relax where you go
watch what comes with
wait and see what happens
hear for wind gone by
sigh for scenes past
on the road going somewhere
in the back seat no matter
let the driver drive
lean back and relax
you’ll get there
Month: December 2019
what people say
there is a feedback loop
between what you say about me
and what i want you to say
so i adjust my internal switches and levers
to get you to say
and when it is not
what i would prefer
i will twist a dial
and pull a lever
then look back out through
my windshield eyes
and listen
going back to adjusting
until what you say
is what i’d like to hear said about me
and then i stay
mostly the same
until someone says something else
(sometimes myself)
that i don’t like to hear
icicle identity
coming into myself
like an icicle
freezing into form
once fluid
and dripping along itself
now believing
what others think of me
and agreeing
to go in this direction
settling into the mold
like sculpture clay
hardening in the oven
formed by the artist’s
left nurturing hand
and right natural hand
then set into stone
by the fires of time
now staying the same
as what others walk by
in the museum and say
reading the placard
and seeing other
statues nearby
this is a statue
of such time and place
you can see clearly
because of this and that
truly seeing
sometimes i look at something
not really paying attention
and accidentally start to see
the space in between
sparkling in broken fractals
going off into gradient corner
abstract offering to me
all sights other than
what makes sense
giving my mind a break
to see without thinking
anxiety
i am anxious
and incapable
of anything else
other than worry
wasting what energy
would be spent
pointed, purposed
let out listlessly
in all directions
jockeyed
i’m in the system
more so
than i’ve been before
standing still
sitting here
taking orders
jockeyed
with a horse
on either side
and one behind
so all that’s left
is forward
and fast
coffee
to sit still
and stay focused
with coffee
in my veins
is the test
of a mental task
wanting
to get physical
but needing
to look, count
and read things
microwave
watching
the microwave
count down
in neon green
analog numbers
the space in time
between seconds
seems longer
waiting
for my coffee
to warm up
trash truck alarm
the trash truck
creaks and rumbles
as it arrives
curbside
in the early morning
around five
waking me up
to the fact
that the day outside
has started
lost jacket
i got my jacket
back today;
the one i left
yesterday;
leaving home
cold
this morning;
returning
jacketed
once more
singing in the shower
i rung here
a chord that
resounded
ringing
my ears
out clean
hoping to glean
at least some
satisfaction
from a choir
of voices
but quickly
found myself
one of many
and so
went back
to singing shrill
all alone
media room
i try to read
right before bed
ready with words
waiting
in my head
mixing and matching
meeting each other
making magic
in the midnight
like a media room
rushing
to go to press
in the morning
fire detector
sitting
at my desk
i lean back
and look up
at the fire detector
on the ceiling
alone there,
alone all day
flashing
that one light
every five seconds
talking to myself
i talk to myself
until i’m hoarse
at night
and wonder
in the morning
if it was worth it
because
i can’t remember
a thing i said
forgot
digging into the front
right pocket of my jeans
and then the left
and the coat pocket breast
trying to find
what i thought i had taken
but must have not
double take
what once
looked right
looked twice
takes double
distorting
distrusting
what appears
the first time
from now on
normal death
i don’t think
you ever
get around to
liking
the fact of dying
but it appears
normal,
a known fact,
which is the key
to accepting
anything—
that it appears
to be normal
transient
a transient sits
on a brick bench
elbows on his knees
leaned forward
rocking
back and forth
with a hat held
by the brim
in both hands
upturned
shaking it
for money
young man in the morning
a young man
downtown
in the morning
leaned against
a fire hydrant
curbside
with feet
on the street
and right hand
holding left forearm
and left forearm
holding a cigarette
chewing gum
looking up
at the building tops
worn tooth
the tip
of a tooth
worn down
i tongue
obsessively
wondering
if the wear
has come from
chewing
or grinding
my teeth
at night
think of others
sitting in the car
thinking
of my own problems
realizing
the driver
is patting his knee
and must also
have things to do
other than drive
and another rider
gets in
out of breath
