When Clouds Are Not As They Seem

Having fallen into the empty
swimming pool, I stare at the wandering

sun. I bite the dog and sting the
spider called Tarantula. I laugh

at the magistrate, his madness now
perfectly apprehensible, because we both

mouth the very first language. Clouds,
come into view, appearing at first to be

Stratus, but are not, only the ethos of
Cirrus in dissimilarity, in caricature.

Metamorphic

Three screws left, important,
critical. This assemblage now
minus its animus, one the brain,
the others perhaps not, like
the appendix. It may seem as
it should, but ill, one link away
from total ruin, one piece flying
off, blinding, debilitating the
child who wants to evolve into
a new race, mutable, now fleecing
bolts, gears, organs, more screws,
standing naked before the creator.

Pick Up

First, the guy next to me
is called. Must be a friend.

Pick me, pick me. Surely
I’m much better than the

new guy. Who is he anyway?
Nobody knows if he’s

any good. Pick me, pick me.
Back on my street, I’m always

the captain, always the
quarterback. Hell, I even call

the plays. Pick me, pick me.
What? Not that guy. Friend again.

Has to be. Are they blind? I’m
Still here, now getting really

confused. I score touchdowns.
Remember that bomb to Dave?

And everybody said, “Nice throw.
Good arm.” Remember? Pick me,

pick me. Now I get it. It’s a joke,
They’re just kidding, right?

Not funny. Pick me, pick me. A girl?
Oh, I think I’ll just go die now.

Menagerie

Some said
that
there were
two
distinct species,
but they
mistook solidarity
for the hyaline,
glassy twin,
a dead ringer for
Picasso’s death
mask, hanging on
the wall
of the
gallery, filled
with marionettes
drinking
wine and eating
living images,
effigies.

The Battle of Hammond Lake

Carp is a muddy fish.
So are catfish.
My cousin and I were too,
when we would run and
jump off the bluff
into the muck,
to see how deep we could
get stuck, pulling each other
out like horses in
a war, which are needed to pull
other stuff, that is, unless
they’re so cemented, there’s
nothing left to do but put a
bullet into them. Whether in
advance or retreat
expediency is essential.

Daredevils

Seneca
said that the only
pleasure of the world,
is a quiet soul.
But by confession, he
never jumped
from an airplane,
shot cold water
into a hot vein, or
smashed through doors,
looking for lovers
and splintered dreams.
But Plato knew better:
mischiefs
proceed from
silhouettes--
pinions tattooed,
fear and sorrow
at full extension.

The Silence Is Killing Me

I need to hear the screaming voice of
the stereo salesman, who keeps putting
fritos into his mouth, spewing
microscopic shards like flak, apologizing
that he missed his break, that he has
the best numbers in town, look at the
size of those woofers, dude, more shards,
needing to take cover, but I need the
noise, the bass that goes right through me,
over the hook, the one he is sure to get
the sale with, dude, I’m practically giving
them to you, listen to that mid-range,
digging to the bottom of the bag, wetting
his finger and shoving it into the corner
of the bag for that last morsel of corn,
because he gets so hungry being the best
salesman in the city, in the state, in the
whole world, noise, noise, noise, which
I need, because the silence is killing me.

Power Point

The presentation was a
weighty exploration, which

no doubt consisted of a
beginning, middle, and

one very sad, sad end,
imputations compacted

temporally in the
thesis, an arc of

sensation, which led
from case to captive,

charged with desire,
prospect, and ruin,

revealing the most
sympathetic story ever told.

Demonic Energy

Fire trucks and cherry pickers are on the scene
Obstructing any inquisition
Sparks and flotsam conspiratorial

The bolt shot through me--halfway
Into my dialogue
Into the baser part of the brain

Left in darkness, left in a strobe
Not in rhythm with my pulse
Only irregular

To Cry for the Moon

from Circus by Moonlight

so jesus said to be like doves
and you squated to drop an egg
legs unstable, not sure from which
orifice it would leap out

developing perseverance, i saw
this on your two minds attempting
to evoke the inexpressible
symbols (harps, crowns, and gold)

The Suit of Night

because this darkening is
so malignant of itself
and so contrary to be undone
the memorials are to be sanctified
by prejudice, pick-me-ups
and such wherewithal

the kidneys are to be
diversified and made right
with paraphernalia which
recreate and undergird
the marrow and fabric
of indispensable content

Advice for Ulysses

(from Circus by Moonlight)

to calm passion
or lull the mindset
we will initiate another
kind of chaos
which will snub and slight
the understanding man

the novice will sit
in his seat
as presiding officer
of idiocracy

prefer me
before my peers
and i will tell you how
to make yourself
stinking rich
as if by
laughable happenstance

act the upstart and
speak as a bigot
but,
like all artless actors
look inflated
and temporize
the name of insolance
and pride

The Dialogue

try not to burden
me with things
that i have never felt
under the influence
of weightlessness

tell me again about
feather-weighted bones
that will carry me
beyond the lamp which
lights the lifting

speak carefully when
addressing the environment
of uncertainty
for solar flares will
assault the principle

i tend to enjoy the
part where pine boughs
fall upon the headstone
far below the floating
moon where wildly i spin