Category Archives: Poetry

One (1) short poem


Sometimes things do work out

He thought

As he washed his hands

In the dirty sink

Sometimes things do work out


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A Birthday Poem


T’was not the career I expected

But it will serve

In good stead it will serve

I know crank and seatstay


Hydraulic disc and PowerLink

I once set sag

For a Brazilian man

Who was like putty in my hands

Respectable to strangers’ ears

A paved path toward friendship

If you can leave the bike with me

The proper adjustments can be made


There is too much change

And too little change

My heart still craves

One thing

(At least I believe it does

Though I have neglected

To sit still for long enough

To really suss out the truth)

A rare confluence of

Time and space

Necessity and culture

Resulting in the

Sublime appearance

Of the perfect solitude

All else is distraction

All else is suffering

Torments endured patiently

On the journey to the goal

The further I beat along the path

The more exorbitant the toll


I hear the cruelties

Coming through the wall again

Hard lullabies in which

I struggle to find the tune


I’m not playing!

Retarded kids do that!

You’re smart now?

Don’t fuck with me!

Get up off the floor!

I will admit that I am sensitive

That I find it hard to take

But much harder

Were I a two year old

With no prospect of escape




Master of the fief!

Did you get the audio I sent?

Did you hear the child

Scream aloud

As her guardian hemmed in?

That warning you admonished

Did you hear it didn’t take?

Those hinges you installed last fall

Has she slammed them ‘til they break?

When she said she was embarrassed

You believed her, I can tell

Her child must have

Had some karma

To be rebirthed to such a hell


I have made eyes at the Buddha

I prayed to him one night

(The other night, a tired night

When the neighbor’s abuses

Were unbearable

And my anxiety came on)

It was a halfhearted prayer

Neither fervent nor devoted

But I try to see the

Emptiness in things

And to have compassion

Where I can

I mingle the Dharma with Don Juan

Until the mixture suits my taste

So long, self-importance

Death, advise me

A practical knowledge of


At any given moment

But alas

Someday soon

My mind will panic and cringe

My thoughts like vermin scrabbling

My mood a blood blister darkening

My heart set to self-destructing

When “reality” comes calling


Fantastical voyage

That no one can predict

Twists and turns beyond catalogue

Every joy a precedent

Each experience unique

The fulfillment is the journey

Not the goal we seek


Tired climb and endless slog

From tedium to disappointment

All the way

Then back again

All life is suffering

The simplest day’s desire

Will be crushed by stupid luck

Exploded on the roadside

Willfully ignored

By passers by


This is not to say I’ve given up

Or reconformed to pattern

But answer me this,

O World

Answer me this

Shall I dig my hooks and hold to dreams

Prepare to stand and fight?

Or sever ties and loose my grip

For Bodhisattva flight?


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New Year’s Poem 2017


At 1:30 am

You called your father

For a ride home


If you seemed faded

He restrained himself

From accusation


Instead he told you

About the year he spent

As a monk in Japan


Your mind reeled

As you realized

You are becoming this man


But there was no fear

Or disappointment

Only gladness

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Two Poems



His smile alone
Brought about
Another round of reforms








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New Year’s Poem



On New Year’s Eve

I went to a party

Of Jehovah’s Witnesses

And on the way home

My mother fell out of the car

All evening long my thoughts

Careened within the

Enclosing walls of self-importance

As a remedy

I pondered the fundamental

Emptiness of life

Coming to the realization that

My life is not nearly empty enough



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Four Poems


The Next Great Work


The silently summoned multitude

Spangled across the plain

Motion, always motion

Antlike in their purpose


Bright components blaze

In splendid metallic hues

Holy print, the shadeblue writ

Hope communion, paragon


The shining edifice rises

As if nurtured from the soil

Pilings buried with especial care

As grandmothers laid to rest


The seventh day: Completion

They delight in their creation

Soft obelisk to singularity

Resplendent and impassive


But restless hearts churn within

Clenched jaws and burning eyes

They gather and scan the gloaming line

For the site of the next great work





A mango blushes slowly

In silent gradient traverse

From joyless unyielding green

To sweetest fragrant amber


A cloud silently perpetuates

In inchbound rolling Zen

Is it the force of imagination

That keeps it hanging together?


