Tuesday, July 31, 2007

where do you keep them?

is your secret edible? best kept under saran wraps?
my secret is deep within me, no one has to know
i swallow them down, no suffering, no hiding place
no faces staring back at me through basement walls
no eyes peering at me through poorly drawn tarps
no last breaths reaching for me with clenching fingers rising from
a loose soil shallow and untimely tomb
where do your keep those bodies?
those wretched rotting undesirables
you'd be best off getting back home
while the getting is still good
seven dead hookers
seven weeks
no grocery shopping
save for vegetables
to make hooker stock


pale faced desperation set in two thousand year intermissions between visits from friends
scraping at the ground for food, swinging at the sky for knowledge,
and shitting where you shower.
Thank you, white man.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

you eat hormonal/free-range

other times

sometimes i have star lit imprints quail lips and fingertips lacing up my boots
sometimes i am a belt less loop
sometimes i lust in the direction of melons
sometimes i sit back and watch uncomfortable situations develop
sometimes i am woven with precision inscribed with ridiculousness
sometimes i am the swinging fist missed
sometimes i am a scentless intolerable windmill
sometimes i fit well
sometimes i lick the silver lining
sometimes i dine in ramen
sometimes i am lightning shivers
sometimes i'm an arrow filled quiver
sometimes i am Cuban fleeing oppression in my homeland
sometimes i reach the void of yer hand
sometimes i am diamond fodder
sometimes i am sniffing rain water dripping
sometimes i am waking to the noon day triangle ringing
sometimes i'm all alligator and snake dreams and screaming
sometimes I think clean
sometimes i'm motion moving through the emocean
sometimes the wind dreds my hair un or willing
sometimes i'm lichen clinging
sometimes i'm vixen smitten on galactic residue
sometimes i'm not home
sometimes i am talking long after the dial tone
sometimes i am coughing fat chucks of soul into a tissue
sometimes it's just last nights attempt to justify
sometimes i saddle up and fly
sometimes i end game
sometimes i bite back pain
sometimes i am eggs and bacon
sometimes i convince myself i like pancakes
sometimes i make them
sometimes i turn to you the mirror
sometimes i am shattered there
sometimes i am in the middle of broken bird wings
sometimes i fix them
sometimes i wish that
sometimes i am hollow and full of
sometimes i'm renegade butterfly love
sometimes i'm crucified
sometimes i am the lie
sometimes i tickle on the inside intestine
sometimes i write sane
other times just sometimes
i am just

Thursday, July 26, 2007

flying full speed at solid things

The stars must be aligning awkwardly
Like a metronome on a waterbed in an earthquake
Moment by monument
I’m jumping wildly from season to season
And I might be mistaken but when I first woke up this morning I was sixteen
Yes I was sixteen
I felt nubile and fresh
And had the inexplicable urge to fresco my eyes in a pink shimmer shadow
I am of course a full twenty three years of age
According to calendar

… But what the fuck does linear time know?
Between drags of a cigarette or sips of rootbeer float
I’m thrust from Christmas to Arbor Day
From New Jersey to Timbuktu!

All colors and smells
Leaden in some places and wispy in others
It makes me giddy and starry-eyed.

Home run derby

Cunning cupid hits me between the eyes
So that I cannot see who it might be to fall for
And so, I am left in love with it all
In love with today and tomorrow
In love with the music and the mess.

spit-fire seconds go by
Like the pop of an old-time-y flash bulb
Happy as a first time high with someone I only remember as a favorite perfume.
Top down, music loud, on the way to nowhere and wasting no time getting there

Glands brimming
Oh chemical reality how I love thee
Glow, sticky, hot and wet.
Giddy and Silly and Foolish and correct!
A nexus of giggles forever in my throat

I think I might be too chronically cheerful to ever be hip

.Don‘t even bother to ask,
I can’t tell you what’s in my bag

Its not I don’t trust you I just don’t know! Pbbbtttt…..

simple for my girl

Lilly I love you
I miss you I do
And the song that I sing
They’re all songs for you
And I toss in my sleep
For the memories of you
Lilly I miss you
I love you, I do

