Poetry

Swam a dream through the ivory gates. Eden, it was Eden, she moved in a green light not of our skies. Reality denied, her lips hid much joy.      Voices rippled      in the marvelous      garden, verse      was composed and      rehearsed.      Beasts had no      fury, fear      never entered there. In that wondrous garden God too strolled rich…

Play beach volleyball Make surfboards & live at Dana Pt. Pick up chicks galore Shine it on & get a good suntan Catch cancer from the chemicals in the water Die a grotesque death Have a movie made about your life Make sure you look thin in every scene

I will lead you with my dark eyes. My eyes of ash, shadow, earth. My eyes that are secrets the darkness keeps and never gives back. This is the season of night. It is the landscape of sleep, dreams, and death. We will not talk to the features of the moon. There is no way…

In what heaven or hell do you, Bob, booze? If heaven, there’s gin sempiternal, you wake on a cloud press a button and an angel comes in with an enchanting tinkle or, if you’re allowed in the Elysian Fields (why not? you boozed an epic amount), you’ll wander till you find that stream of gin,…

Twist away the gates of steel — Devo O wide blossom-splashed private drives Along which sullen mouthed little guys In motorized surreys Ride shotgun over spectacular philodendra! O paradise of zombies! O terminal antipathy to twist And shout! O hotel sized garages Inside which smoothly tooled imported motors Purr like big pussies under long polished…

Mom says she won’t; we’ll have to clean them, though she used to do it when I fished with dad. Dad’s illness wore her down; I think she felt relief after he died, and didn’t mourn him long enough before she married Sam. I know there is an art to cleaning fish. In ancient times,…

I. Happy we when our footnote tells us “Hercules was a legendary hero of ancient Greece.” I had supposed him Lord of the Admiralty President of IBM the Man Who Made the Bomb latest sensation in the rock constellation a Dior creation a Mafia bum. II. Happy the college kid who can read clonked on…

The quest for winter sunshine washes The gasping survivor up on the shore Much that’s done isn’t meant Much that’s meant isn’t done I take it up & at the beck & call Of some remote agency I stick it in & when it’s over I pull it out again Like the bloody assegai of…

     she came. i went. i walked. i saw. she sang. she spat. i came.      she ran. she spoke. i climbed. she left. i bloomed.      i walked. she ran. i laughed. she cried. she played. i woke. she      groaned. i sang. she gasped. i shrieked. she yelped. i barked. she growled.      i moved. she sat. she…