16 Mar

don’t leave me alone

in that dark box in your attic

a faded photograph

what was that person’s name again?

don’t give me that look

i know what you’re thinking

that it’s time for me to release my grip

upon your anxious heart

and become another one of your memories

don’t touch and look into my eyes

in a futile attempt to make it all better

don’t do or say anything

it’s ok, it’s alright, you can relax

i’m leaving now, and please

don’t say you’re sorry


not long

15 Mar

how much longer till

i see my life suspend

high above the daily concerns

of a worker bee

how much longer till

i am in your arms

and learn about all the things

you’ve done while i was away

my vision is fading

my hold upon this life is weak

but that’s ok, so long as it won’t long

till i see hall of you once again

i can’t relax

14 Mar

ants in my pants

chasing after that rainbow

i can’t relax

too many ideas pulling at me

from all sides

too many fantasies

to fit on the head of a pin

i can’t relax

gotta run as fast as i can

before whatever is behind me

catches up


i can see that pot of gold waiting

just for me

a little further down that road

or is it this road?

i can’t relax

me, not me

13 Mar

i am most me when not me

a bundle of contradictions

i am white when you might expect


i veer left when you might expect


i blow hot and i blow cold

but mostly i just blow


like the me that is the me

you may never see

i know not myself when i am beside


asking why i wear those shoes

nude things are happening

13 Mar

nude things are happening every day

stripping away the outer garments

to show what’s beneath

our look at me culture

may we dispense with couture?

for nude things are happening

in the park, on the beach,

on just the other side of that fence

once seen, it cannot be unseen

forced intimacy is not intimacy at all

and yet we yearn to be seen

without pretense, without an outfit

an image, a character in which to play

nude things are real things

like a poke in the eye with a sharp stick

it is rude to be nude

but nude things are happening every day

words upon a page

12 Mar

words upon a page

cannot convey my feelings

they can only point


to things so loud and bright

you would want to look away

you would need to muffle your ears

cover your eyes

and close your mind

sometimes it is as though i am exploding

leaving pieces of myself

flung like glass shards into your skin

i am sorry for that

i know how that can hurt

so much that a gentle poem

words upon a page

can scarcely suffice


11 Mar








pomono po ems

ponopo mo re

no mo po


mo po no


we speak in jest

10 Mar

you cannot trust a comedian

for we trade in falsehoods

dodging around street corners

hiding out like Waldo

we speak in riddles

poking holes in the dike

painting mustaches upon portraits

kicking soapboxes from beneath your feet

we speak in punchlines

far below the belt

we speak, our words muffled by our masks

we speak our best when

we speak in jest


colorful life

9 Mar

i want to lead a colorful life

as daring as red

as deep as blue

as prudent as yellow

as magnificent as purple

as simple as green

as dependable as brown

as honest as white

as loving as pink

as intriguing as turquoise

as lonely as grey

and as mysterious as black

for to be without color

is also a kind of color in fact

i want to cover the whole spectrum

and there be nothing that i lack


the shining ones

8 Mar

i must look away for

i cannot bear to stare

be aware but beware

when i meet the shining ones

bearing gifts of a knowledge

which stings and cuts

a horrid sort of education

for such a fragile pup

the shining ones love us

they say

but who are the they that say?

they too are the shining ones

shifting like the desert sands

speaking like light busted up into colors

by some enormous prism