Mumble Bunny's Return ~ Friday, 28 July 2017

Mumble Bunny woke up late in the afternoon after falling asleep under circumstances beyond his wildest dreams a dream where he can float much better than he can in the real world but once he tells a friend his dream behold the power of speech his recurring daydream no longer comes with sheep leaping over a fence so profound a pleasure he cannot keep well-kept elusive are secrets full of desire to tell others what they don't know

Beeswax-minded business a sweet nose for honey Mumble Bunny smells sounds under synesthesia general or otherwise mellifluous he bloats not unlike a puffer fish a mechanism of self-defense to scream not unlike a painting also lost in Oslo under volcanic skies y'all know would do no good nothing wrong with a good cry but a scream leaves bereft screamer and listener both as if the whole point is to tell not to show

Reveal the reason why he bleeds from ears and nose it flows in leaps and bounds elusive as black sheep ephemeral as clouds caught in a storm thunder terrible with lightning enlightening no one not even the Buddha under the Bodhi tree with a fig leaf for Eve Adam his fruitful lies revealed by his new-found sense of fashion naked beneath his shame blunders nonchalant from Eden into Utopia to suffer his dukkha

Autofiction Is Lies ~ Wednesday, 26 July 2017

Perhaps you should have been less cruel less sadistic as an older brother really schadenfreude only becomes children who enjoy misery as pleasure who inflict harm as a harmless joke because pain is funny you should have been decent so sorry you got stuck with a little brother exactly a stillborn would have been easier on your monster ego really if I could have died at birth to make life easier for you old

boy believe me I would disappear forever from you and our family exactly how I could never see you again would cause no injury figured Chicago would be far enough how wrong Mumble Bunny imagined you could be to threaten me and say my memoir is just lies the support you offer is overwhelming on Rush you pull a Leo sitting at the tavern I ask you a question the crowd goes quiet cold

terrible as your voice raises louder than theirs a true anomaly hits the roof the server asks us to go outside you threaten to hit me exactly then I know to grab my bag and leave flip you off as I get

situated for you to remember me by but who cares for goodbyes in such circumstances it's just impossible to get rid of family no matter how they think we will always be blood you want to make a bet

Elegant Symmetry ~ Monday, 24 July 2017

While we are still alive and able to enjoy this day let us rejoice although the deception certainly appears real this life is not endless some realize our time on earth is cut too short as if we were cheated the chance to stay longer is rarely an option we're not given a choice endgame gets played until defeat stalemate or war as Pyrrhic victory death comes for all of us no one gets out alive this we know for certain

And so let us smile laugh sing and play like children with friends while we are well decidedly the day will come to cut the cord as at birth to redress damage done in this life as it flashes before the eyes of defeated ingrates hungry for more of what they cannot have frightened by the death throes change metamorphosis transformation all lead to the body's gory transition from breathing language-bearing machines to behind the curtain

Humbled upon the stage in a dark theatre the applause rings a bell order structure design concepts of human minds witness architecture organize the data we breathe knowledge seek facts attempt to understand ken the whole universe note all the connections hidden in deep shadows elegant symmetry lies within binary split mind conjecture deception awakens the infant's cry "mamma" for her mammary gland

Forget Memory Forget ~ Thursday, 20 July 2017

From the corner my eye catches motion shadows objects object to light organize thoughts to catch hidden spectral figures peripheral vision recognizes image after image angels on my shoulders soldiers grave long since forgotten generations past death takes us all into night exactly no one knows remembers these young men pity me memory time comes to take the brave the few remain like me selfish shellfish lone crabs

manage to crawl sideways to scuttle with long claw held in defense to grasp enemy combatants to clinch sever in two cut a deep incision move side to side the length of the chessboard like rooks castles castle bolster old kings monarchs of crown scepter and orb possess nothing but their titles rest reinforcements come to relinquish weary warriors reverie yellows with time newsprint reminds victims of war why we fought honor stabs

front and center this heart with sword ancient benign two hands with crown to clasp over finger her heart my long lost bride native to the seashore mermaid redhead swam like a fish upstream the salmon run beside bare flesh to spawn gravel bedded to wed in June under new moon love organic vital enwrapped these bones in shawl to warm my final days the blood I shed I paid treasures obtained in war booty seized or stolen she swam away at dawn

