I've never really listened to the
curvature of the earth which
comes & goes out here on the west
coast
further enhanced by a variable
compression rate that can only be offset by
learning to endure the kindness of strangers
& so to understand the relevance of monastic
palm trees standing outside the Kung-Fu Taqueria
requires the application of counterweights
along with enough saltwater tequila to strip the paint from
the walls of your soul
or at least enough to skim the
bliss off our inherent failure like mist
sheering the pavement from the sky
& those trapeze clouds strung from morning
to dusk with the cigarette girl caressing my indecision
There are other more expedient methods
I'm sure but
as for me I've
always preferred the scenic route
Monday, December 19, 2016
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Trying to Parallel Park the Theory of Relativity
Behind every dark night of the soul there's a
victimless crime with your name on it
As Su Tung-p'o might have said "The slow
train stops for no man"
& even if you could find the
haystack in a needle
would it add a new & different
voice to the chorus?
Thinking of the
lungs of Sophocles & the powdery rust color of the
sky right now.
Voices in the eucalyptus?
Of chorus not
& the shark tooth
I carried with me for good luck
inadvertently left on a beach somewhere between Santa Barbara
& Bolinas
a dark beach with pale neon blinking in the mist
so that it was like Chinatown under water
I have stood on the street there with my
chow mein & notebook
& a 24 oz. can of Modelo Especial
in a brown paper bag
as the weather swept up the coast from south of there
coming in off the water
(driven it would seem
by sea creatures
who resemble devatas
from an ancient sandstone carving
but with seaweed in their hair
& wearing damp sunglasses
to hide their incendiary eyes
from those like me who would
like to know
victimless crime with your name on it
As Su Tung-p'o might have said "The slow
train stops for no man"
& even if you could find the
haystack in a needle
would it add a new & different
voice to the chorus?
Thinking of the
lungs of Sophocles & the powdery rust color of the
sky right now.
Voices in the eucalyptus?
Of chorus not
& the shark tooth
I carried with me for good luck
inadvertently left on a beach somewhere between Santa Barbara
& Bolinas
a dark beach with pale neon blinking in the mist
so that it was like Chinatown under water
I have stood on the street there with my
chow mein & notebook
& a 24 oz. can of Modelo Especial
in a brown paper bag
as the weather swept up the coast from south of there
coming in off the water
(driven it would seem
by sea creatures
who resemble devatas
from an ancient sandstone carving
but with seaweed in their hair
& wearing damp sunglasses
to hide their incendiary eyes
from those like me who would
like to know
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)