Thursday, May 21, 2015

When I cry

When I cry
I cry from the beautiful
destruction of my life
the tearing down
and tearing down
and disintegration
of what I was
and what I've known.
I cry of what is unique
in this world, of sameness
of ideas gone wild until
there is no sense
in maniacal laughter
in having no breath
the morning after
the scent of death
and ash and river
and pyre
of course the fire
and monkeys.
I lost the back of my earring
three years ago 
in Kathmandu the power outage
blinded me
and I banged the side of my head
on the doorway and I heard it, 
the ping ping ping
of my earring
bouncing across the tile until
it disappeared into the drain
and I smiled, knowing
I'd touch the place
where it should be
the beautiful destruction
here with me

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Time Out

Sometimes my love for you 
wants nothing to do with you
I'd rather sit here with it
and have a love affair with my love

Waves of 5/4 time spill over
crowded voices, distilled
a dry martini, chill
it's 1959

And people are trying to sleep across the street
while images of earth are transmitted from space

It gets really confusing, looking out, looking in
between hands pressed together, Take Five

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Things aren't what they were and that's how it should be

Today I heard someone say
Oh, fiddle
And I fell in love
with everything that is wrong
about being on the verge of losing
a generation

Friday, January 10, 2014

Paper Swallow by Stanley Moss

This poem appeared in my inbox the other day from the Poem-A-Day subscription by Academy of American Poets.

Paper Swallow, by Stanley Moss

Sunday, November 3, 2013

I visited a Native American burial site in Autumn

Autumn is the sublimation of the seasons.
I stood atop the remains of the centuries
when winds were high and colors flew
and their world changed slowly, as I looked through
bare branches exposing a swift harvest and endless summer
but it wasn't endless anymore, the way generations are...
My hand in my jacket pocket traced the plastic case of my cell phone
and I was a stranger.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

I like the way you call me

I like the way you call me
from the road, I miss you
like I miss far off places
when I play a slideshow
reminiscing in three-second intervals
I get there quickly, to whatever
What I'm saying is
I like the way you call me.

Monday, July 22, 2013

Afternoon instant coffee

Bistro 101 Jazz

I've been slacking on the blog updates, but here's a nifty little iPhone app I downloaded awhile back and have been playing with. You can create teensie little looping videos...

This was taken at Bisto 101, which is about the only halfway decent restaurant and music venue in my little hometown. This place is actually quite amazing, great food, great crowd, and I hope they can stick around for a long time (places tend to come 'n go quickly 'round these here parts).