your tax dollars paid for the horrendous deaths of thousands and thousands of children

beg for a raise

so your $weat can go further toward

shredding babies to pieces

in far away lands

Cape Blanco

death is a beach

sitting on damp sand 

morning dew on the beachgrass 

sky and sea the same color for now

cold bum, underwear about to soak up the moisture 

perhaps the now light variable wind will pick up at some point 

and the fog will burn off in an hour or two 

and maybe we will also

and maybe

death is a beach

That's All Folks

This is your sneeze 

This is your orgasm 

This is your enlightenment 

This is your death 

This is you 

This is the universe 

This is now 

This is everything 

This is nothing 

That’s all 

You are all 

All is you

That’s All Folks 

Please come again. 

 all my poetry notebooks

have become work planners

the first few pages have some kurt vonnegut quotes

and then the scribbles descend

into 

to do lists

reports

maintenance requests

 

it gets much worse

 

poetry does not pay

at first 

the Camilla tree

you never noticed blooming

sheds its leaves in a wind that springs back into a pre-pubescent winter

you enjoy the moment as if it never happened before

but you let it go

even if it will never happen again

 

if there is a next time

you ignore it

almost incapable of seeing it

fixated on:

ambition

desire

regret

panic

and many other things that are not falling blossoms

 

but it will bloom again 

and you will slow down

contemplate

over-intellectualize it 

and turn it in to a bad poem

 

and

 

if you are lucky

blossoming camilla

wind

raining delicate pink

could be spring

johncoltranejohncoltranejohncoltrane

 years ago

i went to see mike watt form san pedro play the thud staff

many great people were there

the gentle Thor for one

and many best friends i did not know i had

we wore plaid

 

watt came on stage

and before he played a single note he said,

 

john coltrane

john coltrane

john coltrane

 

and then we all

began to ascend

 

at the end of this mighty happening

watt suggested we,

 

start

our

own

bands

 

and then we all

 

ascended

 

about perspective

 

about 

to drink a coffee

as the burning fog is 

about

to reveal the golden gate bridge and alcatraz 

into my view

high up on the berkeley hills

 

a perspective

 

so removed.

 

meanwhile, a young american serviceman is

about 

to self-immolate

for a cause I care deeply 

about.

 

there has already been enough death

do not let his,

obscure the view

of those who did not choose to die.

 

live and do more,

is all i am 

about

to think. 

John Wainwright Ordered Unseasonal Blooming of Unknown Flowers

“The first woman to watch TV She died.” * 

 The first order on Amazon was placed by John Wainwright 

for a book entitled, 

“Fluid concepts and creative analogies.”

 He is still a loyal customer to this day. 

 Amazon now says the National Labor Relations Board is Unconstitutional 

 While dodging taxes in NE Oregon 

 where its data centers are rocketing along their way to being among the biggest carbon emitters in the region. 

 John Wainwright will also die 

And flowers are blooming in the Antarctic according to a false instagram post 

 The singularity will need a lot of energy to run while keeping the data cool.

 “This is the last song I sung -

 I was stalked by echoes

This is the last song I sung -

 I wore amphibian skin 

This is the last song I sung -

My eyelashes fell out 

This is the last song I sung -

I slept with informants

This is the last song I sung -

 I had no true country 

This is the last song I sung -

A small part of me died 

This is the last song I sung -

I vomited up a blinking eye 

This is the last song I sung -

The bills were piling up 

This is the last song I sung -

Lingo, slang, and doublespeak 

This is the last song I sung -

I lost my keys 

This is the last song I sung -

The world vanished In a gentle breeze”** 

 *The Ex “That’s Not A Virus” 

**Lungfish “Ann The Word”