Doing

The girl with the bow on her head lecturing other toddlers about the importance of squirrels. The woman in technology-designed shoes, shorts and tank-top pumping

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The anti-script

Roads less traveled . . . You could just as easily forgo the script and think yourself a maverick by deciding not to have children

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Not poems

These are not poems. They are a peeling of a personal onion. It’s not art, it’s an elimination game. Looking under each level to find

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Get used to it

You are the assembler of your experience. Fear alone keeps you from scenes of beauty. Fear of insignificance, like when the dog denied you her

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Away it goes

What are the agreements? We all get up and exercise. We have pets on leashes. We marvel at nature miracles as if they’re rarely under

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The character

If I’m a dreamer, have I dreamed this into being?A mudslinger.A baseball player.A quarterback.A genius at a desk, pushing eraser flotsam across a vinyl ocean.A

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Nowhere

What is further?Further than where? Nowhere is further than here.Hey, there’s a doozie. Nowhere is definitely further than here.But, there’s certainly nothing further than what’s

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Yes

Yes, sitting near a fire and telling half-truths. Yes, hands across a body. Yes, pulling words from thin air only to send them back. Yes,

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So many cameras

And why do you reckon there are so many cameras proliferating? It’s certainly not for the narcs. So many symbols for eyes. So many replications

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Instructions

Why not act out a wonderful, simple play . . . right here on earth . . . for the gods in the front rows

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Peach seem

And I want to be kissed by the creature inside me. Knowing she’s death.Knowing she’s written on my recipe. I want my tongue to go

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[Null set]

Maybe there are no words for this.Maybe just paintbrush strokesand confetti wilderness. I am the inheritor of you. The breast wider than an athletic build.

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That breeze

And what are you? Look at your hands. You’re dying. Your shell is cracking and thinning. The purple return vessels are coming to the surface,

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Juice

Deathbed notice, To get juice from every minute. Made into an obsession. Paying excruciating 😉 attention and to never be folded into the game of

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The ears

What happens between your ears, boy, is more real than anything out here. “Habit yourself to the dazzle of the light,” said Whitman. Out here

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Performative

I fiddle with words as the craftsman across the street builds a nicer interior for the ego of another.He measures, saws and binds.I do something

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Re-boot

Creation is not only what the world wants;It’s what you want.You nurse a pathetic orchid just to see it bloom once more.You write words down,

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Trash day

And what could I take away to be a more simple character?Ideas from he past.Things from the garage.Images of used up meaning.Clothing that says unsure

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Degenerate

And it wants so badly to go on. The evidence is everywhere.Spring bursts forth.The walking man looks for evidence of life.The grasses push up below

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And when

And I have a strange optimism when I read my own words. And when I see my own flowers pop up from the soil. And

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Coupling

As if to couple,it would be my job to overwhelm you with a washing worship of sorts.Not a job as in work but a job

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Coffee breathe

There’s a smell of last night’s fire in the room. A skin forms on the top of hot coffee, and it flexes with twitching geometric

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The sky

Seems like it’s always about the sky. The sky above and the sky within.The one within is an area that doesn’t know words.A space free

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Greatest game

I am the sum of time forever.I am the sum of none of it.I am only a starving witness.I am alien to Earth. Was I

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Feels fine

What’s to report back to the gods? The experiment is failing. The ants have abandoned the hill and decided to smoke weed away from prying

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Reporting on 0

They’re doing what they do. Fretting about the prices of things. Their worth and the cost of things coming and going, as if they had

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Sneeze

To understand desire,you need to come to terms with the galaxy under your nose.All is here.When you do that, you understand truth.By understanding truth you

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Am not

What am I not?I am not a narrative. I am a constantly appearing thing.An experiencing thing – within moments, I gather up what they are

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Unfolding

Dreaming of a woman’s touch that has no webs attached.Loving every scene found.The home made into a fantasy. Feeling the absurdity with an oddball urgency.You

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Perpetual

What’s really going on? You’re hurtling toward death. Death of the organism. Your family is dying. Your home is disintegrating. Your planet is ending. All

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Find the worm

Live up the illusory dance, even though it’s known as fake. Nothing is more important or less important than anything else, so there’s no way

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Walt Whitman

He walked through battlefields and deathly triage outposts Fascinating on the beauty of the redness of blood exiting the living. Draining in transition to death.

