Be a child

When I was young I was told every day to
be a child, be young forever.
Hold on to youth and being small.

I always wanted to be tall, older than my age.

As I get older now,
bearing the weight of life
with bills, insurance, and accidents that do not
fix themselves.

There are no parents to call
no rooms to run to
and no blame to pass.

To be an adult is to want the child life.
Those moments when things were to far to reach
but it was okay.

Stumptown

Deliberate Portland
pea-coated, Irish sweatered
How long can you survive on the sale of hand shredded leather earrings
and self-published graphic novels?
What about your student loans
and restored hardwood floors?
Is the entire city population on allowance
from their parents
who worked from graduation onward
as dentists, geneticists, plastics engineers,
40 hours a week for 40 years
avoiding the draft
missing family dinners and school plays
so their children could sip tea
from a custom handmade mug
stare out the window at gray skies
and write copy for the local brewery's new
beer tasting menu?

Using the word "psychedelic,"
can I explain what I mean?

Take for example an apple.
An apple is a fruit, round, edible, and sweet.
Now, drunk. Take this perfect soft rock for a ride,
right into someone's eye.

Untitled blues poem

Blues Called This Woman

Blues as real

as the earth in my eyes

the stars in my tears

the scars on the

shapely form of tissue, muscle

and bone

the places that were invaded

and made to be war zones

where I fought back as hard as I could

and did what I could to survive

all the unseen hidden

sacred places

and the things I got tired 

of talking about

yet still live in memory

and an occasional burst of

gotta-get-this-thing-out-of-me poem

things that remain relevant

ghosts

skeletons

inspirations

incantations

songs

poems

brush strokes

blues

called this woman…

4am Infernal

Slip, fattened lip in the rain,

Mournful blood phlegmy on the shirt front.

Then urgent incantations in the hotel room,

Resetting howl, heart wrung out, all the talk of the breakfast buffet.

Different ideas of time.

Time at cross purposes,

Sometimes lessening the load, goosing it up,

At others, fattening the lip.

Everybody should be quiet near a little stream and listen

I am five years old
I know who I am
I know who I am
I know who I am
I know who I am

ALL MACHINES COME TO A CRAWL

Now it's after hours, so

we ask the street light, frost light

to beg our pardon

please

Pull one string , 

and then the other, 

milk the light 

to sleep

life going forward in / backward ways

1st date

What a relief
to go on a first date
and not have anyone try to kiss you

my hot climate of the future

when the intuition is that this is not a decision to have a good feeling about either way

hads and tales

she stares at me
as i write
but i want to know what she thinks about

does she remember
where she came from
how she lived
the struggle to
survive
alone

but she was cared for
every day
of the working week

what did she do
alone

saved or still alive
i will never be able to ask

RELATIONSHIP HAIKU PAIR SERIES (part I)

I.

ferris wheel summer.

hold my clothes while I jump in.

power shivering.

cold soul fall. drunk nights.

crying at Leonard Cohen.

now play Words with Friends.