INRI’S DAY
Bedemined aboriginal
grasping
two-fisted
didgeridoo
lets go
changed nothing.
Then
two latches of dog hair.
Then
her blackness
tumbles.
Hands all over her
she slaps his hand
off her back
elbow crook.
Standing
just off a horse.
This horse-shaped absence
yours.
Fans herself
stiff paper.
Gloss ivory pants
pockets unbuttoned
secrets
if you dare
fingers in there.
Fingertip roller
squeeze them
into your encyclopedia.
Across aisles
islands
nominate two I know.
Man
25 years alone
walking
jocularity extinguisher.
FACES
Barefoot, we go
no names,
nick-catch phrases
faces.
Not serving
last weekend, this weekend
French Navy striped shirt.
Envelope names
one here
someday, three others?
Take my place?
We lift up
his hand
fingers marking pages
bookmark
in a book.
Keys still in my pockets
a flat surface
a hook.
Faces forward
backlit
blondes in Summer
silver hair in shadow.
Lights above
candles forward.
The way of a red blinking light
leaves a vapor trail
among a few stars
engines fade
the ways of ringing bells.
CONTINUED
A confident will and steel
and blades of steel and will
ice
cracked brittle
down quick.
Bruised rib
I think
a week later.
Grain or something
of sand or something.
Water, or something.
A drop
or something.
DNA
a person
a race
an Age
or something.
African drum
electronic drum
bongo drum
tongue drum
beatnik drum
stage drum
garage drum.
She talks keyboards
he talks drums
they talk guitars
they sing
pick
tick
talk.
He thought
she did.
She thought
he did.
Wondering
have we ice cream in
our freezer?
JACKETS
elves
fairies
trolls
knights in leisure wear
golfers in high pants
hyperbole
oversimplification
simpleton
general realities
generalities
a word
a thousand words
a thousand pictures
a burst of photos
scribbler
share it with the class!
Egg
she scrambles over him
“Soul Of My Savior”
physical graffiti
pray for the fred meyer associates
responsible for restocking the couscous
deeper
further
darker
darker
voices, out
within
a leather-gloved hand
smoking gun
covered by yellowjackets
shooting into a nest
a motorcyclist’s body
on the ground
I thought
she was a statue
until
the man caressed her
thought him a statue
until
the woman caressed him.
MOUNTAINEERS
Man
ant
molehill
mountain.
To the mountain
what belongs
to the mountain.
Two brothers
other
one.
Thoughts
words
rivers
trees
rocks
voices
clouds
dissolve
forgotten.
(Blank spaces
readers’ interpretations.)
And, again.
In
the beginning
BC
AD
CE
‘70s, ‘18
heroes have long hair.
Afterward
a ringside photographer
photographs a spiderweb
the first Autumn leaves
but can the robot look within and
know the robot within
lead him by the hand
to healing
the breakthrough?
Yes
I’ve done this
for decades still
comb your hair
flip a switch
acoustic, to electric
O’, dottir, Mac, M(i)c(k)
hyphenated hybrid children.
A face suggests
a certain body
a face.
Eucharistic minister
stands, waits, watches
prodigals might come
over the hill
home
not lock the door
not turn off the light
a world fallen
psychologically impossible.
From gleaming towers
to old growth showers.
One steep side
up
other steep side
down.
Talk about clouds?
Beasts of the sky.
Wizards?
Maybe.
Shamans?
Even
how to pronounce the word
forgotten
but yes
mist
yes
wind
yes
wildflowers
yes
trees
surging
lifeblood
rhizomes
dormant.
Inside
waiting for dinner
talk about work
stay safe inside
because
outside
you never know.
No child
wants a cucumber.
Windows watching
gloaming
forest
food
forgetfulness
stars
truly a map.
The usual postponement of
the examination of conscience.
Why
are people holding sandwiches
not eating
those are cards
they’re playing
a life in
a day
‘til eve
misty and rain
Sun just down
clear, the mountain
my bones
come home
day’s end echoes
cm punk
go to sleep.
HAS BEEN
Any Sunday
first in thoughts
the Sabbath?
Or the Resurrection?
The human bias
creation comes first
creation
the context.
Kitchen chandelier light
to a catalog
blocked
by a foot
but light bounces
off walls
off the ceiling.
One village?
Not enough stuff
for our store.
A million?
Too much.
Ten thousand—
right on!
A brisk, clear September morning
short sleeves
men in our prime.
Workhorses
run the ball
rarely throw deep.
Tribes
of Israel
Apostles
hobbits
a bell rings
we all drink
one
drink.
A boy
requests milk.
A grandmother’s face
he will never know.
Priests
talking about hobbits
are
an
important driver of potato sales.
Bank of America
the bank
of the America
that has been
brutalized by banks.
MOTHER
Father
and sons
connected
through the mother
or the one
would be
alone
without.
On a bike
a backpack
off balance
a bag of charcoal.
I could have anything
from Spain
cheese from many places.
I have cheese
from Spain.
I love you
she says.
