"like painted kites"

the café plays

charlie don't surf

in one speaker

in the other

i got my mojo workin'

it sounds like my head feels

i try to remember

the poem i forgot

the clash drops out

muddy waters surges

freight train harmonica

pushes through the speakers

like a fist floated

by the shuffle drum beat

roiling roiling roiling

like a clutch of secrets

buried in steel drums

dug up

floated upriver

behind a barge

harmonica-freight-train

shuffle-float-fist

steel-drum-river

the music switches to sinatra

"like painted kites

those days & nights

went flying by

the summer wind"

F*ck a Fash

What was David Duke back alley trash Is now mainstream Tucker trash

Times are getting tougher

Hate is spreading like a rash

Well I say fuck a fash

Folks are feeling mighty desperate

Sending bigot pols their cash

They say might makes right

As they watch their ethics crash

Well I say fuck a fash

They're waving flags and talking shit

Looking for heads to bash

Their ideas are diabolical

Their teeth they start to gnash

Well I say fuck a fash

They talk of days gone by

Like Shangri-La's a secret stash

Take some Adolph and Benito

Put some Augusto in the mash

Well I say fuck a fash

Fuck the fash in the present

In the future and the past

Their fantasy playpen blather

Their proud boy brownshirt rehash

Whether they're giggling on TV

Or belching anthems while they pee

Fuck a fash

And their idiot dreams

Definitely fuck the fash

F*ck a Fash Audio here

What Is a Queen? (Sons of Kemet)

What is a queen? A woman 103 years old

From Barbados

They memorialize

In the steady rain drop

Fall of snare drum

Rimshots

And a tuba

Bassline

That struts

A 4-note step

And modulates up

A queen is a saxophone

Story proclaimed atop

The double drum

And the tuba pace

Sax says:

“Ocean”

"Shore"

”Walk”

"Breathe

"Speak”

(written in John Hopkins Mood Disorders Unit, April 2018)

(Image: still from the video for the

Sons of Kemet song, "To Never Forget the Source"

produced by Black Balloon, 2021)

An American Project

The project of the American founding fathers, pioneers and settlers was the dumbest project undertaken in human history. They came into landscapes where human cultures often lived largely communally and operated within the greater web of life and proceeded to biotically and ethnically cleanse the lands and re-form them into private plots where individuals would toil for themselves and "the market," for bosses or in slave labor camps. They also initiated dystopian enterprises such as fur trading species to their extinction point and fishing species to their extinction point. We have not even begun to comprehend the depth of the stupidity of their project.

Robert Lee Off the Horse

Gone is the six story-high

Statue of the bigot warlord

Glowering over Richmond

Like the shadow of Satan

Winging above the terrestrial

In Paradise Lost

Ex-prez calls it “desecration”

Of the town above the river

But there was nothing holy

On Monument Avenue

Only “Affliction…

Mixed with obdurate pride

And steadfast hate” (John Milton)

And up goes Lee, wobbling into

The morning air of September

In Richmond

Defeated

Again

Off Goes Robert

Off goes Robert

Mute and metallic

Posed on an outsized horse

The Kingdom of Hell

He sought to defend

Remains grey smoke

Lee like the star of the poem

Paradise Lost

Doubly routed

Doubly cast out, thinks

To himself

“… then, in the grave,

Or in some other dismal place, who knows

But I shall die a living death? Oh, thought

Horrid, if true!” (John Milton)

True, Robert, true

You’re truck-driven off

To further oblivion

Like scrap metal and dumped

All you fought to defend

Rots with you

-- DH, 9/21 / Photo by Steve Helber, AP

"Growing Old Is Quite Excellent" (Ricardo Aleixo, tr. DH)

 

"Growing old is quite excellent. I recommend it. One just must avoid falling into resentmentism. Because growing old is not the same as "getting old." It is, rather, the acceptance of the grace to craft the final phase of your life. With joy, and if possible, with a light touch."

