Monday, April 22, 2024

on the ground, khan younis

 


a bird perched on rebar
the stuffing from a mattress
wooden slats from the bed frame
a graduation photograph
a white burst in the corner
the difference between absence
and chaos
impossible to discern
the sky briefly peaceful
when three jets race overhead
sounds like rusty chains
yanked through gravel
brown dust and white plaster
a smart phone
with shattered screen
and plastic pink casing
pick up the photo
and turn it over
some names written
and a date

Saturday, April 20, 2024

Different Ways of Surviving Indifference

 


As American as the band who made it
Is the band
Who barely started
Before injury no health insurance
Ended it
Discovering poetry is anti-American
On the walk from the apartment to the café
Toting a gym sock of coins
A second self is born
To diverge
And navigate roads you'd have taken
In a landscape with health insurance
He is distant
As impossible to glimpse
As the second self
Of the Andean rebel
Made to flee to Bolivia
To the States finally
Who traverses mountain pathways
In a second world
Where time is divided differently
The land the second self
Moves through is not ours
But we collide with it
At times
In our dreams
And the other I
Looks at us
Bewildered
But not indifferent

April 15 Tax Day

 


Taxes for bombs
Bombs for bodies
Bodies for graves
Graves for memories
Memories for people
People for places
Places for living
Living for singing
Singing for longing
Longing for time
Time to stop
Or even reverse
Bombs in their casings
Sent back through the foundries
Metals to mountains
Mountains to gaze at
In quiet
Just birdsong

Wednesday, April 10, 2024

Meditation, Bass

 


Vonnegut said he tried meditation
But gave up because
"Nothing happened"
The man who played electric bass
The way a buffalo charges
The way a moray eel strikes its prey
Told me about Zen madness
When Westerners contemplate
Nothingness
And it brings them only to the void
He wondered if he had it
He told me of a bad trip
He took a tab
Wandered the streets
And saw some unsettling movie
Had a scar had formed
On the tissues of his brain
He asked
Vonnegut said this at a library talk
My mother attended
She brought me home
Breakfast of Champions paperback
Autographed with a pen drawing
Of an asshole
This was liberating
The bass player persevered
Monkish appearing
In 2 AM diners
Playing in bands
Waist-length hair
Coiled under a dark cap
Which he let down
Only when dancing
All night in a club
Beats paced
With strobe flashes
His movements seen
Like the landscape
In a lightning storm

2024 Poem

 


England has lost 33%
Of its earthworms
And I'm losing
My mind

Querido Pendejo

 


Querido pendejo
Señor Cabrónfeo
Tú que me has despertado
Toda madrugada
Año tras año
Con un golpe sónico
Metálico como el ala
De un dinosaurio volador
Fabricado en los intestinos
De un infierno olvidado
En un plano del universo
Carente de la luz
Tejiendo en los senderos
De mis nervios
Una bilis fosforescente
Que pinta mis mañanas
De un grito ácido
Una explosión automotor
Que enrolla mi cabeza
En un papiro escrito
En símbolos caóticos
Las marcas de un gallo
Envenenado por capricho
Tú que arrancas
El motor de tu Mustango
Como el dedo cortado
De un gigante derrotado
Caído en el valle
Que se acerca al gatillo
De la pistola
Cubierta de arena
Para disparar una última vez
Y matar por la última vez
Alguna criatura inocente
Bebiendo agua dulce
En la noche iluminada
Por una sola estrella
Haciendo añicos
Del silencio ancestral
Tú que arrancas
El motor malvado
De tu Mustango
Color-de-muerte
Sacándome
De los sueños
Como un viento
Caliente que viene
Del norte presagiando
La perdición
Eres el castigo
Por un acto desconocido
Te maldigo no para que
Te vuelvas hasta más infeliz
Y sufrido
Sólo para que desaparezcas
Volando y aterrizando
En tu mundo ataúd
Hecho del ruido puro
Dejando mis sueños
En el reino de sus túneles
Callados
Laberintos