Downward Spiral ~ Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Descend into the well to hide from the bent world to reflect on this life only at the bottom there's no one to hide from except the dark mirror windows into the soul the eyes display the mind the state of perception nothing is visible down in the well except thoughts that cut like a knife working through memories through a childhood of grief moments seen in hindsight art encounters the pain captured in a test tube the science of terror recall fleeting moments of joy surrounded by despair recollection drowns out all sounds within the well hearing voices past present and future

Slippery the steps covered with moss inside the dried out well absent from light pretend the reason why vertigo spirals out of control is vision invisible darkness creates a sense of depth only the blind can feel relaxing in a pool floating supine the stars appear like a creature a constellation of ancient wisdom passed down to help with decisions lamenting moments lost deep inside a dark well as tape spins reel to reel

Sonnet Contourné 12.21.12

If I were never born, I would not know
how important for lungs to be able
to breathe the air we inhale everyday,
to suffer from asthma is not to show

disregard for the way others view life
to wake up each day and long for death's knell
as on death row, where to await a stay
of execution is not a lost cause

With our first breath, we encounter the strife
necessary to survive in this world
but once we learn this trick, we lose its value

like a victim of fire covered in gauze
has little need to witness flags unfurled
we watch the world burn with our eyes ague

Terrible Beauty

3.7.13
Trouble grew in my heart's unkempt garden
enchanted with the waddle of ducks,
resigned to sway like drunk pregnant women,
resigned to their en masse shotgun wedding,
ignorant whence the road to excess leads,
bewildered by their whisky dick babies,
long-legged bitches in heat say "I do,"
elegant with champagne flutes filled with piss.

Bitter rivals share bittersweet chocolate,
"enough is enough," an unwed mother,
alone in argument, answers her son,
utterly devastated by the flood,
tumbling like underage gymnasts in tears,
young as Degas' ballet dancers in bed.

The Object of Vision is to Observe

The purpose of writing is to convey 

phenomena: clouds, lightning, tornados, 

that can only best be rendered by words 

with the gift of language and artifice. 

Some may agree and some may disagree 

to the statement above, it matters not 

whether sheep herded together as one 

or, a lost lamb attracts the hungry wolf. 

Humanity finds its voice through poets 

yet soon casts them out of the republic 

as these unacknowledged legislators 

enslave the hoi polloi through ignorance 

the masses believe this bliss not folly 

for they acknowledge only what they want.

Dead Flies for an Apothecary

"We are a race of tit-men, and soar but little higher in our intellectual flights than the columns of the daily paper"(Henry David Thoreau).

Outlandish as it may seem to you, son,

It was not your place to invite that girl,

Never once did you consider our pain

To see her again in that state, no fun!

Maybe you saw fit to bring her, hellbent,

Egotistical brat you are, eyes swirl 

Needlessly in circles, nothing to gain.

Terrible as it sounds, you must learn tact.

The point is to smell bullshit from its scent,

Insane as that may sound, or are you deaf

To realize reason is on your side?

Monstrous to tantalize you with a fact,

Eventually, even you will soon laugh,

Nevertheless, no one is satisfied.

Bones of Contention ~ 2015.1.29

I am Erica N., an adult-child

And daughter of dysfunctional parents.

Maybe my gratitude for these meetings 

Eclipses the light from the moon, this wild

Release of my inner demons sets free 

Infernal bonds without interference.

Could I never see past the harsh beatings 

Angrily meted out by my father?

Not once, as a child, did I cry, the sea

Allayed my fears with a gentle mumur,

Everyday I walked the length of the pier.

Magically, I grew distant, much farther 

Inwards, proximal to the shore, the lure

Coaxes a fish not to swerve, nor to veer.

"Fallen Leaves" ~ 2015.2.2

I was once no older than you, but time

Gathers up fallen leaves only to blow

North-South-East-West indiscriminately.

Ostensibly, you said I'm past my prime,

Rib of my ribs, why stare off into space,

Answer with lies, tell me it is not so.