Wednesday, July 25, 2007


the moon
casts shadows
on our yesterdays
and shines light on

woman in the kitchen

the sunlight from the window
reflects a shimmer of grays
peaking through her hair
which hangs over her tired eyes
from insomnious nights
her bad-postured body hovers over
the kitchen sink
and her chapped hands are raw
from the soapy dish water
the apron drapes over her body
just barely revealing her
slow-swaying hips
moving to the soft sounds of
playing in the background

For MB

It was springtime
and the grass was green
yet her life was shriveling up
withering away like
dead leaves
while I
sixteen and shy
was the flower peaking through
the grass
contemplating the complexities
of boys
college majors
what lipstick shades make
me pretty...
she told me
her history
an archive of ageless stories
soaking me up with her wisdom
like an April shower

i blossomed that spring of
her dying days
a bond bloomed
between us
I still cherish
ten years later

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

tare away calender quotes, daily lunch time paper revelations

(calender page for Wednesday Dec. 6th '06)

"Happiness is like a butterfly. The more you chase it, the more it will elude you. But if you turn your attention to other things, it comes softly and sits on your shoulder."

(remembering this in Frisco, 7/18/07)

subtle little butterfly
lands upon my unsuspecting shoulder
you came to me
net-less and free
our moments fat with simple beauty
the purest light
the clearest water
that butterfly on my shoulder
I'd hang my wings forever
to beat together as one flutter

driving down the road one day...

SF- 7/18 this year
a tired poem

sweet pea and sleepy
stands on the corner of Stiner and Ashbury
wanting a seat
with a friend forever lover
the sight of possum yellow horizons
breaking through the looming Frisco fog
pouring from her pockets and heart
stands waiting
wanting only a seat
in that vision
one with a view
of their horizon

butterfly blues

SF- McAllister and Stiner
7/18 this year

I'll remember you like deja vu

I'll remember it like the morning in your window
the shining bliss I missed
just slightly skimming the explosion of US as WE

I'll remember it like that
those vivid tickles
waking into early morning insights
where if you pay them heed
they slip into your memory pockets
linen lined with magic moments
to surprise most unexpected
two souls so severely connected
and comforts all that's felt there
so homespun and familiar
I'll remember you like deja vu

Monday, July 23, 2007

salty thoughts

SF- 7/19 this year,
some small sketch notes of soul

beach side
Park Chalet
sat outside
a breezy day

CG's stay fruity hat
with funk in his game
mourning the coma
his past relationship's in

our waiter's slow
but sweet and shy
just slightly fluttered
by the flare we fly

now slap right back my brain
deja vu's at it once again
ours eyes skipping beats
for fear they might meet

and steals the wonder
of this pure summer
a thoughtless blunder
a lovers tumble

sometimes there are cliff sides
sometime there's quicksand
always there are angels
reaching out their hands

did you look up?
did you ask to be saved?
or was it just coincidence, serendipitous
that you happened to walk my way?

I know yer face
I know your ways
one day or life
we'll find our place

Friday, July 20, 2007

my black bag has sticky pockets
from the sweet honey
I travel with

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

for galactic

SF- Alamo Square Park
7/18 this year

You were all the words, midnight lyrics, life sparks that i've spoken to the moonlight...You were the sweetest cream in my coffee black and bitter...You were intense moments of forever...You gave me eyes again to once again cry with...seas of love and kindness...You were honest beauty...A strong hand to block the wind from me...And those hands gently touched me, all of me, from the inside out and warmed my heart...You were comfort like i've never felt...And i've been truly convinced after this whole west mess experience, and in my life and lives before, you were what i've been searching for...You were the hook I'd hang my butterfly wings upon...I am in dept to you and if you only believe in your broken poets heart, one thing from our phishy fling, believe that I have fallen hard, naturally, so much so that I'm just fine with any path you walk away from me or towards my doorstep back in Jersey...Your time is yours and I pray ease finds your heart...You the most beautifully vivid soul I've so far come across...You were...You are...

