Sunday, December 30, 2007

Happy New Year

"This year could be our year."

-------The Thrills, "This Year".

Allow the pornography of misery to fade with the
collapsing TV tubes...Plug the airwaves away and avoid
the black and white marks smudging your fingertips and
enjoy one night with the people you love. Sing and dance
and don't forget to burn the past year in a passionate
kiss. To all of those I love and can't sing or dance with---
or kiss----

Happy New Year!

May the New Year truly be your year, too.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Kalstradamus----Predictions for 2008

Written In Blood

I did pretty good foreseeing 2007. Pakistan has become a headache--Britney has
mounted a comeback----Not bad--here I go, fearless and eyes opened wide, into
the future!

1. Senator Barack Obama will be elected President of the United States.

2. The Vice President will be Senator Joseph Biden

3. President George W. Bush will leave the White House with an
upswing in popularity. Two factors: 1. The continuing strong economy.
2. The growing success in Iraq. Peace will not be made between
the Israelis and the Palestinians because the Israelis have no desire
to be just or humane.

4. Vladimir Putin will survive an assassination attempt.

5. General Musharaff of Pakistan will not. (I was off a year.)

6. Osama Bin Laden will die.

7. President Bill Clinton will die in August.

8. Britney Spears will continue to grow in popularity and her
album sales will rebound when her second single is released.

9. Ohio State will defeat LSU for the National Title in NCAA Football.

10. I will be Time's Man of the Year.

11. The Worldwide Climate for the year 2008 will be the coldest in decades.

12. The Dow Jones will break the 15,000 pt threshold in June.

13. Japan and China will reach an Economic and Military Alliance.

14. Iran will suffer social upheaval. Riots will be common in Teheran.

15. Governments will continue not giving a shit about Darfur because of
the massive oil deposits under the sand where the unlucky souls dwell.

16. Ralph Nader will, in early January, come out in support of John Edwards
for President.

17. Love will come.

18. The Indianapolis Colts will defeat the Green Bay Packers in the Super Bowl

19. My hegemony shall grow by leaps and bounds.


Sunday, December 16, 2007

The Best of 2007

It is time to celebrate excellence in 2007.

Best Musical Recordings:

1. Andrew Bird, "Armchair Apocrypha"
2. Ghostface Killah, "The Big Doe Rehab"
3. PJ Harvey, "White Chalk"
4. Band of Horses, "Cease to Begin"
5. Ryan Adams, "Easy Tiger"

Best Non-Fiction Book:

"The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy"
--John J. Mearsheimer and Stephen M. Walt

Best Fiction Book:

----John Cowper Powys

Best Motion Picture:


Best Mass Shooting Warning Notification:

Various Web-cam Productions by Korean Mass Murderer
before Virginia Tech Massacre.

Best Title and Music Sequence of Mass Shooting by 24 Hour News Channel:

"CNN: Mall Massacre in the Heartland(Omaha)"--
Producers and Musicians ashamed to name themselves.

Best New Commemorative Item for Massacre:

Candles and Paper Plates(tie)

Man of the Year:

Vladimir Putin

Woman of the Year:

Britney Spears

Comeback Person of the Year:

Mass Shooter

Best Quote of the Year:

"Senator Clinton did not approve or have foreknowledge of the
statement I made regarding Senator Obama."

Two separate, former, Clinton staffers on two separate occasions.

Best Sign History Repeats:

Bush haters aping Clinton haters.

Ah 2007! What a year! Look forward to my predictions for 2008!

No Balance

The moon's crooked smile gave night an anxious
air. A silvery, cloudless, face expanded above my
head dry as a waking thirst.

A premonition made me call. How to explain these
occult urges? My friend's voice rang hollow. His
breath left him in bursts-- like it was escaping a cold
I consoled his worries with hope.

On a cold, lighted, table his brother passed. The oxygen
rich air did its best to fill my best friend's shattered breast.
I imagine he wept hard and restrained, his face a clenched fist.
Even his pictures of the next day, albeit with a new friend,
couldn't hide a man sucker punched by grief.

In Memoriam Mac. In his heart you will run strong forever.


Later, lighter news awaited my warm eyes. A beautiful Card
and Gift arrived from Texas. Our glorious Bidet sent me something
humorous and thoughtful. I savoured the humor, but not as much as
I will savour the gift on a happier day.

Thanks for the needed laughter, friend Bidet. Your sense
of timing is only eclipsed by your goodness. Bless you.

I hope your beautiful children, kind husband and you have
a wonderful Holidays.

The Cock is crowing. I must go.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Waking Ballad

Soft gold sifts down white sills,
remains of dream's epilogue spills.

Carpet, cold as scales,
grips feet with familiar polity.

The given, silent as cloth,
embraces eyes with assuring gravity.

Night's wake shades eyes darkly
to attain day's shining possibility.

