Poetry Scrap

changing the world

when you’re the one who empties the dishwasher
you learn to segregate the forks knives and spoons
while you’re loading the machine;
when you’re the one who cooks
you clean your knives and put’em away straight;
you know how sinews go through
a living lambs legs stewed to yum of meat;
you learn to turn broccoli stems and carrot peels
into stocks and stews and how to
sustain you.

Poetry Scrap

For my cube farm in skies collection

even though it’s only Anheuser-Busch
there’s something romantic about a man
unloading kegs –
hardarmed a’marican brawn in the dawn
when all of our ‘work’ has gone cerebral
seeing triceps tighten and traps ripple
for a paycheck on my way
to my morning capp and work in skies

Poetry Scrap

I saw a hawk circling above Mission Hills and thought
see! ‘Cities comprise vibrant ecosystems’ and started explaining
that i’ve studied ecology, and biology, and then thought
i’d better not specify lest she reduce the argument into teminology
nonetheless I made an impassioned plea; I know keystone species,
no, top of the food chain dynamics, something like that –
I made a left on Goldfinch and another on Ft. Stockton
and headed for that little itallian owned market thinking ‘Chimay baby’ –
out front a crowd and I looked over at this blonde who looked up
and we made eye contact; Wow if that isn’t
the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen!
she was maybe no probably 14
and I drove around the block, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t park and walk
by this thing – she was that beautiful – and I thought
What makes someone so beautiful? What is it about her face
that smile, the way seeing her face just made me happy and
of course want to do things to it and for it – was it symmetry?
signs of interest or vivacity?
I don’t know, I don’t know how any of it relates, I just know
that our culture says 14 is too young for me, same as it says
cities are ecological disasters
so even though she
gave me the eyes (and especially), I went to the other liquor store,
Ibis, there were no kids there, I got a six of Anchor Steam instead
of my Chimay.


‘…nobody cares about it, not much emotion in my neighborhood,
my apartment’s made of wood, I haven’t given more than I could…’


happy earth day, tra la la…

Farms In Skies

4:20, home from the office
(for a series of poems about cubicle farm in skies)

What am I, floating?
when did I lose connection with these feet
and legs, torso – am I just a head who
makes machines that make money?
How long has it been since I’ve been cold?
– in too much comfort there’s a forgetfulness
of who we are and all the various components –
in a rainstorm, sopping wet, we remember our skin –
hunger recalls the belly, full of it recalls the intestines
or bladder; a long walk reveals the feet
ball sports the elbow, shoulder and back;
varieties of colors – a new redwood fence, spring green trees
recalls a vivid world put away 8 hours a day
in cubicle farm in skies.

Poetry Scrap

‘I met her at the burger king, fell in love by the soda machine…’
ah man, i just picked her line cause
she had that hair comes straight down the shoulders
and a little pasty baby face with
big blue baby eyes –
i eyed her neck and made a joke
as she turned to the register i kinda felt
like i could see into her body and like
she felt it too, and liked that I could –
when she handed me my change i asked her
‘what’s that written on your hand?’
and then her tiny hand was in my hand to see
‘HP Laserjet 1000 Ink Cartridge’
holding these squirming little fingers
and you coulda lit the place on the electricity –
brief, because I had to be back at my cube
and she had to get her line on the move –
One bright burst on the timeline, and
I hope she gets canned over the weekend.

Poetry Scrap

the nap

eyes shut, moved the center of me into my frontal lobe, teared up a bit and felt a ribbon move through my head down my throat into my abdomen and finally into my cock and SQUIRT – right out.

two more iterations of this. life in motion through me – what a weirdly familiar situation. tied her tight, that ribbon, three times tying me tight.

I curled up fetal and thought about when i was in the womb.

I breathed in deep, held held held….. held….. then POOOSH!
five times
called it ‘Whale sermon to-day!’

‘Anyone who doesn’t know why whales breach, hasn’t lived life.’

laughed hysterically

rolled over and went to sleep, deep /