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Pencil smell

An upside-down four-limbed octopus, I am. Nerve ganglion creature of an alien planet. Planet alien to who but me. And why? To giggle and be

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Abiding

Does a dried leaf surrender to gravity? Does a man actually rage against the dying of the light? Does the stream’s water surrender to new

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Sleight of hand

Why does the will keep going? What is the game it’s programmed to play? What needs to move forward in time? If time is a

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Self letter

What starts with me? What ends? Enthusiasm. Going. Making sense. Absurd laugh. A shell of being trouncing across a planet. A hedonist. Chocolate, wine and

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Staged perfection

The scene changed from dull to wild color circus. It was as much us crafting the scene as a god peering down. Possible it took

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Oceanfront property

A dirty, sewage-punctuated road to the left running straight to a beach called little closeout. A term devised to keep other surfers away. A lie

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Nothing to solve

Interested in what’s going on here . . . But it appears not much. The noise of a dryer looping some clothing. A toe torn

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Wait

If death is on the table – a skull awaiting eternity – is there truly urgency? If so, what is urgent?

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Intelligence inside

Intelligence, data, information and what’s it all for? Why did it become the collective obsession? The moon sinks down into the horizon anyway. The ants

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Disgust

So quickly what was once a kitchen preparation headed for a mouth becomes a taboo piece of disgust within a trash can. How can it

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Animal

What is an animal? Animal is what you are minus this animating chatter. The inner nag of language and voice. Were you born when you

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Availing

Like a sane soldier, I await a death with a master’s curiosity. Awake. Alive. Availing.

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The lamp

How much of the lamp is the light? The post The reflector The element The filament The glass The aurora The halo spikes beyond the

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Punching goddess

Describing things I think are real. Bright eyes. Orange and blue sky crossed slowly by gray, lumbering low clouds. Dog smell, wet from the harbor.

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Small truths

I’ve seen the owl. I’ve seen the bobcat. And they don’t believe me. Miracles of nature in their midst, and they deny it. Nothing so

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Ape fire

Reality is a story. That’s all. And the story unliked is the one where achievements go for naught. Life was futile, and here come all

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Duality

Eating whale steak by the light of a whale oil lamp. Eating sirloin with an ox bone knife. Consuming something with the thing itself. Feeding

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Swingset

Nobody knows where words come from, or strokes of a paint brush. The why – because. The where – who knows. Please remember me, says

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Who on earth

And who do you think you are? I am. That’s the start. The lights are on. I’m behind the eyes, awake as awake can be.

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Trust no thought

“Truth” happens when bunches of people get into agreement with one another. They huddle and nod yes, yes, yes, As the storm that kills all

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Sweet parts

The women with sweet parts come down the hill. And the only danger for a man is loss. But even with that, more comes and

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What kind of drama?

Rings of silver, white, gray and black jiggle in the lighted still-life water glass. A splash of blue, a dash of yellow. Track lighting from

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Smoke

A distant memory. A childhood sound. Na, na, na, na, na, na . . . But not a fun one. An endless, jibbering echo of

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Empty canvas

You found another blank slate, A clean canvas, A small but giant place for a story starting now. For God sakes, don’t bring yesterday’s story

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Rise

Rise up like bread dough, not like a revolutionary. Something inside pumping life into a package of skin. Dreams from the night before coded into

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Patterns

For the awake, two patterns matter – what you notice and what you paste onto what you notice. And the pasting on is often how

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Unforgotten

Lightning strikes over parked sea boat masts, Dividing the sky into puzzle pieces. A hasty wind turns the harbor top into scales of a fish.

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Dream

To dream something into being, to imagine it. Would it start with you? How could it? You are not start. You are a hash on

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Mercury

Oh science master. Oh quivering mercury. Oh liquid Earth. Assistant of twisted car wreck metals and forever bunnies. Thank you for moving the set pieces

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Confidence

No such thing as confidence. Unless you have confidence in that fact, there’s a thing. A trust in oneself, a humble trust that the self

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My time

Every one of us walking in the park sees it as my time. And everyone is right, no matter how bitchy they become about it.

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Conjuring

I conjure and and am conjured. My hands unleash the smallest and most medium-sized truths I know. The mind allows them through. The character plays

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Dog walking

They gather to walk dogs. But the dogs would rather wrestle and chase. Neutered animals still desiring to play act at the game of “something’s

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Open book

I’m an open book, he says. But his book is full of coded poems, only open for the thinking.

