Feb 5, 2026

Haibun, Under a Rock



Slime a conscious kind shivers delicately a thousand bodies shrink in a state of vulnerable exposure upended in a rough hand just curious not unkind in the same way crushing an egg or snapping a thin bone is too rough too brute just casual in the tearing of a cling film or a web that one can barely see unless observed up close to a naked eye which is never naked never anything less than shielded from being seen back into and understood as the thing being observed is forced to reveal its secrets and the seal broken means there is no putting things back the way they were the intrusion is so massive 

 

and the deep study 

is over in a second 

rock left to sun dry



Summer, 2019

My Masked Mystery


Next you sell cars

You are gifted with the gab
The propulsive talk
A pushing quality but (for some)
Not unpleasant
You find the buttons on those
So exciting & easy to press
They are waiting for you (it seems)
To activate their needs
& provide their wants
Radio, video, promo, pronto
Che bella pronto que sera

You aren’t fluent but it flows
Make money with your mind
Open your books and show me
It’s all there —all your strengths
And weaknesses (somehow)
Are your own best qualities
And you have always sold me

Next you sell cars




03-20-23


The Change of Medusa


Another skin
netted as a frost on a lichen

colorless as smoke
came out in her hand as she adjusted the diadem
on her writhing scalp

GODS DAMMIT!

Medusa looked in the lustrous mica

reflecting the bare spot on her head
Another serpent had grown old and shriveled
Too thin to stay in its delicate
weave 
of scales
it had slipped away to 

curl up and die
in a corner of the 
Gorgon lair

Briefly, Medusa considered repinning

it to one side
brushing over the remaining snakes
to hide the growing space of her
own vulnerable freckling skull

Her sisters were quiet as stone

But made faces when Medusa walked past

She’s not ‘Myth’ America, anymore


They were cruel, but then again

—always had been


07-07-23


Jul 2, 2014

A Shanty



grim grimmer 
grimmest
missed the boat now 
swim it

your meaty heart will 
mute sink
rocks in your head grind
in' think

the tide doesn't turn 
it rolls
under water dred
ging souls

pressure to go up 
and rise 
"Those were pearls that were 
his eyes"

drift down sink far 
be done
dry land was never 
any fun



Jun 25, 2014

Fever Tree (Jim and Janis)



Jim and Janis

He said he'd once been the Lizard King
but that was some years ago
He'd gone into obscurity or normal life depending 
on where you live or who you know
There wasn't any recognizing him except for a sullen growl
and without the awareness I'd hear it
No irony to note a beer gut which stretched his 
Iron Butterfly (original) to a Mothra girth tee-shirt
Jim had watery eyes and a smoker's smile that promised things
like Flicks candy at the movies "Let's go see The Who tonight!"
and his smelly weed smell filled the car before we went in to the show
and he laughed all during Keith Moon jumpsuited white
going through hotel walls and exploding drums
but slept through the rest

I had to wake him up to drive me home. Which wasn't even my home.

You'd have to believe me even if you've heard worse
He married Janis, The Pearl, and she had the jewelry 
to prove it. More ropes and dangles and beads than a treasure chest
and one precious bag of baby teeth from a groupie
She'd go do her county social work then come home in the old Saab
with the driver's side pushed in from some accident and the thick fix-it putty
on the door looked like Janis' cheeks 
and her hair mostly covered it but he 
would come in sweating from the deck stoned and horny
would brush it back and sing 'if they say I never loved you
you know they are a liar...'
And sometimes it would make her laugh see-through 
like a snapping flag whipped by warm Tamalpais lofts
or she would hard line him

"Fuck, Jim —Did you actually work on the deck today?" and out came a bottle of Comfort

Jim and Janis lived in an A minus frame on a Marin slope  
dusted grey eucalyptus no firebreak two cats a dog 
and her 14 year old daughter Lisa, Janis had had her secretly in Port Arthur
who baby-sat me when she stayed home (she never did) 
I was taken on as the neighborly obligation since my mom worked nights 
(Jim and Janis both came from middle-class manners) so long as I behaved Mom said
but after school special kid I was, I could go back into her tiny teenage room 
as if it were my personal vestal, chastised and excited 
thrilled at going through absent Lisa's drawers (rule-lined notes refolded, heavily penned instructions for sex, sewing needles scabbed brown, foil bon-bons and pipes, bent brass screens) and pretending I was her
3 years younger I felt inadequate for my debutantage, lying on her bed under the Alice Cooper poster
smelling the warmed over yeast dregs from empty Lowenbraü bottles stacked in her window
watching dust blaze in the light through the narrow window the dusking light of prayer and reflection
gilding piles of girl clothes and a left-over shoe
wishing wishing wishing my breasts existed

Maybe I was never there?

