...apple a day keeps the _____ away...

good bye

personal crisis (pc)

it has not been fun


you let Enrique know

about my ticket fetish


the tree left fruit

it travelled from Newark

to Memphis and back


and will now

take control over this

will I've lost

or enlist methods


I'd soon forget

like how to compose

myself

...recovery...

when class ends

today

all will be settled

all will be contained

and for a few short

weeks I'll actually

write a poem or two

or twenty


Here's an idea:

...nothing can surprise me...

except for this


and you did it

oh so well

bringing back

the past with doctors

and programmers

computations

and lies to keep

me at bay

(and it worked)


I spent my thirtieth

thinking that I had less

than I should at this point

only to find the wealth

I haven't allowed to exist


(as a poet I'm supposed

to see these things

acknowledge them

because they are beautiful

and I dropped the ball

hard)


you clever clever girl

thank you

for the reconnection

of cut wires


I love you and

you all I love

...thirty...

on the day of the feast

nothing is immaculate

but this sense

that something will be

conceived like a creation

such as a poem or a song

or a life is comforting

and worried that this

might not be so

I am struck

by the intesity

of such doubts


foolishness

(I leave you nothing

but the wake)


instinct

(here we go again)


motive

(I see you standing there

ready for the take)


and all that will become

what they refer to as me

will become the reference

in itself

...two til' thirty...

under a stack of papers

I spend the last day of my twenties

contemplating revisions

not to the papers

but to my twenties

and I realize

It was written well already

...three 'til thirty...

yesterday

is creeping like

a receding hairline

(proceed with caution)

...four til' thirty...

the panic

won't set in

because the computer

will not allow it

to enter

or invade

just like the thought

of stem cell research

leading to newly pink lungs

or hairless backs

we flinch just a little

like it were a shot

of penicillin

just another shot

gun or otherwise

just another year

taken out of the barrel

anyone who mistrusts

numbers as much as I

should not be bothered

by the cornerstones

of numeric theory

cost age meter

but here we are

looking down the barrel

of a zero

second digit

...five 'til thirty...

contemplate

a smooth skin again

for the new decade dance

(it shouldn't be this tough

to take the razor to task)

always glorified

at these times

is lost youth

...six to thirty...

what the fuck

is going on here

I mean

seriously

...bats and cats...

i won't wither away

i will either be killed

by cats or bats

allergies or blood loss

so in both cases

you find my Kryptonite

and know what to do

to take me down

trapped and declawed

counting in dog years

...seven til' thirty...

in the stage

that preceeds REM

I saw you rapidly

chasing after the dream

that you missed

because I woke you

and I'm always so sorry

when I do that


I love you

good morning

...eight 'til thirty...

I hate countdowns

and all their falsely

obligitory demands.


Oh, here comes the New Year!

Oh, the New Year is here!


Last night with you and my jacket

I holding you

barely holding a note

with the most beautiful

inconsistency

those are the moments

in time that show

true passage

and innovation

We don't wear

watches because

they tell us

that we

have to be somewhere

we know better than that

we are that somewhere

and I fear eight days

from last night

will not be a mere

something

...ten til' thirty...

the left days

the ones of this decade

are scant

ten til' thirty

and the end of an error

(substantial enough

to be an era?)

The end of the unpublished

The end of the unheard

the next ten days

I'll do nothing but look

back and see what has been

built and what has yet to be

I'll grow patch of bare skin

I'll get lost in nostalgia

I'll cry I'm sure at some point

to nausea

And then

I'll let go of it

like the Gods have always

said to me

let it go to know it's yours

...built to refill...

glad to see

you on your feet

able to see

your hands free

video screen

glad you see the crutch

coming at you

and not needing it

glad you could see

the smile

we all missed

glad to see your influences

and mine

with you in reverse

glad to have you over

once again and again

and again

...unsettled settling...

is today a wave

or a ripple

is god a crass vindicator

or is god anything

really

are we going south

on the country

to pleasure

ourselves below

the Bible Belt

is today a wave

or a ripple

or are we just waiting

for a settling

the afterword

the cigarette

the joint

(spare me your drink)

...I am coming for you in Madrid...

dear hack

I am coming for you in Madrid

and although it was merely a few notes

and change you are going

to pay for the transaction

whether you meant to

or not

senior laretta

I still have a wallet

...learning curve...

how fish die alone

the school

simply moves on

how like kids

feeling their way

last bits of nitrogen

and oxygen

scales pick off

the swim bladder

sickens won’t a big fish

come put you out

your dizzying dance

toward bottom

simple incision barracuda

cookie-cutter

that ounce of pain

make it pounds

scavengers scuttle

from the reef

pick pulling and prodding

into what’s left

of you

...co-depedence day...

I wish I were free
to write today
but I had to do hard
work and sweat
like if I were free
to write today

...island's end...

for now
I can leave
at the end
of this day

end this beating
end this
end this inflation

the island belongs
to Jersey by proximity

my face is bashed here
like a botched robbery
over and over again

for now
I can leave til fall
when I come
back for the next round

you can see it
for yourself
if you want to

but you don't
want to

and I have to come
back for more
beatdowns

because the island
holds my cut-man
and he doesn't travel

over the bridges
due to fear of living

there is much more
to fear on this island
namely, depravity.

...question...

can Sundays
and sunny days
really be unrelated
if it be related
to resting
in the sun?

