#justapoem

I went up a mountain with my burden and saw the weather moving over the surrounding hills, vast banks of clouds, to east north west and south. Then a seismic shift in perception and the ground shook beneath

the analogue sky is blue today white storks turn on the breeze leaves of the poplars lining the yard rattle and hiss in the afternoon lull a smartphone sets out a beat global pop with an indistinct lyric

man! ego one patriarchic phallus & there he sit : do you remember Pan? let’s remember Pan! on the breeze the chemical perfumes fresh from the fashion counter, nylon lingerie the polite rhythmic click-clack

A fragile Stability up in Smoke Silent Witnesses watching from Rooftops The Swifts have moved away and scream elsewhere And the Normality that returns is uneasy A small Disturbance in the Fabric Reality

If where I stumble is where my treasure is then my treasure in parenting   is in losing my shit late for schoolbasketballdoctorkarate in marriage   is in being now unmarried in business   is in OPUD in

Asymmetric concern like warfare, same is a game where disinvestment (tactic) allows a ghost to win with your no fucks given about my main battle tank or my chicken pot pie, as the case may be.

The trees of Los Feliz include a jacaranda tree on Hillhurst Avenue (near Alcove, brunch minting money) whose trunk and main branches are pashmina'd in solar-powered LED Christmas mini lights. Behind the

they dance as if they don't have endoskeletons electronic jerking like dead frogs legs displayed in high heels and leather Some other drummer's bat nor butterfly nor bee their comic strip clothing a certain

another farting engine goes by (on wheels) and the world is a little less clean strugglin' w/ technology the small wayside flowers grim encrusted so convenient and comfortable too! all the shopping goes

The third character sat in a corner as we ate our lunch. I was munching and brooding on my morning's reading, my girl was bubbling with satisfaction having successfully cooked the tomato and mushroom dish,

It's a beautiful morning outside in the sunlight away from the windowless room The sky is blue cloudless the air still and cool the sun already hot Why this feeling of calm? It is most unusual a lady waits

Wouldn't it be something if military jets all over the world suddenly turned into clouds of rose petals and parcels of food on little silver parachutes and the pilots were left to drift down with this

They would bomb because their syntax confuses them, not understanding the holy body's need. They would bomb because they are afraid and trapped in their monstrous towers of false logic, Their tragic egos

Do here I plant my oar? Boreas blows only sand industrial haze cities of the north draft from passing trucks winnowing the grain laid on the road. Everyone's seen the sea on TV; Instantly devouring Slaughtered

Listen! The puppy is barking, There's something that he wants to say. There's something that he wants to tell you, But he just can't find the right way. He wants to tell you it's Sunday, And on Sundays

two soldiers shopping, holding hands the slimmer one held the other by the elbow as she wheeled their trolley & next to me another getting a shampoo and head massage

What kind of cattle, mother, running wild In the ffridd of this Welsh valley. Did they Herd them on ponies or were they led about By small boys on pieces of string tied To nose and horn? Small boys with

As the bus pulled away,        with the noise of its engine, I heard the cries of two falcons        testing the morning air. It was half an hour after dawn,        a quick and easy journey, with a short

The thing to realise is that it's just another hierarchical religion: disaffected with our own, we look east, through the rose-tinted dawn, for something different. Of the beggars in Guangzhou, the

As the cauldron bubbles its messy brew the witches turn away: the recipe is not their own. They recite hopeless spells and take dayjobs cleaning offices. The pouring: lick the mould first, the earth fertile