Friday, December 07, 2007


Fire blossoms in hearts.
Our eyes meet and burn 
keen as a first kiss.  
They shine radiant 
as cloudless noon
devours burnt skin 
with Sun's whet flame. 

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Nerves(A Cosmology)

Stars, shocks of heavenly synapses, enlighten.
We bend to their grave arrangement.

Darkness is the song.

Sages invoke eternity
in thrall to the neon din of modernity.

Thursday, November 22, 2007



Rouge bruised cheeks
under jaundiced
streetlights assure 
treasures swept neath  
night's thick shade.

Pudenda slack and
pocked as spat-out
gum flutter like
dissipated butterflies
out of ferrous cocoons.


An army of heels
conduct the siren song.

The music of night, 
its rapturous throb,
excites the content bourgeois
as darling little babes 
slumber neath clean white sheets.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Kynik Aktaion (Fragment from Memoir)

"What is living will only overcome the tumult of annihilation
in the ecstasy of creation."

Einbahnstrasse, Walter Benjamin, 1928.

My favorite hunting experience occurred as I was walking home
with my brother after scoring a few bucks. Our men cordially
carried the quarry. We ambled home along railroad tracks and
sparrows were twittering in the brush. Having more rounds gave
us a delightful notion. Why not annihilate those precious little 
birds with buckshot?

This experience lifted twin spirits upwards to the Olympian.
We became the Dioscuri. Dancing midst a cloud of feathers the 
spell of powder and shell disintegrated. The bowl of fate was in
our hands! Our bolts flew smiting songbirds to motes!

I thought of poetry and its flights. Annihilating song in tiny birds placed 
us past Poetry. From the Dioscuri to Apollo is but a step.

We shot death-dealing bolts. We were Gods. Are not our eyes
blue as steel, locks gold as Helios?

Monday, November 05, 2007


I'm thirsty as dust.

Kiss me.
Sing love into clouds.

Let rain cleanse valleys
where columns rise

Shut twilit eyes.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Cosma Akakiova, a Broken Nose, and Puppetry

My nose throbs as I type. I tilt my head
upwards and hear Cosma giggle. She's curled
inside me like a lap dog. I, at times, feel helpless
when I think of mother and what she'd think.

Blood and clear liquid runs from my nose. I called the student
nurse and she told me I was a "worry-wart". Easy for her to
be cavalier. She's not afflicted with a swollen honker running 
like a leaky faucet.
(Whine, Whine.) So to the good stuff. I went out with Cosma.

She took me to her favorite record store, Snatch Monsoon.
A great place! So much stuff by my fave C--- O---! She doesn't
care for him because he tried to score heroin from her in Topeka.
We took a walk afterwards and it was lovely. Night vanquished 
the sky. Stars were bright, no moon to steal their fire! I could
say more about an old bench, proximity, and softness. She was gentle.
Tired and pleasurably disposed, we hopped on her Motorcycle and
sped off. I asked her to take me to the Group Home where I work
to check on some kids. Upon arrival one child, 9 years old, an habitual
pick-pocketer, was throwing a tantrum. It's amazing how strong these
little creatures can be. He picked up a mini-refrigerator and threw it 
at my face. It smashed my nose. What a scene! Cosma's kisses saved 
me from beating the child and we left.
She dropped me off at home and sped away, peeling out with such
élan my heart lept! But I should've been wary. Moonless nights are 
ominous. Cosma veered left on a country road and accelerated to 
80 mph, feasting on freedom as her hair whipped like a mare's tail.
A few miles further she hit a deer head on and flipped off the bike.
She was thrown 400 ft, impaled by three branches of an Oak Tree.
They found her suspended like a puppet.

Monday, October 15, 2007

A Love So Deep Miners Weep Light

Miners' eyes
shed light
like tears.

So deep 
they rend
what was and
haul it up
to fashion 

In darkness 
they weep light 
as she digs
into me.

Monday, October 08, 2007


Endless winter of dirty snow...

Stars, like unwanted babes, 
tossed down dry wells.

Our breath cold as glass... 

Touch unable to rescue
the life lost in speaking.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Deum rerum coaxant

The part of Joan of Arc will be played by
the Archbishop Clinamen

Herein lies an Oration upon Ethernity and the Surface of God

Dearest Boneless and Economical,

May the toad that shits the sun diurnally burp cloacal night.
Wizened crabs click their fore-claws in accompaniment to
protect me from the rage of the Creator.
Corpus Nefas:
Ethernity is the endlessness of air. Those who experience breathlessness
feel free to pace in order to stave off hyperventilation.
In air we fall. Lightless and without solidity Ethernity is a giddiness, an ethical tumble
like the mines my mother warned me were bottomless and went to hell.
Ethernity is the loss of body and the life of endless breath.
Mitred and Azure:
I am granted the right of speaking of God's surface as Von Humboldt wrote of bizarre
Circassian She-Goats that pissed blue streaks in mountain snows because of my splendid
surplice. My eyes are blue as heaven. I see a Horse's head in the sun.
God is metallic. Cool and shear so that reptiles cannot cling to him. Daily, like a drain,
souls flow from His truncated vents......And souls that pass, the good ones, are taken back to
resuscitate Ethernity in the Grand Ball Room of Auric Aspiration. There He is malleable and
soft. Yes, Gold. And as Gold, inside, he exudes warmth, akin to the warm breath of lovers.
In closing I would like to exclaim:


In God's tongue there is no H.