No, I did once love you intimately,

Though, to fall in love with a stroke patient

Given your proximity, a client,

Involuntarily, places his trust,

That inviolable faith, in your grasp.

As you teach him to speak again, a pace

Never too slow for your untrammeled lust

Of control can never unhitch the clasp.

"The Revolving Door of Criminal Justice" ~ 2015.1.22

Number the days until you find release,

Ask the warden why the revolving door

Motions the criminals back to prison,

Eager to return to the yard, to cease

Looking forward to life outside of jail,

Exactly why they rob a twenty-four 

Seven convenience store, and kill the son

Soon becomes apparent, death or glory.

No one will ever solve this riddle: Why bail

Out the bankers from financial mistakes,

But continue to burden tax payers,

Over the need to feed the grand jury,

Deliver the wealthy their big tax breaks,

Yet never indulge indigents their prayers?

"Costs Outweigh Benefits" ~ 2015.1.13

As we fall down the scale into the cold

Love evolves sevenfold to envelope

The stars, constellations we invented

To sail by ancient light, the sheets unfold

Raveled or unraveled, the fact remains

Costs outweigh benefits, the lovers elope

Away from family, friends resented 

The idea, not to share or celebrate

Celibate priest, the Pope demands, retains

The right, by ancient rite, a provision

To envision the past as comedy

A cosmic joke can only liberate

A flock from a shepherd, a revision 

In practice delivers a tragedy

"Kelvin Van Winkle" ~ 2015.2.4

I am but I am not alive nor dead,

That much is certain, I am uncertain

As to whether matter matters or not,

If only I could tell what the weather 

Outside my humble abode, my dwelling 

Below the stars, beneath the earth, in dirt

I find myself trapped for eternity, 

Locked-in, not unlike a quadriplegic 

In his wheelchair or on his gurney bed,

Nothing to do but blink and stare, vacant

To the vacuous world outside this corpse, 

Corpulent in my double-wide, king-sized,

Hermetically-sealed sleeper compartment, 

No rent to pay, utilities come free

Of charge, as I was the undertaker 

In the funeral home just a stone's throw 

Away from the gravel path to my grave,

Grateful that gravity keeps me in place,

At least until a sinkhole swallows me

Whole & down, down, down I tumble & fall,

Like on a waterslide, after the rains

Pour down in torrential buckets, the mud

Slips into a silky, soft negligée 

With faux fur trim, just a whisper of white

Light & all thoughts cease, absolute zero.

A Question of Discrimination

I keep telling myself it's no one's fault,

just a roll of the dice decides my fate,

I did not get to choose my family, 

this skin I'm in, just "a little brown guy,"

at least to my ex-wife who kept our name,

the last name obtained by my ancestor

through marriage or the colonial sword,

the history is vague, details obscure,

the genealogy from foreign lands,

South Asia, a sub-continent far off,

Bombay, where I was born, yet to return,

after forty-five years, how to explain,

the confusion of my doppelgänger,

who never left our shared homeland, I see

my imaginary twin self forlorn,

abandoned to fortune, with his people

to fend for himself in the land of spice,

and I wonder if he should fare better

than if my parents brought him to London

at 3 months, then to Kew Gardens 3 years

later, then to leave New York forever, 

move to Huntington Beach, California

at the age of 5 and try to fit in,

to be asked by every adult and child, 

"Where are you from?" as innocuously

as mentioning what a beautiful day

we're having here, this side of paradise,

but he never realised the straight arm

that inquiry would keep him from others,

at arm's length, if not further still, the fear

of loving a stranger, others could feel

this xenophobic sentiment and plant

this seed in the bewildered mind my twin

would face in the mirror every morning,

why his family was so different,

he could not embrace our lost traditions,

he would encounter the flavors the food 

my mother made for our dinner each night

with curry and spices from her childhood

in Goa, and it was my mom who gave

me the name Rui Carlos da Cunha,

which I mispronounce even to this day

as an American, naturalized,

a citizen not native-born, and thus,

never to grow up to be President,

as my classmates teased me, as little kids

unwittingly enjoy Schadenfreude,

as do adults who don't test little boys

as foreigners for their Cub Scouts' badges

or perhaps, it was I who was too shy

to speak up as a child, tortured by Page,

the son of one of the two Scout Masters,

who took great satisfaction in twisting

the ear of anyone within arm's reach,

even if my twin would make many friends

the failure to make sense of the dice throw

always begged the question of inquiry 

from innocent children and blind adults, 

"Where are you from?" Curiosity kills!

