Chaos and love notes
Spiral out of control
As lovers and gamblers
Sprinkle good will and fashions
Like animals,
Frequent and holding
Onto undone parcels
With inscribed stories
That let little secrets out
One at a time.
Month: October 2014
Leonard Cohen (day 1244)
Leonard Cohen wasn’t a poet
He sung long lines of Paris
In melodic sarcasm
That was rather
Fitting for the time;
Parisian hipsters and
Too much coffee.
Leonard Cohen had a voice
That carried well over
Acoustic sounding
Folk music to the droll
Of caffeinated serious chatter;
Long lines and small chat,
And pointy boots that
Make you look.
Leonard Cohen was a mime,
Abused and used and paid well.
He lent his name to fashion,
He ran well with fine wine.
He used a painted brush
And was often confused with Dylan.
Landed (day 1243)
Landing in an unaware time
I’ve settled in oh… just fine.
Crawling over loose remains,
Curtains and leggings all have stains.
But breath and love; inhale, exhale,
Lifeline matters align each gale,
Upward lifting passages prevail
Eyes wide upon this afternoon sail.
Isn’t She Deceiving (day 1242)
As soon as laughter
Writes me down as a lover
– I will be forever there,
Till the end and then I will.
Glass isn’t fleeting
And heaven’s less deceiving,
For isn’t she all for the sea?
Green and Busy (day 1241)
It’s bewildering how all the
Little kids are dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam.
– And coincidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity, the kids,
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to an ecstatic culminations of sorts.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.
Falling Over (day 1240)
There is a challenge
To writing lines between
Exit plans and diverging funds.
There’s two dollars,
The last straw…
Destination’s in sight,
And I’m falling over lonely
Like I’m a leftover
Empty balloon.
Collecting (day 1239)
Elliptical and magical
And all the right reasons
For insults and slaying
And positive disorder.
Magnets and surprises and
Delightful little nooks
To call where I stand
My own, and leave whispers
Anonymously sprinkled about
Like two cans of spray paint,
Like a schoolmaster’s lisp,
Like the memory of a highschool
Should-have-been
Late night in bed,
Struggling to calm the mind
Of all things ticking,
Only to wake – in what
Seems like minutes –
To resume collecting again.
Closed Eye Syndrome (day 1238)
Contrasting.
Juxtapozing.
Illuminating different
Views on life
Is simple
Once you let go of
Little things like
Reference points,
Prejudices,
And closed eye syndrome.
Bucket of Long Love (day 1237)
Roaming in my old soles,
Shifting with every eye.
Long horns and jet legs:
Spirit and the Darkness.
Long lasting in the dark night,
Some coming in the late sun.
Some forgetting to ever run.
In a bucket of madness
Spitting into all rocks.
Fast asleep on never gone.
Balloons (day 1236)
There’s a knot –
Like lost balloons
Or flipped garbage –
Building.
It’s animosity.
Uncontrollable
With aggressive voices,
Emptyness
Berzerkers.
A team of it
And I’m not
Turning around
To acknowledge it.