Tuesday, January 31, 2017

It's All Pretend

Let’s all pretend.
Pretend competence,
what difference
         can pretense make?.
Speak with a voice
         sane with reason,
god is dead.
         Scream insistently
at no one in particular,
         everything is god,
nothing is divine.
         Ancient nature
honors no favorite;
         is fire burning comfort,
or simple destruction?
         Let’s all pretend
to live in fear
         because life goes on.
Or feel delight
         because life ends.
Anger floods you
         because you have power.
Anger fills hearts
         because power eludes us.
You curse an ugliness
         someone finds beautiful.
You are shocked when friends
         look on that
which is your beauty
         as ugly.

Let’s all pretend
         that which wears away bone
became dust,
         and you teach
that as permanent.
         That dust, scattered amongst stars,
across an entire universe
         where you tell your lies,
 you pretend is truth.
         It’s all pretend.

Monday, January 30, 2017


So we start our dance and so we start. Our dance so started and it stops. It then stopped. What stopped was once started. So what started and stopped was dance. And it was our dance. And our dance it was. It stopped. It stopped before it finished and the stop was the end. The end was not the finish. So the finish was the end that cannot be seen. Now the finish is after the end. So the finish is after.  Then there is a photograph, a picture of us. And it is a photograph before and when and the end but not the finish. After our dance started it stopped and it did not start again and it did not finish. And what started and stopped was a dance.

Naked body parts stopped in a photograph, is a photo. A photograph of naked bodies stopped so no part can move. These two naked bodies stopped in a photo once moved. This is a photograph. And it is not a dance for it is stopped and a stopped dance is not dance, it is stopped and it is a photograph. If dance stops it is not dance. It is a pose. Poses from dance are stopped. A photograph of a pose is a photograph and now it is not a pose. Dance is moments and this moment is not a pose and is not a dance. This moment was caught as light and dark shows. Dark is caught and is showing light. A camera is a mechanism to catch light, a light catching mechanism, and a mechanism, a machine can catch light and it is a light catching mechanism and it catches light. It is a camera. So light caught by a mechanism is not mechanical. It is a photograph and not light.

Motion stopped is not dance and light caught is not dance. A camera is not motion and is not dance. Dance is stillness carried.  Dance is motion and a body in light. A camera is not motion, so it is not dance. They are not light. Light is not dance. A body is not dance and dance is not light. So they were caught. And a camera caught light and motion is caught and is not dance. So there is a floor.

Sunday, January 29, 2017

Sticks and Tricks

Sticks and tricks
on thins and thicks
glass and frame
shame and blame
all fail and fail again

multitude and plenitude
done to gone
with bit and bite
of appetite

the whether
we weather
to climb and climb
to see a sea

we’ve never seen

Saturday, January 28, 2017


Does anyone know
who they were before
experience changed
them into the next
person they became
or when experience
changed that person
can they see who
that interim person
might have been
can anyone then
be anyone then
or now
such thoughts fall
away and never
enter in again
unless the sinner
sin again the sin
that became the in
before and left
an open door
stepped through into
a room so much tighter
or looser than before
for me
I cannot see
a forest
without a tree

Friday, January 27, 2017

I Will Never Be Consul To Burma

I will never be consul to Burma,
         ambassador to France.
I will never shake a president’s hand, nor
         would I bow before a queen or king.
I can bless a pope or lama,
a minister or priest
as well as grill a burger
or perform a remarkable feat
I am neither criminal nor saint.
         Award me or deride me, you
                  cannot change a stone
                  into a parakeet.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Guardian Angels

J Church
sparks away
from 18th
after eight hours
of the Financial District
paper maze.

I walk
to gather thought
for a night
in the City.

Mission High School
hides street light
leaving its sharp edge
of shadow across
a November night.

Sidewalk spots
of dropped gum,
and teenage spit
desiccate into odors
of faint mint.

Church Street
and Dolores Park
run empty except
for the click
of my shoes.

San Francisco
and I
are looking
for dinner.

A black and white
police cruiser
at my left elbow
it’s window
sliding down

Two policemen,
the driver resting
his right arm along
the seat back,
strangely intimate
with his partner’s shoulders,
the partner,
laying a uniformed arm
along the window track

“You seen any fags?
You have to be careful, you know.
They’re all over the place.”

Like insects and litter.

bored policemen,
harass a solo evening walk,

drive quickly away,

when a flight
of Guardian Angels
come into view.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017


this museum
of ancient displays
I’ve seen every day
since it was built
periodically, panics
are carefully dusted,
and fresh blood applied

look, there are the words
placed by mother
sharpened razor fine
and left for a child’s
naked feet, an old remedy
against illness
in this metal case
father’s silence
a meticulous construct
of lies and ignorance
to prevent exit
except through
the gift shop
and these … these
are famous actions
and phrases left
by uncles and cousins,
friends and aunts
as donations

to insure
a living legacy
of life in distant history
and the survival
of these outstanding artifacts
this museum is funded
in perpetual trust.