I hear it
with marshmallows
with potatoes
with mushrooms.
Blowing wind—
rain?
Clouds in—
rain?
Bushels of pine cones—
rain?
After all the Sun
no longer
sane.
SEASIDE
Raindrops
thicker, louder.
Lights
outside
fade, appear.
Rubbing my fingers
creating something.
Whining
radiation
in my ears
seagulls
cars wheels sing
whales, sing.
Isolate the hours
small as they are.
Think
a narrator’s melodramatic monotone
describe the trials
the music
the ride.
$20 bill
a night
Seaside Funland Arcade
A-Z-listers.
Around a table
scavengers.
I threw a rock through a window
forgot a night’s dreams.
Down by the seaside
here by the sea and sand
love will tear us apart
again
rain approaching Indian Beach
dressed up
better than anyone
within a mile.
BIG HAIR
“Good morning“– Big Hair.
What is “big hair”?
Who is “big hair”?
Why is hair big?
High pants
incarcerators
low pants
ready for prison.
A thousand haircuts later
each one here
mornings
afternoons
evenings
hair keep growing.
Window tap—
“So-and-so?”
he asks me.
No,
but we know
some same people.
Track and field
pole vaulters,
long jumpers,
sprinters,
relay racers,
marathoners,
church-goers.
Build the tension
along the arms
the legs
suspension
squandered
a tantrum.
Old oak’s
leaves
lives
fallen away
forgotten.
A few new leaves….
Maybe.
Maybe none.
MEDITTERANEAN
That dude almost ran me over once.
After Mass at St. James that morning
I was walking across Madison and you turned left off 9th and raced in front of me.
We were leaving the same Mass where you piously walked up to the altar
with your short pants, sweater tied around your neck, your wavy, greasy hair,
so very Meditteranean.
You’re shabby and old,
you slump,
no energy,
drained of life,
a vision of melancholia.
Seeing you down like this makes me want to kick you all the more.
RIFF
I like this
rolling
slow
down the hill
Roosevelt road.
Look.
Around.
Easy.
Slow.
Good morning long hair
I know her
better
every day
I love her more
differently.
Read my goldleaf words
stamped deeply into the paper.
Above the sink
cold air
through a window
cold
I know
okay.
Freeway faster now
practicing my guitar
fingering the riffs
the steering wheel
park
turn off the car
listen to the solo
fingering the riff
the shopping cart
Before I go inside
the end of the song.
Twilight
pale blue
night
crescent moon
is the mood.
ARE THEY
Fathers here there
never
here
there
are we
PLAY
never been there
never will go
the eye
only sees one
in a thousand things
a brain’s register—
in the millions of things
huge on a billboard
in real life
5”2
kiss me in the parking lot
Tetsuya Naito
Minoru Suzuki
red curry simmer sauce
couscous
all three
together
sweaty
huge on a billboard
in real life
5’2
hug me in the fog
Two Apostles, say, “Hey!”
Jesus, say, “Yeah.”
They, said, “Hey!”
All, say, “Whoa.”
Jesus, say, “Hey!”
“Yeah,” said one, and
“One,” said one,
and one, said, “Oh,”
and, one, said, “Yeah.”
“Hey!”
hug me in the fog
huge on a billboard
in real life
5”2
hug me kiss me in the parking lot
in the parking lot
hug and kiss in the fog
MIC ON
Priest has the mic on.
Where he lives
what he does.
Progressive rock
black metal
progressive metallic blackness
come to this.
Leaves flat
stems up
I cannot stop
I can come back.
Wrestler Psycho
Wrestler Spirito
who tends the garden
of light
color
incense
smoke
fairy
angel?
LOVE IS
love is
where
Sunday morning
on (Lake City Way)
the road
safely
spaced
between
slow
sober
cars
headlights
walk out
guitar strapped across your back
your girl at your side
punk
you feel lucky?
You got it
all wrong
Dirty Harry
punks aren’t lucky
or
they’re not punks
but he expresses himself
with those pants
that jacket
that hair
completes life
born there
schooled there
loved her
worked there
dug this
smoked many a bowl
you think
you’re a punk
always will
ought to be
fast
all fucked up
lights on
punk
one
day
a kid
without crying
love
headlights on
walks home
almost
smiling
that feeling I get
almost
smiling
don’t know
why
keep it inside
because
I couldn’t say why
I didn’t
go home
I went to the beach
but I need
good news
raining
TELEVISE
See the broken window
stay in stride
out to face everybody
throwing things at Jesus
and me
what would Jesus do
what would we do
me and you
hands tied
look around
jabbing eyes
televised
I can call in a military flyover
Seattle needs more
players touching the ball
warrior searching
for a battle
tired of the search
every day never
finds one
fairy hunter
mushroom hunter
story hunter
win
fail
I will watch
you too
you know
a warrior leaves
nothing to chance
but
what
it’s all luck
sun
shine through
my window
GRACE
In my head
in my head
nobody hears this music
nobody
turns it down
nobody
turns it off
dangerous
substance
embellishment
out of balance
deviate from the script
my son
my arm across your shoulders
until the sermon’s over
Mass begins
verses one and two
our priest apologizes
for suggesting a song during the quiet Mass
it’s cool
we grin
slave ship captains
sailing the ocean
bright
shining as the Sun
write it down
that doesn’t play the music
that doesn’t recite the poem
words
written down
space among thoughts
the emphasis on words
poetry in the poem
music in the song
take
hold your peace
name your pain
WHERE I CHOOSE TO BE EARLY TO WAIT
A Moon
Western sky
wane
gibbous
clouds, pink, purple
I would debate
with the pre-schoolers
Christmas lights, up?