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Biology

In the biological outer world, we’re all out here, playing in the gully because of sex. That’s it. A game that wants to be rebooted

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Lonely one

Once the story stops, the lonely days cease. A narrative clipped. Evidence ground away by pulling back to see what actually is. Grinding to dust

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Who are you, J?

And who do you think you are, J? Acceptable answers would have been: God, the watcher, or ‘not J.’ All the other stuff – the

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Shine moments

The beauty of the dump. The brightness on a patch of water. A tree in the eye of a dog. You looking at you in

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Two eyes

Two eyes to see the world. One with what is. And one with what isn’t. One direct. And one with a reflection. One with nature,

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No retreat

And you retreated a bit. But where did you retreat to? A few books. An easy surf spot. Courts for playing ball. The single life

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Meat puppet

“What if I’m just a character in a play called your life?” he asks a friend. And he wakes with a playground in front of

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Waking

A beautiful woman with a golden heart and enthusiasm for days calls to talk about her wonderful life. What a brilliant window of time to

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Fleeting fear

And sometimes a fear – fear that this drift of a life cheats the world of something. Absurd. Plenty of us live and die, contributing

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Nature

Sunlight on the wakeup side of a Japanese maple. Snail craning neck sideways. Faith birdhouse waiting for some new homeowner. Dew drips down from maple

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My expired war

I had my war. I laid down at gunpoint too many times. I sampled fear and turned fearless in one day. I took a ride

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Headmaster ritual

I’m nowhere you can’t be or haven’t been. The settings and scenes don’t change much. You just keep getting pestered by the things that show

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Rodents

We’re all rodents here, with plenty of food. Illusions of lack abound. The only task is to widen the eyes and see what’s really going

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Always here

Nightshade on the hill. In my life. A stipe of dripping glaze on pottery. A reaching pine that pretends to bow down. A handful of

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Those who mask

And the jester knows not how he jests or if he jests. He’s clad with shiny ideas – a fist full of data and facts,

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Music awake

An arrival like a note in the street. Like a worm born of dirt. Like a mermaid. My own personal Buddha. A gem in the

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Rooms in the mansion

Dream about renting out rooms in my mansion. I am, and the lights are on. Consciousness, that’s all. Nothing more to it. No goo-ruuu nonsense

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The WThe Wedge Newport Beach California

Surfing

When you paddle into a big wave, you’re committed. When you enter into the asylum, you’re committed. The physical push yields a return of energy

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Yellow

The color yellow says something bright. Something so different than the others. The sky behind comes through thick tropical clouds. A dawn noticed. One day’s

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Funny man

It’s 14 years from now and the dog died today, or was it yesterday? The stunning thing is how absolutely none of this matters. The

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The quantified self

Every little smart watch check says ‘who am I?’ How many steps becomes the person? Every analog watch check says ‘time to death?’ The count

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Senseless chatter

And hello to Joyce, chooser of sounds, and to a simpler Hemingway post shotgun blast. Why music artists sing la la la la la la

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You fool

The world is always this bright. The colors are always there. Clouds or no clouds. Wind or none. Can you write a softer symphony? Paint

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Saucy threesome

And the most absurd of things. . . She pretends to broker bits of the Earth, as if she could receive money for trading the

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Fear coach

“What are you afraid of?” he asks her. She doesn’t know but will say something like spiders or social ostracism. And he relents. “Obscurity.” “But

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That space

Would you trade nothing for everything? What is really yours? Say truth now. Past and future? Those were never yours. A chattering mind? That’s a

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Clearly babble

World doing utter nonsense. Doublespeak. Gobbelty-gook. Mary Poppins-Tweedle-Dum-upsidedown-babble. Name anything people care about, and it will be useless drivel. What’s so important? What’s your flavor

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Importance

Why on Earth is it so important to do something here? Who says so? What’s important to do? Who defines important? If one were to

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Unwell

None of us are well. And it stems from this stark reality of our dispositions. Our denial. We have two facts surrounding us from all

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A day in June

It doesn’t lament the work it took to deliver. A hawk just brings a mouse. A writer writes. A painter paints. A poet poems. Kids

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Sameness birthed

What could be changed in a moment to create a radically different person at a later date? What turn now could lead to destination unknown?

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Bones below

Four child hawks and one mother. The mouse feeds them and my dog finds the tiny bones below. Treats for one looking in low places.