and must have
been rushed
this morning
soothing
to think of others
and take a break
from myself
stretch
i used to
lose my footing
with my head
in the clouds;
a little older now
i’ve grown taller
and can keep
my feet in the dirt
at the same time
as i stretch
up high
ponderance
it is a ponderance
which i repeat
for you to mull
over, unwritten
just sitting there
and listening
letting go
of the worry
to remember;
for like i said,
i will repeat
as many times
as need be
reading seeing
most
will read it once
as they would
naturally
going
at their own pace
and then
again
this time
placing punctuation
according to
often
unnatural notions;
it is the same
when you look
at something
and for
a split second
see it
for what
it actually is
luv
i love to work
at my desk
at the foot
of our bed
when baby
is there laying;
it feels like
i’m at the mouth
of our cave
up at night
with a torch light
fending off
dark thoughts
from her dreams
bouncing
young
you bounce
from thing
to thing
like a pinball
bouncing
in between
believing
it must be this
no, then this
bouncing
back and forth
until old
realizing
it is none of it;
but rather,
something learned
from the bouncing
in between
all
it all appears
to me now
getting in
through my senses
inside of me
somehow
making me feel
as part of it
pouring in
and back out
pockets full
i feel equipped
with my pockets full
of something,
anything
symbiotic stretch
as i stand
in the doorway
and stretch
to the right
leaning over,
our plant reaches
for the light
kitchen window
to the left
miss me
a profound sadness
comes over me
remembering
what it was like
to be alone
as i now
fear dying
slightly less
having someone
to miss me
risky
i didn’t
roll my dice
right, waiting
to check and see
what could
have happened
easily
white blood cell warriors
the fight
of white
blood cells
battling
bacteria
seems
epic to me
on such
a small scale
coffee author
i think
for the name
of the author
on the cover
of any
of my future works
it should just
say “coffee”
love and art
managing
the emotions
of making
your own work
falling
into love
and back out
easily
but having
to stay
committed
if anything
is ever
to get done
linen closet
linen closet
laying sheets
stacked
side by side
on shelves
of order
and cleanliness
creativity
if just to avoid
being done upon
myself—
sounds vaguely
sexual—
as does
any doing;
creativity
is a sexual thing
stuck door
when opening a door that is stuck, there is usually the first attempt that employs the usual amount of force. then, realizing the door is stuck, there is a second attempt that quickly follows the first; this time with more force. after that, depending on the person, there are sometimes third and fourth attempts with an increasing amount of force. or, there is a step taken back, to discover why the door is stuck. and the attempt that follows, then addresses the root problem.
socks still on
i swear
i took off
these socks
that i see
still on
my feet
just a moment
ago
undressing
after
getting home
standing
in the kitchen
looking down
expecting
to see toes
seeing
cotton socks
instead
i write anywhere
i stop anywhere
to write
on the street corner
in the rain
on my phone
on the bus
in conversation
on the move
anytime
i’m in the mood
coming to me
only so often
i can’t afford
to let it go
old man
an old man
with a gray mustache
and glasses
eats a biscuit
and drinks a coffee
by the window
picking up crumbs
delicately, slowly
between his fingers
holding
a cup still steaming
trash can
the mouth
of the trash can
stays open
a little longer
than usual
after i have
thrown something away;
stuck
at the hinge
i’m sure
but seeming
for the second
staying open
to take on
a life of its own
and decide for itself
when to open
and when to close
rebel branch
a tree branch
fighting back
against
the windy way
things are
i start a poem
i start a poem
walking
trying to remember
the first few lines
repeating them
over and over
still walking
to where i can find
a place to stop
and write
and another line
so now four
repeating them
and five
still a ways away
at risk of forgetting
the beginning
to remember the end
what a human can do
we bend ourselves
into places
shapes
i wonder
what a human
can do
with some space
a body of work
it becomes
a body of work
gaining value
and creating fear
of loss
like a notebook
filled with notes
just a notebook
before
but now the result
of hours of work
on its face cover
just the same
as any other
but flipped through
and read
like hemingway’s
lost manuscript
my
what a notebook
could be