Surround Sound ~ Voices from Years Past

It is nearly impossible to write 

in verse or prose, I close my eyes to close

the door, or is it a window I shut?

My mind reels from the rush of memories

from a misbegotten childhood, youth lost

in the conflagration, flames licked by time

friends scattered by the forty winds I spy

out of the corner of my eye, I see

in the periphery, ephemeral

images from my imagination,

fleeting, darting off in impermanence

am I simply dreaming up the real world?

I need to eat, there are too many books

here in the library to read at once

but who would stop me from trying to see

what I could accomplish in just one hour,

Maggie will soon tell me to leave, to go

outside, wander the streets of Chicago

in search of a meal to nourish the soul,

or is it my stomach? how many books

can I devour with just thirty minutes

left before the reading room disappears

from my vision, for I have not yet found

the key to photographic memory.

--

2014.8.15

"Con Men and Optical Illusions" ~ 2015.2.6

He wore a plain dark suit, a plain tie without design. He had a short haircut of no particular style at all. His smile perturbed me the most as it lacked that glimmer in the eyes of people who truly know happiness from hardship, as they'd experienced both deeply throughout their lives. He was an actor, I wish I could have seen that right there and then and called him on the cards he was playing, a dirty hand, bluffing, conning himself he has a full house, when he only has a pair of one-eyed Jacks and a suicide King. But I couldn't call a spade a spade, nor could I see into his heart about his motivations, his intentions, what or who drives his actions. 

Truth be told, his smile reminded me of someone else who played the good-guy but kept a knife in his boot, ready to stab me when I turned around and wasn't keeping an eye on him, so I wouldn't catch him, blindsided. But he did just that with promises to counter such an act just six weeks prior to digging the blade deeply into my spleen, as if he knew where it would do the most damage. Now whenever I see an intelligent smiling man act the fool, I see the red flags pop-up that tell me to slow down as if driving past an active construction site on the expressway. It might take me a moment to understand why I need to tap the breaks and be wary but then I realize that Mercury is in retrograde and all hell is bound to break loose when the planets mess with our perception of their movements.

"'tis folly to be wise" (Thomas Gray) ~ 7.18.2014

You have to have a clear conscience and a cunning mind to keep back the forces that compel you to act weak and subservient. Acting dumb and inferior may work for some people, but others will take it to heart and not realize it is an act, a defense mechanism. The mind may be sharp, straight and strong as a samurai's sword and still it will bend or melt under the right pressure or heat. This world presents challenges and obstacles that must be met or overcome with diligence and rectitude or you will be led astray by the influence of others in a commanding role. This much I've learned the hard way, through my own disappointment with the forces of karma and my lack of acting in accordance with dharma. And so I appear full of wisdom, yet act against my better nature and judgment. How can I stand tall when the weight of the past rests on my shoulders?

"Slandering the Devil's Good Name, or Throwing Old Nick a Curve Ball"(Иди́ к чёрту!) ~ 2015.3.8

One day I found myself without a job

No one saw it coming, out of nowhere 

Ended up on my ass for six whole months 

Day in & day out, my search found nothing 

At first I thought I would find a job quick

Yet this was not the case six months later 

Wishing I could find meaning in the past

Insisting my job performance was not

Solely the reason for my dismissal 

Doesn't explain why you sent me away

Obviously, if I read the subtext

Maybe it will make sense to me one day

Let alone the fact I am now nervous

I will not find a place of employment

Given my present circumstances, cash

Has become an issue of inquiry

Though I wonder what will happen to me 

Should I not be able to pay the bills

Kitchen-sink Comedy ~ 2015.4.15

Kitchen. 5 AM.

