i love to kiss her
my lesbian friend
when saying hello
or goodbye
i never go for the lips
or even the cheek
i dive
for the base of the neck
where that collarbone
scoops out
a lovely depression
where the heart lung and nerve
trade pulses
like the smoothest freeway
exchange you ever saw
and my mouth
searches
for that cellular dividing line
that changes traffic forever
turning her one way and me another
and i wonder where it is
where that answer is buried
in science
in childhood
or under my kiss
beneath her lovely depression
but that doesn't matter
doesn't matter at all
and neither do I.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
NIGHT PASSAGE
riding the highway
at night
on a bus
half-a-dozen
of us travellers
scattered
in the forty-two seats
dozing
or chatting
maybe reading
or just staring
at the inside
of our own skulls
i like the distance
between the towns
stretches of field
and pasture
without light
only
the distant treeline
against
the faint sky
and once in a while
a tiny dot
or two
of warm yellow
from
the farmhouse windows
who have night passengers
of their own
to comfort.
at night
on a bus
half-a-dozen
of us travellers
scattered
in the forty-two seats
dozing
or chatting
maybe reading
or just staring
at the inside
of our own skulls
i like the distance
between the towns
stretches of field
and pasture
without light
only
the distant treeline
against
the faint sky
and once in a while
a tiny dot
or two
of warm yellow
from
the farmhouse windows
who have night passengers
of their own
to comfort.
Friday, January 29, 2010
A Perfect Day For Love And Squalor
Heading west on US 150 through my hometown/Thursday night/after a trip to the movies by myself/Up In The Air /which was how I had left her 7300 weeknights ago/and realizing that going west on US 150 is absolutely the wrong thing to do
and that's when you have to reverse everything/into a new painful extraordinary heartbreaking course with no co-pilot/or anything like perfectly reasonable thoughts about nights like Thursday nights
and turning around to drive back home
the radio shot me in the heart
he was dead at the age of 91
and I realized a night at the movies without her
even 20 years later hurts like hell
and the only cure is more pain
like hearing that the hero who quit publishing
had finally stopped writing.
[God rest you, Jerome David Salinger - you gave me the older brother I never had (Seymour) and even the goddam Catholic schools will be teaching you 100 years from now]
and that's when you have to reverse everything/into a new painful extraordinary heartbreaking course with no co-pilot/or anything like perfectly reasonable thoughts about nights like Thursday nights
and turning around to drive back home
the radio shot me in the heart
he was dead at the age of 91
and I realized a night at the movies without her
even 20 years later hurts like hell
and the only cure is more pain
like hearing that the hero who quit publishing
had finally stopped writing.
[God rest you, Jerome David Salinger - you gave me the older brother I never had (Seymour) and even the goddam Catholic schools will be teaching you 100 years from now]
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Iced Lemon Archways
iced lemon archways
could be the first three words
in a poem about aquariums or
the grand avenues of europe
but this is not that poem
instead these words lead
to childhood and the memory of
mom at the very edge
when dad would need a neighbor
or an uncle or a paramedic
to calm her down and prove
there was no plot
to
take away
her kids or
steal imaginary fortunes or
follow orders from the CIA
but just calm her down and
go see a doctor at the hospital
on the eighth floor where
the voices go to die
iced lemon archways
never graced aquariums or
led to europe or
any other escape route
they were a type of cookie and
grandma brought them to
my little brother and me
to settle things down
and say i'm sorry
but 40 years from now
you'll be in line at
the grocery store and see
someone buying cookies
and you'll think of this
and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
could be the first three words
in a poem about aquariums or
the grand avenues of europe
but this is not that poem
instead these words lead
to childhood and the memory of
mom at the very edge
when dad would need a neighbor
or an uncle or a paramedic
to calm her down and prove
there was no plot
to
take away
her kids or
steal imaginary fortunes or
follow orders from the CIA
but just calm her down and
go see a doctor at the hospital
on the eighth floor where
the voices go to die
iced lemon archways
never graced aquariums or
led to europe or
any other escape route
they were a type of cookie and
grandma brought them to
my little brother and me
to settle things down
and say i'm sorry
but 40 years from now
you'll be in line at
the grocery store and see
someone buying cookies
and you'll think of this
and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Nancy Is Patient, To A Point...
