what is left but the blues

i have failed utterly
to become

a mystic poet

i'll attempt
to become

a dyspeptic poet

The Stomach Predator

the hamburger stomach
predator growley ups
in the brain stem it
subsides upon the labs
of loved ones prowls
the morning intends
to survive the junk
mail and the memories
of death carts and by
products of chickens
entrails puyallup's
supafantastic alien flu
scene death camp world

Nascence

Born to the wrong parents, how much? this much? very much? when
all lobbed at least slightly at the wrong parents,
Given, or being, a busted flush and there to start, easy? No, whoever
said easy,
When born to a weird world, rich and strange, curious, peculiar to the
wise,
Like that when we arrived, not soon to be altered,
So best not to complain too loudly (in case of the posses).

Rainbow poetry I admire

There Was a Man Who Lived a Life of Fire (The Black Riders LXII)

There was a man who lived a life of fire.
Even upon the fabric of time,
Where purple becomes orange
And orange purple,
This life glowed,
A dire red stain, indelible;
Yet when he was dead,
He saw that he had not lived.

Stephen Crane

Sentinella, a che punto è la notte? L’alba sta per venire ma la notte non è ancora terminata. Non stancatevi. Tornate. Domandate Isaia Giulio Stocchi Ein Yahav A night drive to Ein Yahav in the Arava Desert, a drive in the rain. Yes, in the rain. There I met people who grow date palms, there I saw tamarisk trees and risk trees, there I saw hope barbed as barbed wire. And I said to myself: That's true, hope needs to be like barbed wire to keep out despair, hope must be a mine field. Yehuda Amichai LANDSCHAFT Ihr hohen Pappeln – Menschen dieser Erde! Ihr schwarzen Teiche Glücks – ihr spiegelt sie zu Tode! Ich sah dich, Schwester, stehn in diesem Glanze. Paul Celan It will not change now After so many years; Life has not broken it With parting or tears; Death will not alter it, It will live on In all my songs for you When I am gone. Sara Teasdale Separation Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its colors W.S. Merwin The Vision of a Giant who Migrated from Baja to Tiburon Island Slender whirlwinds coming from the sky touch the land. Sounds of arrows striking the ground roaring raising dust clouds. He shouts, warning of the days of danger. I stand on the peak of Red Mountain. He comes toward me shouting. My heart is a stone. I shout, I declare it. Anonimous Oread Whirl up, sea -- Whirl your pointed pines, Splash your great pines On our rocks; Hurl your green over us, Cover us with your pools of fir. Hilda Doolittle EIN LI ERETZ ACHERET Ein li eretz acheret Gam im admati bo'eret Rak mila be'ivrit choderet el orkai el nishmati - Beguf ko'ev, belev ra'ev Kan hu beiti -- Lo eshtok ki artzi shinta et paneha Lo avater lehazkir la Ve'ashir kan be'ozneha Ad shetiftach et eineha Ein li eretz acheret Gam im admati boeret Rak mila beivrit hoderet el orkai el nishmati Beguf koev, belev raev Kan hu beiti – Lo eshtok ki ertzi shinta et paneha Lo avater lehazkir la Ve’ashir kan be’ozneha Ad shetiftah et eineha Ein li eretz aheret Ad shetihadesh yameha Ad shetiftah et eineha Ein li eretz aheret Gam im admati boeret Rak mila beivrit hoderet el orkai el nishmati Beguf koev, belev raev Kan -- hu beiti Beguf koev, belev raev Kan -- hu beiti

THE FRAILTY OF IMPLICATIONS

Do you confess?
Marching to the beat of an indifferent drummer.

Tender slippy pork, pants with a silent "K":
A gravity he didn't have before.

Thank you for the pre-existing myth
Of an eighth of an ounce—

Very urban, feigning hipness,
Intensely cordial.

By all means perish the thought
Of an absentee security guard

And a flame-retardant Brooks Brothers suit,
In a shelter now: that's infection.

I don't lie, I don't steal, I love my wife
And I want to see the baby

(Banking on her not being Asian).
A cold wind blowing

All the sweet hookups
To the left of grotesque,

Allegedly in ill-fitting clothes.