Monday, December 21, 2015

great fragile hopes


clearly wrong & really left
ride straight on murky dawn;
cases and causes in suits bereft
of heft pauses to indulge in yawn

national committee lingers members
finger memories deleted,
replete in fiscal sheets reduced to embers.
if not for sweat equity, they'd never competed

to do economics, voodoo requires the pin
encrypted by backdoor spies mostly five eyed,
above board but not above sin
protected by redacted deeds unowned and unofficially tried

hour waste or my lai, bombastic tastes
crush gently great fragile hopes debased



12-21-15 mt tabor, portland

Sunday, December 6, 2015

haystack 143


if you catch that pony or disease
turn flank to moi, 

play some oui cappella heart. 

as a shady housecat 

toys with fervent babes, 

chasing all uneaten forms
that meep under laundry heaps, 

blowing off fire alarms
while whistling dixie 

 via nuremburg, 

let our hashtag smoke kisses 

     so  
I durst burst as autumn hay
     to feed yea..

.. no'mo neigh

Saturday, November 21, 2015

sonnet 89

pretend you could demonize me for some spirit
&i will publish upon those indiscretions,
gossip of my lameness& watch me screech to a stop
against yer upbraidings making no plea for moicy.
nothing you can voodoo on me
better than what i can out doodoo
on myself, fathoming yer welldrink whimsy.
i may freak the dopes or lose friends;
be vacant from your honky tonk dude dreams,
your persona a perfume no nose can read
                                                      lest senses do it wrong,
smelling what feeds the rose's climb sure-thorned
    for thee, i'll wreck in waves my castle sand
    for i must ne'er again kiss our wedding band

 

sonnet 15



when i reckon everything that gallops
saunters of pure canter but a little while,
that this regal arena hands out zero except points
illustrating ink from secret's outer space;
when i remark humans as ants build cities,
sung about and slandered in the same breath,
sappy sweet in youth, decayed in sugar's slump of a century
varnishing the brain of any residual mind
over the plains in a rich blur of nomadic flight,
where yurt move astral nods to bigger clocks& finish line
     and, all in a race with Truth for love of you
     as Truth takes from you, i fuel you anew.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

in meadow moo



ancient glaciers are calving
in the meadow moo of the universe
plopping turtlefrogs in the big soup on earth
from far far away we look
we appear
we appear to be looking
following the power of our evictions
the soup runs over the checkered fablecloth
you move to feel apparent
the film is shot underwater as baby cubes are braying
lowing in the clovered novas
sprinkled an a time wafer
lost in dark treeslimbs covered in coral and starfish
gravity's grave hello openarms fivebilliontonsayear
who's counting?
who counts?




11-15-15 portland, or

Sunday, August 2, 2015

rich eats


where undisclothed patrons sully pacific soirees
where does one rent a lynx by the nanomoment
in which rare vehicle shall we
commit law breaking speed in an entry reserved
for varmits on fire and comets slung by their entrails
how do you translate the brook by snuffing the trout
why splice the space between senators
for the ballast of the ocean
is the cleanest part of a man eating out of a paper plate on a billionaire's gazebo
where do i put my empties and self ease
how do i wrinkle my pleats and populist the donor list
when does roast beef hedge lemon merringue
is it an apertiff if it is the size of the fort wrath stockyard
what about those eels that sing old dixie
what about that diamond in her nose like a hummingbird
is science really a matter of menu
are emus really on the menu in carmellized glory
will folks really sell water for oil hey have a free keychain
whose poison poodle adorns the altar of constitution
couldn't a sphynx have larvae on the spot any moment
is veracity underwater like my moorage
why saute the poor when lower upper class are better flavored
do the cleanest eyes of angels not twitch
watching the rich ride pet toadies about in foxhunting attire
are they mundane in docile sleep under eight drinks of forgetitjuice
do the ads for better lies never quit?

Monday, June 29, 2015

nine treasures


did jupiter and venus dally
in the public alley of stark darkness,
was mercury found
in mud? sandals hermetic, sealed.
library of night,
alight on four wheels,
future past tense, into dalliance.
the smile lent a date
to the sand about the goal of the sphinxtress,
a moist date not the starsullen kind.
hitched on the rim of the hill,
venus and jupiter,
they shared a salad of trees
they eschewed one another
did momentary dances create black holes
were the feathered comets not enough?
are nine treasures less than one?

