THE TICKET

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

Henry Miller went hungry a lot
in Paris
but he fed enough blood
to his bitte
to summon command performances
on a regular basis

you can't gain an advantage
by lining up in the neutral zone

show me something
I haven't seen 
like Tilda Swinton's tit
flashed in a movie
I can't remember the name of
but it was good
(partially because of that)

what if everyone woke up at the same time?
(think of all the pancakes that would have to be made)

try
not to get too high
or too low
as they are both impostors

impermanent states of mind
that come and go
come and go
like the shifting breeze


the middle path
slow and steady as she goes
( occasional detours into the gutter allowed)
that's the ticket

FULL FRONTAL LONELY

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

1.

You think that you've written down
the thoughts
that were lonelier
than all the thoughts
that were written down before you
or after you
but you are wrong



2.

I'm reading some poems by Jewel
(don't smirk--she's "intriguing")

I am told
I'm adored by millions
but no one calls

and one can only think
then...
what chance have I?



3.

Poets never say what they mean
they just expect you to figure it out



4.

Maybe
that's why you're alone
(even in a crowd)
as they've all given up 
on trying to figure you out



5.

Opaque
isn't that intriguing
to those who are searching
for the light



6.

 James Wright always told you
what his poem was about
right up front in the title...
he shared that trait with Degas
who would do a painting of
a dancer in front of a window
and name it "Dancer In Front Of A Window"


7.

While I sit lonely
by a fountain
where naked cherubs
are pissing away my dreams
knowing that collaborationists
stalk their own shadows
while pigeons goose-step
through the square--
but none can tell you whether ghosts
sit up and listen to the footsteps
that echo through an empty museum 



8.

And maybe if you search and search
you can find another poet
who has described the human condition as
full frontal lonely
but I'd like to think that one
is all my own


9.

And I am alone
as you are alone
as we are alone
imprisoned within these shells
straining to touch palms
through the glass



10.

...I have my books
and my poetry to protect me...

what I did
what I didn't
truly of no import now

after falter
before correction 
the man who seeks to make connection
finds the days of infinite possibility have flown
but only because a world turned deaf
and blind has deemed it so

the ego
in its fatal attraction to the body 
must always lose
. 

11.

There now
no more whimpering
face it like The Man
monolithic in his solitude
as all mill about like ants
resigned to his fate
to go out in a blaze of glory
lighting up the desert sky
on a Saturday night
on a spinning blue pelota
somewhere
lost in space

AT LONG LAST

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

I like women
who write like men
and men who write
like women

somewhere in the middle
they meet
in a smoky androgynous haze
where they size 
(and feel)
each other up
coming
at long last
to their defining moment
with no compulsion
for going under the knife 

HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOK

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Some look
really geeky

some look
really dorky

and a few
so arrogantly
self-assured

but I was there
and I know
that was whistling
through the graveyard

ANOTHER DAY

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

I snake through these streets
at dawn
oxygen is brain food

come back
hoist the weights
do my Falun Dafa

still only 8 o'clock
the day lying in wait for me
like Apollo Creed
mocking
chanting
you got anything else, suckah?

the story of my life
am I Rocky
or just another bum?

dunno...
but I'll go down swingin'
either way

so cue the music
I'm about to hit the streets again
little kids
and dogs who want a piece of me
tagging behind

I move twice as fast
when I hear a siren in the background
a conditioned reflex
from the teenage years

seizing the day
before some body part
seizes up 

fightin' the good fight 
and Apollo is wrong
cuz I ain't goin' down...

at least not today

DAY AT THE PARK

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

From your soapbox
you're out to save the world
your words echoing
through the park
vying with bouncy
norteno tunes blasting from
low rider car stereos

your nebulous forever
built upon a city of hope
hope against hope
when you're dangling
at the end of a rope

but what if I told you
that everything thing we do
is motivated by either
love
or
fear
and that we can easily choose
between them

and that you stem from a long line
of fear mongers
over generations
and generations
of fear mongers
spitting incendiary words
into the air
the fire and brimstone
heating everyone under the tent
into a frenzy of believing

and giving

but material gain has naught to do
with the hereafter
it's has to do with the here and now
and that house upon the hill

and your aim is to be
that guy on Sunday morning TV
sayin' keep those cards and letters
comin' in folks
cuz it takes a lot of jack
to buy the stairway to heaven

so the plate is comin' round
folks
the plate is comin' round
(what's in your wallet?)

HARD

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

It's getting harder to find...

someone who isn't twenty

has half a brain

has an attention span of more than 10 seconds


It's getting harder to find... 

someone who can name one former president
besides George Lincoln and Abraham Washington

who won't call you "honey" at the checkout line

who remembers what I just said even if I can't


It's getting harder to find...

someone who can use
to
too
two
properly in a sentence

who hasn't been spotted at Wal-Mart
with a way too outrageous Brazilian butt lift
the cost of which has consigned them to 
meander those aisles for the rest of eternity

who can write a line like
"I'm blessed and I didn't even sneeze"

if U can write a line like that then 

drop 
me 
a 
line
or 
too

otherwise Dumb and Dumber To
is playing down the street...

see U at the movies

GUSHER

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

You think this is all
random
but even slot machines
are programmed
to spill their guts
at predetermined intervals...

the only truly random thing
is the poet
and his muse
and when that gusher
may be gettin' ready to blow

so stand back
ladies and gentlemen
because there's one now
(you can spot him by that
 tormented look in his eye)

as we move within range
it's advised that you prudently
cover your heads

we have pith helmets for sale
in the gift shop

ALTERNATE EXPLANATION

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads 

dVerse Poets Pub

That roach on the bathroom floor
was flat on its back
so I figured it was fixin' to die
(not always the case with humans similarly positioned
with a randy look in their eye)

respecting its process
(I've read Kafka)
I left it in peace
figuring tomorrow I'd give it
a proper burial
after dark
in the neighbor's yard

but when I went in there
it had up and disappeared
apparently righting itself
at some point
and hauling ass
which told me something
after I thought about it
'bout never counting anyone out
even when it looks to you
like the fat lady's opening her mouth...
it could just be you know
she's gonna stuff another donut in there

there is
of course
the alternate explanation...

the cat ate it

ALL THIS WAY

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads











A birthday boy's tendency
is to replay everything
against the purples
and pistachios of spring

The little white lies
from another time

The past receding
like the ass-end of a train
from which you've just disembarked

Ancient phrases
inside another eternity
and of no import now
the greater truths ignored
for sake of our little tete a tetes

Today I ponder the world's disasters
the worst of which is adding another digit
to that chronological catastrophe
I fondly refer to as me

Everyone gets  a raw deal
and still the clouds roll by 

Coming all this way
drifting across the cosmos
with these inconvenient truths 

on these afternoons without angels

and still we stand
in anticipation of one extraordinary love

Having experienced the moon
in a myriad of exotic positions
I unmask poems
of barking cats
and rats
and elephants
and stand revealed 
to lonesome applause

Waiting for Santa Claus
I blaspheme and bubble
in the center of all infinity
as I bend to softly kiss you
and the world becomes 
my oyster
and you're my clam

Let's go to Amsterdam



From my poetry and short story collection: Last Tango In Timbuktu