To Be Infinite

I wish I wasn't me, yes,
in blaspheme of to be !?
More here and there,
beyond address
and the prole life
of seating chart
name badge,
photo ID.
A fog atop two cities,
or a fragrance unseen,
its origin unclear,
the cherry orchard
hidden by brief hill.
Snowfall that runs
out of town as water.
An idea everyone has
at once, left unsaid,
not easily explained.
Static on each TV.
Why? Ha! Answers
are  a place of fraud.
while truth flies around
right now in mostly
unassembled swarm.
How you taste the ocean
salt walking on a pier.
Voices of a midway,
Anywhere, USA.
Earthbound Milky Way.
Clatter of light across
a bright summer sea.

Our Funny Multiverse

10 sad sad suns
lined up in punctuation marks,
dark over the littered ruin
of some dead millionaire's mansion,
where we sat and drank Napa wine,
making up our minds.
Dying stars inside and out,
the universe all jumbled up
in times of goodbye.
"Well...this, then, that...
remember? You were there, too!"
As the past hangs on your back
the way they taped "Kick me" signs
on the awkaward kids in junior high.
"Yes, but, but, but...maybe you're right."
It's me / It's her. A fight not worth winning.
We hug like empty suitcases,
as ghosts are heard weeping.
She leaves. The world
once again depopulates.
This place returns to rabbits,
who marvel anew
at beings of 38.5 trillion cells,
40 trillion bacteria,
who can't live alone, and
can't give themselves away.
One bunny, ears tall as antennas,
Jersey accent, smarts off,
"Complicated, ain't it!"

A Brief Guide To Imagination

The old start to pack a suitcase
once the doctor gets quiet
and honest and takes his time
for once to explain the one thing.
Just try to get the shirt in right.
Mind the crease in the pants.
Add up what you need this trip.
And I've started doing that.
But my muse came and kissed me
Monday night in a dream about a professor
who was probably going to get fired.
Then, a white egret parked itself this morning
on my front lawn, before my radiation test.
And tonight, I saw my eyes roll out
8–10 inches from my cheeks
Like the wolf in dice gambler's threads
who yells 'hubba hubba," his face stuck
staight out of the front windshield,
and his eyes rolled out 8–10 inches
from their sockets (now empty pipes).
He thinks it's Betty Grable next
in a town's "M -Airy-EE Christmas" fest,
but it's just the balloon vendor,
moving slowly, from behind a bulding.
The mistake I lived for all my life.
Because it's sunrise, sure and sure!
For a brief moment of imagination,
there's Betty Grable! In the air!
What more do you want!
I shake the suitcase's contents out.

Untitled

One night you'll lay
the side of your head
against the couch pillow
and hear your mother's heartbeat.
Then, you'll know
it's time to go home.

The Not-So-Big Adios

(where does a man show up again
at  the end of his life
yet to be who he meant to be
who he is)

People want me to go out with a cowboy whoop,
and so do I. We'll see.
What should a universe sound like
when it says adios?

First, I guess, I should explain time.
Um, elastic. We all agree.
Some seconds just last for hours.
Others, not so much.

The baby's spittle eventually gives way
to firing speeches, and going our separate ways,
severance pay and COBRA,
and good luck you poor son of a bitch.

Clouds were cousins.
Horizon my third best friend.
Ocean a fairy tale beast.
Father Sun. Renfield Moon.

The asphalt of the Catholic school playground
was never set, waving, sinking, swooning to temperature.
But I got knocked over playing kickball, and there's asphalt
hard enough to put me out, waking up to a circle of my friends' heads.

Yes, pavement holds penalties, in several ways.
Don't ever sleep there. Or fall. Or give up and sit down
right where you're at because that place is important.
There's a lot of pavement. Just don't act scared.

To boil it all down,
you must step off the planet.
(This is a way of talking,
not true, but true. Right?)

Know

what i didn't know when i was born:
bow down.

so much of what i got taught:
bow down.

once, a universe in my head,
and now, instead, bowed down.

fraudulent to aspire to a true state of grace—
bowed down.

we believe too little—
bowed down.

threat of prison,
poverty,
loneliness—
bowed down, bowed down, bowed down.

just like those who came before,
bowed down.

Yet, I am the point where infinity begins in all directions.

And time hangs in me like a jacket in the closet.

We

Let the twilight come, wash down my car.
Moon rise up, and my favorite star.
Got dressed in dreams, down to my shoes.
I'm after you.

Today's horizon a snowglobe—
white mountains, sheet metal blue.
Air clean as the breath of a Nordic god.
I'll bring it to you.

Neither shaman nor ghost,
but a low magical beast. Still,
I offer my world in a loud caliope coat.
It's nothing. Doesn't exist. Yours.

After all of you. I'm sorry.
We can only go together.
Melody across your gut strings.
You know.