Tuesday, April 21, 2015

If Answers Were Easy We Wouldn't Need Questions

In hock up to my bejesus, I surfaced sometime during the
Poet & Peasant Overture (Franz von Suppé charging thru the
string section wielding a blowtorch)

It was Tuesday on Earth and probably Tuesday on Mars
& a cool breeze worried the eucalyptus trees that leaned over the
sand gravel path to the beach below

Carried away by jangling guitars & a lemonade sky that just won't quit
origamied into something resembling a Tibetan surfboard
but only if you look at it thru turquoise colored goggles on 
Cinco de Mayo

I was sure I could make the numbers work
one polished blue stone divided by a 40 year summer vacation
equals the square root of its street value minus the Venice pier at dawn

It was the same kind of song & dance that lit up the T'ang Dynasty
only this time around it had a punk reggae polka groove to it
rippling across the pavement in the here to forever leadpipe coastal haze

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

One More Drop

There is that light & heavy wind to contend with
& a swimming pool blue turquoise sky rocking
all the way back to the land of the dead
w/a few thin clouds feathering out
as though they had something to say but thought better of it

like a sheet of silk torn right down the middle
if knowing what knowing might be would make any difference
the tree fern whispers out the side of its mouth like Elvis
in his decline & you set aside the machete
& plunge your wrists in the beaded foam

Seagulls calling from the jetty speak the same language as Aeschylus
though with an accent that is straight from the surf ghetto
& I made detailed drawings of your tattoos but
I can't show them to you because they are mine now
& this is how I will love you

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Beyond the Saturation Point

Palm trees hovering like divine scripture
begging for more as if it was the only way to pinpoint the
exact coordinates that will transport us to the
here & now

      A norteno accordion tuning up under water...

            Sheet music fluttering in the breeze...

                  Samuel Taylor Coleridge / Pacific Gas & Electric

      Any meaning other than it so encumbers recognition
      like a red Corvette driven straight off the pier

            "There's more concrete in the world than there are good waves"

I was spilling the last glass of water in California
translated from English into Japanese into
Arabic into German into Klingon
& back into English

"It all makes sense if you stand back & look at it from a distance"

A tangle of mist laying flat on the wet sand at the water's edge

It was like walking into an old time revival meeting
drunk off my ass
with blood on my hands
& a song in my heart
("Backwater" by the Meat Puppets)

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Curse of the Surf Zombie

Standing in line at the beer store "looming" as maybe Frankenstein's monster might on a Friday night in S.Cruz.  I couldn't even begin to tell you & I won't even try weaving among the shadows.  The vault of heaven is wide open & the stars assume you know the name of every constellation from Andromeda to Volpecula but that doesn't mean you can find your car keys. The palm trees rattle their bones & a light seabreeze fucking w/your equilibrium has you doing your best Joe Cocker imitation right there in the parking lot.  Just one of the many obstacles you'll encounter along the path of least resistance.  Slick liquid neon palette of sunset still lingering in the heavy Pacific sky.