? Yes. Wondertrain
the road. This message made for you.
Just safer on the run. So much here
moves slow as a broken toy truck.
The fast don't need to speak.
3D
Childbirth
is first death,
all is lost,
as a new world
pries you into us,
angels of this afterlife.
Learn and trust.
Civilization is a 3D printjob
with every layer of it a lie.
Imagine better, sooner.
Balance
The doctor says i scratch an itch to invent
because I'm bored with everything else
and the scratching worsens the itching,
until I have something fulfilling to do.
Itching and scratching in balance almost
down in the lizard brain and that's OK.
Pursuit. Failure, but close. Pusuit. Close.
As opposed to Western civilization. Wait!
because I'm bored with everything else
and the scratching worsens the itching,
until I have something fulfilling to do.
Itching and scratching in balance almost
down in the lizard brain and that's OK.
Pursuit. Failure, but close. Pusuit. Close.
As opposed to Western civilization. Wait!
The Great Fornication Statue of Bellimatosso
Made out of melted down machine gun,
frying pans, laundry irons. Just after WWII.
Him, of the great fornication statue in Bellimatosso!
American soldier, nicknamed Il Gallo, promising
marriage same as saying, "Hello." Smiled sad.
He meant it every time. He just had a lot of love.
So, 3 young women in the village returned home
crying. Hate all Americans. Refused to say why.
Then, Nazis crept back into town to take it back.
An advanced squad surprised Il Gallo in the bed
of the Duke's daughter. They ordered Il Gallo
to get out of bed, but Il Gallo didn't quit.
They warned, pointing guns, they'd shoot.
Il Gallo continued fucking, at gunpoint.
Pow. Pow. The gunshots alerted the town!
And so, the statue, Il Gallo, in the piazza,
15 feet tall in his private's Army uniform
tearing away from muscles, on top
of one of the girls—in voluptuous bronze—
who volunteered, after getting married
to a local boy, to pose for it, answering
the scandal with, "He died because he came
here to help us! He could have stayed home,
got shot by angry fathers! But he came here
instead, to be shot by jealous Nazis. Real art
is true!" So now tourists arrive, busloads,
for photos with the statue, and the impotent
leave prayer notes between its toes and fingers.
The Americans fought through. None came back.
Bellimatosso abides. Still, some nights it's said
you can hear an Ohio boy madly humming
"Sing Sing Sing" outside the hottest cafe in town,
just as it closes, and the girls stagger out.
No one's there. And it makes the old happy
frying pans, laundry irons. Just after WWII.
Him, of the great fornication statue in Bellimatosso!
American soldier, nicknamed Il Gallo, promising
He meant it every time. He just had a lot of love.
So, 3 young women in the village returned home
crying. Hate all Americans. Refused to say why.
An advanced squad surprised Il Gallo in the bed
of the Duke's daughter. They ordered Il Gallo
to get out of bed, but Il Gallo didn't quit.
Il Gallo continued fucking, at gunpoint.
Pow. Pow. The gunshots alerted the town!
And so, the statue, Il Gallo, in the piazza,
tearing away from muscles, on top
of one of the girls—in voluptuous bronze—
who volunteered, after getting married
the scandal with, "He died because he came
here to help us! He could have stayed home,
got shot by angry fathers! But he came here
is true!" So now tourists arrive, busloads,
for photos with the statue, and the impotent
leave prayer notes between its toes and fingers.
Bellimatosso abides. Still, some nights it's said
you can hear an Ohio boy madly humming
"Sing Sing Sing" outside the hottest cafe in town,
No one's there. And it makes the old happy
to hear this tale. Nazis dead. Il Gallo lives.
As they tell their grandaughters to stay in. In!
As they tell their grandaughters to stay in. In!
Dark & Foggy Night
Blank dark mud foggy, fingers spidered
along cold dead buildings downtown
to keep him latched to the only world
as he moved unseen down a street only
guessed at, in the belly of some beast.