Saturday, May 30, 2015

greenstamps

I will be there again and soon through
The downtown creep of three am
when all the lights are wigging
On the bald intersections, past the pawn shops
And liquor stores over the railroad crucifixes and past the damp
Grainy smell of the chickenfeed plant blended
With the gravel works
Straight along sixth street toward the eastside
Of town where kids ride rusty bikes past
Midnight and poke at vagrant grocery sacks hoping to score
Some greenstamps
And finally past the trailer homes wired to the edges
On credit before we leave and enter
Country, crossing two small creeks, smell of skunk, road
Dashes dashes dashes a drawl of pellets leading
home to punt itself in a foodcan
into pan's tree where nut sees all


stillwater ok 1987

the irritant and the pearl



so we drove to a park
overlooking pearl harbor
kids played at the end of the spiral slide's
continual pileup until as we left

a scrap session ensued
with parents egging them on

"if someone hits you you hit them
back"

crossings depths art(value of
which encased in the
streaming freeway's wet hoopsnake

urgently turning both cheeks
whose tongue is bombing the
squandered stars

but enabling this oyster to grow
a springhill mine disaster
made in a bottle
the size of a child's fist



oahu  1994

steps back sludge



styrofoam still the style
for kona organic brews sitting well
in tourist kidneys whose wallets

one harvests to convert
credit's waterfront condos
overlooking petroleum fields

ripening to mature
as chloroflurocarbon molecules
bespeckling the espresso steam

hypocritical digressions are diesel
powered zits
parked atop oldgrowth stands of integrity

dirty from legislation,
waiting to catch up with evolution
whose steps

back into the swamp
sludge the future



oahu, 1994

the land of nod



after intelligence has feigned
the last vestiges of integrity& his bloat
is rusted, full of collateral pollutions

this mind walks away
across clean sands
to help the baby back to sleep

egypt upper nile nipple oasis
isis gecko guffaw
from the upperbalcony,

tossed dollarbills onto ritzy
waikiki stalls matching the absurdity
of shopping, tier pricing,

these words command inner
astronomy despite faux lizard giggles,
equal-accessing

consciousness refined


oahu  1994


Saturday, May 9, 2015

leave it to the professionals


comfort squats on the part time worker,
stealing a rest in the desert
where the prickly pear
blooms bewareness as part and parcel of a wary dumping ground
littered with garden party accoutrements,
swimming pools of undrinkable water
and plastic bottles racing past tumbleneeds
toward the boarder's fence
where squatters hold sway while
trying to do number one or number two while avoiding
contact with an adverse terrain
of colosss husks
and burnt out pintos whose rusty comfort
returns his borrowed iron
into the ground by dropping sweat beads
onto a game floor
ruled by umps in loafers
who decree "play ball or blackball"
who scream "suck it up" while siphoning the gasps
of children fleeing "free tirade"
mad in the USA with boss springing the steens mtn. stallions free
in the movie version, in the disney venison,
getting comfortable with the corn eaters
in the black row of ledgers
running red ink
running out of metaphors for loss
running out of ways to screw with impunity
a stripped out threading where parts, partners,
frank steins brimming with bubbly "hey bub"
as the spokes define a hub
in the radial stretch of making it to the next paycheck
that bounces off the book cooker
and lands not on land but on the backs
of flipped turtles in their empire shells
calling the shots
from way off in lard conditioned eateries
making hypertension the medium whereby one presents any opinion
or addresses the gift of slave labor
to a hole knocked into a saguaro with a tiny sharp beak,
in a residential enclave cul de sac
guarded with goiters from incessant desk loitering
an ugly repose from which to respond
to pretty pleas for basic rites such as washing,
drinking, resting, breathing professional air
with unlicensed noses just out of reach
but easy to smack

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

she nanny guns, alas

   
      prologue

there once was a lassie called shannon
her tongue had the tact of a cannon
  she knocks at your door
  with the force of a boar
as fake as the press pass of gannon


*   *   *

cat got my tongue and ran off under the pier
where a selkie put it on a hook
for bait, casting into police state waters
to catch a cold bottom feeder
data damning my quarry
rich only with molars worn soft
then for a birthday anti-present
a trio of foisters
show up most pre-dis-invited
with the she-hag at our screendoor
clutching a discus of haggis to share
while her son holds a realtor's pitchfork
otherwise known as a gold nibbed pen
and inserts his foot in my door
as she-hag brusquely enters
trying to lop off my catkins with shrill verdict
"you're the worst son of a bitch
in the world" without exception
i take pride where the sheep hurting clan
storms my fort in gales of spittle
infectious with diseases
i would prefer to avoid
hence the longstanding unwelcome sign
nailed to their eyeballs in letter form
which must have punctured the gall bladder
for all their gall comes peeshing out
as a puddle reflecting their retreat
highlighted by an actual slap to the face
incredulously from grandma but when
she finally croaked
and her big sad man pants deflated
leaving a crease where the devilish tail
made a codpiece as wrinkled as
her tomb's cement which
read "here lies" not needing to go further into it all,
though not long thereafter the soil
cast her out with the first good rain
and she resembled cousin worm deepthroat
with his thousand hooks and sinkers
making medusa seem well kempt
as snarks are driven into the sea
boiling with some backward anger
once planted with potato like fervor
or built of shenanagins of lucky charm
if harm was not the pleasure ride
for those who never rot, like cedar vampires
leaving splinters for their family business cards
so this is raunching i ask as burn a debt
giggles from her ellis island curb
with a mouth full of venom laced peanuts
on tour thru the scablands of
walla walla: they sure look: at home.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