Herein we laugh,
forgetting space.


Friday, September 21, 2007


"The sphere of the notion is similar to the bottom of the sea."

------Le Paysan de Paris, Louis Aragon.

I would ask you to step back politely before a perusal. Let the
water miraculously cascade down the white porcelain. White and
shiney as paradise should be..A Hidden God in the wall performs the
trick. The Blue Lozenge at the bottom dispenses a scent of jasmine.
And, yes, the blue of the lozenge is not accidental.
Behold the color of Heaven.

Would that one had such an inner plumbing in the head. A fine mind
steps back and lets the water take the piss of this world and flushes it
down as the Lethe of pleasant fragrance rises, the porcelain's shine
a bright smile.
In realms under the Earth, where the dead rest, the waste is taken.
Forgotten, as we contemplate the blue of heaven.

Monday, September 17, 2007

America, Infinity of Dream

"Amid remotest nations caused to rise
Young empire which they carried to the skies."

-----Camoes, The Lusiads, Book I lns 7-8

The West has always been the land of Dream. Past the Pillars
nimble witted fellows broke all bounds, suffered enchantment, braved
great perils and espied paradises. Oceanus ran over an edge or, maybe,
emptied into stars. Elysium or Caina. And little, since then, has changed.

The Gold of the Old World no longer sufficed. The Teijo had been
stripped bare. The souls of Europa once again looked past the Pillars.
A vertiginous desire dizzied Kings. Fear halfheartedly checked their
compulsion. Soon it succumbed to a dream narrowing eyes. Possibility
grasped at the falling Sun. Measure broke measure.

And again, nothing has changed. From the waking nightmare of a
favela in Brazil to the incessant wet dream of consumer culture, the
Perpetual Peace of a Long Island suburb to the Violencia of Colombia,
America remains the Alpha and Omega of Dream. Elysium and Caina.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Ces Jupes

Does anything die in spring?
When hoarfrost's half-life
teases our love for sidereal

At the archway Gallus,
There, where Poppae's
Skirt shifts like a hied

To vapor it goes,
Mists of lust and earth,
Love strangled in its

At the archway, Gallus,
Let the skirts trail,
Tongues of Erinyes lashing

Set the Ram's testes
And the poison
In her dove-like hands.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007


We were never lost as young people say. Belief in
such aimlessness leads to romantic errantry.

Europe was grand, Paris sunny and soaked. The marsh
city sweat like a pied-noir stuck in Oran. We kissed coolness
and conquered Sun's tyranny.

Night winds lifted floral scents of The Tuileries uphill to
MontmartreThe Seine ran laced black. 

The lone white beacon, a suicide's face, floated past. 
We summoned passersby in tolerable French. All were comforted 
when Authorities calmly fished the body up.

Later that night we fucked passionately enough to forget death,
finding life worth the oblivion.

to HeJ

-"Qu'importent quelques vagues humanités si le geste est beau?" 

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Harvest Song

Deep as touch,
suasive as voice,
a word breaks diversion.

Into farness
we, with tacit awe,
ride thoughtless into immersion.

The plain's wind-bent heather
rustles gold and sigh together:

To each equal measure
our shared, secret treasure.

Thursday, August 23, 2007


"Newton wrote not only the Principia but also a treatise on the
topography of Hell."

---Arthur Koestler

In pain and struggling to be reasonable, I stammer. My jaw
has a Heart of Pain beating dagger thrusts------ Again the
ordeal of an impacted Wisdom Tooth.
I shuffle by people with a humble, eyes averted, gait. The last
thing desired is attention. This is the antipode of my usual approach
to the world.
I have never loved everything so much. Pain brings everything closer.
I yearn for its repose in my eyes. Kindness flows from me as a kind of
physical contrition.
I am not broken and soon the Heart of Pain will no longer beat. Then
everything will return to its familiarity and I will seek the light of all.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Echo of Blonde

lost in
clone streams

the gold's
rippled gleams

Light and lust,
eyes to blonde
clarity rise

Burning bands
dyeing fair
bleach blonde skies.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Lyra Nascitur

Listing in the bay
of a guitar's hollow

trembling string clouds
bring melodious rain

tack sail to climes
where day sets slow
as a first kiss.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Bad X

Eyes dry as canvas,
I was an integer looking for the Equation.
Nightmare played a waltz under hidden
seas. My horse pulled up lame. Darkness
granted a negative Damascus.

