with purple pang

where is the love
we used to share
beneath the evergreen?
we organic souls
savage balance
like a sunken ship

have you seen the dow?
it’s way downtown
down dude and
sad for the masses
a figurine of despair
long dark hair
and night upon us
but a shot in the air and
the revolution is on
someone cries
“there are louse about!”
and the bad men are
seized and manded
to public service
and forever

but me daydream of
wildflowers sprout
from the slime of
this crucible
the invention of hell
let’s take a ride
to the edge of night
i’ll show you things
you’ve never seen
i show you kings and
queens like sprung
from their gilded
palaces in the sun
and strongly to the suit
with purple pang

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Jello Rose

38° 3′40.92″N
east 8th avenue
in hutchinson
there’s an alley out back
and a dry dirt road out front
truck in the drive
some trees out back
inside the blue house
under eaves rained on
six hundred times
and burned by the sun
for sixty-five years
this is where the lieutenant died
drunk in his sleep 1956
he’d been sad and dreaming about
bloody young men
then the hodsons and their three kids
who roared about and made the hard kansas dirt
an island of dinos and pirates
scotch on the rocks and steaks on the grill
power jazz and great sex
the kids moved out and after a while
the hodsons went too
now ms. mcafferty
the middle-aged widow of a terrible man
who makes peace with the world in an oven
the aromas that fill the neighborhood lighten
everyone’s feet
wherever it reaches people are happy
and o! should you taste one
you will live forever
and see many wonderful places and planets
stars and sapphire universes
you shall shine she is divine
the green kitchen linoleum is spotless
and underneath the counter in the leftest cupboard
the old brass rose jello mold
for bringing true love into the world.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

probability of continuation


the mind wanders
there is a lot of blood
even here between the stars
they bleed too
though it looks different
smells different
tastes different

I move from cabin to cabin
(thank dog for the lock law)
I stay as long as the air lasts
I eat whatever I find
I am kept warm
orbiting the collapsed core of the eumilon zhang
maybe fifty cabins to go

so far no one found alive
that would at the same time be good
and bad
fear has given way to loneliness
loneliness has given way to numbness
I am a survival machine
resourceful they called me in flight basic

straight water is hard to find
plenty of unspoiled meat
(better cooked)
preserved by neutrons and zero g
by luck this deck included a shielded navcom node
where I keep what I cannot eat or drink
shielded from zhangs core radiation
frozen hard
dog I would kill for some water
no satisfaction licking ice crystals
from frozen limbs


I wish I could see you again
I wish I could tell you a bit more about me
I wish I could hold you
I wish I could talk to you again
I dream about you
I can smell you
I can hear you indistinct voices
I sit next to you on the beach at lanton
soaking up the rays

how you managed to love me I’ll never know
I broke everything I touched
you never hid anything
as though it was more preciously
broken by me
than whole without
what magical touch you had
to channel my maniacal madness
into vectors and angles
thrust and braking
rotational dynamics

as the secret weapon
lanston undercut the competition
with the routes I dreamed in my sleep
had it not been for the war
and special dispensation for the lack of credentials
I would have blissfully spent my days
on the galantine run
trimming off days

when the fleet mathematicians
realized that lantons posted plans
never matched the route taken
that no commercial navcom would dare go where I dreamed
they hid me in the galley floors while the ship was searched
watching freight jettisoned until the losses were unbearable
he handed me over himself
weeping over me
over the bottom line
half his crew suited up
jetting about
recovering the most valuable cargo
before it drifted into the nearest star


what maniacal joy
in the simulators
bone-cracking anticipation each cycle
sleepless so long they drugged me
until the I finally relaxed into routine
they taught me fueling/not fouling intuition
soon only the navcom cluster minds
of entire battle centers
could outwit me
and a bit later not even then

Gordon was the first
who could really hurt me
surely he taunted you did not think
that you were the only one
no amount of physical finesse could evade his attacks
for weeks I
lay in pain
walked in pain
studied in pain
fought in pain
the simulation engines faithfully reproduced
every acceleration
every bone crushing turn
electro-chemical stimulants simulated
the nausea of dimensional shift
the acrid burn of overloaded core
each needling distraction faithfully reproduced
in exquisite detail
to derail concentration
and destroy the irresolute

doctor lio came to me
after a grueling smash
look he said
I do not operate alone
and showed me his implants
they are very unpleasant at first
he explained in that
somber voice I late learned
was drained by so much death
but they let me see around corners
anticipate the unknowable
choose the best of uncountable options
they are very unpleasant later on
when it seems you must loose yourself to them
and become their meat puppet
but he explained
those with sufficient will can master them
can master the navcom cluster
he sighed seeing my hungry eyes

now in a fine pitch
pain not diminished
instead amplified
and redirected into
four/five/six dimensions
of exquisite misery
I saw behind the action
before multitudes of end games
modeled outcomes
navcom clusters could project but not choose
meat mind is the best to choose
doctor lio explained