But if you talk all through her set and distract everybody and fail to applaud, well...You'd better be ready to dodge those optical death-ray laser eyeballs.
(CLICK PHOTO TO ENLARGE)
I'm just sayin'
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Past Light
A good time of day is when the sun is still a little stronger than the streetlights and it loiters behind the rooftops like we did in high school and for a moment I can look from then to now and see the geometry of skylines at dusk is still good enough reason to draw another breath.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
UNTITLED 2
i took a chair
into the bathroom
and set it down
with the radio playing
and sipped a cool bottle of beer
with my legs stretched out
ankles crossed over the edge of the tub
there was a baby spider
climbing the shower curtain
and fresh towels folded
in a drawer
it was about 8:00
on a Tuesday evening
and a fire engine screamed down
the street outside
around the corner
and deep into the city
looking for someone to save.
into the bathroom
and set it down
with the radio playing
and sipped a cool bottle of beer
with my legs stretched out
ankles crossed over the edge of the tub
there was a baby spider
climbing the shower curtain
and fresh towels folded
in a drawer
it was about 8:00
on a Tuesday evening
and a fire engine screamed down
the street outside
around the corner
and deep into the city
looking for someone to save.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
WISHES
drawn tight
under secret wishes of
the monday morning club
are rules for the dead and dying
one
that all birds disappear
in 5/8 time as
coffee pours from a thermos
two
that our fingerprints smear
exactly as our friends have warned
three
that when bells strike
towers remain smiling.
under secret wishes of
the monday morning club
are rules for the dead and dying
one
that all birds disappear
in 5/8 time as
coffee pours from a thermos
two
that our fingerprints smear
exactly as our friends have warned
three
that when bells strike
towers remain smiling.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
E-Mail Reply
The following copy/paste is my reply to an e-mail I received from a friend tonight. It was one of those "Jesus Loves You" chain letters that actually claims to deliver " a miracle in your life soon" if it gets forwarded to 10 people. She is still my friend and always will be, but..... (sigh)
Xxxxxxxx -
I read the message all the way through, but did not pass it on. Not because I was offended or refuse to believe in anything, but because I don't know what to believe in when it comes to the question of God. Maybe there is one and maybe there isn't, but every religion I have experienced, studied, or read about has failed for me personally. The way I describe myself is "agnostic buddhist", which means that most of the tenets of buddhism make sense to me, except for the stories of him walking and talking right after being born, or other supernatural events attributed to his life. Buddha himself may even be a fictitious character created by someone who thought the message would be accepted more widely if people thought there was a "divine being" involved. Doesn't matter to me. ( But I'm getting sidetracked here... )
I was born a Roman Catholic, but have never accepted their version of things because they have never answered the basic question I have had from childhood : If the Roman Catholic Church is the One True Church, why does any other church or religion even exist ? Is it some kind of test God is conducting upon us ? Or what ? Someone might say it is enough JUST TO BELIEVE. To not worry over these things and to just trust God. Well, that's a heck of thing to do in a church whose preists have been molesting children for all these years. It's crazy. And what about the Holocaust ? Was the Christian God punishing the Jews ?
Sorry to get so heavy here. I'm not trying to start an argument or be a smart aleck. I just wanted to give an honest reply to your e-mail. Whoever started this chain put a lot of heart and honest feeling into it and I don't want to make fun of them. Everyone needs to find transcendence in the human experience and I am no exception. Life is an extraordinary journey and who knows what it all ultimately means.