People Like Donald John or Jair

Some people

Well, we're just waiting

For them to die

What else might we feel

For those charged through

With malice and bile

Riding fire horses

Screaming dumb anthems

Spreading plague

Always saying the thing

That makes everything worse

People like Donald John

Or Jair 

"I Don't So Much Fear Death As I Want to Avoid It"

One trendy thing among anti-vaxxers/maskers/social distancers, from the New Age and far right, is to prattle on about how terrible it is to "live in fear" and even how "unenlightened" or "unmanly" it is (depending on the background of the accuser) to "fear death." I agree that it is crappy to live in fear. However, it's not so crappy to live and experience fear at select moments, when your life or well-being may be threatened. The fear response and its associated hormones evolved in Earth creatures millions of years ago for the most practical of reasons: the persistence of the individual and the species. I'll take it.

What about the "unenlightened" or "unmanly" posture of fearing death, specifically? Fearing death is a personal, internal cluster of feelings that I don't feel compelled to level a value judgment upon. Nobody knows with certainty what occurs once consciousness (at least as it is localized in your present Earth body) is extinguished, so it is understandable that people may experience fear at the thought of it. Myself, personally, I don't so much fear death as I want to avoid it.

I don't fear it, precisely, because it's certainly possible that whatever happens after one's own personal lights go out is less stupid and more forgiving than a lot of the shit transpiring presently on the Earthly plane. I want to avoid it because my lust for life is enormous. Generally speaking, I love life, both the biological force pulsing always on this planet and my own personal opportunity to be part of it. I'm grateful to have passion for life - the sensual, the poetic, the musical, the cosmological, the theatrical and for wild nature. I want it all to persist.

2 Poems about the Lee Statue Removal from Richmond (video)

Mere Moments Ago

What is considered "radical" today - living in largely egalitarian social groups without destroying one's land base and without chronically extirpating fellow species - was how humans lived for at least 96% of our history. Interestingly, people lived that way for 10,000 years in the Chicago region where I live, until around 1800. Mere moments ago, temporally speaking.

America 2021 - Indifference, Thanatos

Two disturbing things I did not anticipate manifesting so openly during this, America's final and entropic phase...

1) Thanatos, the death urge, which Freud posited as an internal force operating in opposition to Eros, the life force. Destruction has always been paired with the will to power/status and with greed. But the Thanatos displayed by Governors DeSantis, Abbot & Noem and by multiple right-wing pundits appears to be more of an end in itself: a glib seeking of the death of others as a primary objective.

2) Indifference and a blasé attitude toward the prospect of early death or of human extinction. Not so much a seeking of death as a lack of resistance to it, whether on the individual or species–wide level. Comment after comment: "Well if it's my time, then it's my time. I've had a pretty good ride." (Says the 38 year old). And, "Earth's weather has changed many times throughout its history. Species come and go. Really not much you can do about it." These type of comments suggest to me that people are more profoundly miserable and sunken into despair than I had imagined. Pity they cannot name the pain. They will not scream, cry and voice it for what it is.

I feel quite differently about these things. I'm grateful to have what can feel like a volcanic passion for life - the sensual, the poetic, the musical, the cosmological, the theatrical - and for wild nature. I want it all to persist.

The Opposite of Grace

It's been said that "the religion of America is America." More specifically, the religion of America consists of engaging in thoughts, actions and rituals designed to convince oneself that America is good - that it feels good and that it does good, when it doesn't and it doesn't. This requires enormous energy and it generates such a strange affect in its adherents. There they are, with the forced smile of self-convincing, displaying the maudlin emotional churnings of self-convincing, singing that pinched, wretched corporate country "And I'll proudly... STAND UP" Lee Greenwood song of self-convincing. It all amounts to the opposite of grace. And if you are born into it, it amounts to a passive form of abuse to live in a culture created in order to gaslight itself. In this sense, it is a very cruel place for children, but also for adults.

Bucket List

you can't beat this thing

anyone who's ever thought

they did

had to sacrifice

crucial aspects

of their self

so then you can lose at it

which also sucks

is hazardous to different

aspects of your health

you can’t beat this thing

this every day living of error

this hat shoe shirt

that does not cannot

ever fit

would be nice to end

this thing though

before the final sun

sets in the final sky

over the final seas

fires drought plagues

all that biblical stuff

playing out as the credits roll

on us

good “bucket list” item

for us

maybe even then

the film reel

could break

and the theater

go dark

while we reorient

ourselves

The Apostle James Speaks

 "And going on from thence, he saw other two brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in a ship with Zebedee their father, mending their nets; and he called them. And they immediately left the ship and their father, and followed him." -- Matthew, Chapter 4, verses 20 and 21, King James version

What a mistake.