Gordon was not the last to hurt me
he was not nearly the best
in fact there was no single best
some saw gravity best
some saw dimensional shift best
some saw the mind of the enemy best

we worked alone
we worked in teams
we worked in pairs
we fought for mastery of ourselves
and our machines
fierce collective minds
determined by threat
committed by common cause
impassioned to win

[probability of continuation :: .66327 +/- .003]

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment


damn i have to look up another one
like cummings I think capitalization is a tedious waste of time
cant you tell where it begins
and where it ends
that was a question
are you listening
where is the truth
have you found it
have you incinerated the lies in your damp basement
have you found the truth
or have you mistaken lies for the absence of truth
have you mistaken the ignorant for liars
have you dreamed of the apocalypse
only to wake and discover
those tacos didnt agree with you

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

mythical creatures

mythical creatures


we are mythical creatures
haunted by the specter of
looming reality
dare not you make us real
to decay
to rot
to become mundane
leave us alone
do not examine, explain,
for gods sake do not animate
like the pathetic gargoyles
once mysterious
now beamed into the youngsters mind
by bad food and worse toys
hold us please
in your imaginations
potential without potency


read about us
in old musty books
search out our figures
carved on forgotten tombs
on the lineal
of buildings built
before your parents were born
leave your heat-seeking missiles at home
no night-vision goggles
we make no heat
we make no sound
we make no demands
we live at the edge of perception
we inhabit your
ancestral memories
we live in the clouds
we are glimpsed from the corner
of your i
you remember us when you awake


harry made us of clay
with wire armatures
he brought us to life
in a respectable way
filled with awe
too bad you were not there for that first saturday matinee
no there were no lines around the theater
(the whole town would have had to line up to make a line that long)
but in that near empty theatre harry made them come alive
but you missed that
you did not take ellen winz to see the amazing battle
between the centaur and the skeletons
now we are made with such precision
painfully real – tiresome to watch
and so much killing
that the
must flow like blood
on the digitizing floor
we curse you vertex shader
we curse you bump map
we curse you particle systems
leave us in your imaginations
leave us in your dreams
leave us in your stories read at bedtime
leave us unreal

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

i don’t know what he means

this talk of kilts and combats
what in the hell is max talking about
how can i tell him
on the blog
in some sort of max/byron code
that i don’t get it
without everybody in the frickin’ world
seeing me as some sort of dullard
fresh fruit off the boat
christ this is tough a lot of stress
should i pick up the phone
or send an email
yeah, right through Room 57
and into carnivore no thanks
code code hmmmm
neal stephenson
okay — the key to the entire code
is the first letter of your girlfriend’s name
when FreakDog nearly severed my achilles
then that letter would be the letter a
and so on
in a rotating fashion

on update: I meant: fqjbbdy?
i suck at crypto
in the alternate universe where i was turing
hitler won

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment


aldous huxley
island 1962
are you looking
where you’re going?
watch your step!
there are mines
all over the place
they’ll blow your
legs off stan
i demand you fire
that boss of yours
that wants to make
you scream and cry
what’s that over there?
see between the trees?
i think it’s a new species
something that stands
and crawls and flies
could it be the human
race or some straggling
members haggard from
the herd and cackling?
who’s the one with
the brains around here?
it’s a topsy turvy world
with plants at the top of
the pyramid of wisdom
and you yes you at the…
middle. got ya on that one!
you thought i’d say bottom.
are you paying attention?

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Elevator Five

capital screamed the hanging man
i’ll do all the world a favor
slide tween phases of moon
sing into cold COLD water
ride clouds over darkened cities
roll in surfer’s bay and roll again
another might not be so true
grace light is coming
July 17th, 2008
my birthday
it all comes true
i’m not finished

catastrophian winds blue walls
seeks the unauthored text underneath
far more difficult and dangerous
than the old girlfriend danish roar
elton john soundtracking old movies
fights riot where city streets join
to say it will get you killed
so say it another way
ten to one this new one
will take it so so far
out into some stellar well
i’ve never seen
or heard of
the old beach

marta danced for me
alone in front of everyone
so i went home and wrote a song
struck with a bolt
never the same oh no not ever
my dreams powered the world
and the full moon circling
i saw her wave from the window
a night bus tail lights far away
i had told her brother that i loved her
a sky full of stars heard me swear
i stood on a street near a street light
and waved goodbye to marta