I was lost, no desire for being found. The Cosmos
melted into an Ocean of vomit, tears, and piss.

Sleep stood next to a lantern one block ahead. He cracked
a full-bellied grin. His laughter played an aching tattoo
radiating waves inside my head.

The wind blew coarse as an Early Church polemic. Foreign
cells warred inside me. A cloud's nipple offered false
solace.......And there I stood with my mouth open to the sky.

I was an integer looking for equation, eyes heavy
sandbags. Nearby a light bulb screamed light.
Sleep kicked at my heels.
The wind settled and I fell into a woman. She pushed me
Everything became whiteness and scent made my nostrils
burn. I became a pincushion for cruel angels.

The largo of a siren-like beep seduced me into rest's
capricious arms.

Thursday, July 19, 2007


So many came
to watch
blonde boys
run bright
under cruel
Noon burning skin.

A new song
breaks from homogenous

The Eventide strain
boys whistle
while beckoned by
dim blue light's 
placid blush.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

April Dies Cruel


April dies cruel
as a child's

The brushfire pall lifts,

Ashen traces
taken away
by evening rain.


Every morn
the chaste kiss
of dew

Knowing April 
shall again
burn anew.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Labyrinth of the Continuum

"Clouds seemed mountains melting into empyrean."

Me, Visiting Colorado Springs, 2004.

The distance between any two points on a line is infinite.
It can be subdivided into infinitesimal units.

The space between two people is infinite when they are
not touching. That we do not go mad, miraculous. One room
away is another galaxy.

Leibniz's "best of all possible worlds" opens labyrinths of despair. 
To know when we are not touching
we are infinitely separate is too much.
We run, laugh, and hide in the "lace of soft words".
We ignore infinite spaces we abolish daily. 
Awareness of it would court madness. 

What we call close is unimaginably distant. 

Sound is an aural sheet we tuck ourselves under 
to set the infinitesimal.

Heartbeat a largo when she is not here. I sing her
touch. A spell to dispel all distance.

Monday, June 11, 2007

April Imperium

Green as these words are, they ring from the rostrum of an Imperator. A sovereign 
desire dwells within. I long to be the center of attention, a Sun to satellites starving 
for my light. I am insatiable. Hereafter, every month must be April. 

April shall embrace me with softness, its dewed kiss. I was borne from and for April. 
I am cruel as the time I wish to embrace. The Sun's smile seems so kind, yet it burns. 
Still, I love April with all my heart. The time and clime, especially its cruelty, appeal 
to my lust for Imperial Pomp. Bring White Horses and we'll ride through eternal 
April, rose petals anointing our brows and thorns adorning wrists. 
My bride's clouded eyes mirror the flecked blue of April skies. 

Then comes night and her empyrean of dark hair...

Monday, June 04, 2007

Assiduous He, Deciduous She

Some toss with fallen leaves. Each breeze 
occasions a fall. Fragments, like bodies 
that never know, settle where they may.
Some wish to be wind. Hoping to make each 
leaf their Orithyia. Winds, like men 
that never sow, scatter this tilled way.

Trees shed leaves of the book,
seed sprouts epithalamiums.

In Lieu of an Epilogue:

"Hymn to Aphrodite"

Bend your star-clad eyes
to a lover's hushed sighs

One who treads a middle way
and lets your will have its say.

Love will or be wanton
and with tears or song
we go along.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

I Am Wonder-Foul

"Thereafter, he ennobled shame."

---Jean Genet, Journal du Voleur

Allow me to humble myself.
I'll leave the exalting to you, dear reader.

1. I enjoy picking my nose and eating the dried mucus and dust
folks call "buggers". I also enjoy picking scabs and eating
them. They are salty and delicious.

2. I can be disarmingly civil and even charming to people I detest.
I call it "two-faced considerate".

3. I honestly think physical beauty is a sign of inner beauty, and
ugliness is, likewise, the mark of inner foulness.

4. I enjoy the smell of my flatus.

5. I am too lazy to kill the scores of people I feel are not worth the
air they breathe. If they all died tomorrow, I'd be amused.

6. The happier I am the greater my enjoyment of cruelty.

7. It is not out of depression or anger that I write the above.
It is out of a desire to be open.

8. I feel one must hide something from all people; their very
own secret world.

9. I reserve the right to be disgusted by people who drink beer,
go to Starbucks, have a LinkedIn page, bite their fingernails,
and enjoy reality TV.

10. Disgust doesn't disbar the ability to love someone. Disgust,
oddly enough, is a form of fascination.