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Blueberry

Remembering the dead and measuring time in the stiffness of blueberries. He that is always love, like Rumi’s little stories, blooms again with a gardener

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Metaphor for

Down in the Earth, slaves settle into mercy’s tomb Their conducting rope reaches up to the top crust What did they sacrifice? Jesus Christ, a

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Know nothings

What is faith but a mere settling into what is? Wherever you stop is perfect. Whatever you do is perfect. This is infinite, so mistakes

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Futile dandelion

Fear. Fear of insignificance. Fear of irrelevance. Fear of FUTILITY. So what. Thank you, Miles Davis. Onwards. Does the dandelion think its activity is futile?

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What is

What is a mate? A cell mate? A choice of commitment for the long haul? There is no long haul. A mate is a choice

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You look

The world is your mirror, Miss H. You found someone different because you are someone different. Is there something special about me? Wrong question. There

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Whalecraft

Why weary, and palsy arm at the oar? (Melville) Broken pattern and white whale seen. Avenging life with unity. On the path repeated, surrounded by

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Television on fire

Ah, to sit slack-jawed, studying the hours unasked for. Pushing logic onto illogic. Knowing it’s more fun without the thinking. Why even put pen to

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Quiet on the set

If the scene is nothing, and the production crew is no one, then hire the director, actor, writer, lighting team and cinematographer. Demand action and

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If infinity

If infinitywould quickly devour me I’d see the sun had been turned outand moon plunged into sea All tales eradicatedAll evidence annihilated The toads and

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Huh

This poem held up as a desire to be involved in something completely ridiculous. Dress me up in jester clothes. Plaster on the decades. Only

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Dog show

This play dream world is the mirror. Bitching truth with every little symbol and image. Irony all around mocks and steers to a truth. To

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Fake war

Gloves off. Saw them on the road. Philos character puttering and muttering. Disolving by the roadside while hitting the marks. Being the soaring tail eagle

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Self sea

See self again. Re-thinking pattern, order, perfection. See again. All he’s been doing for decades is seeing self again. Then it’s stuffed away as the

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Diabolic Fool

Clutching time like a branded fool, I walk a line in a crowded school. But one day I came to Mary, with one idea so

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Into the lawful

Soaring into the living once more. Into the lawful. A dazzling wonder materializes before my eyes. A lovely face and frame prances through my text

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Prank

Into the looking glass went your eyes. And there you were again. Like the worm in your pocket after you stomped the Jerusalem beetle.  You

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Onward

Oh Philos, you dug so industriously, like an ingenious prisoner with a spoon sneaked from the mess hall. Tunneling and pushing out past trails and

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Battlefield

And oh the silly battlefield of days before. An hour floating in a puddle of magnesium water. Breathwork and mind stilling in a chair called

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Nothing more

I am nothing more, nothing less. Just a ray of light looking into a dirty, pulsing goofball play. At a shit-stained stage with second-rate actors.

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Almost yellow

Take your time. Take your fortune. A green that’s almost yellow. Sprawling nightshade leaves on a hillside. Purple horns blaring bird chirps past humming bees.

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Burn the day

What would I tell you, Philos, from just at the cusp of the grave?  You tried too hard. You thought the other actors cared about

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Yo Adrian. Rocky.

“It feels like a party every day. Hey Jesse!” said the college boy. I can and do manipulate my emotions at will. When I let

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Moonset kingdom

He says he doesn’t like pines because the pollens give him allergies. The lines on the road here look like birthday candles, and there is

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Flit fly

Change, change, change. Delta gate two. Fat man in surgery mask parks nearby. Nerves straight into the skull via the teeth. Who would like a

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The beheading

And the Kalliope crashed to the ground.  Curbside delivery. Asking the morning sounds for a hint of what’s to come.  A meteor shower blocked out

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Lights one way (part 2)

So what is the opposite of this death thing? A dream? The lights on. Arising. Awakening. Understanding a pack of lies then knowing they’re lies.

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Whipping flame

The sounds of whipping flame in the morning breeze.

Car tires hum across the street above.
The chime of the harbor mouth bell buoy

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Running out the clock

The puppy fails to grow fast enough for perception.
Tik tok.
The joke of all jokes – an app that burns life into insignificant ashes is named for the old devil who murders the moments.

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To the vet

And the veterinarian loved animals, so she played the part.

And I loved words and signed up for that one.

“But I’ve lost the words to find righteousness in thought, ” I said.

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Hey you!

You are everywhere at once.

You are as far as I can imagine.

Co-create the imagining, but don’t force it. Let it come. Your circumstance is ideal.

Your dying days are paradise.

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