hot sun and cold water
we talk about history
our life is a mystery
as deep as the lake
steps on the stone
so i make a present sound
heavy breath stalks overground
into the hill
hot and cold universe
makes me words on a page
mellow me sage
walls of good tin
where i have been
no one will go again
where i am bound
none will be found
i am the lonely man
the only man
here on this earth
on this earth
so high

who has the weird
who is the weird
who put the weirdness in me
too many image streams
shot full of holes
color and black and white 3D
i come from the earth
which came from the Disk
but the sparklies come from me
seven-eights picture and ten percent sound
wind it around wind it around
the sky put the weirdness in me
this ground holds me down
while the sky makes me fly
too swift to dream
too heavy to stand
all things in their time
this is mine

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

the reason i called

was to go over things
but everyone’s dead at the end of the line
everyone here has gone dead
whereif to glissade to life in rome
ascend, as it were
abandon all norcalian and rough
hide in the silk
veer into quiet dark rooms of comfort
and sleep
who still holds nobly in the face of ten million dollars
who still just survives
who keeps the ground down
it is possible that
the happy rich are not real
the comfortable and breezy are automata
on this stage where the stressed
and the heads-in-the-stocks and assorted ne’er-do-wells
beggars in prague and swimming polar bears
starving bad artists
and the not very pretty
all live.
so that if you win the lottery or find god, it is death
the small death of automation
you Break On Through To The Other Side
and your life stays here?

speed up everything and we look like ants
i’ll call again later when you’re not alive
you’re freaking me out with this silence
i need sound

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

children of the earth

broad back skip back
to an earlier time
with pups whelping
in the woods
and tribesfolk yelping
all for the love of the land
these days have been
and in the midst of morning
we make our stand
on the mountainside
with kids with prunes
for minds all
shriveled and such
and laying in the
crib of mind so vast and
with a switchback
for a tail

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment


when i live on the moon my room will be blue
there in the passage i’ll meet a ghost
moonman the magnificent
then he tells me things to forget and pulls me
all my tight strings spring
i waltz on the surface dust stomping
happy no helmet I the moon
hello blue blue white look at you
i became a scout
for the fifth column of Cap’n Buzzy’s Overt Show And Tell
always out front with my bowtie and shoes
clickety clack and what do you know
moonmania and marseuphoria
buyin’ my back to the promised land
goin’ home
then the thing with the black sun
well if i didn’t make it out
last man standin’, sort of, except for Denon
who’s not a talker
turnin’ over a new leaf
my DNA was talking to me the other day from the computer?
and it said sharp up you slacky no ne’er well doer
nobody left but the sequencers and slicers and me and Denon
who’s not a talker or even really a person
deep space
well, that went on
and then we got to here
and it’s a good mix cause they cut and pasted
man’s got a lot of extra pressed under those numbers
and a good hunk of chip can solve him
solve him good
weedacky it’s a long, long living
for a jumpy moonman

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Year Of Stone

the immortal baker drops us in the pan
sweat from his brow, impurities and swirls
makes us low and small, sweet and salt
smiling some and others grim
for me now a year of stone
a mist on basalt granite stirred
we’re all flying
we’re all flying
smooth and slick with water
grown over with clean moss
the lives of lichen
very meaning of
they sing — did you know?
tumbling and singing
freezing and flourishing
i greet my sun and flash alive
my year of stone

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Comments (1) A Few Notes On My Imminent Death

soon enough it’ll be your turn to be byron
last wishes: pink floyd’s fat old sun played so fucking loud
give gilmore a lude and turn him loose
everybody party ’til dawn
feed me to the strays
and that’ll do
a few clues: marianna dubbeld, man
you see john batton, you move
danny isn’t dead that was a lie
like so many lies in my head
lies from ol’ lynn the liar
but it’s wells that finally kills you

aldous max plum senrab o’reilly green
randall io cortez blaze mm the grinning sky
my karass dances to the waning wampeter
sinookas entwining
sometimes i was there
sometimes i was shaking
sometimes i was crazed
many glissade-pools and freigards
cellos and sweet carpets
silver rockets lifting on twin flames
guided by puppets
since i am the only real one
it’s been good

you granfalloon united states i loved your words
too bad
i never made it to the moon or mars
if the strays that grok me get adopted
maybe they go up as the mascot
and then i go.

end of this

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

12:39 A.M.

a blue jay has flown into my garage
a brown and blue blur
hovering watching me
circling and blurring
i fled.
i’m in the house writing this
hope he finds what he’s looking for
was he a messenger?
now i’ve fled, there’ll be no message
i’ve got to go check
check the blue jay message
i’m just no good at this spirit stuff
what if he needs something, but can’t tell me?
open my blue jay brain
reach back to the saurian
now i’m nervous
brown and blue raptor in my garage
reach out
feel that blue jay peace way
oh yeah
blue blur
tell me

