Which Is Where We Are Now

  • No. Peas will not replace
    this strange desire to add capers
    to my already quite exotic Indian stew
    God, do I have to go over this
    with myself again?
    And Live
    Get that which I happen to want?
    There even ain’t no shame in it, for shame!
    Jeez, just go to the grocery store where
    they have a whole shelf of them — 2 kinds
    And don’t wait for tomorrow’s regular
    beautiful shopping; the desire is for them now
    And shit if this ain’t the first day
    of spring and bare feet
    and the children out playing
    and Terra out happy despite
    a benign cancer near her stomach bulging
    and red in her eye
    and joy to hear the birds chirp along
    to Flaming Lips’ Fight Test
    as Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
    As I still feel bad for not working
    and wonder when I will give it up
    like it’s inevitable
    Marching past the children echoing Yoshimi’s
    battle cry, their young souls
    shaming my reluctance to fully embrace
    my capers for all I know
    Past the teenagers hanging out
    fresh in courage, laughing smiles
    at one another as they embrace
    awkward, vulnerable, vibrant youth
    I taste one
    salty; almost grimmacingly bitter
    How many capers? How many capers?
    1, 2, 3
    Fuck it. Stop counting. Keep going.
    My intuition will tell me
    And if I don’t just cover it with ’em
    Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf.
    Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf?
    Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf.
    OK.
    You will need a smidge more rice.
    Really. OK.

    I load up my plate up
    hear my roommate in his bedroom
    loitering, lounging, laughing with his fiancée
    as I go out to witness the dusk of a beautiful day
    and the slightest dusting of spring
    tears have anointed my table
    I wipe the seat and as I eat
    any evidence of wet is vapors
    And, no, those capers are not bitter tasting
    they fit perfect, well: smashing
    and, hmm, maybe not enough rice
    ah, no, just just enough
    I needn’t have thought

    Capers

    –––––––

    18 Feb 2011
    dragonfly book
  • In her presence,
    her presence I have breathed
    
    A blinding beauty,
    a blinding beauty I have seen
    
    I gazed
    no thought
    The muted radiance burning the film
     attempting to capture
    Knowing, as my eyes held her,
     my mind would not catch her
     burned into my memory
     Just the pleasant burn and
      delicious soothing of grace in nonchalance
    A beauty that did not strike
     unwittingly burned and crumpled
     by invisible flame
    
    I accept and graciously
     with calm, pleasant passion
     with blissful, resigned frustration
     such effortless perambulation

    Traces

    –––––––

    18 Feb 2011
    heart book
  • Thank you for the time we share
     and the wisdom you provide
    Knowing you adds something to me
     I couldn’t be on my own
    Admits opportunities
     I wouldn’t take alone
    Before I go, I take part
     in the superfluity I need
    I’m better now I is we

    Tre

    –––––––

    17 Feb 2011
    red with flowers book
  • What to do
     with a bejeweled soul?
     Just glimmer, glimmer, glimmer
    Barred from the bank, cold
     no thought in it
     no exchange value
     no takers
    Just take the rays of the sun
     and inflame the world in gleams
    And naked with the moon
     reflect amid its beams

    Blue Jewels

    –––––––

    17 Feb 2011
    red with flowers book
  • In a mall, shopping with Brian. We walk into a store that only uses half its space. I’m looking for a globe. There is a 10 diameter one and an 8 inch. Those are too big and I don’t want the bulk of a stand. I had three globes a year ago, but I through them all out.

    We walk into a fast food restaurant. Too bad that pudgy woman in canary yellow isn’t here. Then a few moments later, I see this woman and her two fat black woman friends.

    Big Globes in Half the Space; Pudgy Canary

    –––––––

    14 Feb 2011
  • I forego tasteless economics
    Common chocolate I destroy
     cheating myself unfulfilled
    Savoring exquisite trifles fills
     my entire being with contentment
     as they go on triumphantly half–eaten
    For so long, I’ve half–heartedly snacked about
     when I was hankering for just a bit
     of the richest delicacy
    I want no banquet
     but break the bank for me
    Permit my plate to remain sacrosanct
     embracing those dear
     morsels that suit me

    Epicure

    –––––––

    14 Feb 2011
    red with flowers book
  • I walk the dogs to pizza hut. No one is there; it’s closed for bad weather. It must have just been closed; there are some pizzas in the oven: a last order. I cut one of the pizzas. It seems to disappear on the table. It shrinks to a small size: I salvage the bits into half of a personal pizza.

    What to do? I know: I’ll just put in a new pizza, what with the store closed and all this extra dough, and then I’ll take that little half one for myself.

    No hand-tossed in the main refrigerator. None under the make table either. Did they stop doing hand-tossed?

    Back to the cut table to cut more pizzas. I cut a large, placing it in top of the small. It completely eclipses it.

    A driver comes in, returning from a deliver. He apologizes for an argument he had with another driver before he left. I don’t really care and tell him so.

    Gill comes in and sits down in the back office and gets on the phone. I go to him. I’m leaving soon, he tells me, and then talks on the phone some more.

    Well I can’t stay and work: I have the dogs, besides didn’t I already call in and say I’m not working? The remaining order burns in my mind.

    I try to interrupt Gill, but he keeps talking.

    “Gill,” I tell him with desperation as he finally acknowledges me, “you have to tell me where we keep the hand-tossed.” Phones ring indicating new orders. This isn’t the crisis situation I tolerate. I intentionally stop the dream.

    Disappearing Pizzas; I’m Not Even Working Here

    –––––––

    12 Feb 2011
  • I laugh at myself
     pouring a cup of water
     to explain to you the river
    It is the flow of it
    Try being still
     feel its torrents rock your body
    We worry its purpose
     pondering an engulfing ocean
    
     just so it can delight again
     in the whispers of the mountains
     to provide pretty life–sustaining babble
    Go to the river and hear yourself

    Fluid Talk

    –––––––

    10 Feb 2011
    red with flowers book
  • Took a dog down elevator to second floor. There was a dog there. We stood facing it for a long time. I’m surprised no one has come to use the elevator during this time.

    A woman with a dog gets tired of waiting, and she takes the steps. Another women comes out, waits, and takes the steps. I go back up with elevator instead of down. Who is going to take care of that dog?

    At the ground floor there are a group of gentlemen. We play a kind of soccer with a small ball like a heavy ping-pong ball with dust pans as goals. We all know how to play very well, each know each others weaknesses, only one side has one’s politics, the other another. This annoys me because something like we wouldn’t be having to play footies here if we joined forces.

    Elevator, Ownerless Dog, Footsie Soccer Due to Politics

    –––––––

    3 Feb 2011
  • I’m on an annual bus trip for the third year. It’s so kinda tour bus. I’m an employee of sorts. It’s festive. We are just about to complete the tour. People remenice about a concert that I wasn’t a part of: Gene Wilder, Luke Wilson, and Richard Prior. I’m surprised I wasn’t part of that concert.

    Everyone has shot glasses, the circular kind with a truncated stem with a sweet whiskey liquor. I’m encouraged to drink. I give in and drink.

    It’s so jovial and festive, in a corny way. I spill some liquor as the bus winds its way around. Suddenly, I have a giant shot glass, bigger than my head: too much joviality and “Tonight the Streets are Ours” cues as exit music. I have a hard time keeping the drink straight and people laugh as the sticky substance laps over my hands. I drink from the giant glass and the bus goes up a hill, now in day light, and the scene freeze frames with the liquid pouring out onto my cheeks and the music turned up like the punchline to a movie.

    Festive Business Trip, All Too Festive

    –––––––

    2 Feb 2011
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