I miss the waters -

The way they sparkled

When I looked upon them

To cast my net.

The man I have followed

Appears to be quite mad.

I miss my father Zebedee.

He loved me and my brother John

And we left him an old man

To fish the Kinneret Lake alone.

What must he think of us?

I miss our mother.

She made us fresh bread

Each morning before we walked

Down to the lake.

She taught us songs

I still sing in my mind

When I wander away from the group

At night and lay beneath the moon

Remembering.

On Avenida Ribeiro by Diego Moraes, tr. DH

“Listen, everyone’s got their own pain and frustrations. Everyone’s got their issues to deal with. I’m not here to judge you.”

“But you did judge me. That day we were hanging out at the gringo bar. I said some shit to you and you practically threatened to kill me. You were ready to throw down.”

“I don’t remember.”

“I called you the greatest Bukowski imitator in the world.”

“Well, there’s the reason it got out of hand.”

“I’ve known you for 20 years, Diego. I’ve never treated you badly. I’ve always respected you. I’ve supported you. I’ve woken up in the morning and drunk beer with you - for real.”

“Now hold on, Flavio. The thing is, that’s the kind of joking around that I take seriously. It’s not about disrespecting me. It’s about pissing on Bukowski, who was a brilliant poet and an above-average short story writer. Somebody who sacrificed a lot and who was steadfast in his love of literature.”

“All right. Take it easy, Diego. Just relax. I’ll cover the tab tonight.”

We laughed - we drank one, two, three, four, five rounds and then silence descended like the malignant haze of 4 pm upon Avenida Ribeiro.

“I’m sorry, but what exactly did I say?”

“You said that I was a middle-class white boy from a fancy neighborhood who’s got a nice little government job courtesy of my dad and that I buy drugs and booze for homeless people and artists to ease my guilty conscience and to not think about my own mediocrity.”

“Damn. That really is bad. I’m sorry about that, Flavio.”

There was another massive silence, until he ordered one more Antarctica from the stunning waitress Yara and said:

“Do you think it’s too late, Diego?”

“Too late for what?”

“To stop being a rich playboy and become a good imitator?”

“Who would you imitate?”

“Dostoyevsky.”

“Relax, Flavio. Go on working three hours a day at that cushy government job and keep paying for our beers. Dostoyevsky is inimitable.”

“Makes sense.”

“You ever think about imitating Chimbinha, from the band Calypso?”

A Man Walks into a Store and Yells about Masks

A man walks into a store and yells about masks. The cashier says - Ok sir. You have to leave, sir. That’s just our policy, sir. The man yells - Freedom! Communists! Communists! Freedom! He pushes over a display and walks out the door.

The man walks back to his truck. He changes his shirt and hat and drives down the road. He walks into a coffee shop and yells about masks. The manager says - Ok sir. You have to leave sir. That’s just our policy sir. The man yells - Hail Fauci! My rights! My rights! Hail Fauci! He kicks a chair and walks out the door.

The man walks back to his truck. He changes his shirt and hat and drives down the road. He walks into an airport and yells about masks. The guard tells him - Ok sir. You have to leave, sir. That’s just the law, sir. The man sings some lines - Oh say can you see by the dawn's early light? He rips down a sign and walks out the door.

The man walks back to his truck. He changes his shirt and hat and drives down the road. He walks into a hospital and yells about masks. The man falls down. The nurses pick him up. They put him in a bed. He yells - Freedom! Nazis! Nazis! Freedom! The man falls asleep.

He drives down the road and walks into a cave. He sees a tall bird standing still in the dark. The bird says hello. The man says hello.

He does not wake up.

The Saddest Thing in the History of the World

Our parents are supposed to initiate us into ways of caring for the Earth and helping it to survive. Instead, our parents initiate us into ways of destroying it.