Love,
Dave
Xxxxxxxx -
I read the message all the way through, but did not pass it on. Not because I was offended or refuse to believe in anything, but because I don't know what to believe in when it comes to the question of God. Maybe there is one and maybe there isn't, but every religion I have experienced, studied, or read about has failed for me personally. The way I describe myself is "agnostic buddhist", which means that most of the tenets of buddhism make sense to me, except for the stories of him walking and talking right after being born, or other supernatural events attributed to his life. Buddha himself may even be a fictitious character created by someone who thought the message would be accepted more widely if people thought there was a "divine being" involved. Doesn't matter to me. ( But I'm getting sidetracked here... )
I was born a Roman Catholic, but have never accepted their version of things because they have never answered the basic question I have had from childhood : If the Roman Catholic Church is the One True Church, why does any other church or religion even exist ? Is it some kind of test God is conducting upon us ? Or what ? Someone might say it is enough JUST TO BELIEVE. To not worry over these things and to just trust God. Well, that's a heck of thing to do in a church whose preists have been molesting children for all these years. It's crazy. And what about the Holocaust ? Was the Christian God punishing the Jews ?
Sorry to get so heavy here. I'm not trying to start an argument or be a smart aleck. I just wanted to give an honest reply to your e-mail. Whoever started this chain put a lot of heart and honest feeling into it and I don't want to make fun of them. Everyone needs to find transcendence in the human experience and I am no exception. Life is an extraordinary journey and who knows what it all ultimately means.
Love,
Dave
Monday, March 09, 2009
Las Vegas, What Are These Odds ?
Evening rush hour on a Monday and I need a few grocery items. The parking lot is impossible so I grab a metered spot across the street, which means a quarter will have to be found and sacrificed to Mayor Daley's latest best friends.
In my car, the twin cup-holders serve as mathematical constants. On the left, we have the bottle of water. It could be tap, mineral, or "fresh mountain", but it is impossible to reduce in value or eliminate from the automotive equation. On the right is the 1 or 2 inch-deep stash of loose coins. Their value may increase or decrease but their presence is a given.
Having parked my car, I picked up the bottle, took a swig, and replaced it to the cup-holder. Then I grabbed a quarter, plus a few other coins to use towards my purchase. Everything seemed to be in order with no variables interrupting my errand.
Another Monday. Another grocery stop. Another sleepwalk through city life at it's most mundane.
When I arrived home, the cat greeted me and demanded his usual attention and food. A pleasure. He is 16 and honestly, his time left is best represented by "X". I opened a fresh can, transferred it to a plate, and served it with a side of organic milk.
After putting away the groceries, I grabbed the water bottle and headed for the computer. And that is when the elegant equation of my evening broke down.
There, in the bottom of the bottle, sunk beneath 3 1/2 inches of water claiming to be "natural !", "alpine !", and "spring !" was a penny. A humble disc of copper that has been a prime factor in most every cash transaction ever calculated. It had fallen perfectly and silently into the approximately 1 inch-wide mouth of the bottle itself.
What are the odds ? I'm no odds-maker, but I can isolate a couple factors for the boys in Vegas.
The path my hand traveled from cup-holder to pocket.
The individual size and overall quantity of the coins themselves.
The carelessness with which I handled the coins.
That last one is a real kicker, too. Because I make my living at counting, recording, and depositing EXACT cash amounts for my company. I have done this for more than a decade and I'm good at it. Accuracy counts. Pennies are as unforgiving as hundred-dollar bills in that department and you're either on or off. No errors allowed.
So I ask you, Mr. Vegas Oddsmaker, shrewd assesor of risk and careful judge of life's variables : What are the odds that something like that could happen ? And whatever odds you give, can I double-down ?
Friday, February 06, 2009
Video Vidi Vici
Unbeknownst to me, someone shot a VIDEO of my January performance at Nancy & Garrett's Songwriter Night at Gallery Cabaret here in Chicago. It's loose, comforatble, and spontaneous, with Marty Connolly of Chocolate Covered Karma jumping in on drums near the end. And that harmony vocal you hear off-stage is Garrett.
Every other Wednesday night.
Gallery Cabaret
2020 N. Oakley
Chicago IL
Every other Wednesday night.
Gallery Cabaret
2020 N. Oakley
Chicago IL
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Hey Everybody......See This Guy ?