J: Are you awake already? Before dawn?

X: I don't see what interest it is of yours.

J: Do you want some coffee? I just brewed a pot.

X: You brewed a pot!?! I set it up last night.

J: Ah yes, so you did. I guess I forgot.

X: Or you wanted to take credit for something you actually didn't do.

J: Why are you awake so early? You didn't wake up just to burn bridges did you?

X: Leave me alone. I'm going to the lake.

M: Good morning early bird! Up to catch some worms for breakfast.

X: God! I wish everyone would just lay off.

J: I'm sorry you're feeling grumpy...

X: I'm not grumpy! I'm trying to focus.

M: If you need to focus, maybe you should grab your camera and go take some photos of the sunrise.

X: Your puns bore me to death. I'm going to the lake to watch the geese.

J: Watch where you step. They tend to poop along the lakefront path.

M: What's your interest in geese?

X: I'm observing their behavior.

J: Ducks are so much nicer to watch.

X: I really don't care for your opinion regarding waterfowl.

S: Are you ready to go?

X: I just need to grab my camera.

S: Alright, hurry up then, we've gotta go!

-- (X and S leave through the back door)

M: Who in the hell was that?

J: His new girlfriend?

M: Did she stay overnight?

J: I don't know. I was asleep before ten.

M: Before the news came on?

J: Before Jimmy Kimmel and David Letterman.

M: They're on after the news.

J: I don't know. I fell asleep on the couch.

M: Did you brew the coffee? It tastes perfect.

J: Yeah, I'm getting better at it, wouldn't you say?

M: This is the best damn coffee you've ever made. You brewed it yourself?

J: Yup. First thing when I entered the kitchen. (beat)

M: It tastes as good as when Xavier brews it.

J: Oh yeah, he said he set it up last night. Could have sworn I started it this morning.

M: All you have to do is flip the switch, that's the easy part. Grinding the beans, Measuring the ratio of water to coffee grounds. Using a clean filter and cleaning the coffee maker...

J: Okay, okay. Just drink your damn coffee in peace. 

M: I'm going to see if the newspaper boy has ridden past our place yet.

J: Yeah, yeah. Whatever just leave me in peace.

-- (M steps out of the kitchen space)

Freshman Year, EHS 1983 ~ 2014.6.21

~~~

Dear Minnie Mouse, 

Please forgive me for stealing you away,

inside your friend's bedroom, where we made out

like bandits on her bed, while the party

out in the living room was a soirée

to remember with guests in Halloween

costumes. I will never forget the cloud

of happiness I rode back home. Hardly

a day goes by since that one fateful night

thirty-two years ago, (like a low beam

the light travels below the fog of time), 

I don't look in the crystal ball to see

why it is I broke off our chance to date

or go steady. I told your friend a lame

excuse, and said some things I regret, pity.

Yours sincerely, 

Mohandas K. Gandhi

~~~

"Boxers Salivate for Blood" ~ 2014.12.18

Sick with worry, what's the point of money

Ignorance guides the wise from their folly

Caution thrown like a curveball in the wind

Kites fight as boxers salivate for blood

Night watchmen enter penumbral delight

Eclipsed by bliss carried within torchlight 

Spanner in hand ready to adjust torque 

Screw any loose bolt stripped naked 

Sentenced to eternal unrest to reach

Kingdom come for an apple or a peach

Enticingly dangling from a low limb

Inviting a desperate hand to climb

Never to grasp the fruit swollen with juice

Snickering winds blow branches & rejoice

"Manuscripts Don't Burn" (Рукописи не горят) ~ 2015.2.17

"Or who cleft the Divels foot" (John Donne)

Will I ever write a line worth reading,

A page worth perusing, a chapter worth

Clipping unkempt phrases to remember 

At a party to show your good breeding?

The Narrator questions himself at times,

His eyes seem to fail him ever since birth,

Is what he sees a fact or an ember

Sitting inside a wood stove burning leaf

After leaf of a tree that speaks in rhymes,

In riddles, like a sphinx, to her victims,

Such is the love a cat has for a mouse.

