Sunday, April 21, 2013

hubcaps and flying saucers

a hubcap discarded,
popped off a rim (maybe a old Crown Vic? an Impala? a Park Avenue?) 
and left balancing on the curb,
put out of mind,
like an oil covered bird,
like a barrel of oil into the river,
like 5 million barrels into the ocean,
I try not to think about it,
this debt,
we owe,
a physical debt,
this psychic debt,
this debt of the soul,
instead I'll wish a hubcap a flying saucer,
I could get in,
and fly off,
the burning world behind me,
burn away the corporate terrorists,
give the extremists their peace,
the apocalypse they always wanted,
the one they keep trying to bring on,
the one in their hearts,
the forever blood feuds,
the black and white,
the pre-negotiative mind,
that doesn't sleep,
but must shout it's opinion because no one listens,
so I stop in,
I throw them back,
(am I too old to be throwing them back?)
and then leave and keep walking,
and smell that fresh rain smell,
and watch the street lights shimmer,
and watch a record store owner pull the metal gate across and close for the night,*
and keep wishing a hubcap was a flying saucer.

*permissibly stolen from a late night text by a cousin of mine who sends me some gems.


Thursday, April 04, 2013

drive-thru haikus 2

I was thinking
earth, one planet of many
fridge clicks on

gotta work tomorrow
gluten-free beers taste good
stay up awhile

a small secret
I really want your mother
is that wrong?

so many dreams
am I awake or sleeping?
dive in deep

the Glengarry Games
the chance will come again
we'll be there

tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow
are we ever right here?
wind whips up 


been working,
haven't been out to see the incredible things,
locked away,
paying bills,
forgot all about the incredible things,
stuck in rooms,
nested in bigger rooms,
neglecting all the incredible things,
getting so I wanna cry,
getting so I wanna die,
getting so I wanna tear my teeth out,
so I make a plan to break out and see the incredible things,
but I get roped in,
get held back,
this is how the system tries to get me to give up on the incredible things,
carve a small hole,
take your spot,
put your incredible ideas in a box,
you don't want the incredible things,
lower the risk,
keep it neat,
amongst the numbers and orderly feet,
beyond the cage,
you could drown in a sea of risk,
but you might live,
for a good long while,
you could be strong,
you could build,
you could hear the music,
and you might remember,
that you could change,
and see everything as an incredible thing.

"Isn't that wild?"
-The Great Buck Howard

Tuesday, April 02, 2013

all things (part 1)

all things can be a wise counsel,
a distant buzzing of traffic,
or the whistling wind,
voices in the hallway,
or footsteps on the stairs,
those spinning thoughts,
those drugged up dreams,
the loneliness in an old man's scream,
the dirty streets and it's torn down, rusted out, broken hearted machines,
mystics and Zennists,
natural scientists and alchemists,
Wiccans and atheists,
Taoists and book shop occultists,
yogis and wanderers,
rebels and musicians,
gym rats and drunks,
painters and runners,
boxers and writers,
photogs, sex maniacs and bar room brawlers,
jail house tats, and snitchy little rats,
smoke cigarettes as they shovel the last of the snow,
frantically carving away the last of the ice,
to thaw the paradigm,
to end all paradigms,
the paradigm of no paradigm.