Monday, April 30, 2012

mourning cloaks me

mourning cloaks me
as mourning cloaks flutter by

non-dairy butter flies
as i slide up through twin peaks mud

surround sounds surround me
chickadee me
wax their bohemian wings and shrill trills around me
squirrel their barks and bark down the firs
as I wonder why the berries
in this bear's scat
remain undigested
the wolf's worst winks at me with weasel fur
and coyote's looks like Rapunzel's hair

balmy breeze cloaks me now
as I take in the sweet herb of
cottonwood sap in fetal leaves
whose elders rustle and
whisper songs of autumn

day falls
and night breaks the floodgates
of my forgiveness
as the snow beneath my feet
gives way to the hollows of spring

I word process
the process of adding un and dis equals taking away
meaning processed words
such as the unforgivingness of nature
un, not dis, and then forgiveness
for I know that I give this
to lighten my load, not yours
but should I?
or do we grant this ultimate gesture of love
only as requested, deserved?
and then we give ness for whom?

when dis-appointment has us dis-illusioned
and dis-respected
"dis" takes away from the first ism's bliss
or does it?
for illusion taken away is disillusionment, and so does
respect removed become the dis of itself
but who ever appointed anything to reverse it into

my mind is a little spring-warped
so I tread lightly
unlatch my captive senses
from their serendipitous claws
not unlike the bears' trudging before me
wiggling gorgeous golden butts
of skinny spring heiny shininess

blood suckers bug me not today
despite the warmth
and the buttery wetness blanketing
the soon-to-be thirsty trodden trail
for horses and riders
on mosquito storms in nightless days' dusk

mourning still cloaks me
as I descend
but forgiveness's feather pens
on the insides of my eyelids
the poetry of kindness

I read as they shield my pupils
from the roaring mid-April sun.

first published by

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

trust life, she said.

spikes like nyse
dad's heartbeat after seven comatose days and nights
grief peaked joy

so how long will this go on
an architect and a swimmer
back to the drawing board
chased by an indica dad hooked on coffee enemas
and the mad scientist on fuerteventura
and other naked spaniards in the breakfast room
of tenerifanatic january lust

when the apple man with the kangaroo hat
sat down to breakfast with the fact
that is his homely
like his face is his only
for it was an original
the blue bear matrixed into glacier water and milky peppermint tea

do you not see the pattern?

as in every one of these
the horse is chasing the night
while a true knight stands by
waiting his turn
for there is no rush
no impending disaster
for patience is the order of this lifetime
and we shall be found

and as i waken
god says
"good morning"

and tickles my feet

infinity's fins

ring on my finger
infinity's fins
don't you get hung up on stuff
woman asks at costco
i say no
because i don't

flowers and leaves on the other
no one asks about that
but it's pulling my hair out

so as i leave this place
i hurl my infinity's fins at the women
who worry about my getting hung up on stuff
while the magpie picks my rings
off my lovely boney skinless meatless fingers
like fake and bake chicken

scratch that.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Gotye - Somebody that I used to know (Oliver Schories edit)

i was browsing npr and came across this man whose name sounds like gautier and i keep wanting to read it "got yee" but then the song captured me and i noticed how much less it hurts when you know you are not alone

i know this certain kind of sadness you can get addicted to from when we were still together and he did not see me nor hear me just sat arms folded watching me cry unimpressed as if watching a really bad play or a really good actress

they say certain personalities are out of order and stuck in dysfunction and the screws are not loose but rusted and if you try to repair it will all fall apart but i say love conquers all or so i thought

but i knew better then already because it is not about conquering but about making it through shared burdens shared laughs shared joys shared bills shared closets shared skeletons but one shared burden and refused to laugh even when the other shared joy he would hold a grudge and on to stubbornness for it was all the strength he knew

a year ago i, like gautier, was relieved that it was over but it felt like he was still hanging on, clinging, until i noticed he was not for the reasons i was guilt, because he already had replaced me with skinny and titless after dreaming for years of bouncy voluptuousness... but let me not remember so i can pale the blushing and instead remember that she is closer in age to his son and even an agnostic's god may forbid that history repeats itself

to him, i have been someone that he used to know for longer than i can think of but his facebook sports books i gave him and music i took him to but no longer the outdoors and wild places we used to visit and explore and revel in and now walking on the solid flats is all of a sudden dangerous? nor is he feeling ethereal tunes any longer which he labels interesting but on the whole he makes less sense than ever before

so he prepared the table for me or so it appeared and only as i sat down and said grace did i slowly slide into the deep feeding trap fit for a brown bear as he lit the fireworks to highlight my shameless demise amidst dried crumbs of affection and rotten bones of lovely

he dealt three deadly blows in style as iphone turns to sword beheading truth once more, deadheading what was left of a silver berry friendship bowing down to his cunning mistress distress and you may add an apostrophe where you see fit, gentle reader

but let's not forget that i was long gone already and while he might have played his games a year after i left only to hear my forgiveness spoken while he refused his i still am better off just grieving the defunct dream of a life's love lost yet accepting that there are more for i love and adore the human soul and mind and the universe is kind and will provide in time once i can cover this story with a lid and a bow and bow out

already now, after his perfunctory "hello" at the store and the quarter hand wave reserved for railroaders and blue yellow locomotives, it feels like i could have co-written this song for he acted like he forgot my name which is probably true for he can duck and cover his brain and forget the past even though he can't change it

rough it feels, gautier, my friend, rough it feels and raw and slightly insane and sickening and ill in the worst possible way, but like my pride and joy keeps telling me: every day away from this someone we used to know is a step in the right direction


Tuesday, April 3, 2012


swiss slices here are thicker than in europe
manchego is uncheap sheep cheese's lego
for i can build a whole day on a slice of this
viejo queso de la mancha
with a dairy ego and deep peppery tone second to none
not even cambozola
which my dog ate
now wait
for vile winds