The Pearly Gates



Man arrives at gates
Greets St. Pete
Says is this the complaint department
Says are you the guy I blame
For having to spend my life working
No time for friends family love
Health art thriving bliss nature
No time even for god
I mean if god is energy
And the life force
And everything
Shot through with light
And darkness
Not a guy on a throne
St. Pete goes poof!
Disappears
And the man
Finds himself
Back at square one

Pemas Mi Cumple, Quinta Década



 

Poema Mi Cumple, 2024
Cumplo los 57
Estudiando la historia del dios
Y lo que era antes
Y antes de eso y antes de eso
Llego al punto en que vislumbro
Los varios dioses que eran
Sus compañeros
Figuras formidables
Que él finalmente
Dejó

Poema Mi Cumple, 2023
Cumplo los 56
Trabajando de noche
Como marinero en las aguas
De las preposiciones
Aparentemente
La puntuación no duerme
Aparentemente
Mi destino ya estaba determinado

Poema Mi Cumple, 2020 Cumplo los 53
We gotta get outa this place
Pues eso yo pensaba
Trabajando tiempo completo
Perdido en los caminos interminables
De los suburbios occidentales

Poema Mi Cumple, 2018

Cumplo los 50
Entrando en la tormenta
Pasillos que terminan
En puertas encerradas
Un guardia que me vigila
Hasta que yo salga
De la zona de la fatiga
De la energía
Descontrolada

Not Yet Departed



Rebar pokes out of the dirt
The sleeve of a windbreaker
Streaked with mud
Earth is piled on one end
Beside a portion of metal gate
Arched on top like a headstone
Or is it a trellis where
Vines once climbed
Hospital wards
Staircases lobbies & elevators
Surrounding the grave
Exist in the past tense
He didn't realize how detailed
How thorough you must be
Killing people is never enough
And even that is complicated
All must be vanished
To say it never was
These things he thought
Lying 6 inches beneath
The surface of the dust & rubble
No longer here
But not yet ready to leave
Not yet departed

Bad Cop, Bad Cop



JB signs a bill sending more
2-ton bombs to found
Kingdoms of dust & pain
Republican pastor Rep
Says "It should be like Nagasaki
And Hiroshima.
Get it over with quick"
Those zeroed in on
As the object of our technologies
Aren't really real
They're ideas
That dissolve in a moment
As when the mind turns
From thoughts of a meeting
To thoughts of lunch
JB and Rep Tim from Michigan
Share a giggle as they piss
Side-by-side in a DC john
Two dull souls
Bloated and vain
Tipsy they think
We fucked up the routine a bit
Didn't we?
One of us gotta play the good one
To make it work

Thursday, March 28, 2024

142 MI.²




BOMB
The almond trees
The apricot orchard
The antique store
The archway centuries old
BOMB
The bakeries
The banks
The beaches
The bookstores
BOMB
The coffee shop
The care home
The cats under the awnings
The calendar on the wall
BOMB
The dentist's office
The dessert shop
The dogs on the rooftops
The domino players
BOMB
The eccentrics
The elders
The engineers
The extroverts
BOMB
The farms growing eggplant & garlic
The fig trees
The flock of sheep
The funeral procession
BOMB
The gardens
The graveyards
The goats grazing
The grocery stores
BOMB
The hidden
The homeless
The hopeless
The hungry
BOMB
The jetty shimmering blue
The journalists dodging drones
The junkyard
The jump rope game
BOMB
The kebab stand
The kindergarten
The kiosk selling jewelry
The kite shop
BOMB
The lavender patch
The lost child
The last call to prayer
The long road
BOMB
The marble staircase
The men wandering alone
The mice in the eaves
The mistaken step
BOMB
The nest of swallows
The nearest dreamer
The next person exiting the house
The nurse on the night shift
BOMB
The osprey
The ocean at dusk
The occasional lovers
The olive trees swaying
BOMB
The people dreaming
The people who can't dream
The pots of mint & thyme
The poets unheard
BOMB
The questions typed into phones
The questions formed at dawn
The questions conceived in the drone-buzzing night
The questions not yet answered
BOMB
The rabbits running
The root cellars
The roosters who've stopped crowing
The rugs tinted scarlet in the sunset
BOMB
The safe havens
The starving dreaming of bread
The starving running for bread
The starving too tired to run
BOMB
The teachers of Arabic, Hebrew, English
The towers ornate with tiles & script
The twisting path in the missile-whistling night
The tents crowded into the square
BOMB
The underpaid
The uncomprehending
The unseen
The unknown futures
BOMB
The Victorian poetry books of the English tutor
The violin shop
The vintage records of the songwriter
The vineyards blurry in the smoke-drenched haze
BOMB
The water filtration systems
The western light in the alleys
The wishes not spoken
The wonders not yet beheld
BOMB
The X-typing activist
The X-reading nonsleeper
The x-ray machine in the shaking hospital
The xylophone in the music school
BOMB
The yellow marigolds in the vase
The yarn gathered in the baskets
The yard with the donkey at rest
The youth out looking out at moonlight
BOMB
The zigzag path of the bee
The zodiac pondered by flashlight in the rumbling dark
The zone reserved for the removed
The zoo where the animals starve