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

i remember
insomnious nights
driving around
with no
we always end up at a
half drunk
where we
people watch, people avoid
scribbled inked lines
on napkins
confessions, life lessons
in cigarette smoke
on caffeine
and the uncertainty
of what the night

Monday, July 16, 2007

Family program

This is the happy one
This is the one where everything goes right
No anger or madness
Depression or anguish
In this one, the guy gets the girl
the girl gets the ring
the guy has the money
and the girl has no gag reflex
This is the one where John comes back from Iraq unscathed
Where Cathy was never raped
Where Paul decides not to cheat on his twenty something year old fiance
with a five foot-seven pouty lipped slut named Mitch
with no gag reflex
This is the one the tabloids will not have a ball with
This is the one everyone forgets tomorrow
This is the happy one

One more lonely ace cruising route one thirty
And it's nothing to you, you were let out early
You sat clean, one muscle just above the stabs
You come out smiling but you'll never outrun the grabs
Your name is here and someday you'll wash up on the shore
On your knees and begging, "just one minute more."
Mouth agape and screaming for your chance to be ignored
And we'll sit grimly smiling saying,"you've been here before."


I am
Son of a bitch
offspring of a mother fucker
just one more cock
who got too comfortable with the pussy
and made the bastard
why couldn't he just stay the jerk off that he was
rather than portraying the piece of shit
douche bag
on the constant hunt for his next piece of ass?
one more faggot scumbag thinking with his dick
making me, the asshole


Smiley says we should take the others on a long discarded road
Doctor says he doesn't know a better way to go
envy tells me when we get there I should change my hat
Pride says,"Just tilt it some and push the brim down flat."
sadness says," I want the buck-knife hiding in the glove."
Madness says," Your dreams are lies destroying hidden love."
Smiley says," We're almost there, get ready for the war."
Finally, a shadowed voice says,"I hope it's something pure."

Short Supply

the promises are prosthetic
attached to us but useless
with new clones sliding over the old
replacing the losses
only to be the next
in sand and mortar everything's a mystery
and the smoke hides the stars
from the exploded supply truck
shrapnel between the eyes
but still to crawl and bleed
in a dizzy panic where all that's definite is horizon
and years will pass with conquest and confusion
as one by one
you answer for your scars

In Theory

I see every muscle in my arm aching for the moment
to hit you when you're not looking
to scrape silver on skin we never saw sliding
your face drowned in bruise and blood
tell me travesty
tell me devastation
tell me world wide panic
I want to know


Shut up, I'm in the middle of something
Maybe brain damage
Maybe masochism
Maybe slithered steps on icy sidewalks at dawn
Or paniced chicken scratch on bathroom walls
the fear that someone may come spying
Who sucked who?
What happened to your father
I mean in the late night moments
When you were hard and tearing
Slipping presciptions into your pillow case
Begging God for some self-holocaust
Sniffing veins into your nose and a prayer to stop the bleeding
The sun comes on you like a rock shuffle
You beg and beg, but a beggar gets dimes
And you want dollars

Juliet at sea is on fire
and below
the stones at these
depths feed

we'll feel grass beneath
our feet again at the
next port, when we
find we were and are
where space can fit us

and we can find find
movement in stone

sulfur in the sea
red and parted and
Juliet is on fire
keep back
Juliet is at sea is on fire

the sunrise at sea,
buoyant in the
moon soaked waters
and the moon
at this depth
feeds on

what a wonderful world it is

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


you had a light
the instant
the cigarette
touched my lips
that instant connection
you and i
we knew it
but i couldn't look you
in the eye

i watched
the cigarette ashes
on to the street
quickly sticking to the wet
that instant connection
you and i
i just
couldn't look you
in the eye

poem yr poem

I got yr poem
written on a cigarette

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Flashbacks and Friendship

below my left hand shoulder blade
the spontaneous warming tingle lingers
forever, leftover
from the last liquid hit
stuck fast to my spinal column
and i have all these memories
that fade in and out of realities
reminding me
even after all is lost or stolen
identities and special things,
treasures of love and friendship
irreplaceable items
gone to the gods or sticky finger tips
in strange hours
this warming reminds me
they are just things child
and no one can steal your memories
when the bonds you've made
are all you have left
and the broken dawn is at your door knocking
you'll welcome him in with his sorrows
and cradle his head until he slips into sunrise
for no lion or mouse is refused admission
and there is no currency of heart
other than a hand to hold
and this warming feeling
my bane, my blessing
is all I need
the rest are just...

