Posts Tagged ‘Man’

Wasn’t I just here
Dragging the hose to the top of this hill
When Mom wasn’t looking, on the phone
Eroding the soil to catch it
At the bottom with a friend, shovels, and a dam
Before it floods my parent’s bedroom?
Wasn’t I just here, throwing a party
Snapped sprinkler heads and underage drinking?
Wasn’t I just here planting this sapling
That towers above me – does she remember
Me saving her from my chores of cleanup?
Wasn’t I just here, parking the Monte Carlo
One tire up on the curb
And staggering into the house on drugs?
Wasn’t I just on my way to the Nickels
To fuck around with high school experiments:
How much Jim Beam can I drink
Before I drown or forget whose breasts I am holding?
Wasn’t I just around the corner
Cursing up a storm just to roll those words?
Wasn’t I drinking Cisco just the other night
And shooting pool with the MH Posse?
I thought I was just down at Nobes
Throwing stolen pallets off the cliff
And leaping through the fire with my Mickeys.
Could have sworn I was just at Nati’s
While my parents told our favorite waitress
That they were so proud of Kyle and I.
Wasn’t I the one who broke Mom’s last wind chime,
And threw my Dad against the breezeway wall
When he tried to stop me from running away again?
Didn’t I just lie to Dad about
Doing all my chores but I didn’t coil the hose?
Wasn’t that just me and Gary
Doing stupid hazardous tricks of that stolen launch ramp?
Wasn’t that me the other day
Looking down from the top of the pine tree
At my hysterical mother telling me to come down
And powerless to do anything about it?
Didn’t I just steal my first Penthouse
From the neighbor’s garage
And see Venus, Venus, Venus
In three color pictorals?
Don’t I get my $5 allowance now, Dad?
I want to go buy Lemonheads at Delta Drug.
Didn’t I just have those army men
And Matchbox Cars
That Dad keeps digging out of the backyard?
I swear that I just read the pain
In Jared’s poetry and thought that I could do that.
Wasn’t I just hammering my drum set
In the garage to “We Built This City”?
Where are Samwise and Frodo;
They were around
Just a second ago.
And I thought I saw Grandma and Grandpa
Last weekend for miniature golf;
How come Grandpa always won?
Wasn’t I just here with Karen, with Laura,
With Dawn, with someone else?
Wasn’t I just here?

A lot of nights,
Laying awake in the middle
Of Ocean Beach,
I hear screams or yelling
And then nothing.
Sometimes it is two men
Or just one with
No one answering.
A man and a woman,
The sound of a slap
Then flats smacking the ground
Staccato, quickly, then fading.
Harleys and their riders,
Unmistakable bad assedness.
Cars starting suddenly
In the hotel parking lot;
Catfights, dogs barking.
Once in a while,
The thudding of a helicopter.
House, rave, bass, latin music,
Five seconds in passing
A blatant musical statement
Like a commercial you are in.
A can rattles.
The buzz of the tattoo place
Across the parking lot.
Sometimes an out of place
Seagull’s complaint –
I imagine its sharp wings.
But mostly I enjoy
The relative silence,
A sheet thrown over
The furniture of OB
For the night,
A hush like the volume turned down;
Something more reflective,
To get buried in –
It’s soft.

Perhaps my only true loves
Are those that are inanimate,
Or are animated soley by my
Magical imagination.
They love me like a god –
I give them life, they give me
Love without strings attached.
They could attach their strings
If they ate from that forbidden fruit
That Adam and Eve partook of.
But that is the difference
Between mankind and animals,
Plants, minerals, Elves, Dwarves, and Faeries.
We know we do wrong – we still do it.
Some barrier was broken and we keep on breaking,
We made god to subtly blame for our position.
(We call him Satan)
We told him to forgive us because
It wasn’t in our own power
To forgive ourselves for evolving.
We are now the chosen species of the planet
And, collectively, we all want to go home.
So these inanimate things I animate,
Infusing them with imagination and belief.
I can believe in them because it was I
Who made them real in the first place.
God didn’t make me; I made him
Just like I make a dream a reality,
A story my existence, and item alive
And bounding to and fro with innocent excitement.