Summoning his rodent DNA memories,
no worries; he'll survive, rat-like, in a city
disappeared, so only those who walked it
out of memory were out there normal.
Not him. Just find a place protected
from this weather. One night. Dawn
would forgive him. Everything goes
the wealthy murderer's way—rest of us
pray, proud to accept each day unsaid!
Now his ancestors appear, of course,
limping slow as if hit with ghost flu,
grey as new cement. Who needs who?
He didn't know if they were there
to help him, judge him, or kill him.
He came upon his old uncle Audi, green
wet mystery island now, and invited all
to jump in! Soon, he drove a clown car
with ancestors' faces and asses pressed
against the glass. Got as far as the 7-11,
called it quits. Bud tall, barbecue chips.
All the world, hard edge gone to dream
in the parking lot—he couldn't see a thing.
"Everybody shut up and go to sleep!"
He dreamt away time, woke up,
and almost reembered it. But, nah.
Not on a night like this. No sight at all.
How prayer started. Give me luck,
keep me safe, don't change the rules.
External Data Storage
It's nice to end a line
with the slightest touch of rhyme
and we'll remember it so,
till, lo, the embers glow low.
The first mnemonics?
Poetry the first device
for data storage outside
one head until he's dead?
Handwrestled into manuscripts
spontaneity all gone extinct.
Movable type too dear
to spend on poets!
And then someone did.
No more reason to rhyme.
Poetry all gone extinct.
Movies, data storage khan,
loud noises and eyeshock,
with a kid's marble of a story.
But can it do this:
"White tea the breath of London..."
Joe Riley
Joe Riley, he got flustered.
Could not remember much.
Put a cup along his head.
Poured the last sip out.
A drink nobody wants.
Last wishes, terror, prayer,
anger bright as stoplights.
His mother came to him,
which made him jump, until
he saw that she was sober,
maybe softened up in death.
She smiled like an alien,
as if happy to see Joe
grown so old. So old.
Parents sew your failures
to the back of your best coat
so they follow you forever,
right behind your shadow.
His mother always seized him
in full puffery, to deny strongly
all she said was wrong with him.
She came to see him die,
and hear that she was right.
Maybe it might have worked
a long time ago, before the sky
enchanted him one awful night.
All the space. All the time.
He was barely there, compared
to all that fell into his eyes.
But, he declared it his. Joe's.
Same on summer days. Blue
rained wet down into him.
All the pickled noise now gone,
he could stare right up at him,
"My turn to be just sky."
Could not remember much.
Put a cup along his head.
Poured the last sip out.
A drink nobody wants.
Last wishes, terror, prayer,
anger bright as stoplights.
His mother came to him,
which made him jump, until
he saw that she was sober,
maybe softened up in death.
She smiled like an alien,
as if happy to see Joe
grown so old. So old.
Parents sew your failures
to the back of your best coat
so they follow you forever,
right behind your shadow.
His mother always seized him
in full puffery, to deny strongly
all she said was wrong with him.
She came to see him die,
and hear that she was right.
Maybe it might have worked
a long time ago, before the sky
enchanted him one awful night.
All the space. All the time.
He was barely there, compared
to all that fell into his eyes.
But, he declared it his. Joe's.
Same on summer days. Blue
rained wet down into him.
All the pickled noise now gone,
he could stare right up at him,
"My turn to be just sky."
Waiting On Someone?
Palm tree cast a shadow of a cross.
Twilight is all about what might.
Sun sank in ancient promise.
Night arrived on time.
All is clock and glockenspiel,
piano roll diorama universe.
i predict stars
and all the mayhem that we love so much.
Waiting on lightning?
No, no.
Waiting on thunder?
No, no.
Lightning waits on me.
On us.
Twilight is all about what might.
Sun sank in ancient promise.
Night arrived on time.
All is clock and glockenspiel,
piano roll diorama universe.
i predict stars
and all the mayhem that we love so much.
Waiting on lightning?
No, no.
Waiting on thunder?
No, no.
Lightning waits on me.
