Just a Few Poems (early 2008)



The Pawnee’s stars poignantly pulsated
above my and my mother’s mind
same old stars, stories: new nomenclatures
free formed nature whispering new, a new
her old hand sought mine and I held it
and once more I was at the hospital
holding a hand far older, fading into
the heavens, my grandmother breathed in
and out and I could feel all the generations
lives, fork lighting, flowing
in my trembling fingers those days
dying the celestial span of the universe
with our words and ways
months later I’d hold an infant’s hand
and think how unbelievably small
everything really is, yet
the same new old constellations
are spinning above our head,
telling tales
our own

Untitled I

To the top tip of Tulum
Nessie waddles in an ocean
of human sexuality, human hearts
broken for want of more more more
the monster shrieks shrill sounds

while yeti are yet angst ridden
playing poly pocket
with winidigos whirling
twisting past lies and pride
sighs slither astride

narwals and nexuses and
a dragon drinking absinthe
euphoria to disphoria
that old wyrm growls and gurgles
and watches the strippers

flash the fate of society
fraternity, friendship,

gigolo smiles, king dog


Untitled II

Oh, and it’s true
that I know that you know that I know that you know that i

rip the tattered grey diamond sky
leaking learned lies
past posed lips that drip
the death of wonder
sound of sadness
crashing into a dead world

and surely it can’t be true that
you know that I know that you know that I know that

there is nothing
not even oblivion
no sound, sight, sigh
sonorous sympathy of surrender
into another world

because I know that you know that I know that you know

the mad are screaming now for sanity
only its several billion voices boiling
a hot frog frying away
and in its eyes you rest, falling away

I know that you know

there is no knowledge, no fact
no relevancy, no advocacy
no nothing, no everything
no super string theory
no life, no death

there is

you know?



I speak, dust tumbles up dry and grainy to my lips,
floats in the air a moment,
gray, timeless, obscene,
fading ere your ears locks down

dead tongues hang out
minds remember a raging history

dust storm

we all speak,
and are promptly,
buried alive/dead


One Last Laugh (Come the Gerbel)

Siesta of the seaside sad clown,
drinking gin, spitting on djinn
nihilistically nibbling on all the laughter
in the world
it’s 3 am and all the wwf stars
are busting out the b-ball beat
doing half nelsons up and down the court
climbing the cage to get an easy slam dunk
damn, while all this whirls in the world
you just sit there, read this, and think
does it have any meaning
do I
which i
nobody knows except the four
gerbils of the apocalypse, whiskers
madly twitching in anticipation of
the end of the world
and the clown is having an awakening
running, laughing mad into the sea