If he answers her true, she cries in grief 

From hunger unable to feed her whims,

Her whelps suckle her wit under a blouse.

"Fat Cats" ~ 2015.4.24

Some wake up as the birds begin to sing,

People like this are children of the dawn.

Have you met or married a morning star?

All I hear is the chatter of sparrows.

The world turns on its axis by money,

Luck has nothing to do with getting rich.

"A Student’s Eulogy" ~ 2015 6 10

Simply put there is nothing I can say
To take the pain away when a friend dies.
Under the circumstances we must all
Deal with the tragedy in our own way.
Each of us must accept the fact that pain
Needs time to heal a broken bond that ties
Trauma to memories we can't recall.
Seems like only yesterday we first met

Eagerly enjoying the points we gain
Under full court press as the game starts,
Leading before the buzzer calls halftime.
Only we've lost our friend before his prime,
Grieving alone with our broken-ass hearts,
Yearning for memories we'll soon forget.

"Asterion" ~

Myths of the past may explain conditions

Inexplicable to the minds who saw

Nightmares in such cases, no instructions

On how to interpret a breach of law

Tellingly informed the public, the gods

Answer our prayers and petitions with acts,

Uneqivocally of vengeance, for clods

Refashioned walk the earth as brutal facts.

Arguably, a child with a bull's head,

Treated by pediatricians today,

Realistically, would not find himself

Inside a maze, a brother with no bed,

Unlike his half-sister, whose thread helps slay

Mentally-deranged monsters, with some help.

La Petite Chambre

~ 1 ~

Within the camera lies a small chamber,
Inside this petite chambre is a room,
Therein a miniscule maid in waiting
Holds her breath for a diminutive queen.
Inspiration comes as she gasps for air,
None know her spirit for conspiracy.

Spirit blows into the lungs of young men,
Patiently waiting for war to begin,
Ignorant of the drama that unfolds,
Riddles the flesh to allow blood to flow
In strange rivulets along desert sands,
Theatre troupes enter streams of applause

Aspire to attain a hero's welcome,
Solemnity for soldiers who expire,
Prison for deserters as for cowards.
Inhale the stench of putrescent corpses,
Release the dogs to attack the vultures,
Exhale the wind to sweep all four corners.

~ 2 ~

Answer the call of duty if summoned,
Nevermind if the diminutive queen
Summons men and women to die in war,
Were they not to fight in battles for G-d,
Eclipse the sun with just a crescent moon,
Relish the irony of the same G-d.

Empire against empire, G-d favors none,
Mother Mary, pray for us sinners, now...
Pray to G-d, as man preys upon mankind,
Insolent wretch, the king is but sleeping,
Read the newspapers to believe in facts,
Errors made irrevocable by time.

Summon all boys over the age of twelve:
Under the law, the diminutive queen
Mandates all teenage sons of Ireland
Must appear before a royal magistrate.
Orders not upheld are punishable
No less than thirty days in the stockade.

~ 3 ~

Twelve year-old boys ingest apprehension
With pitchforks of ominous forboding,
Eating fear and anxiety salads
Leaves shards of obsidian glass flowing
Volcanically through their long intestines
Erupting from their anuses as rocks.

Ingest the extrusive igneous rocks,
Noble magma molten in a chamber,
Gabbro overlaid the maid in waiting,
Explosion after explosion eject
Streams of lava, saturates the image,
Tephra layers the photograph in ash.

Shards upon shards of pyroclasts litter
Horizons of temporal mountainside,
Airborne projectiles inside the belly
Release markers of chronological
Descent, the diminutive queen decides
Slurry with felsic lava on top slides.

~ 4 ~

The Lizard King

I've come a long way to recline my head upon your fulsome bosom while we watch Romeo and Juliet in the dark in our classroom where we met long ago.

Zeffirelli was our teacher of sorts but I knew nothing of love at that time, only fourteen and expected to score with whomever a young bovine fancies.

You smoked Camel Lights, not your typical teenage sun-bleached buxom beach-bunny blonde, but a hard-rockin' long-haired head-banger wet for The Lizard King of Le Marais.