coffee line
all these people
waiting in line
for their $5
cup of coffee
when down the street
a half block
is a deli
that will sell you
a cup of coffee
for 50%
of the price
albeit 80%
of the quality;
but math is hard
in the morning,
i understand
a rule
in order
for a rule
to matter
it must
also matter
when
it is broken
two
i talk in twos
making it simple
as if this
is not that
and that’s the end
only ours
and other
without parsing
the other
just not ours
easier to see
binary
and easier
to decide
but really
many more
than just two
most often
personal projector
in the daylight
wide-eyed
and seen
what most
assume to be
all there is
sleeping
deeply
leaving black
to be just that
unaware
that if
you open your eyes
with your eyes
still closed
lights will flash
and a movie plays
on that
black backdrop
and you can play
whatever movie
you want
dream poem
lately
i’ve been
going to sleep
early
just to dream
a little longer
when it’s real
let it be there
push it as you will
into was
but let it be
short of memory
presently perceived
even then
when is it real
synapses firing
when is it real
i wonder
what makes it
what we’re after
what substitute
will suffice
like a dream
or a drug
lying to oneself
going insane
are just as well
in some cases
who’s to say
otherwise
supplanting
their reality
for another’s
who’s to say
when it’s real
a.m. radio
a car radio plays
at the stoplight
outside our apartment
at 3 a.m.
and i wonder
if the driver
is a late traveler
trying to stay awake
or an early worker
trying to stay awake
a dream misremembered
a vivid dream
reminds me
of something i did
a while back
even though
i never did
actually do it,
it might as well
be the same
—a memory
misremembered
and a reality
recently forgotten
private concert
turn up
the trance
in my AirPods
to drown out
the radio
that plays
in the car
i share
with strangers
that could be
nice people;
i’ll never know
sex sells
all these popular appearances trend towards shock value and sex it seems. simple and calm art gets drowned out but still has a place i think
labels
an argument
to exist,
to take up space,
to even be there
for you to read;
and numbers
and other symbols
like on a clock
or the brand names
on clothing
or equipment
constantly telling you
what is what
and this is that;
people
have them too
on placards
outside
their office door,
not to mention
their names
and the acronyms after
all this information
looking around
which is why
i think i like
so much
to be in nature
where nothing is named
except
the occasional trailhead
walking in the rain
stopping under
a stranger’s roof
in the rain writing
needing to get home
but cannot
get more
than a half block
without a drop
of rain poetry
falling
on my head
can’t write sober
the poetry
is there
latent
laying
waiting for me
worrying
as i have
that it had gone
as the lifestyle
i’ve been living
working
focusing
staying sober
had snuffed it out
dead pods
in the height
of a song
my AirPods die
so i must make
my own music
for the time being
until i can get
to an outlet
walking in the rain
leaning
with my shoulder
against the brick wall
in the rain
typing
on my phone
drops collecting
on the scene
blurring
the words
so i cannot read
what i’ve typed
shopping for friends
i know
there are others
i wish
i could meet them
browsing
my options
perusing
the aisles
like a grocery store
going
to my section
and having
four shelves
ten across
and twenty deep
to choose from
people
like paper boxes
with labels
listing
their ingredients
and health facts
walking in the rain
walking
as i normally do
slowly
and looking around
as it starts to rain
and i must speed up
if i hope
to reach home
dry enough
to go indoors
without undressing
undoctored
i feel alright
undoctored
by my own doing
like usual
seeing a symptom
and writing
my own prescription
like coffee
in the morning
or a walk
for my anxiety
having
to self-diagnose
but this morning
the universe
saw my need
and helped me
on its own
all love
just love
for everything
i think
of one person
to show it to
but can’t stay focused
and remember
what a girl
i once loved
once told me
about there being
no limit to love
when what she
really meant
was she
just didn’t love me
and now
i understand
feeling
this feminine love
to just nurture
and give good
to everything
when pretending becomes
i was doing all this
to appear
to be
one of these
and at some point
ended up
becoming one
rainbow
just a little
rainbow light
on the right side
of the cabinet white
when i wake up
and walk into
the kitchen
to make breakfast