A child gradually mutates

From lumpy screeching dough

To a modern man bent double

Under the world inside his head



Will Ferrell


Someone made a reference

To a Will Ferrell movie

And I laughed politely

This is something

I seem to find myself

Doing often

Laughing politely

At Will Ferrell references


Laughing politely

But apparently not


Anchorman? They say

Ricky Bobby?

I actually hate Will Ferrell

But I usually play along

Just to make things easy





Society makes people ugly

Who could actually be hideous

Among the cosmic bricolage

And empty void of space?


Society makes people ugly

It has become skilled and subtle

It rarely raises its voice

Or judges one directly


I am part of society

And I make people ugly

I don’t say it out loud

But it’s written across my face


I’m going to keep doing it

Because I don’t know how to stop

Standards aesthetics preferences

Are my measures of enforcement

I’ve thrown in with the hegemony

We are shallow but we are deep



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A Poem for the New Year





I tell myself that I am on the upswing

Because what else can I tell myself?

It is too soon for decline

My legs are still too strong

My aptitudes still too burgeoning

I did not peak when the others did

I will age like fine wine



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Several Poems


Scenes #1


Tracking in endless greyscale

Surveillance footage

Through the eye of god

The world is a shopping mall


A man for two

Maybe three seasons

And markedly so

He (or she)

Who would have the courage

To claim the breeze


The gutter water

For it flows


Into dark and

Secret realms

Fetid crevices of

Ceaseless activity

And motion


When I think about prison

I daydream about all the time

That I would have to myself

All the man

That I would have to become

To avoid being raped

Or stabbed to death

Why I shouldn’t

Use my current freedom

To achieve the same ends

Never occurs to me


A skateboarder

Patiently tries

Over and over

To land a new trick

He is cool

Even as he fails

Even his falls

Are graceful

They flaunt

The elasticity

The invincibility

Of youth


From this treehouse

You can almost see the ocean

You can almost hear those ships

Blowing their foghorns

Wide-eyed angels

Forget their tetherball game

And peer down

Cheeks round as cherub-rump

Jealous and pink

Climbing down is as painful

As a third divorce

The children are cursed

They don’t know

How much greener

The grass will become

As they grow into the world





It’s easy to be self-deprecating

When you have

A calling

A body of work

A presence

That others admire

And quietly aspire to


It’s much harder to stomach

The self-mockery

When you are

A complete lowlife



Piece of shit



Winter #1


Here we sit in studied hush

Dreaming of lives of come so plush

At our studies at our poems

Feel the chill within our bones

Cold of seasons in our touch

Souls mashed down to cold grey slush

How our spirits long to roam

To chase the sun and discover home



Brilliantine Conundrum


Conversations become

Zero sum games

I don’t win often

But I always want to


Lying in wait for

Some weakling I can trounce

For that grinning moment

Where I’m made of solid stuff



Eventual Christmas Bird


I cooked a velociraptor for Christmas

The meat was stringy and sour

The sloughing scaly skin reminded me

Of a childhood nightmare

In which my hair falls out in clumps





I’m an engineer

Who dreamt he was a man

And loved it

But now the dream is over

And I’m back in my cubicle


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Two Poems






The three of them sit

On one long high horse

Saying unkind things

About the meal I have cooked


They told me this would be

A great opportunity

But it feels more like

A kangaroo court


I have prepared a six star meal

And I know it in my bones

Hindtaste always puts

Less acidity in the sauce


I have lowered my head

In bitter humility

And presented my naked

Neck to the panel


For my crimes against the palate

The judgment is firm

The blade swings once

And I am chopped







An exquisite lilac armistice

Shunted down the forenoon path

Bright and buzzing zealot heat

The recognizance of summer


The traffic enforcement officer

Greeted me with a smile

She trod on down the waveformed hill

Pausing once to smell the colors




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Two Poems Through the Eyes of Tracy Morgan




Brian Fellows


I step in the lights

The crowd is holding they breath

I’m Brian Fellows




Taking the Power Back


I look into space

I take off my shirt

I slap my belly

It’s a mating call


They think I’m crazy

Or high

Or drunk

But I don’t care

Somebody gonna get pregnant


Run back the tapes

I disarmed each of them

Said exactly what I wanted

And the audience laughed


Stereotypes are my disguises

Political correctness my shield

You can’t touch me

Because I’m in control

I’m in control

And I’m taking the power back




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