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

Connections

 


Foxconn puts up nets
Around the rim of the factory roof
So workers don't
jump to their deaths

In New York City
Speakers of languages
Sparking and fading
On apartment stairwells
Wonder about the verses
Of 100 poets every 100 years
For dozens of centuries
Vanishing like vapor
Risen up from the steam grates
Or the windows of food carts
Cadences caught in Central Park trees
Metabolizing in North Atlantic clouds
Rhymes rebounding
Off pavements in Chinatown
Off synagogue stones in Alphabet City
Poet Xu Lizhi recalls he looks like
His grandfather "beanpole"
As he "clothes hanger" falls asleep
Standing up again
On the line in Shenzhen
Verses scribbled into notebooks
On timed breaks
Will he find the time
To say what
Must be said

(paintings by Christine Ferrera)

I Didn't Know Patti Smith

 


I didn't move to London
I didn't live in the East Village
I didn't know Patti Smith
Things didn't work out
I lived bohemian decline
The freedom was partial
Mine was a typical story
Survival was victory
Day jobs without glamour
I acquired cooking skills
I learned languages
I outlived friends in more rapid
Bohemian decline
I didn't realize my dreams
Or they laid down by the river
And emerged on the other side
Transformed
Into water beasts walking
Weed-draped moon–driven
The least American story
And the most American story
Verses written furtively
Spiral notebooks of neurosis
Medical mishaps
Love affairs like spiritual possession
Writing songs about UFOs
Theatrical productions in sheds
My footprints in Baltimore graveyards
The indentations deeper
As I hummed a song
And carried a ghost on my shoulders
Sensing this vaguely
My weight and the ghost's
Imprinting into the fossil record
Encountered as enigma
In 20 million years
After the Chesapeake rose
And receded again and birthed
Species now unknown
Will they know
I struggled
I spoke
I sang
I made
things

(photo: author in the play "De camino a la ahorita" by Colectivo El Pozo 2018)

A Soul Scrolls Social Media

 


What I didn't become
What I didn't make
What I am not
What I lack
Where I've failed
What went wrong
What fell through
What went up in smoke
What came to naught
What ran aground
What met with disaster
What went down the tubes
The musical score of ruin
The pages of living unsuccessfully
Psychological ticks lost to stalemate
There's no such thing as society
Tony Robbins is not your guru
This he told me
Under the gazebo
In a silent park named Dvorak
Fractures in the purple sky
Tony Robbins ascending
(His mesmerizing teeth)
Then plummeting missile-like
Into temporary fencing
Landing barefoot in the tent city
Tony Robbins now beat fellaheen blue
Striding broke-kneed callous-footed
Grateful to be fallen wandering

(drawing by Robert Jessup, 1985) 
All reac