George

Posted: February 18, 1995 in Poetry
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Sometimes I wish I could
Feel all four walls in the dark
From where I sit on this
Thinly carpeted floor –
Again, like a closet,
A most comfortable space
For one sad and lonely
Anthropomorphic ape.
One or two trips to the sunlight
Have sunburned him into
The hypocrisy he despised:
Loss of childhood and
Less of curiosity
Leaves George a more shallow man
And less of a wondrous angel.
Now he collects seagull feathers
For his bedside table
To remind him of
The wingspan he once had
In Eden.

Horse

Posted: December 9, 1994 in Poetry
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There seems to be a certain point
where a great deal of intelligence
becomes a stallion too strong,
or wild to train, to ride.
Madmen have become so smart
that their brains have snapped:
the reins have cracked,
and they cannot let go, or get off.
Simple people are said to be happy —
their mounts aren’t unruly
and serve them well.
Those with the powerful steeds
that are still under control
are successful and productive:
the plows they pull are deep,
the furrows they plant are wide.
Yet as we pity the farmer
with a lame or weak horse,
pity the land-worker with
an unbroken or wild beast.
For we admire the size
and the strong shiny flanks
from over the split-rail fence,
yet the owner’s field is criss-crossed
with uneven and crooked berms,
or stand fertile and untilled
next to the brown-eyes
and restless
horse.

I
I can imagine a perfect spot
to have a picnic with you today;
the sky is a wee bit grey
at the edges —
I caught as many clouds as I could
with my butterfly net
(I came in wet
early this morning from the rain-dew
on the unmown grass stems).

II
I’ve found a circle of trees
by the brook in the forest
where it takes a toddler’s tumble
over a jumble of rocks;
the moss grows shaggy like old men’s beards
wisping from the branches;
faerie streamers from last night’s revelry —
perhaps Pan was here just a little while ago
rearranging or arranging this spot and my walk.

III
It’s only raining a little bit now
not like how it was this morning —
you were sleeping, darling —
I was watching the whole time;
the same clouds that dampened my socks
were protectively wrapped across your eyes;
It was no surprise that I found it so easy
to slip outside to explore, to find
a real secret garden for your majesty.

[for Dawn]

I’ve hated myself for so long
for other people
other opinions, other lives:
here goes my hair —
look in the mirror,
watch your steely blue eyes wink:
lighthouses to steer ships by.
Bring them home.
Home is the sailor,
home from the sea,
and the hunter,
home from the hill.
home to your heart.
Quit renting the space from yourself:
laugh and languish
with the rest of the apes called human beings.
Life is a dualism;
you are understanding
dum-dum balancing act of whatever.
Equilibrium is so nice.
So is the shift of the teeter-totter but
gain control,
remain under control;
O Captain, my Captain,
you are not yet cold and dead.
Breathe in and out,
live until the end.
It comes not from your hand;
it is not believed in your heart:
the sides of life and death
are one shot kamikaze missions:
one, then the other.
Enlighten the lighthouse.
Strengthen the beams of your winks.
Find meaning in living
to bank hard against the 100% house of death.
The Love comes:
a white ship,
a black frigate,
the swarthy faces of dream-lands sailors
set foot on the dry land
of your once-fertile imagination,
bearing gifts of gems and spices,
flowers silks and brocaded tapestries
unique to your mind and your magic —
so you trade them to the rest of the world.
These gifts are your giftedness;
these waves are your talents,
and when your life is lost,
you will trade no more in this heady marketplace.
Learn to be a good merchant of your wares,
a good businessperson,
a good man;
everyone barters and sings praise and stabs.
Be better: be the best
that your will and imagination can conceive,
then focus your lighthouse lantern
to illuminate,
to enlighten,
and to greater things to believe in.