Lots of people claim now they were there when it happened in 1970
but Jim says it was just Janis and she says it was a goddamned good thing
'He was plain out of his mind in a Greyhound waiting room, writhing and trying to climb pillars -I could have been a bulldagger with pure murder in my heart, ready to send this princey prick to his maker."
'Ah naww sugar, you never would have.' Jim chuckled 'I could see your heart. Pure as maidenhead butter...'
Now Janis laughs as drinks and smokes scatter the table and I am witness audience to the show, which draws in the dog who scratches under the rocking chair Jim sits in, his belly cradling a brown liquid bottle
Jim still writes and self-publishes but not in his name. There are books of his poetry in the bathroom
The Golden God Mr Mojo Risin Wild Child is a deck-builder. Free-lance.
'Dadmiral approves' he smirks 'but he doesn't know why I don't build houses while I'm at it. Decks just seem too incidental...'
Janis pours herself another drink from Jim's bottle, and he plays with the colorful necklaces that drape her neck. 
'I love standing out on a cantilever, no railings, flying out there...'
They were stars in the sense of billboard charts and concert sell-outs 
They were stars in the sense of the night sky and I was seeing their light arrive after the fact

Janis wanted love full-tilt, hip-checked and can't even play the game 
more than a starving person dreams of a piece of buttered bread 
Her muses aligned and told her to cut her heart and bleed 
and from her blood she would distill desire into a perfume, a personal scent
From her voice she would    
She had sung herself raw and cashed checks for hundreds of thousands of dollars 
Drinking made her feel like a party it was only the money that kept the party going -all the boys she flirted with kept their eyes on the dealers and the sylphlike band girlfriends- a blowjob put her on her knees and she refused the gig (eventually) Sex was a strategem a studio track to be laid down a plane to catch a dozen phone calls and all of them eventually hung up
A gravemarker for Bessie felt like the only thing done right but it still felt cold

Her flask was just empty at midnight when she thought of scoring dope at the bus station

Jim had visions even without dilution and spoke them in type shared them
But no one had ears, seemingly blind too just wanting to feel his ass in tight leather 
men and women felt along his seams 'Forget it, man -let's screw'
He had been at a large screening party and been given a Visine bottle and told it was liquid acid
He took multiple drops on his tongue, sniffed some 
and finally dosed his eyes with the rest. 
Hours later, Jim had arrived alone at the LA bus station
waiting for a bus which had his mind like luggage stowed and tagged. 
With every arrival he awaited the porter while the shine on the blue plastic seats throbbed at him responded to his gaze enlarged inflated into organs and expelled shit and elongated and secreted a sheen as a godhead the celestial lingam burning long and orange quaking with jism and then he felt a wing brush his aura -his vision took in a enormous Sun God with fanned feathers and green and gold talons- It brought shade, even while it beamed with light and untouchable heat and he was its child its egg its treasure
'That was me,' Janis said, 'I stood over him. He was in a fetal position in the corner of the room next to the lockers and lookin' like a bad trip, so I thought I'd talk him through it...


(to be continued)



May 25, 2012

Bukowski's Daughter




God damned veins pumping 
all over the place 
I would have liked to see 
that veiny bastard one more time
Veiny vain vainglorious 
frog-kick legs and Blake hair and mustard gas breath
Here I imagine the last call as 
a death throw-swipe kick rausschmiss
Some rauschfrei lullaby 
sung in a thin blood   

Dad in the VW going to the Von's for Wolfschmidt
Driving on the sidewalk scattering people
A turtle shell with the tore-up turtle body coming out 
(oh that make me sick to think about)
He wrote me letters 
always in the third person
(in his fake writers name)
Always telling me to read some same old text 
by some monk or drug addict
No matter what he said 
(or what the character he wrote as said) 
he took it away at the end

"What do I know?"

The only thing a daughter ever wants from a father 
-ever- 
Is some reassurance 
So I never knew anything either

Like what was his favorite day ever? 

The card sorting and the memorization
Put the mail in the slot 
-discard 
-repeat for a million citizens 
Hands cut in pulp and bleach and glue and ink
When he quit something he thought 
That's that
So a uterus is just another hostile place 
A real dive
Women made him hard 
(with a bone to pick)
But it was hard for him

I am made from 
abandonment

Like some petrified old tree stump 
that no one remembers 
ever being a tree
the roots with knurls smooth and polished as cabriolets
I could imagine I had a father 
and he and I sat together
"No one remembers when this was just fields"
The German blue eyes are just 
filling with tears 
when I smooth his hand on my dirndl


(2010)






Fraught with Meaning




Bibulousness friable defenestrate