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Private: The 60s Party

The 60s party begat an era
of madness and joy
Aldous and I attended and
met our hosts, Liza and Malcom
An artist and a jazz musician
Very cool people
and what a party!
A group collaboration
hung on a wall
Huge vibrant macaw batiks
and drugs everywhere.
Punch bowls spiked with acid
snack trays overflowing
with magic mushrooms,
white powder and little pills.
There may even have been beer.
Liza was a vision,
floating in a long skirt,
tie-dyes and hippie elegance.
Everything but the scarlet begonias.
She became our contact for
psychedelic supplies,
little bits of paper
bearing Narwhals.
Then something happened..
Aldous was joined by his
girlfriend from Pennsylvania.
I had to find a new home.
Liza, said I, do you know of
anyone renting?
Yes, she smiled.
We are.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

we fucking lost this contest
demon nots got to let us ever win
sad little black velvet clown eyes spurtin’
bad little weasels under the flourboards
can we go home now? i asked the melty man
we’re on the way to PizBoxMainia, said the melty man driving his dark carriage wild
i tried jumping
i tried talking
i tried hitting but the air’s too slow
i try thinking of louisiana
six miles south of baton rouge
in that inhuman backwoods
i seen a floaty lady there once
with eyes like fresh oranges
she was singing little sweet melodies
about chocolate bars and love
the little elfs was all so happy
the eight cylinders rocked out fire pow pow pow pow
rockin’ up to the sky
look down below from the white leather seats
wave goodbye to the night city
wave good night

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Cake And Ice Cream

michael jackson and britney had a baby
a billion dollar baby
who owns the moon.
flesh and bone and soul of stone
‘i’ll fucking kill you!’ she shrieked
at ten thousand dollars per second.
‘trust our president’ says the resident
of the smoothest tan EVER
polywrapped in white vinyl.
the curse of perfect styrofoam
‘makes a man loose and hard to swallow’
dead inside at twenty-five.
digital magic for the comeback album!
duet with elton
then back to the bunker in iowa.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment


candy dennis stole fourteen bucks out of my wallet
that’s the price of a burger at the getti-up
when you leave your wallet behind
at the getti-up

not hooked in they are
nineteen-ninety three and nineteen seventy-nine
let’s go down this street
they got a radio shack

walk past the hemp store
go back in buy a lost coast hemp hat
and a mr. natural patch for it
big glass pipes for sale
what are those for?

and he walked on down the hall
past the ooooooolllllllldddddddd guy on the porch
his nickname was toast
back in nineteen seventy-nine
he watches me
too drunk

jovan saved my bacon let me slide on a room
no i.d. and no gas and no way in america
out in the whirlpool i sit next to an old guy
here he is:

born canada then to small town oregon
old brothers younger sisters bike all over
he says his school was different because all the kids got along
football players hippies greasers rich kids poor kids
roaming the oregon edge
they all went to U. Oregon he became a designer
but what he does is not who he is we agree
married twenty-five years and now nine with the new
it happens
spiritual conferences peace marches
al gore and the solar cooker people
benjamin franklin and jefferson and adams and washington
africa and india and deep space
‘you’re one of them? yes he says, laughing
i laugh me too
the two tough cowboy types grimace

strangers in garberville
seals in the ocean
deep ferns in redwood sinkholes
you say it’s your birthday
write a song

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment


superstitious tree-bound swayer long asleep
deep in the cotton the high cotton
he’s dreaming me.
all the water connects us below this light and rock
sweet life in the dark the fertile dark
talking about us.
massive wave beams in the unnutterable sanctioned mind of god space
pulse down through the iron the earth’s iron
the constant voice.
luna through leaves a six cloud sweep between eyes and the swelling beauty
rushes through the wood the thrilling wood
breeze scent music romance and dance
i love.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment


the grief’ll cut legs right out
but the yellow sphere sees you still
walk softly on the graves
give it up for the grass on your toes
between the birches it thickens
a steady hill to nowhere
climbing into the sky
a bird.
orange danish feelings
smiling slightly wicked
a beautiful house
swept out and spiritual smelling
a samovar in the corner
the coat rack was a man
we are all firing blindly
but max the one-eyed cat
bank-stalking suit pins
mocking Trenchy and counting
zippy-do-dah wrong
guilty flashes coming
no wall of faith will hold
the magic charm against bullets
secrets will out
and we will all live and die

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment