Bus Riding

The Daumier-like faces

Clinging to logs
being tossed about
on the bus
me hovering
like a dragon fly
Seeing
Can I help?
Stones hide in each one
if not hope
at least a flickering
of a soul.

Cement headed drivers
(they have to be)
mourn the human condition
All seek shelter in a world
other than their own.

Niches form to isolate.
If you don't find a niche
you are what I call a breakaway,
or at least you ride the range.

As soon as the faces are spoken
to, ah a light exchanges,
warms the atmosphere,
and everyone even the driver
lurches with a purpose.

---

Robin's Nest

When the little bird
in the cuckoo clock
found the switch
in the back
the energy released
was beyond belief – the only child
found a mate:
A wild puppet master
who would not rest.
Always the outsider
he looked into you
pulling on your strings
peering into you
who couldn’t stop laughing.

---

Unknown

I say red is blue not red.

Big money backs me.

Red becomes blue. The money,

the creator of the shift,

means everything.

It would take a lot

of money to change

it back again.

Maintaining the status quo,

upholding tradition

is what the vast majority

of people do or wish they could.

The majority of Americans 

who run things like public

schools, the House of Representatives,

a Kiwanis Club have so

much power

that quite often they are able

to prevent themselves

from learning something

that might be very good for them.

This power is caused

by a false pride.

If the people cannot see

what's good for them

they will often

choose what is bad.

The bad will have long term

consequences and further

complicate the people’s search

for the good.

---

In the Beginning

One becomes two.

Two became the many.

Looking at each other

making faces furrowing,

smiling, pointing, laughing.

In time they approached

other members of their society

and entertainment began – 

In the Beginning.

Entertainment as an activity

grew slowly; there were more

important things to do.

By 3000 B.C. (at least) all forms

of entertainment

from religious ritual

to epic poetry

were finally in place.

---

The Antidote

A naked human

the feeling their skin creates

the light gleaming off

the chrome bicycle handle

salty, foaming ocean water

the song living inside

the face containing all

faces all the vaccines

all the dogs we have created

Hammer, Wood and nail

the touching of the horns

the deepening breath

of humility

early Antonioni.

In general people define themselves

more by their hates

than their loves. Hate sticks

to their ribs. Love is all

around like the sky.

O, How the mighty human multiplies

while the poetic traits

in man are torn asunder. 

Submerged

Inundated

By lies-a tapestry

devoted to Mammon

Has eroded our belief

in an effective communication

transmogrifying the so important

effects of our democracy.

Satisfied by cheap gods

and mind numbing

cultural repetitions

we have lost 

our knowledge of The Good.

Now we will have to

start all over again.

---

In This Time

Our first dream

is of course the womb.

The second is the expulsion 

and third is our struggle,

our work, to create

a womb-like existence

in the waking world.

We walkabout 

in all forms

strutting, barely balancing,

crawling, sliding, flying,

keeping the thought

and the memory of that thought

from wrinkling.

Every now and then

we play small parts

in peoples’ lives.

To transcend loneliness

we live our episodic lives

as if we were expanding

through the eyes

of a distant narrator

or even better still

we hide in the weightless

world of dreams.

For me it’s all about

the feeling. What happened,

what’s happening? 

I define it simply.

I ask do I want to see

that person, do that thing,

go here, stay there?

I feel it out and decide

and try not to put

a label on it.

To define why I feel

a certain way

would be a blasphemy.

---

At This Moment

The fat people seem to be

hustling me

into indolence. 

Though they move swiftly

when necessary

leaving me to wonder

will I be able to mirror

their grace?

I eat like a horse

elongating my jaw

cracking each morsel.

Before destruction there is misuse,

then abuse and finally

the never ending pain.

---

Beauty

Handprints discovered

in a cave near Pendejo, 

New Mexico are carbon-14

dated to around 40,000 B.C.

The magic being unearthed

in Troy

seat of the Mycenaean Age;

the regal profundity 

of all hidden tombs

the astounding myths

of The Aegean Sea.

Einstein in Tunisia

This was my initial reaction, other than weeping, to the events of 9-11. What we call heaven contains all the positive memories of the human race; hell the opposite.


I have been held in this Mediterranean fortress for the last eleven years.  My apartment is appointed with paintings of the local terrain—all hillsides and empty beach scenes.  I can’t tell where I am.  I have forgotten something vital to European security and my jailers and I have been attempting to find what I have lost.  A nuclear device is buried somewhere in Europe.


I was an undercover agent working with the DIA when an explosion in Tunis, Tunisia effectively shattered my memory of all preceding events.  My cell had been targeted by the CIA.  A classic fuck-up.  We know the implanted device is real from a cable I sent to the DIA a good two months before.  I was the only survivor.


For the last eleven years I have been given drugs, watched endless film and video; my jailers even gave me a girlfriend.  I’ve read and re-read my diaries.  All the research, all the prodding, and I don’t know who I am.  I can’t imagine being the person they say I was.  Tonight my jailers throw a farewell party for me.


I read the last entry in my diary: “Feb. 18: People are mad.  Each believes in their own fantasy.  Sanity is for those who see this—the way it is: writhing and terrifying.  People are mad for they remain oblivious to the power of the unconscious.  I think people have always been afraid of me.”  When I was a child I would tell adults, “It’s all in your mind.”  I infuriated them.


“You know nothing about it.”  “Wait till you grow-up,” they would say.  Now here I am.  My freedom is all in my mind and I can’t find it.


The very last note in the diary (the morning before the CIA attack) reads: “Large spirits tend toward domination.  For those spirits to become great they must refine themselves and their desires.  Concentration and restraint are the watchwords of dominating spirits.”  What could I have been thinking?


Roger, one of my guards, comes in.  He stands inside my door looking like the languid Christ he is.


“Anything?”  He asks plaintively.


“You know me.  I gave up a long time ago.  I can’t live my life for them.”  His long face leans toward me.


“A lucky guess could postpone the party.”


“Ah, I had not thought of that.  Would you mind not disturbing me until perhaps a pot of coffee at four?”


“Okay Einstein,” he says politely and retreats.


My parents had been notified years ago of my MIA status.  Hannibal was from Tunis.  Carthage, to be exact. In ancient times it was famous as a place for human sacrifice.  They were also the perfectors of the mosaic.  O Exquisite world, which I’m sure I never loved enough, why can’t I see you?

The Scrim of Euphoria

A lot of times people attempt to restrict their emotional thinking.  Envy, jealousy, hate and love can be embarrassing and in our own eyes tend to diminish us, but they are only moments on a wheel, which in a larger context enable us to survive and integrate.  Emotions contain no more truth than an ice cream sundae. 

Under the guise of professionalism and order we limit our interaction with ourselves, our neighbors and even our friends.  In the public sphere, from radio, t.v. and public speaking, we are an abomination of sameness.  There is very little diversity in our public sphere –  certainly not representative of our nation’s people.  It’s a practical matter, the owners say.  We can’t have differing kinds of voices.  Consistency and repetition are necessary to establish the brand.  We must have stability.  Stability is the enemy of creativity.  A meaningless slogan, but if you look into current media it’s as if there were no humans behind the format, or behind the screen if you like.  From the right to the left, the people who present the radio, t.v. and movie events literally have no idea of the effect of their content.  They themselves can no longer hear what they say.  They have been brainwashed by their belief in bullshit – as long as it sells, baby.