Archive for January, 1991

I wish you a dinosaur and a penny
I wish you enchiladas and dolphins
I wish you love and chap stick
I wish you coconuts and grassy hills
I wish you an earring and pencil lead
I wish you whipped cream and blood
I wish you happiness and pen ink
I wish you a treehouse and Apple Jacks™
I wish you blue and green and orange
I wish you beer and Lemonheads™
I wish you dreams and brown leaves
I wish you words and squirt guns
I wish you chewing gum and piranhas
I wish you luck and three bird feathers
I wish you beef jerky and yo mama
I wish you would and brass
I wish you wings and belief
I wish you days and several candles
I wish you toenails and bobsleds
I wish you gold chains and thermostats
I wish you negligees and carpeting
I wish you a bag of marbles and bones
I wish you the stars and a flower
I wish you incense and Rolaids™
I wish you a Twix™ and a pipe wrench
I wish you courage and money
I wish you a huge slobbering puppy dog with a big tongue
I wish you Jello™ and time
I wish you wood grain and shivers
I wish you letters and Coca-Cola™
I wish you.

D-light

Posted: January 22, 1991 in Poetry
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O fiberglass D-light:
chase away the ugly night
with your comfy orange pool
staining my lonely sheets.
I think of you in the dark

O wonderfully crosshatched D-light;
I’m certainly crawly-cold from shiv’ry fright.
the black palms are far too cool
springing down the streets;
the mongrels howling in the park.

She’s Crafty

Posted: January 20, 1991 in Poetry
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What to do
When your eyes grow crafty:
The brows twitch and beetle
Gnawing some waddling idea
Like a stick of chewing gum.
I know you
And your devious little ways
Distractions and innocence
Trademarks of your storming
Implementing your plan of action.

Mind Shaft

Posted: January 18, 1991 in Poetry
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he didn’t need to be shown how to do
things; he was good at figuring
them out – taking them apart and
putting them back together. he read a
lot when he was innocent and
believed too much for his own good.
too many times he became impatient
and cursed himself for imagined
wrongs, blaming his insensitivity for
his lack of social standing. he tried so
hard he made himself sick with lies
and falsehoods, having to artificially calm
the turbulence of his stomach with
deadened-nerves ignorance. he knew,
or rather hoped (he didn’t allow himself
the luxury of self-confidence) that someday
he would be given the chance to show
another human being what he thought
love was. it was too big, too heady, too
encompassing to try to contain within the
bars of paper and ink, but he knew
exactly what it was and how he would
go about making it work and dreamed
handsome times and admirable occasions.
love would turn some special girl’s eyes
to his if only he had the patience to
hang on to the blades of grass growing
in the cracks of the snail-track laden
sidewalk. he secretly prayed to a god
he honestly doubted and looked for
some reason besides cowardice to not
get life over with and found that he had
matches of distraction at the bottom of
his dismal mind shaft. every time he went
into the dark and felt the slimy pitch
of the terror of being alone, he could find
another match to sputter and flicker
in the cold depths to keep his faith until
someone would come along to crank up
the bucket form the bottom of the well.

Dreaming of Twilight

Posted: January 17, 1991 in Poetry
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I swam languidly
like an octopus,
like a jellyfish
through my roomful of memories.

I no longer live there,
but visiting makes me sadly reminiscent;
my cluttered reminders
tacked up on the walls
like so many butterflies.

the air was thick like mercury.
I drifted with the tide
to a picture here, a momento there;
memories like an evening haze,
memories like a knit wind.

I’m happy to meander through my grassy lanes,
through deserted familiar streets
under twinkling childhood stars;
the wash of tears in my eyes
accepts the solemn passage of time.

Little Raw Ideas

Posted: January 13, 1991 in Poetry
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Did you sense the urgency in the setting sun today
Did you hear the impatience of the wind this evening
Can you taste the excitement imported by the weather
Don’t the palms of your hands itch for solid steel
I’m hoping God will unleash the lightning riders
To rip my roots out of this ever composting life
And dump me on my ass in the middle of a thunderstorm
Soggy and brilliant and fiery and real!

Untitled Poem #101

Posted: January 10, 1991 in Poetry
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I crawled and crawled and crawled through this
Dark mountain of wet bloody clay clawing by chunks
Of big puppy chow kibble breaking my nails
From the dirt wedging under them inflamed and
Painful falling clumsily at the side of the precipice
Barking lacerations down the cliffside thousands
Of feet to the tree leaf ocean below where I
Crashed through the pretty green carpet to
Pachinko my way limb to limb from limb
Down to land crawling my way under hot wet
Underbrush wiping my faces with their
Leathery-thorny branches twigs under my
Eyelids parched streatching burned by the
Twinkie-colored sand under the trees
Broiled by a starry yellow sun in a blue sky
Chopped up by the stringy branches of the jungle
Dissected sunlight lay strewn on the ground
Pulsing, heating the loam and roots to consciousness
As I crawled and crawled and crawled to be with you.