Monday, December 31, 2012

Emancipation Proclamation


Bring on
the incursions!
Violate the gray!
Let floods and shards
of strangenesses

exonerate the day:
redeem its
play and tease
and pray.


Sunday, December 30, 2012

Family Portraits, for Example


Our relations are implied
less by the sides we seem to take overtly
than by faint suggestions of a tainted
purpose just beneath the surface –
hidden – pressing up against the hide –

bidden by a flick of brow
or by a sigh – a sort of glide into gestation
which if we do not attend to it –
which most of us, forgivably, do not –
we’ll miss, and thereby miss the whole.

Family portraits for example are particularly
strange: oh, what a swollen range
of unexample they can be! For instance,
this – of me, and them. All that I can
think to say about it is ahem.


Saturday, December 29, 2012



I have a single
and interest:

one knot
I would

how out
of this



Friday, December 28, 2012

How To Get Along


Let listening reveal –
let seeing seal the pact.
Let politesse anneal
it into serviceable tact.


Thursday, December 27, 2012



Ach! – another metaphoric
prospect dawning:
as you dream yourself

into a mercilessly sunny
morning – sinking,
sitting naked, facing yet

another uninvited untoward
aspect of your psyche –
thinking, “Crikey! Where

did this one come from?”
But there you were and are
my dear, extravagant

conundrum bringing up
the rear, encumbering
another weird insoluble

new year. We’d like
to tell you what to do
about it but we’ve no idea.


Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Today, Lose Track


Today, internally array yourself
as if you were immortal – as if
you had been granted access
to the portal through which

everything is possible. Today,
exchange philosophy for being.
Trade experience for seeing.
Today, lose track. Sit back.


Tuesday, December 25, 2012

My Banana-Colored Friends


I can’t find
the beginnings

and I cannot
find the ends

of my Banana-
Colored Friends.

Disbelief with them

They’re simply
always there,

as air.


Monday, December 24, 2012

In Its Christmas Form


Sometimes Winter
shows a softer face –
for instance, in its
Christmas form –

dressed up in white –
with an affectionate
suggestion of embrace –
inviting us to find ways

to keep warm –
that is, to keep some
distance from it.
Perhaps that’s grace.


Sunday, December 23, 2012

Open, Close Your Eyes


Embrace ambiguous surmise:
open, close your eyes.

Vision never leaves the soul –
no matter that it never

grasps things whole –
regardless if we all

agree on what we see –
or if, more privately, we don’t.

Questions will remain:
answers won’t.


Saturday, December 22, 2012

Body Heat


Body heat is nice,
especially on winter nights
when ice seems likely
outside in Manhattan’s
permeable parks and streets,
heartbeats, concrete and brick.

Inside, sweet thickness
from your warmth prevails
against the brittle frailties
of the slickly subtle
slide to death that a sufficiency
of freeze can bring to breath.

Of course you needn’t wrap
yourself into a crew of three
or two. You may prefer
to roll into a single bundle
made of quilted you.
That’s lovely, too.


Friday, December 21, 2012

But Somehow You Decide


Strange, the charge – the larger thrust –
the feeling that you must – the yen to thrive –
the urge to  amplify all senses you’re alive –

strange when they don’t come. Reassurance
shuts you up, and – dumb and deaf to it –
and left to the conundrum of your inanition –

your ambition seems to be less to establish
some new basis to arrive more widely
into consciousness than to retreat to stasis.

Pep talks sound like parakeets. All the sweets
Enthusiasm eats taste bitter in your mouth.
Hope goes south. You sigh. You can’t

say you feel better. But somehow you decide
you don’t feel worse. Perhaps that signals
something like the lifting of a curse.


Thursday, December 20, 2012

The Things We Think We See


You may imagine you are looking up,
but you are only ever looking out.
There is no “up” except in some relation
to the gravity that pulls you “down.”
No direction doesn’t turn you ‘round –

or isn’t rife with doubt. Oh, ostensible
commencements, ends and angles
of the things we think we see! We’re
never not examining infinity. Even when
you’re looking straight ahead at me.


Wednesday, December 19, 2012

What We Lean On


We lean on
what we lean on
for as long
as it will hold us.

The wonder is,
it holds us
for so long.

Can’t be
all wrong.


Tuesday, December 18, 2012

The Strongest Bright Experience We Have of Life


We like to sit and muse
about December as it lengthens
darkness – coaxes it into
its deepest farthest longest flight.
The strongest bright experience

we have of life derives
from our surrender to the sight
of the pellucid transmutation
of the light into December’s
mystical embrace of night.