Ah, sunday sun
sunday sun, just like
mic number one,
mic number one,
isn't this a lot of fun

but not as black
as it attracts
the sun.

Oh Sunday, yea
never nay

(this is heat stroke
me thinks)

...the reviews have come in...

Ovations
I've never received
and the poem
wasn't mine

that's the trick
though to make
it yours that's
how I needed
to hear it

he said, to picture
it in his head

she had his back
and mine which
was nice for once
considering

I wore a hole
in the ground
beneath me
as I read

and the parched
parched mouth
before I got half
way through
section one

you know what
that's like
that's like hell
and howl
and show
don't tell

like shining
not shadowed
(penumbra-less)

and it picked me up
when it could've
brought me down
with a confession.

At the foot
of the blackboard
I took back
what was mine

told the truth
that was told
to me
in my neon
classroom dream.

...April's Fool...

I forgot to change
the clocks today,
April's fool
in all my glory

with the wrong
pajamas and the right
hand air-alarm;
Luckily, we are timed.

Still, I never
wear a watch.

...shoot me seriously sushi...

if anyone
ever requests
Wal-mart Sushi
within twenty-five
feet of me

shoot me
seriously
sushi

take me out at
anyone's expense/
request
anyone

...in Just-leave...

when you bomb
on that stage
it's like dropping
from top of the tower
you can see from the Goethals

I went down hard
and fast like a rock

stars were swirling
around my cartoon head

and for now
I have to think
about what I've done
like the dog with a long face
or the landfill
that stinks
to all high hell.

(I loved that expression)

Very well, get on with it.

...contact problems...

I saw god's shadow on this world
and who else was standing in the light
but this beautiful beautiful man
and his beautiful beautiful wife.

(Webster Hall, NYC 3/17/06)

...Triboro Belly-Ache Blues...

Pastichio
at the base
of the Triboro...

My hero
will drink
to Queens

and then drive
me home
in a warm

humid early
March nighttime
mishap, emission.

My hero will
rise above
like heroes should

and get me to bed
safely and softly
without the baby's

belch and upset stomach
caused by the little
tomato there was

in the recipe.
When home,
ginger in the teas

and the sleeping trees
become kindling
for the nightlight.

I dreamt
of those
courts once before

or maybe
I played
there once before.

That may be
the Pastichio
coming back

at me or my
hero and her
forehand

holding her own.
We'll see what happens
as soon as possible.

...encore...

thank
you
"Alandine" and "Marcos Myth"

thank
you
George "Sex Museum" Gerwshin

thank
you
what is plural for Phoenix?

Phoenixias?
Phoennicians?
Phoeni?

thank
you
Monk

(guessthatsabitlate)

thank
you
Alan we had a frog once too

(now just a turtle)

thank
you
football

thank
you
swallows

flittering about
the tiny
tiny room.

...the Justice League when you need 'em...

what would they make
of the Jewish Superhero
in the Justice League,
The Yarmulke,

"Oh...I'm not a hero guy;
I prefer it always on rye!"

as he spins like a red disc sled
flying out of control
cross-cutting The Red Tornado

mid-flight, circumstantial
incision, sliced thin to pile,
are Arab men circumsized?

Nah. They are way to oppressive for that.
Can you google that one?
Is there a Willie-pedia site?

What if the Jewish Avenger were
to start a fire, then piss it out

with a bottle or two of Shapiro's?
And when the excessive flame went out,
he saw it was a flag

of a Holy Occupant
or the Star of David?
"Hey, will this come out?"

I know a good dry cleaner...

...renewal?

good bye civil rights
you are as antiquated,
apparently, as the womb
in South Dakota.

oh yeah...

oops...I forgot...I started a blog. When was that last post?
January!?!?! You shittin' me? Janu-fuckin'-ary?!?!?
Is there a better way to track one's own laziness?
I guess that I better get back into my head.
Where the fuck have I been?
Oh, yeah, higher education?
I graduated twice, why am I still there?
Oh yeah, I'm the teacher. Glad I don't teach blogging.
Is this gonna be poetry or what?
What was this originally for?
I can't wait to hear Doug's new album.
That's MySpace shit is not gonna cut it.
Oh, yeah, now I remember why I stopped blogging.
I couldn't cut and paste.
Stuff I wanted to post that I was working on
throughout the day, stuff that I
was working on when I wasn't around
an ethernet connection, just ended
up getting saved and not posted
because of my computer ineptitude.
I'd so love a Lasi right now.
The ones, the "Bhang Lasis"
that Eric used to make
in Boise were the shit.
The shit.
Nothing was better on a Boise summer day.
He made them the day Phil came to town, too.
It was Hitler's Birthday, but
that wasn't why we were drinking lasis.
Why am I craving one on the eve
of a Jersey icestorm?
Why did I start this blog back up?
Oh yeah. I'll die
if I stop writing,
in a sense.
Goodnight and Goodernight.
To reiterate my last
distant post,
sleeping is the only love.
I'll be seeing Dave in twenty days,
for the first time, again.

...only love...

sleep, Dave, yes, it is.

...6?!?!?!?....

If not now,
when?

fuck resolution
and resolve

commit to me
and commit to we

and all will be
all that can

be careful
not to think

it can
not be

this isn't 3
anymore.

This is 6.