Sunday, December 21, 2014

Motive & Opportunity

Tidal swamp brocade
a tangle of nasturtiums
green leaves chrome yellow
light & stones & trembling
            rushing seafoam whispers
Light swamps brocade
a tangle of whispers
chrome yellow & trembling
            green leaves blossoms
            & stones
Light in the seafoam
tangled chrome
yellow brocade
swamp stones trembling
                         to be sure
          whispering green leaves
          rusted nasturtium blossoms
who knows why petals
tidal wash sand swept beach pavement
now you see it
& now you don’t

Monday, December 15, 2014

Moe Howard in the Underworld

The winter sun tells its own story

The beach sliding beneath the foam & variegated
sparkle of the winter sea tells another

the sound of waves crashing in a bottlecap
for example
         flickering neon behind scarred glass
                  a nun weeping at the ticket window…

Souls out of Erebus or Bakersfield
or any given night on Hollywood Blvd
stagger into the spotlight
led by one who is little more than a shadow
sketched in a mirror
armed with a seltzer bottle, a lead pipe,
& a Beatles haircut

Those sledgehammer eyes glaring beneath
         thunderous eyebrows in that dark place
                  & the spiked kool-aid reflecting all of this
                           like wet sand at low tide
carefully folded like a piece of concrete
& kept close to your heart
that we may learn the steps & the consequence 

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Some Might Say

A rain heavy sky
dark, mid-morning, winter
preempted by Bela Lugosi in Island of Lost Souls
Morphine Like Swimming
& a black stocking mask that reveals more than it hides

A sky heavy w/rain
I heard someone say it could have been the time of day
or maybe it was just the terza rima that everyone seems to speak
in my dreams

Heavy rain sky
I’d like some magic at this point
nothing special just the everyday run-of-the-mill type magic
& a safe dry place to put it when its done

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Chinese Take-Out

It was like leaded glass out there
when I got back I couldn’t hear out of my right ear
         & yet I was so captivated by your
         hesitation & the way the wind dropped to its knees
                  in how shall I say it “awe”

I did my Dude the Obscure routine & she lit another cigarette
dueling saxophones & a big Chevy V8
providing the soundtrack
dark notes & the remedy “on the cuff” they say
         but they never mean it that way
                  shuffled in as it is with all of the other small
sufferings of the heart & such
         only tends to make one feel stupid & why not

We’ll sit out on the pier pretending we don’t
know each other & we’ll count the stars
There aren’t as many as there once were so it won’t take long

Friday, December 5, 2014

Channel Nine

Dragons in the clouds
I know how they got there but I can’t tell you

To sink or to swim
it’s an interesting question but I’d just as soon sit back
& see what happens

Nine seagulls in a loose formation flying back to the beach
means the rain will be stopping soon
The sun
light slips
in be-                                      What time is it?
neath the
On, out, & over,
over the edge, & back,
under, I’m just asking, & caving in like the Upanishads on a
Tuesday morning after, not necessarily tangled in seaweed,
the deep white blue haze fades into snake games on the side-
walk, which was to be expected, given the way you said it, I’ll
say, & saying it over again just to make sure I got it right, I
wrote it all down, backwards…
Helicopters were called in to
investigate reports of a floater
out near the end of the jetty

Monday, December 1, 2014

Big Wednesday

Some things are best said without words
your tears for example told me more
than I ever wanted to know
& not unlike spilling rosary beads into a
lifesize replica of the Pacific Ocean
parked near the intersection of Wipeout & Windward
which I often referred to as “Wind Word”
seeing as my shoelaces were untied & ¿Que te parece, Cholita?
as they say on a moonless night at high noon in Beach Flats
Pee-Wee, Paco, Esmerelda, & Lupe as he was known then
though of Irish extraction aptly nicknamed Weasel
on the streets of Santa Monica in or around 1974
died of unspecified “complications” as we all must I guess
everyone shocked or amused              flip a coin
Something to do with prying off bumper stickers
on days when the asphalt sagged beneath the weight of an
obscure sky “Earthquake Weather” they called it
warning that the California coast would eventually
slip into the sea & not a moment too soon