teepee peepee on appammatox wood



jesus on appammatox wood
going down deliverance liver
to a federal penury  of pigs
wearing crowns of barbie twigs
fire gas sun open all nite
for gut soon all things pass
legal kidney stones, our kin
all must get stoned
stomp yer leadbelly foot, unheards
un herd yer slough, snake
un rapt the campus rape or priestly silence
unless you do, will who?
time eats its children
treaty trick on blanket pox
truces hold by nail, denial.
eagles eternally chew
fire giver liver
gizzard wizard lightning
crowd sourced halo fine
welcome, theatre of pratfallen heroics
good deeds gone sour in injun land
scalp the tickets while you can
what can be canned of duh
it comes out the peepee hole


march 13, 2015
Portland, Oregon

Saturday, March 7, 2015

fire gas sun, fork it son

ignition refused foisting searing 
commentary coordination
of fire gas sun the people bearing--- voice
elemental standing---
in shock deserved with a sun
---(snuffed cold in a public street
admonished) lethally, burnt.
displayed as a farce works show!!!
crackle hiss$#* flash.
white dazzlers dealing dreamons,
form shitty hall with morals:
rank, bile, and gall.
forgets one to not smile,
he be captain poster gun and DARlink.
for gut soon, poposhop.
images render victim a thug, just erase just ice.
makes one digest where shadows bear, melt
states of voices arrived
in turreted response. the table is set,
shakers all larded in lawsalt.
for gut's son a wife is imported: remembrance,
who else in shock mother
the nation
the world, peeling back an ion fluster
badges usually blind us
but when covered in obstructed blood
magnified by ugly patterns
a furnace that runs the sun divests 
our powerless authority to rob the body of respect
four fifths filthy and white
as far as skin problems go, starved 
of their forgot sons, damned by redlines
inbred scheme punks,vote rigging swindle-rut babes,
states of voices squabble up a stank.
the fizzled fuse foists silence on curfewed lawns.
go home, unless you can't,
be arrested if not disappeared or shot
fork it son. its done.

Friday, February 6, 2015

hosetown


the stars, sick of sky, ate earth
to puke up blue and green frack lakes
from a palate too full---

no lie told the skull lined trail
no fantasy or sex modeled the clay demise.
a token monolith, my crumb

call it houston, under
the grease grey smudge spout of glamour
the clamor to eat earth wastingly

the stars built houston
as cancer builds a hollowed home itself-evicted,
rockets, frozen embryo diners or not.

no fable was the last alamo tourist eaten by a saudi
high school girl with a valid visa
and a picture of bobby in her kimono's

skill-honed travois? were the guts
of the stars made better
by wishing earth away in fracks?

broke egg mountain


climbing mount hood in the winter
they fall and break their eggs
oh where is our chicken now?
there in a glacial pen.
feed us, little hen, eat a snowflake.
here comes the helicopter,
do now not fly o winter recreation fowl.
we need eggs at the summit,
farmer fresh i carry thee.
my canteen of petrol will fry your orb,
rocky or not
the city of brotherly love is founded on the shells of giants.
there, a foodcart space is reserved
we will level the place momentarily
there egg safe will unite
& pine oil fry icarus wings of junebugs
hatched mid jan

the steeple tug, or pineapples of the dalles


the steeple tug sank, full of slaves:
the harbor burned, full of witches ignited:
the armory melted with ignorance more volatile:
the pulpit-mobile was misappropriated go and figure:
the stores once looted were vacant:
the library more full than ever with deer:
the dock was tarnished with commie sympathy:
the bakery cold useless, moths going freely with chaff on the chin:
the slaves once out of the steeple tug wore harbor water:
that had burned:
and was such blessed, in the weird american way:
sold downstream for a pretty bitcoin:
it were hard to get the burnt witch off the slave smell:
but the weaning bee taxed it off to texas:
and that was fat: