poem for the unexplainable

nothing as solid as bark
or metal railing or cemented kennel under which
dog lies on a rainy day-
In my mind ( having more connections than
stars and galaxies and expanses of milky-)
openness
plastic river, voidless glue into which
fingers are stuck with varying intensity

actually, compartmentalized train coaches
or bricks in berlin wall, only cinder blocks
in unknown room
- point being that
far too many myselves
(myself audiences)
for articulation- yours being 'consistent'
but like chardonnay and sauvignon blanc
- not really.

best to eliminate sex, expectation, recurring happinesses
from without
be 'content'
but not transiently, constantly,
like ALIVE, no scale, no judgement
skinny dip in dark jellyfish waters
moon roaring into the night

not skinny dip, but
wade.
too many bad chemicals in this form. 

waiting for a bus

that should have been here half an hour ago
empty streets, the sky a lonely gray, one man
biting into an apple, sparrows on the electricity wire
too fidgety to be silhouetted-
and me with my plastic bag full of groceries
smoking a cigarette and wondering about ginsberg wondering about
whitman
and whether it would be wrong to steal a couple of their words
'.. the animal soup of time'
seeing as to how it has me consumed
sitting on the especially cold 201
but not really
being transported to places i've never actually seen before
thinking about my garlic naan
that will keep me company as i stare into the anorexic night
sighing a little more than just occasionally
and depending parasitically and guiltily
on things too much outside my own head
cheap happiness
ear-buds for a receding soul
the memory of love and sex
dripping like thick wax
from the waning moon
onto the lawn where i lie
the very image of desolate incompleteness
spoiled and spun by
the gravity of too many forces, too many inconceivabilities and a
limited amount of change in my wallet
that i will eventually end up spending on sweet goon.

Haiks

Ignored a wound
now it has to be made drunk
with Nadoxin.

......

A glass of goon at 7.
well whatever,
the moon's alone too.

......

Waking up alone
to a rickety fan
on a Tuesday.

.....

The smoke from this cigarette
always blowing back on my face-
Fuckin karma.

Not feelin it

To poem is to
roam. 

You tire yourself

But to be able to see
you have to be blind first
then blinded.

Candyfloss bags

The evening has been spent staring at the blue sea

avoiding palm readers.

The sand undulates, crab-ridden and

shell-speckled, smothered in moonlight,

snaking between lovers’ feet

carrying in the wind like the sea’s whisper.

Only, below the sand

there is hot, molten rock

and above it, a small view of the sky

and here we are, in the very middle,

burying candyfloss bags

into the ground.

Untitled

One of these days, the sky is going to

Crack while we’re staring at it and collect

In a pile on the ground. This won’t worry us then

Because we’ll still have the sea and

Dodging those vulpine cops is like foreplay anyway.

You’re the better half of my conscience

And so you’re allowed to berate.

Your eyes are paradoxical because 

I really think they’re mine,

Only they’re across the table

And yours.

Your patience is going to pay off, wait

I know you've heard this before

but just listen to it one last time.

I’ve been writing letters of reassurance

Since the age of 14. You’d think I’d know

What I’m talking about.

But sometimes you know what I’m talking about

When I’m only still thinking it.

My imagination is going to complete you one of these days

And collect in a pile on the ground.