In regards to the discovery of old home movies...

I danced around
the house
in Her navy shoes
three times
my size
sashaying sophistication as I
the elegant one
classic as a
black dress and pearls
pig-tailed head
was only

Monday, July 09, 2007

Pitfalls in Sand (a post for a friend)

I'm posting this for my very great friend Chad.
It's a rather selective poem and you really had to be there to understand where the inspiration for this piece came from....this poem is a phishy one... ;-)
Regardless, Chad is by far one of the brightest stars in the sky and I am truly honored to be his friend.

Pitfalls in Sand

by Chad Galactic

The beauty you can taste it, you can see it
Always somewhere to go and always someone to go with
Sparkles and glitter, like sirens draw you closer
The best of them can be captured in a poster
On the move, it is time to go
Keep driving faster into the blinding snow
People smiling, dancing and grooving
The entire experience is oh so soothing
Two in the front and your crew in the back
Keep the train moving, never jumping the track
East to west and back again
It becomes your life, your best friend
Here we are, so many people to see
Pushing so much vibe, like you’re on a shopping spree
Passion and love, time and money
It’s so compulsive that it begins to seem funny
With or without you, it goes on and on
You keep on going, following the rising sun
Can’t miss a moment, or even a note
What if they play the song about the disco robot goat
Is it a dream of princes and queens
Floating and swirling, swimming up stream?
Hard to tell if it’s a blessing echoing down the hall
Do I really want to be king of them all?
Capes glitter, sweat and blood
I’d walk twenty miles to sleep and dance in the mud
Twisted and tangled, the millionth disciple to four
Convinced you’re enlightened and that they opened the door
The music takes you further than you thought you could go
Massaging your light and kissing your soul
The voice in your head tells you to follow us
Wondering blindly, the life you had left in the dust
Your mind is melting, you’re in total awe
Busting out moves, there doing things that you never saw
Your high exceeds your aerobic ability
The human disco ball experiment for all your world to see
Impossible to get out, it’s no longer your call
One pull of this magic carpet and all the golden eggs could easily fall
So far in, there is nothing you can do
You would trade your life to follow the musical zoo
The show is over, the longest sustained note will always end
Now were to go, looking for home, always thinking about your long lost friends
Miracled in and miracled out
Even at the end, you can’t explain what it is all about

~*Thanks darling Galactic for the beautiful vibe you emanate!

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Idiom Poets and Walking English in Upstage Magazine

Alright kids heres are second appearce in upstage magazine

A poem by the Publisher

A poem by a rabbit in California

and an article on the idiom and walking english previously published in The Stockton NewsPaper by Keith Baird. Check out the three appearances here: http://www.upstagemagazine.com/general/latest-new.php?category=poetry

hit up yer local jersey bar and get some copies.

Keep writin

Friday, July 06, 2007

also today

Nerves worn and weak with sleep
do nothing to soften the blow of the city
with capmaigns raging around me
I feel only adi-quit for busy work
and silly
when I know
that I sould know
this shit


When the phone call finally found me
I was deployed to the city of students
given a mission
and shiped by train
To the city of cities

an apple so ripe
its juice is hard cider
but this did nothing
to loosen the knot of nerve
lodged in my empty stomach

and upon arival
i was shaken and battered


if you look hard
you can see
there are still stars
in these bleary eyes

Monday, July 02, 2007

Dudes....when do we leave?