We would debate
Christmas season, or not?
Holiday lights, or not?
Moisture balling on
the tip of my nose
sickness draining out
my eyes
Pat Metheny has the same
guitar sound
I do
chatterbirds back his song
across
my parking lot
neighborhood
window
BOW
Irishman’s rainbow
gray
green
blue
brown
gold
THE SUNDAY EXPERIENCE
Heart of the Sunrise
and
narrow, thick stained glass
in a brick wall
and candles
December 2nd
of Winter
medieval times
condemned—traduced, as Josef K.
solemn the walk, silent the acolyte
a distant thud
a mother around here before sometimes
a priest jealous of
this light
ceremonial cross
that lady waits
ready for anything
he trips
sisters from Alaska
a 15-yard penalty
unnecessary roughness
the wrestler throws his shirt
into the front rows
nailed onto the cross just like that
walk home alone
old man
after the Mass
he never looks
talks
anyone
bloody clothes, bloody face, bloody arms
wafer
tabernacle
until tomorrow
how many to feed
here today
I don’t usually count
but
144,000
SMOKE
“Where is HE?!?”
Do they ask!
“Is HE okay?!?”
Amid the smoke
that
fills the temple.
St. Michael’s Missal
find the right page number
follow the musical notation
calculate the ages of the names
the century dates
exercise the brain
fine print
sing along with
the musical notes.
WALKING IN DARKNESS
Light next door
light outside
next door to that
light inside
spreads light inside
one’s house
above the street
light outside
next door
porchlights light outside
a garage kittycorner
light inside
Christmas lights
light above my head
candle light white
candle light red glass
candle light blue glass
glasses green
gold
saint lights
dimmed lights
windows high
shadows never leave
worship
tenebrae
OVER THE COUNTER
You can stop
smoking
sprinkle herbs on
your salad
scratch your dog
behind the ears
smile
your wife
you can stop
you can start
coffee drink
on your way
pause
drink
$1000 clothes
baby
cry
A man came
a man named
and became
man.
WIZARD
Left turn.
The car speaks
the language
the Sefirot
“Homeboy!”
“I said!”
An act of
sickness
a cough.
“Mercy” = “Earth Sea”
WOULDA COULDA SHABBA SHABBA SHABBA
the car
the speaker
the saxophone
the moon
the song
the acoustics are
so good
bass
drums
vibraphones
too
in this
holy place
let us
recite all the names
all the statues
all those plant names
band names
in the garden too
admire those paintings
Jesus and His contemporaries
in the Renaissance
Baroque
Raphael
we look
and
who are we?
Pacific Northwesterners
of this tent
the Pacific
this North
this West
Jesus!
Left hand
right hand
other hand
doing what
do you
know
you
don’t know
Too much narration!
Spoiled story,
preachy priest!
But I like the guy
because in the morning
he is a night person
in the night
a morning person
you bet!
Christmas ends
a glory blaze
a new light show
an interception
defending champion
comeback
home team
leftovers
beside the fire
good
to warm my bones
SEN SIT IV
my people
craveth not!
other people
spiritual trials
cars
crave
my?
car
craveth not!
other
company cars
cars
something
I could
really get behind
giving away poinsettas
jam against a brick foyer wall
want any
not
moon sense
have I not?
sensitive
be
how
can I
not
spirit
one
wisdom
all
spirit
one
all
swordsman’s duels
mathematician’s chess
chessplayer sings
ant created geometrics
chickadee mathematics
water rains
ice
snow
flatlands within forests within mountains
speak
we would
hear
your great spiritual trials
BOSS
The right way?
I know
my way
Love
or don’t
not
the same
Candle
dance
unknown
alike
alone
Spirit
dancing
They led Him
uphill,
“where but with a series of deft Shaolin Temple kicks slips amidst upon powdery switchbacksfields of gold moguls.”
This weekends’s matchup
Shinobi Hit Squad
New England Patriots
national replay
cable TV
Defense
against yourself
pressure
the quarterback
Celtic
Laker
punkboss
in my mind
coughing up my drink
in the sink
spit it out
smells like alcohol
Here’s to
my next drink
my next fight
right now
20 years from now
dog out
front yard
snow
WALKER
One block behind
522
one more block ahead
every block
chasing the 67
no bikes
Café Racer
still
waiting there
two staircases behind
the man, walker
Finnchillas Projects 