On us.
Rocketry Math
A crowd has no sense but it does have gravity.
They are your planet. We say we seek the velocity
of escape, but we're too scared to punch it through,
our rocketry math always off. Scrap the mission!
No way to live without each other. Clap-clap-clap.
They are your planet. We say we seek the velocity
of escape, but we're too scared to punch it through,
our rocketry math always off. Scrap the mission!
No way to live without each other. Clap-clap-clap.
Song: Petit Chou
The lantern blew out on a lonely-o
night too long in the Frigidairey-o
Crusty and musty, air so dusty-o,
hope lay cold in the ether-o.
He tried to tell her no. So cool-io,
words blew out in smoke-o.
But what kind of God brings beauty-o
to one so worthless, or so he felt-sio.
The dark grey in the room, all mold-io,
one word wrong brings it all to ruin-o.
Then he sets a river loose, unbending-o,
and wakes up as she listens-so,
"You should have told me, petit chou.
Talk more. Tell more. I'm in love with you."
"A Mi Me Gusta Asi"
Thank you Pete Rodriguez for one of the all-time great songs. Boogaloo, baby, wherever you are!
And thank you The Blackout Allstars for cooking it up on your stove!
Ah, the moment comes,
we face the lizard bull.
Then, release the cape to see
beyond post office posters
of bad men and presidents.
No, the terrifying fate!
Snorting like an old tractor!
You don't like love at all.
Don't much like me, neither.
But here we are,
both fallen stars,
who just need heat.
We were the wildest manatees
ever to dance in the color of water
that haunts old pirate sea caves.
All bet on one thing we agreed on!
Oh, call and response! Mercy!
We slouched our way through,
all the time singing like toreadors
Pete's "A mi me gusta asi!"
Busker
Just a jet riding down to the runway,
growling sound, all around, our future.
Today's the day to wake up brave,
as they punish us one day at a time.
What he did was sing out loud
about the women he wanted to fuck,
with the blunt force of a condom falling
from the guy's wallet as he pays for dinner—
police chief's wife, banker's daughter,
his high school principal one more time.
And he ordered us around sometimes
like he was building the worst army ever,
singing out the truth loud as a mad chef
yelling at the kitchen for more flavor!—
"We turned the sun into a warning,
so each dawn arrives as threat.
"Wake up. Respond. Wake up. Respond.
What are you going to do? S-s-s-stop?"
Invisible us, we pray: love come ocean wave!
We are broken toys. Only a song can fix us!
He showed up as if we dreamt him real.
On his own magnet, guitar of honey dust,
with a saucer full of Martian fun. The yes.
Corpuscle choir practice. Neuron garage band.
They say the winds took him away
one day, like a mighty sailing ship.
It rains harder than before. Less stars.
Sun like an ice pick. As gravity grows.
Ceci N'est Pas La Sorcellerie
Sometimes, I stall out.
Try to take one step.
And I know it's not for me.
Choice that doesn't really exist.
You're left with, (1) how much do you believe?
(2) How afraid are you to believe?
(3) What if the door only opens with belief?
I love the soil beneath my feet, the floor.
Won't leave it.
Hard to believe anything in the absence of people.
But it's time.
The way an orchid can look like a woman's gloved hand just off the next balcony at the opera.
Or, the engine ran like it was sucking mud, so Louie threw a wrench and broke the dyno room window—the falling glass sounded like sleighbells.
Dana kissed me in full sucker punch as I opened the door to the Chinese restaurant, and it was the first time I thought I might make it through this world.
As if a man can cry out in delirium that he wants his life back, and no one knows what he's talking about.
Men treated nature as if it had a woman's voice.
he fell in love
it had ceased to be a mountain
pressure in his legs from god
life in all its cuts and bruises
hard breathing just our way
then he walked off clean and free
air of strawberries, cream, mint
invisble as everything else until
he wished himself back into being
out there, in nowhere, 1 mile off
distant ground, color of grocery bags
so afraid happiness wakes us up
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