Archive for November, 2011

Kurt Cobain

November 30, 2011

I’m looking into your influences right now

And I’m afraid I can’t see myself in the Melvins, the Vaselines, the Raincoats, or even Kim or Thurston

So what is it about you?

I don’t know, you’ve just always seemed like a dream I wanted to have

Except I think I’d let it go on a lot longer than just 27 years

And go into some amazingly peculiar mid-life frenzies

Let that life make even more of a splash than you did before I give in

Try to outlive Burroughs and Bukowski

And find a way to revive Brautigan

Like his daughter said, you’d be the best of friends in latter day Tacoma

But I’m afraid I’ll never travel within those walls

Unless one of you has the key…


Lord Lazarus

November 30, 2011

Oh no

You’re not supposed to see me like this

I like you too much for it to be made public

But I can’t help the shit I say sometimes

Khan! No! Stapler! You’re the Man Now Dog!

That isn’t poetry!

And it doesn’t fit well into prose

Perhaps I am undeserving of this opportunity

Just like I was with all the others

The cyberbullies have won once more

If I am not for them, what am I?

But wait

You liked it?

Well, this is surely unexpected

I’m not sure what to say

I don’t get pleasures like this as often as some of them, I’m afraid

Please tell me you don’t hate me

Oh say huh?

You love me?

You can’t love me

I’m failure personified

You don’t think I am?

I guess I can reconsider…

(after much consideration from the mind of Popeye Squirm)

Well, so much for pathos!

And from here comes a transformation into new lives of new emotions.


November 30, 2011

Doubtlessly I love the body that lies before me

And I have no idea whose it is

Is it yours?

Is it mine?

Is it Jim’s

I don’t know

Every crevice is perfect

Every organ is divine

I want to see it all

Leave none of it clothed

It’s too unbelievable to be forgotten

It makes the blind see rainbows

No matter what their sexual preference

Pass that shit over here

‘Cuz I need to take a whiff of that sweet California sunshine in a flawless body

I don’t got all day!

More, more!

Oh yeah, this is the stuff

Oh God!

Oh God, I fell for you!

Oh you, I fell for you!

Oh I, I fell for you!

Oh Jim, I fell for you!

(and the effortless response)

Please please me, oh yeah, like I please you!


November 22, 2011

I’m on the corner of Ramona

At first all of the street’s men had names that sound like prospectors

But now it’s experiencing a yuppie rejuvenation

Still they think it’s Madonna’s initial on the hill

And our misnamed cat has been away for seven months

And the neighbors’ dog howls late at night

And the sororities get hammered again

And the creek flows right under the ivy forest

And every other home is now in escrow

And no one covers a deer’s corpse for the children

They all are too fascinated by their jobs

And the man in the creek has nothing but a blanket

And everyone runs when they see him in the flesh

And I’ve seen it all

Through the red and blue curtains of my Ramona room….

On the Trail to the Architecture Graveyard

November 10, 2011

I’ve been on this trail dozens of times in the last two years

And usually I’d be one with my headphones

Trying to listen to an entire album on my way up

This time however, I am free of distractions

And have been reduced to the surrounding landscape

I walk among chestnut horses, grazing passively in the autumn hills

While they were threatened before, here they treat me as an equal

And now I feel like the Architecture Graveyard is my own neighborhood

And these voiceless horses are all my neighbors

The elders were misled when they thought I couldn’t see nature as Emerson saw it

Because in the depths of Poly Canyon, my eyeballs are open to life

They say I have classes and appointments and study sessions in the future

But now there is not any of that, there is just the trail that brought nature to me.

The One Who Got Away?

November 9, 2011

When we made love above the jack o’lanterns

Was I too young to know it was your booze and not my boasts

That thrust your loins upon mine (or maybe it was my work)

You were young too, clad in near-perfect Winehouse wear

We can list each other on our 27 Clubs of fifteen-minute lovers

There shall never be another minute without your surname next door

And though I still brag of your midnight passion
Will I always be fooling myself when I christen myself king of the world?