Saturday, February 15, 2014

Crows and Gulls

Crows and gulls
ride the wind’s hiss;
all soar together,
cautious wingtips
touch anticipation.
Feathers discover
the unseen lift.
How grand
you and I
have no need
of feathers!

Monday, December 9, 2013

What Lies Below

Smoke yellow moon
sailing on
San Francisco homeless
wrapped in fall leaves
and ragged shopping cart
chewing foil guarded
pause in a heroin fix
curling into the Geary Street night
green and red glow from
traffic lights
edging a pretense of xmas
up hill
at Masonic Avenue
searching cars for whiskey
with easy change pockets
of all-night diners

Saturday, August 31, 2013

What Strange Reality

what strange reality
grows from action
my fingers move
the universe changes

what strange reality
grows from action
my fingers move
and nothing changes

Friday, July 12, 2013


wonder. does
wood in a wall
want to be
the tree again

sky soaks trees
in blue
trees soak sun
into green

wonder why green
isn’t skin color

wonder. should shadows
with sound

crack of dawn silent
like thunder. light
carpet unrolling

water looks
like sky
skin looks
like bark
that was
so we could hide
in trees

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

What Fever Taught Me

While July heat
cooks the mob
I swim in it

your sweat
wet hands
flip pages

slide on
plastic techno

learning subtle
global climate change

Herr Fahrenheit’s
gadget marks
your temper
in solidarity

weather changes
fashion opportunity
10 % inspiration
90 % perspiration
heaven sent
for progress

I’ll cheerlead
my smile broadens
my speed increases
I think
go commando

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Words of Wisdom

work is learning
from repetition.

repeat until bored.
be bored more.
repeat until boredom
is boring, then …

lights flash
in the brain!
understanding follows,
animal noises
issue from
widened buccal
cavity like
ah! hah! oh! oooh! … or

coworkers notice
who repeatedly ask,
what’s with all
the sound effects?

the wise
say nothing.

Friday, July 5, 2013

Father's Time

it now seems so clear that time and he
provoked mutual feelings of mistrust
dad hated daylight savings time pretense
sometimes refusing to change timepieces
or letting them tick long after adjustment
would have measured his morning booze

years and years after death grappled
with his stubborn insistence on style
clocks could suddenly wind themselves
to their minute of permanent oblivion
folded hands forever paralyzed against
Westminster chiming a sullen 13 o’clock

even father’s precise death moment,
unknown to professional timekeepers
governmentals whose very lives depend
upon a dotting of ‘I’s and crossing of ‘t’s,
lives within a perpetual mystery realm