lazy sunday
the blinds
on a lazy sunday
even if only
barely open
must be pulled tight
so the world
cannot get in
under the couch
i like to get
onto my belly
and observe
underneath the couch
such a simple world
of unused space,
dust bunnies
and lost items
laying there
minding their business
welcoming
newcomers
warmly
like my lost watch
or a coin
dropped and rolled under
escaping the worlds
of time and money
to lay gently
under the couch
young man old man
a young man
helping an old man
to put the lid
on his coffee cup
—they
exchange a smile
appreciate
what is
already here
what more
need we make
look
and this too
all this
here for us
without us
why can we not
just watch
sometimes
rather than
always make
to claim
for ourselves
the beauty
marvel, wonder
whether we are
i wonder
creatures
to create
or just
appreciate
common words
in an educated democracy, why write in words that are not commonly used? to sound more intelligent? at the expense of alienating a percentage of your potential reader base. better to write with common words, i think, and reach most of the masses.
inferior
an inferior
i have to
let go
for something
else superior
—but then
also risk
something worse
than the first
inferior
steep hill
i wasn’t sure
i would make it
up that hill
in fact, halfway
i thought
of tucking myself
into a ball
and rolling
back down
sidewalk fog
walking on
the same sidewalk
as this morning
when everything
was completely covered
in fog
now midday
and bright out
i can see the sights
i missed
this morning
machine art
i wonder if
a machine
could make the art
that i do
i think as far
as appearance
it would look the same
or better
but the point of art
is not that
it merely
be produced
but rather,
that it be born
from a genuine
human experience
otherwise,
what’s the point
transient
a transient
sitting against
the store wall
flicks
a cigarette butt
still smoking
impressively far
—a futile display
of rage
against everything
creative chaos
my art benefits from my work and vice verse. chaos crispier structure and structure controls chaos. sitting focused on structure an artistic idea will occur in my subconscious. creative trying to make my work experience will move the ball forward.
body of work
I have an idea of my body of work the rest in my mind always stretching it self and trying on new limbs. meeting other bodies there in my mind and comparing itself taking from others to add and sometimes subtracting out of self-consciousness the body of work is imagined as its whole at onceSo that I can close my eyes and edit apart or move pieces around or have a sudden realization waking up in The Morning Show how to fix something I’ve been stumped on the body of work lives in my mind
seeing is believing
there is a moment
where this said
would ring true
in your ears
with eyes
seeing the same
as the eyes
of these lips
that said so
cigarette
how a cigarette
hangs
not yet lit
stuck
to the upper lip
resting
on the bottom
pointed down
looking cool
be more selfless
you’re not only working for yourself; you’re working for your clients, your team, your boss, and your future family. these people depend on you the same way that you depend on others. you have a responsibility to contribute as much as you can. you have your possessions, abilities, and life itself because of what others have given you—both from your nature and the atoms that were not yours until your soul enlivened your body, and from the nurturing that you received from your family, teachers, mentors, and peers. give back to this system with all that you have been given.
last night
i feel like
an impostor
with
the up-for-work crowd
like i slept
last night
though i was
in the warehouse
eyes closed
trying to keep
my balance
in a different
kind of crowd
drunk truck
the trash truck
raises its arm
shaking the bin
like a drinker
leaning back
with a glass
for the last drop
fuzzball
i pull
a fuzzball
apart
then roll it
back together
and pull it
apart
again
how
i see how
these things
would happen
now
having seen
what i hadn’t
when i wondered
how
these things
could
writing is like space travel
writing a moment is like an astronaut observing a new planet. you have traveled all this distance to get here, and will only have this one chance to observe what you came to see, passing by. in that time, it is best to do no thinking and only recording. then, later on, endless analysis and editing can be done with the raw content captured from the moment of observation, which cannot be re-lived.
