subtle juxtapositions
6th
Saturday, June 6th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
*06.06.2009*
…there has been gambling
& dancing on the deck,
the ladies fan themselves
& still kick up their heels
…the crew’s shot fulla holes,
stoking the boilers, routing the steam,
heading to the edge of the horizon,
helmsman drunk,
1st mate mean
& stupid
…below the captain sits
at the lonely limits of his strength,
at the grey dawn of the endgame, he
tallies nearly ½ a century’s worth
of receipts
& small change
…no great sin or saving,
no possessions or progeny,
just some scattered notes on hangovers
& fever dreams stuffed into the brazier
5th
Friday, June 5th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
*communiqué*
…we shout at each other from
atop sky scrapers in faded polaroids
of our home towns; i’m on the sears tower,
god only knows where you are,
high on drama & endorphins
…choking you, smothering me,
shivering, teeth chattering, we try some more
…smothering me, choking you,
huffing hysterics & serotonin
…screaming & waving & throwing
ropes from opposite banks of
a swollen, rushing river of gasoline;
‘…gotta match?’ we each yell into the roar,
neither hearing the other,
rolling on delirium & adrenalin
…on the far, far ends of love
4th
Thursday, June 4th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
*repair steps; 1 thru 3*
1. separate the loose thread from the rest of the weave,
be careful not to pull on it too much
2. using a sharp scissors or razor blade,
cut it off as close to the garment as you dare
3. smooth it out & hope for the best
[always resist the urge to fashion a loose thread into a noose]
3rd
Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
* just daring us to*
they keep speaking to me in shades of
comfort, tho pain, is my 1st language,
crossing my eyes & peeling my heart
…understand; i am predisposed
to these knots of probability as
a flower turning to face the
sun …i could tell you
everything, but
i don’t want
to know
…mercy is in the treads,
& grace is on the grill
2nd
Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
*6/2/09*
grunting when bending over,
sighs at the end of the day,
a certain amount of
pain is
our lot
…you should be grateful; yer great
great great great great great great
grandad went out to fetch some water,
& fell down a well;
dead on accounta his far sightedness,
& you got those nice glasses
…we breathe thru the fabric of
an ever present ache
…past trauma & present stress,
scar tissue souvenirs, stuffed & mounted
heads hang in the halls & wings of the
mansions of our bodies
…think of the odd pride
in a badly healed
crooked
finger
1st
Monday, June 1st, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
*6/1/09*
so far this morning,
we got hummingbirds on the catwalk,
& super models in the evergreens
…we got power tools & train yards underfoot,
& non-stop ambient cement noise
…we got small talk bouncing off satellites,
& sciatic nerves shooting sparks
…we got distraction at our fingertips,
& 230 new souls under the atlantic
*earlier this morning…*
Thursday, January 29th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
long, ago,
before worship,
but not before fear;
a post-tree-ape proto-hominid, more than a simian, less than a human,
-let’s call him; ‘alpha’,
approaches a pond, a small lake, a natural well, fed from underground
…the far edge of the pond seems to meet the horizon w/ a muddy bank, topped by a thick line of trees
…from the rise of the bank where alpha stands, the surface of the pond reflects deep-blue early morning sky, tho not the clouds, nor the cold, white moon
…alpha tilts his head right then left, left then right
…the sky on the surface of the pond, perfectly mirroring the blue, obscures the reality of the water; alpha’s eyes see what could be a great hole thru the earth, beyond which one can see more sky
…alpha cocks his head this way, then that
…other post-tree-ape proto-hominids join him, gathering timidly, still chewing on some mushrooms that alpha had left behind after he’d had all he wanted
…they begin rocking their heads, still a respectful distance away from alpha, near the hole in the earth filled w/ sky
…alpha grunts, farts, picks up a pebble & tosses it into the air, it lands in the dirt at his feet, near long hairy toes
…alpha tilts his head right, then left
…a rock thrown into the more familiar sky overhead, falls back down, but a rock thrown into a hole filled w/ sky?
…alpha picks up the same small stone, grunts & tosses it into the hole, where it is swallowed w/ a fluid plop-splash
…post-tree-ape proto-hominid eyes widen, all around, teeth get bared, glossolaliac hysterics ensue
…ripples radiate outward from the point where the pebble disappeared, sending gentle waves across the water of the pond, waves thru the sky in the hole in the earth
…several other post-tree-ape proto-hominids find pebbles & lob them about, some land in the pond, plop-splash, sending more rippling waves on the water’s surface
…alpha sees the ripples intersect, weaving a net across the sky’s reflection, the white moon now reflected as countless pearls caught therein
…red-eyed, alpha knuckle-drags to the edge of the pond, dips his hand in the web of waves, drinks the sky, tilts his head this way & that
*m0biusTriP03m*
Thursday, November 6th, 2008 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
heres a mobius trip poem
it folds in on itself & goes on forever,
or until you get tired
it reads backupsideward & down4
ever, or until you get tired
…when you get to the end go back to the beginning
mobius trip
w/insatiable hunger
bored to death
clix & snaps
on the inside
rips & tears
on the spine
the weight of the millstone
around the eyes
maplines
in the voice
a desperate lilt
a 9 2 5 O-clock shadow
grey in the temples
w/ out using your ears
you can hear
certain sounds
teeth coming out
bad dreams about
teeth coming out
certain sounds
you can hear
w/ out using your ears
grey in the temples
a 9 2 5 O-clock shadow
a desperate lilt
in the voice
maplines
around the eyes
the weight of the millstone
on the spine
rips & tears
on the inside
clix & snaps
bored to death
w/insatiable hunger
*paranoids*
Saturday, August 30th, 2008 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments
l.a. is a great place for paranoids to live because we can feel normal here; …nothing is as it seems, and the earth may just open up and swallow us at any moment
*wish i had a fez*
Saturday, August 30th, 2008 | subtle juxtapositions | 3 Comments
it’s been a grade ‘A’ gray day here in atwater
it’s been pissing down a cold rain all day
but i’ve just had a nice hot bath
and i’m trying to relax
sometimes i wish i had a fez
but then i’d need
a yellow silk suit
and a maroon velvet smoking jacket
and a huge butter soft leather chair
and a pair of sheepskin slippers
and a fireplace the size of
a studio apartment in manhatten
and a box of smuggled cigars
and a brandy snifter as big as my head
and a pet gazelle
and a decrepit butler
and a pouty french maid
and a jet-black pencil moustache
and a kitchen staff to give the night off to
and a four-poster bed once owned by
a general in napoleon’s army
and a few thick persian carpets laid on
a teak and oak parquet floor
and a tattoo from a secret society
and a high ceilinged study lined with books
and a hyphenated sir name
and a dark green bently with giraffe skin upholstry
so you see, it’s altogether too complicated a thing to do
i’ll just stick with my battered gray fadora