My dark-brown skin floated gently over your jean jacket, until our teacher told me to take my own seat, but as a punk, indignation arose unrequited.

"Erwin, What's in the Box?" ~ 1.18.14

Her tears trickled into his beard

only to disappear from sight

embarassment is what she feared

her emotions coming to light

to cry in public is no shame

if no one cares to share her pain

he has only himself to blame

crimes committed, nothing to gain

crimes of omission, sins of deed

he knocks at her door, is she gone

a house in Memphis, Tennessee

orange Karman Ghia, green lawn

it sat stock still in the driveway

she took her life, he had no say

The Taste of Venom ~ 1.30.14

Gratitude doesn't come easy for me

Resentiment rides high on the agenda

Anger resists suppression by brute force

Tantrums are not just for boys under five

Elegance of cats lost in the clutter

Finesse enters the room to tidy up

Ulterior motives drives his vision

Last rites were given to the lord our god

For it is right to give him thanks and praise

Alternatively, the taste of venom

Lingers on my tongue forked with silver tines

Treat the cobra as you would your best friend

Erase the past with ineffable noise

Rest assured karma catches my mistakes

Fallen Angel ~ 2015.8.9

Every time the tap drips, an angel falls
From celestial heights (like a faucet),
Forever thrown from those heavenly spheres,
Lunging forward to plunge into the halls
Under the surface of the earth, where streams
Effluent flow out of rivers russet,
Nasty with the stench of dead souls, their tears
Tumble (like fallen angels) into hell.

Leaky faucets allow for broken dreams,
Infernal thoughts, and flooded basement floors.
Question not the logic of these verses,
Undertake to understand when a bell
In motion pictures rings, it opens doors
Decidedly closed by fervent curses.

"Aide-mémoire" (Homage to Czesław Miłosz)

We were flying westward above the clouds towards sunset.

A crimson silence enveloped the horizon.

In the distance, as if out of nowhere, a meteor burst forth across the sky.

You or I tried to capture it with our camera.

That was long, long ago before I graduated from college. 

Presently neither of those events make much sense, 

Not the endless sunset, nor the flash of meteor dust.

O Mnemosyne, where do they travel from, why do they disappear

The poetic experience, phenomena of light, mysterious fireball.

I question not because I've forgotten, but long to remember.

Stardust Sutras

Some of us wear our scars on the inside

Tossed aside like an old rag doll damaged

Aging nonetheless somehow still useful

Riddled with doubts about love we abide

Defending our parents from the abuse

Unconsciously inflicted by their caged

Siberian tigers let loose to maul

Their children now and again a light snack

Simply put childhood was an art a ruse

Under the circumstances to get by

To get ahead succeed despite the odds

Rational thinking suppressed the cracks

Anxiety developed on the fly

SOS our distant cry to the gods

--

2014.8.12

"The Ocean Blue"

Praytell, if I had known before we met,
Under that wholesome Midwestern façade
Reigned the queen supreme for all things purple.
Praising Mrs. Patimkin for her eyes,
Leaving no one in doubt about her faith,
Even Prince William knew his heresy.

Silly of him to reign Prince of Orange,
Eventually, she would assassinate
Royalty like a female praying mantis,
Intercourse always ended with dessert.
Aspects of her psychotic persona
Left no one in doubt as to her M.O.

Katharine was persona non grata
In circles including sociopaths,
Leaving no royal family unattended.
Lest she catch their eye, all royalty fled.
Erik the Red, protecting his son, saw
Red clouds at night and sent Leif sailing west.

"Too Sad to Laugh at Abject Poverty"

The elder transgender cripple breaks stride
continually with adjustable canes,
unable to stand in one spot to beg
for spare change, money for the tip jar bride.

She hobbles forward to confront her past,
demons for tip jar bride grooms who take pains
not to notice her hopelessly broke leg,
equally destitute, speaking too slow.

Satan sweeps the streets in the Loop, aghast
at the hustlers, bustlers, chattel rustlers
swarming the lake front avenues at noon,
too soon, too soon to swoon, a horrorshow
freak show of clowns in long gowns, town guzzlers,
married to the bottle, hold tight babboon.