The March Hare is Atlantic Canada's largest poetry festival. The March Hare began as an evening of poetry and entertainment in Corner Brook, Newfoundland and Labrador, and has evolved into an annual island-wide celebration of words and music. The Hare is loosely associated with Sir Wilfred Grenfell College, and takes place in March of each year. As its reputation has grown, the March Hare has attracted increasingly high-profile poets, authors, musicians and storytellers, featuring in recent years Michael Ondaatje, Alistair MacLeod, Paul Durcan, Lorna Crozier, Patrick Lane, Susan Musgrave, Stephen Reid , Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin, Wayne Johnston, Stan Dragland, Ron Hynes, Michael Crummey, and many others. Early contributors to the March Hare included Al Pittman, John Steffler, Randall Maggs, Adrian Fowler, David "Smoky" Elliott, Des Walsh, Clyde Rose, Nick Avis, and Pamela Morgan. Many continue to participate in the festival today.

The March Hare was initiated in the late 1980s (1987 or 1988) by Rex Brown, Al Pittman, and George Daniels, as a way to generate business at the Blomidon Golf and Country Club during the winter months (Daniels was the manager there). The exact year the festival began is uncertain, but the 2007 event will be considered the twentieth March Hare. Today, the festival's usual venues are The Columbus Club and Casual Jack's Roadhouse in Corner Brook. The March Hare takes its name from a character in Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. According to Rex Brown, the name is also intended as a pun on the words here (celebrating a sense of place) and hear (since its focus is the spoken word).

Sunday, July 01, 2007

the side effects of living heart to heart

a different kind of addiction is mine
one might see it as magic enchanting
a sweet and exciting free style of life
and a Time most enlightening

all that dancing and dreaming and cultural breathing
is music indeed but you must supply the heart beating
to take on life's True meaning
Me, I'm addicted to feeling

I'll take them all
a plethora
from emotional trauma
to Joy something phenomenal

anything really
the Pain raw and bleeding
or that tingling feeling
awakened right in-between
each of yer hips
when the back of yer neck
is broken by Kiss

the tears from your memories
of loved ones lost to tragedies
frustrations angst and apathy
passion, Hope, and souls at ease

Well me,
I'm addicted to feeling
and this lovely fixation of mine
keeps my Soul and soles alike
enslaved to constant wear and flight
forever in search of fresh sight
that is this dramatic junkies plight

I'm driven to movement and consumption
to locate new Lives
to learn their day to day triumphs
and night to night frights
and that child,
is the drug I get High from
adrenalin and serotonin
laughing and moaning

my Vice is unforgiving
and it keeps me bound traveling
from heart beat to heart beat
hands slipping into each other perfectly
folks and their Flaws, their undeniable Beauty
you're all the flowers to my Bee
my Habit is emotional honey

Me. I'm addicted to feeling
it's the blood of my being
and it's torture when you're empty

Stranger, still strange to me
It was nice to share the moment on the shore
But moments like those should hold
Hold and be held by lovers
Not new friends
So can I claim a little more
In the stories that I tell
So the sadness
Of my loneliness seems less

But I digress stranger, still strange to me
And thank you for your kindness
My mind will shift that moment and we
We will be just me
But the beauty will remain
And the loneliness will remain
And you will have your own memories

It kills me

To sit and listen

To the mumbling laughter

That seeps from behind both walls

habit and heartache

I imagine you’re days as poetry
When love and fun is no match for the work week
And beers are drained into me from habit and heartache
I imagine you happy and singing
The droning phony sucks at my sweetness
And beers are drained into me from habit and heartache
I imagine you dancing in sunlight
When time is after me like thin dogs at my heels
The drool on their lips is bitter and cold
I imagine you chastising me softly
When beers are drained into me from habit and heartache

lost before found

Though I believe you to be an agent of destiny
You seem to actually work for the agency
What little charm there is in bureaucracy
And enticed me

But you should know the whimsy of my gender
And though were sweet and were gentle and tender
We’re all as fickle as a money lenders
And then
I’m sorry
But we’re lost dear

So I think we should pause in this silly game
And admit there’s a flaw in this cupid aim
Because even when I’m timid
I’ll never be tame
I’m sorry
But you’ve lost me dear.