A Crash Course in Circular Breathing

Melodic birdnotes & bedsprings

providing all the commentary required

& the doll-like way she

            sleeps in my dreams

her heart playing electric bongos you

            hold to your ear like a seashell

                        because this time you’re really listening

but then something she said

            made me feel as though I was

peering through the stained glass windows

            of a Coupe de Ville

                        parked on the bottom of the sea…

& now it’s later & I’m treading water

a shadow among the tangled seaweed swaying

& I don’t know where we’re going but 
we’ll be there any minute now

Uncut & Commercial Free

Guilt by Association

He said she said

& it all went to hell from there

Famous Last Words

“I’m sure you’re an excellent accordion player”

Show Me the Way to Go Home

1. Falling leaves & needles.

2. My voodoo doll piñata. 
3. Floating out to sea.

Auto Focus

Shrouded in a drizzle of mist

the ocean (reclining) insists

                                    SUMMERTIME BLUES

                                    (ain’t no cure, etc)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Boiling ocean poppies

on the black & blonde sand

                   Your errant passion, my autographed copy

                   of the sky over El Segundo

             ~ a light seduction ~

                                         I could swim thru all that you spill

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

pitching a fit

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

                                                           “Everything is water

                                                            if you look long enough”

                                                            (Robert Creeley)

A Man’s Got to Know His Permutations

The sky is whispering (green) & softly

dusted w/silver haze…

& so the message gets thru     encrypted     like her shoulders

which are bare white miracles darkened by the sun

            & riding the High-Stakes Bodhisattva Blue Cloud Express

            thru all that rippling concrete and asphalt

                        human forms, bird shapes, & fish shadows in

                        extraterrestial bonsai gardens planted in tide pools

                                                rocks strewn along the shore

                                                                        plus two & a half starfish…

Pelican surfing a thermal, stalls, turns, & drops (splash)

a mid-morning snack.

                        No waves. The ocean is asleep. Playing possum.

                       “I couldn’t find my sunglasses

                       & then I did.”

                                 “They were right there where the invisible

                                 skeleton hand left them.”

& so the next day…

endless failing, falling, fading                   walk around outside

in the sun under clouds      cactus, orchid, anemone     sunset/shadow

turquoise & silver (a “get-rich-quick scheme”
                               wrong from the get-go, burned in effigy, prayed to,
                               disemboweled on a stone
                               altar decorated with human teeth, pornographic
                               pictures & votive candles anxiously flickering
                               in little red glass jars
                               strumming the ribs of clouds

Lo que está en mi corazón

                     & Muddy Waters singing “Big Leg Women”

                     just to keep it honest

Polished bronze sky a dark mirror tilting into the sea

Okay, I guess, if taken in the proper dosage

(the proper dosage is always 5 times more than that which is recommended)