the riddle of the secular mystic

upturned rocks
downturned sheets
a bird in the hand
some beetles are meat
grit in the sand, dune chunks
that’s why here’s not feather smooth
the dreamscape has it’s own way
step as you will
every indent is transferable
every surface hewn
the chafer considers every grain
flexes every thread and fiber
and that is the journey made plain

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Superman Friday

It’s going to be a real slog today. Lex is in the hospital with a bad case of punch-in-the-face and my supersonic hearing isn’t picking up so much as a mewing kitten. Good lord, it’s 8am, I can’t just sleep all day. Doesn’t matter that it’s Memorial Day weekend. Better shower now, or the day will be lost to the villainy of laziness.

Superman trudged down the hall with a super-sized towel and the mint plant that his boyfriend had given him. Continue reading

Oh, misbehave

So you’ve planned out your story and have been working at it diligently, but now you’re stumped. The story has suddenly stopped writing itself…

Continue reading

Sway

It’s an uneven shift
And rather than tell me
You serve me
Gray-faced tilt and pour
Time lapsed and distilled
And passed over

-for c.c.

Location:Badlands, San Francisco, United States

The part that stays

Standing gate, where he was
Hands clasped, smooth expectant
Lengthened gaze, relaxed towards
Pause of passers-by
Tense like gusting red sand
Without inference
Was how he waited

for o.m.

Location:Colin P Kelly Jr St,San Francisco,United States

I can tell you, to a point

You ask me what I see;
aubergine, ochre, sienna
color codes and border width
swatches of polka, paisely, houndstooth, burberry
The greater enigma;
your impressionist face
two straight and one bowed line
patches of appetitive and endless darkness
You’re going to El Segundo
to count things, you say
continuing with a banter of terms
that imply calculation and process
What isn’t clear-
and should remain shrouded
unless we’ve given up entirely
-an account of taste and temper
I can tell you, to a point-
stopping before I betray myself
or some principle of seeing
-that you’re not looking for love
I can tell you, to a point-
with great hesitation
because dilemmas are cumbersome
-that everything evolves and nothing changes.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Church St,San Francisco,United States

I need I need

I need to chill the fuck out
I need this grapefruit soda that tastes like the greyhound
that I had six sweet years ago when someone saw me writing
and I was sitting on the sticky edge of a barstool
in the hour before happy hour when I said silly things to the page
and spent more time saying hello than goodbye
I need on this drifting day
for the sun to highlight all the motes
and for the cats to sit at home in curvy asymmetries
and for this cafe to be empty except for the nerdy boys
swigging coffee and soaking up the digital stream
I need to feel like the burden of creative output
is an egoic fantasy, spun out by other falsehoods
like the statistics on unsolved homicides in California
or the corporate verses private solar panel issue
or the subverted loneliness of urban society
I need to chill the fuck out
Tuck away The Secret (TM) and the The Moment (TM)
And just chill the fuck out
Bikram, bite me
Deepak, chill the fuck out
Pema, step off
Jesus, good lord, get off my grill
(And if you think this rant is about you, get a clue)
All I want from the day, from any day
Is enough peace to distinguish my thoughts and feelings
From yours, not literally yours, but others
To ask independently, what do you mean, styled object?
Styled object, are you the cause of this frenzy?
Your substance is derivative, and before that degrades
We will make you new again
I need to leave
You, literally you, unsettled
Asking
What you need

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Church St,San Francisco,United States