Sunday, May 31, 2009

New Poems! New Jacket!

New poems in the soon to be new Jacket!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Your Show Tunes

Max says to me,
You're Death Meat
and I know 
what he means.
I tell him,
No, no, no
but we both know
That's why he wants 
to play Wolverine
and the X-Men.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009


There is no music but yours.
There is no poem but yours.
There is no story that is not yours.
You are everywhere, man. 
You are on it.
And how about you didn't know 
I was here, but I am here,
and so you didn't see me at first
but then you see me?
Okay? Yes, It's good by me
since I'm locked up in this gun cabinet anyway.
Of course, I don't have a gun cabinet.
Of course, I'm not able to use
the internet or blog.
I don't know what you mean by cabinet
and what you mean by that 
ginger-man-type-ghost that you pass
off as a foggy button on your coat.
I don't trust you anymore, or know you.
You look like a blue and red
cheerleader and you prance
around all loopy with eyeshadow.

My wife is upstairs and my kids
are in bed and nobody is salting
competition with shaved 
pencil lead. I don't even use words anymore!
When you really think about
the conclusions, you are
like starting a new math class!

Thursday, May 21, 2009


I wonder about my ability
as a person, but then I am
reminded of
how unnecessary ability is.
In this case, I simply focus
on the stuff that just
shows up.
Like, a magazine solicitor, or 
the Schwan man.
Also, imagine ding-dong-ditch- it.
That sort of game is like
the zip code here. 

Monday, May 18, 2009

The Notes I Note

I could write something
or sing something
or note something
in the forest. Walking through
this forest, I could step on something,
or become something
or step into a trap door forest.
Or not. This possibility
is also obvious.
What isn't is that
I could say something with
these moments instead of groping.
Always as a junior high kid
at a party searching some young
classmates pants 
for answers. What happens
in that the past is the future.
Your thoughts, the way they cascade
through the building
are useless only because
there are also other reasons.  

Sunday, May 17, 2009

The First Sunday of Summer

I should have something to say.
It's the sabbath, after all,
and I probably shouldn't have spent
so much time working in the yard.
But yard work is like being a kid
and being a kid is like really
living. When I say really living what
I mean is that it's all over with now.
Imagining the bad guys behind
the shed. Twirling the stick
as a sword and using the back of your mind
as a place to project pictures.
My kids, however, are still kids.
To them, the projector isn't even a projector
yet. To them, getting a sticker for peeing
on the potty is good stuff, people.
You should be so lucky.
If so, the beauty in the world doesn't
disappear, but it starts to get
weirder. You might not know how to act
in the long run, but in the short
run, you make a name for yourself
in halls of elementary school.

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Mother's Day

I feel my best when I'm on a skateboard.
On a skateboard,
I am another human, one more mobile
and more attached to a small plank of wood
set atop four small wheels. 
My wife is very beautiful.
Physically it's like she is trying to eclipse
her inner goodness. 
It's like she has decided to grow
a force field around her inner goodness
but creating a shell of beauty 
that no one would dare penetrate. I have
penetrated this shell and am lucky.
People, I have been lucky
to be inside my wife
and watch my kids expand her belly
and see her explode with them.
She is not a skateboard but I am
free when I am sailing on her.
I look at her and the sea waits.
My ollie, sometimes, is
perfect. When it is, she snaps into the air
and when I land 
my feet are just glued. 

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

There Is a Napkin So You Can Wipe Away the Blood

I have folded myself
into trouble.
My whole life, it's like I've been 
saying, "Hey, trouble, look!"
Glad I am good to my wife and kids.
That's good to me.
I court bad stuff and think
hard about it.
Very hard. This rock-
diamond doesn't fit in a ring.
Instead, it pushes back.
Your finger is a weakling in comparison
and the dead bone inside
knows it and 
is super happy. 

Monday, May 04, 2009

Max and I Yesterday

Looking stern, looking forward, looking odd, looking sweet.