He IS NOT Dr. Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, or Mahatma Ghandi. Just a quick history lesson for you.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
TOMORROW
at around 11:00 CST
or so - when the whole world
is watching and the earth
continues to rotate
on an axis that revolves
around a sun point
fixed within the swirling arm of
relativism
our universe becomes
just a little bit more
presentable and
I don't believe in magic
1)THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES
2)PERFECTION DOESN'T EXIST
3)AND THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS MIRACLES
but i believe
i believe.
or so - when the whole world
is watching and the earth
continues to rotate
on an axis that revolves
around a sun point
fixed within the swirling arm of
relativism
our universe becomes
just a little bit more
presentable and
I don't believe in magic
1)THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES
2)PERFECTION DOESN'T EXIST
3)AND THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS MIRACLES
but i believe
i believe.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
From The Netherlands
My thanks to Jan Hallers, who has decided to include a poem of mine in his forthcoming magazine "Buk Scene". The majority of the issue is, of course, devoted to Charles Bukowski but will also include the work of other poets. Jan is based in the Netherlands, and has many friends and contacts from around the world so his mag should have a nice international feel to it.
If I knew how to say "Eternally grateful and humble" in Dutch I would do so here.
Instead I'll just go with "Dude ! Are you serious !!? "
If I knew how to say "Eternally grateful and humble" in Dutch I would do so here.
Instead I'll just go with "Dude ! Are you serious !!? "
Sunday, November 30, 2008
HAPPY
a girl who can lace her fingers together
behind my neck and
hang there for just a moment
to tell me
she is happy
this is what I need
as the days tip over
week after week
into the faint exhaust of memory
there's a cut on my shin
and i can't find my glasses
i suppose that's only natural
for a guy who goes to work and
comes home to sit with the TV
like a sick friend
skirting the parties and
questions from people
who don't know any better
(or any worse)
the grey pills do their job
most days and do it so well
sometimes I want a sink full
so i can never be sad again
but a girl
to lace her fingers together
behind my neck and
hang there for just a moment
to tell me
she is happy
this is what I'd die for.
behind my neck and
hang there for just a moment
to tell me
she is happy
this is what I need
as the days tip over
week after week
into the faint exhaust of memory
there's a cut on my shin
and i can't find my glasses
i suppose that's only natural
for a guy who goes to work and
comes home to sit with the TV
like a sick friend
skirting the parties and
questions from people
who don't know any better
(or any worse)
the grey pills do their job
most days and do it so well
sometimes I want a sink full
so i can never be sad again
but a girl
to lace her fingers together
behind my neck and
hang there for just a moment
to tell me
she is happy
this is what I'd die for.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
SCREENS
I sat down to watch a DVD tonight
but there was too much outside my window
the fat girl next door
who stands on the sidewalk
flirting on the cellphone
with her boyfriend
and smoking cigarettes
while her husband is inside
changing the diapers
and thinking of much worse
words to call her than fat
the young Hispanic dudes
caps flat-brimmed and cocked
to the side with
tattoos on their neck
baggy shorts
arms crossed over their chest
glaring out at their world
a world of working two jobs
and making car payments and
staying out of other people's trouble
the distant music from
a backyard party across the alley
squeezing past the garage
and up the back steps to
whisper and giggle and
uncork a midnight I wasn't invited to
the tree in the front yard
turning another season
filtering the streetlights
through a riot of scarlet and orange
branching up
arms extended
in October surrender
but there was too much outside my window
the fat girl next door
who stands on the sidewalk
flirting on the cellphone
with her boyfriend
and smoking cigarettes
while her husband is inside
changing the diapers
and thinking of much worse
words to call her than fat
the young Hispanic dudes
caps flat-brimmed and cocked
to the side with
tattoos on their neck
baggy shorts
arms crossed over their chest
glaring out at their world
a world of working two jobs
and making car payments and
staying out of other people's trouble
the distant music from
a backyard party across the alley
squeezing past the garage
and up the back steps to
whisper and giggle and
uncork a midnight I wasn't invited to
the tree in the front yard
turning another season
filtering the streetlights
through a riot of scarlet and orange
branching up
arms extended
in October surrender
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