Category Archives: poetry

Shell

Once I found a seashell that I still have to this day. It was carried ashore by the belligerent tide at Jones Beach State Park in New York when I was a child. And now, as I feel tossed by my turbulent thoughts and frozen by frightening uncertainties, I hold onto it for solace — my seaside talisman

On personal solubility

I’ve pinned a button onto my jacket that denotes me as soluble. Pure and simple. It’s a blue button with white text.

  • I’ve a high potential for condensation. I feel I could dissolve like salt in warm water.
  • In an argument, I can disintegrate into clumps like acrylic in an acetone bath.
  • Don’t ever wet me or expose me to sudden cold. I need to acclimate to avoid eventual evaporation.
  • When I think of soluble, I recall the Wicked Witch of the West withering. I think of candle wax burning.
  • If I had it my way, I would rather not leave this Earth in water form. I would prefer to splatter into fiery sparks.
  • Or else become a genie fog that curls into a porcelain lamp like a plume of vape smoke traveling back inside your mouth.
  • Or drift past the Milky Way into the starry spray of the multiverse.

This and that

Lagrime San Pietro for the sublime voices. Di Lasso madrigals. Better with snowfall in barren winter but still above-average lovely.

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Can cannibalism save the planet?
Would you eat a Republican
to help curtail climate change?

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It’s a perfect day and age
to talk to yourself.
Bluetooth as a ruse —
a bum component wedged
in one’s ear allows one
to carry on in public
unquestioned.

Cats, etc.

Having a cat is like having a plant. You have to give it food, water and some love and make sure it has access to a window. Handle delicately.

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Bukowski as the gateway poet.

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New Ginsberg book. Post-mortem. $29.95!! The trick is they use courier or some other slab serif to evoke strike-on font.

Book features Ginsberg outside U.S. — journals he penned in England, Poland, Soviet Union, Cuba, Czechoslovakia.

Black-and-whites of him in fur-collar jacket in Red Square, Moscow; performing at Royal Albert Hall in London; pictured in Prague.

Intermission commentary

Where things stand today with intermission

The planet seems to be away at one right now. Wherever there is noise and empty chairs there is one underway. The world is on recess — smoking, eating, jabbering, visiting the restroom en masse. The attendants are collecting tips in exchange for folded towels and mints. There is smoke everywhere as if in a lobby. Paper and plastic wrappers. People’s voices combine to create a din. Filler scenes as the curtains pull back.