Monday, December 17, 2012

When You Look into the Darkness


When you look into the Darkness,
Darkness looks right back.

Perhaps the animal should
not investigate the trap.

Consult what’s on
your lap.


On Trying to Tell Anybody Anything


No one reaction serves:
two faces verge

into the private view preserved
in silence by the inner eye –

perhaps intending to supply
another soft injunction:

surrendering into a subtle
inexplicability again.

Who knows what faces think?
Questions drink hypotheses,

erect conclusions – bend
and slip – collectively collapse.

Imagination swerves.
No one reaction serves.


Thursday, December 13, 2012

Lucky Kid

To know that you’re extruded
from the dead collective head
of long ago –  squeezing from its
strained inevitable flow – a loaded
dense and threaded mesh –

the flesh of aching throes
of antecedent others: fathers,
mothers, and their fathers, mothers –
and their unknown lovers:
and to know that this odd

confluence of influence is all
you’ve ever had and all you’ve got:
well, somehow, now, this clot
of an allotment seems like
an agglomerated pot of which,

because your loins have not
contributed more human clay to it,
you are the lid (you're on the spot!).
Does this mean you’ve won?
Is it all done? Lucky kid.


Wednesday, December 12, 2012

How To


Make – dare –

live it.

Take care,

and give it.


Tuesday, December 11, 2012

What To Do All Day?

What to do all day? –
you wonder in a way
a tree would never wonder
what it ought to do today.

Not that that’s an answer.

Wisdom would decree –
so says your elbow to your knee –
that Being has already manifested
quite incontrovertibly –

without a fancy dancer.

Upon Returning Home to It

O Christmas tree
Awaiting me –
Such living, giving constancy!
How could I have abandoned thee?

I plead your pardon, plaintively –
Applaud your staunch fidelity:
O how your brave heart fights on!
I pledge to keep your lights on.


Thursday, December 6, 2012



Today Imagination
its poltergeistal
protoplasm in a vast
exasperating spasm

of an utter disregard
for anything it thinks
you might
find fruitful. Today
it is a snootful.


Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Brunt of It


Find essence –
squeeze it through

an existential cheesecloth
till it glows with its least

sullied being –
till it feeds all unimpededly

on everything in front of it.
Bear the brunt of it.

Be utterly available.
Become the unassailable.

The loss of strife
may drive you mad.

But oh, the life
you will have had!


Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Meaning of December


Who knows? The Earth may quake.
So bake a birthday cake.
Dress it with transgressive elbows

leaning in its blue enticing icing.
The meaning of December
is dismemberment. Remember how

you were a week ago, November?
Lovely, losing all that light!
There will be less of it tonight.


Monday, December 3, 2012

Sometimes Some Gods


Sometimes some gods emerge
into the morning with their
untoward limbs extended toward
the unexampled application
of the unexampled urge to think up

and to sing new hymns – to which
they hope to lend some unexpected
sense of a nobility that hasn’t
anything to do with them: in fact,
portends quite something other than

their own divine egocentricity –
in fine, sometimes some gods
experience humility! How oddly
ominous! We doubt that that will
ever happen, though, to us.


Sunday, December 2, 2012

Having Stripped to Pinkest Nakedness


The condition
of his having stripped
to pinkest nakedness

to bare his theories, projections,
admonitions and prescriptions
in the service of explaining

to Existence what it ought
to do and be
did not, at last, much render him

assistance. Existence gave
his thoughts a toss.
Our loss.


Saturday, December 1, 2012

The Jellyfish that Come in Dreams



Freud says reveries are wishes

and unconscious schemes:

apparently conditions that biology

esteems. Still, strange! –

the jellyfish that come in dreams.


Friday, November 30, 2012

Do What It Will Do With You



Likes to meet
a fellow.

Thinks it has
to bellow.


You can’t
beguile it.

But don’t
revile it.

Do what it
will do with you.

Take it in
and file it.


Thursday, November 29, 2012



Evening turns

to periwinkle blue,

and all your little household

crowds around the prospect of colluding

with the warmth and reciprocity of you,

and fall is falling

into winter’s spell,

and all is well.


Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Naked, Shaded in Gradated Greens


Naked, shaded in gradated greens –
unforeseen – a couple now convenes,
it seems, less for a conversation
than for unknown oddness: the relation

they appear to occupy to us
relies more on some strangely luminous
intention to distract with their insistent hue
than to communicate with me or you

through some syntactical vocabulary.
We therefore do not hold a very
sanguine feeling towards them, nor
can we imagine what their psychic torpor

or their rampant verdure signifies.
What is being offered to our eyes?
Something strange in all the glowing
signals some new way of knowing.


Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Secret Habits


The circumnavigation of your days
entails meticulous attention to the ways
details of what conduces to your ease
comport with one another: in the breeze

of every open-windowed dawn –
when you get out of bed with nothing on
and trundle toward the sweet sufficiencies
of your abode’s machinery's efficiencies

which, at a toggle switch or two,
will summon light and music, brew
your coffee, ready you for your ablutions
at the bathroom sink – you find solutions

to the daily challenge of existence:
drink in, with your java, the persistence
of pursuing what you’re craving most of all –
to tie new ribbons on the pretty little doll

that no one knows you’ve got.
Secret habits hit the spot.


Monday, November 26, 2012

The Lot of Us


Twenty-three from mommy,

twenty-three from dad.


What a mix of chromosomes

the lot of us has had.


Sunday, November 25, 2012




Strange how intricately calming

entanglement can be –

as if it’s only in impenetrable mesh

that we can fathom being free.


Saturday, November 24, 2012



Quentin Crisp says,
“Fashion is instead of style” –
but how to find your style?

Drop your guile.
Serve your verve.
Cultivate your nerve.


Friday, November 23, 2012

When We’re Through


I know what
let’s do.

You sit here
reading me.

I’ll sit here
reading you.

But let’s not
talk about it

when we’re


Thursday, November 22, 2012

Your Pastel World


Today you woke up powder pink
immersed in sapphire blue
impinged upon by two
lugubriously ghostly mint-green

and banana-yellow creatures:
features in a pastel world
you never bargained for.
But what is ever bargained for?


Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Flat and Sweet and Bright as Day


Everything’s what it appears –
it’s all what it would seem.
Just as the conundrum clears
the rectitudes of dream –

you burn into a consciousness
you’ve never known before.
There is no paradox, no mess
to fix, no fairy lore –

you’re fine and full of purpose –
there is nothing in your way.
You live right on the surface –
flat and sweet and bright as day.


Tuesday, November 20, 2012

It Isn’t Easy Being You


It isn’t easy being you.
Others plot their paths to affluent satiety –
while you pursue the virtue
of exploring the bewildering variety

of sleepless mind. You’re up all night.
It seems to you completely right.
To let the merest swatch of conscious light
go by without your overt scrutiny

would surely cause the mutiny
of everything that mattered
in your thickly laden mental habitat.
A nap? The craven irresponsibility of that!

What psychic mildew!
Missing nothing’s what you will do –
pursue until it’s filled you.
So far it hasn’t killed you.


Monday, November 19, 2012

Reflecting on Manhattan Crowds


Permutations of the human
shift in random patterns: cognates
rambling, not with any urgent purpose,
towards the novelty of sense:

they hop the fence between the known
and unknown every day and night – looser,
possibly, inside our dreams than in our
daylight schemes, but always probing:

spiced by some faint echo of the shout
that started everything: the genesis
of supernova, and Manhattan, light. It seems
inarguable, in the grand descending curtain

of November, that our spanned fraternity
of morphing souls has only one great secret
interest which, however unacknowledged
by its vast collective convoluting self,

is nothing else but this: to feel eternity.
Which I do when I call up for Chinese
takeout – szechuan steamed wontons,  
shrimp and snow peas – give the man

who bikes them by a hefty tip: we greet
each other as if we were strangers in on it
together, which we are. Kaleidoscopic
metamorphoses of star.


Sunday, November 18, 2012

Before Long


We don’t know what you are, my dear –
we don’t know why you’re here.
And least of all have we the least idea
what you are thinking. Are you contemplating
randomness? Sinking into warm despair?

Is life too much a mess to care?
Your private calculations leave us
outside your domain. And yet we shall remain.
Nothing is that bleak. We haven’t anywhere
to go ourselves: Before long you will speak.


Saturday, November 17, 2012

A Puzzle in a Parcel


A realm where gravity begins not quite
completely to pertain to how the naked
pink man hovers in a baseless yellow
beach chair with his two feet seasoning

in blue: the sourceless water slaughters
reason – which, despite that it abuts a slew
of background dead amorphous depthless
green, no less conduces to the strangely

sweet serenity and solace of the scene.
Is this a dream? You aren’t sure. Pure
surrealities procure you, snare you, take you
places so entirely beyond improbability:

nothing you are feeling could be possible.
You are a puzzle in a parcel on its way
to fathomless illumination – smelling, hearing,
seeing, tasting something like creation.