close enough
the one cup
measurement
is all i use
filling it halfway
instead of using
the half cup
saturday
i wait all week
for this one moment
on saturday morning
when the drone
of dribble from work
dies down
in my latent mind
cleansed by
a friday sleep
knowing there is no
office tomorrow
sitting down now
at a desk wherever
a coffee shop
to open my writing
and have all
flow forth
what was pent up
and refining itself
like a diamond under pressure
myself mining above
now descended
to the depths
to collect
playing pretend
i don’t want to actually experience that artificial depression madness sadness malaise as the experience itself is not so pleasant as it is to sit back removed and consider the possibility and ponder like watching a movie actor manufacture emotion interesting to think of what could happen to me or someone i love without it actually happening
cute stranger
a cute girl
a stranger
sitting next to me
in the backseat
gets out of the car
and closes the door
but not before
letting the cold in
to take her seat
traffic
traffic is often
dressed in
the red hue
of brake lights
glaring through
the windshield
into the backseat
where i
lay my head back
against the headrest
and exhale
technology
sitting in an Uber
trance music
turns on
unexpectedly
in my AirPods
as my LTE
reconnects
transporting me
to another
fast-paced world
zooming
out of traffic
and along
neon highways
thank god
i keep thinking
this is it
like the end is near
or the sickness
won’t cure
this time around
making a promise
to god
if only just
a little longer
i look back
and realize
i’ve made many
of these promises
and god
has let me live
all this time
dream of death
i wake up
with my heart
pounding
after a dream
of death
realizing this
will happen
someday
vertigo
i don’t understand
how space works
right now
falling over
leaning on a wall
feeling for
a center of gravity
forgetting
how to stand
walking on divis
walking north
on divisadero
in the morning
once i climb
to the top
of the hill
and reach broadway
that is when
i first see
the ocean
out in front of me
and then
a little further
downhill
to vallejo
is when i can see
presidio forest
to my left
and i start
to feel better
walking to heal my anxiety
walking is healthy for me when i have anxiety. just to get out and see some new spaces and get exercise without too much risk or danger. the longer the walk the better, getting into a sort of meditative state just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. especially if i can walk from inland out to the coast to see the water and horizon, reminding me there is more and i am small and it’s alright.
questions for an artist
i think one reason for depression of the artist is that any good feeling must be immediately expelled into the receptacle of the art form, quickly before it passes.
art is about feeling—and for most, feeling cannot be controlled. so when a good feeling comes, the artist jumps to take advantage of it, by translation into her art form. while good may be produced in the art, there is none leftover for herself. this can lead to depression when the good is constantly poured into the art and never left for herself.
this idea, however, i now realize, is partially due to my own bias as an artist, as i am the type that produces only when i am feeling good, maybe because i think this is what is preferred by those to whom i will show my art.
but now, i wonder, what is it like to be an artist that produces from the bad feeling. does the same effect take place where the bad is expelled from the body and mind, and absorbed by the art? is this why art is sometimes used as therapy? is this the type of art people will want to consume? is that type of art, consumable art, the art that should be created?
a stranger smiling
i love someone
stifling
a smile
trying not
to laugh out loud
inappropriate
in a public place
covering their mouth
and shrugging their shoulders
turning away
from the crowd
to have a private joy
with a merry thought
that popped up
unexpected
ups and downs
i don’t trust my ups
when i know
there’s a down
right around the corner
ready to
pull me down harder
if i get higher
gaining momentum
during the fall
standing in the rain
wind
whistling
in my ears
waiting
with
my hands
in
my pockets
underneath
an awning
where
the rain
does not
fall
what they say
sometimes we say
about ourselves
what others once
said about us
thinking we
are now
as they say