Time’s Up

Time’s Up

Feel your way through waves of particularization,
Without intent,
Without thinking,
With desire,
Appetite,
Instinct, and 
Impulse,
meandering in circles,
Leaping gaps
And transgressing borders.

Times up - 
Put up or shut up.

Such excitement 
Wrapped in fright -
Being caught writing love letters
To a time and place
That never was.

Has this happened - 
Subsumed into moments that shuffle
Into an impossible ending -
Or not?

Stories We Tell Ourselves

Stories we tell ourselves
Being vulnerable is being alive
Explanation often negates the thing itself
Stale like a deflated balloon
The false confidence of  skewed dispositions
Questioning the things that really count

Stories we tell ourselves  
Being vulnerable is being alive
Explanation often negates the thing itself 
Stale like a deflated balloon  

But being vulnerable is being alive
The false confidence of  skewed dispositions  
Stale like a deflated balloon 
Questioning the things that really count 

The false confidence of  skewed dispositions 
Explanation often negates the thing itself 
Questioning the things that really count 
Stories we tell ourselves

Drive-In Theater

The love-making isn’t like it used to be
Back then it was all dazzle and steamed up windows
Everybody’s going at it
Sex was a monumental headache
Revealing all the facts of life 
Traffic had come to a complete stop

The love-making isn’t like it used to be
Back then it was all dazzle and steamed up windows
Everybody’s going at it
Sex was a monumental headache

Back then it was all dazzle and steamed up windows
Revealing all the facts of life
Sex was a monumental headache
Traffic had come to a complete stop

Revealing all the facts of life
Everybody’s going at it
Traffic had come to a complete stop
The love-making isn’t like it used to be

Nocturnal Submission

Each encounter 
with a character of unknown origin, 
this nighttime vision 
so brief in its insistence, 
then vanishing, 
a vague afterimage in its wake;

a flash of illumination, 
then darkness, 
particles of smoke 
ascending into second guessing, 
leaving imagination t
o do the heavy lifting 
of memory.

Longtime Waiting

Illuminated states
Of breathless insights,
Explode-

Then gone,
For long stretches,
Insisting vigilance.

Names

Nailing names to things,
They fossilize 
Into the lie of certainty.

Flux

I am in an empty space 
With a green screen behind me. 
I think that everything that I do is categorized, 
And that would feel like an imposition, 
Except that the categories keep changing.
I ‘m swallowed in a constant state of flux, 
Without reference points. 

Besides, 
The batteries on the $10,000 boat 
I cannot afford
Need a charge, 
and I don’t know how 
to get that done.
It's one of my incapabilities. 

I’ve not been sleeping well 
Nor have I been able 
To wake up well. 

I keep arguing with myself 
which may be the cause. 

I cannot catch a break 
and have too many secrets to remember.
My lost attention may be in one of my pockets, 
but all of them are empty. 

I continue to look for holes.
The mending is endless.
There’s no one I know 
who can help me. 

Though we share English,
No one seems to speak my language, 
And I wonder if I could be Wittgenstein’s lion, 
Disguised as a human. 

Maybe we all are.

I see people walking outdoors. 
One minute it is sunny 
The next it is nightfall -
Their movement either slo mo 
or fast mo, 
going nowhere at variable speeds. 

I don’t want to be disingenuous, 
But I can’t help myself being adrift. 
Adrift without faith, 
yet spiritually unbound.
I take heart in entropy,
Maybe we all do
As a necessity for 
Keeping us alive.

Around 4:00 AM

Around 4:00 AM
With some small urgency
Nature calls,

So I get out of bed,
Thinking that time
Is deteriorating
Slowly.

Oh so slowly, that

It’ll take a billion years
For time to be
Completely wasted.

Obliterated,
Gone forever,
No longer existing.

But how,
I cannot imagine.

With my business finished
I make my way
In the dark
Back to bed,

Not knowing
How time deteriorates,

Except
with every single death,

Or worse,

In a life
Of wasted time.

I Started with a Beer

I started with a beer,
then made a list of what
I was gonna do.

I made a call
to someone wounded
by the guy who
I replaced,
and made good
with kind words.

The guy I replaced had begun
by making himself a beard
with various kinds of tape:
Scotch tape, masking tape, duct tape,
electrical tape, packing tape, surgical tape,
gaffers tape, painters tape, insulation tape,
recording tape with a sticky bottom.

I was amazed.

Then the guy I replaced
went to town
and began to tear down
all that he could,
one tantrum at a time.

To Make

 To make something perfect 
 with precision and care;
 
 To be someone perfect
 integrating flaws in such that
 they have value,
 rather than being impediments;
 
 To be part of something vital
 and grand,
 with contributions
 of intelligence
 and expertise.
 
 This is what it is - 
 to fit into the grand design
 of this universe, our human tribe;
 
 this aspiration towards unity,
 performed with grace and humility
 
 is what may be
 our greatest hope.