Hand Held Poems (Poems 4-18)

"Crush Crime," read the sign.

Zeal without prudence is like a ship adrift.
He closed his eyes and walked on, in darkness. Slim-
Jim and Johnny Cashman ran like 'ounds across the kultured kuntry.

"I-40 closed due to rock slide," read the sign.

---

But what was there to do but butt heads?

He was a rounder, a real rounder
He was around her, a real around her.

And that is where the thoughts--
Ugly as home-made sin,
The thoughts of mortality,
The pain in my chest,
In my lungs,
In my heart.
Inside the inside,
Once removed from the soul
Congestive and panged
As in maturity, loss
and Cancerous homes.

Spoken as if a crisis of mortality had
Collided with a crisis of identity?

If you hate that it happens,
Do you hate who you are?

If you accept that it happens,
Do you accept who you are;
Or, can't?

---

"Quick and dirty
is the name of the game
when it comes to
neanderthal technology,"
said the Neanderthal.

Later texting a co-worker,
"Where are the novel sentences
That have never been
spoken b4?????"

---

I'm sorry but I thought you was corn.

---

"Exi-caliente, hombre-lita!
And tell me,
After that,
did you have sex?
Did you put the quail-egg
Under your shirt--
Under her skirt?"
"No," I says and takes my pickled asparagus
and leaves.

---

Birthday Poem
Hope fades
and by what I said last night:
I meant that my life is a bore,
As her chin moved stage-left ever so,
Ever so slightly, as if to withdraw
Into her own private sadness.

---

And once the girl on the shore
With the scarf
Once she wrote me,
"How do we hold them all,
The ones,
How do we hold them all so close?"

---

Conversation poems;
Do you get it or no, like
Figuring out how to make the
Number ten ("10") come after the number
nine ("9") on a note stored in a BlackBerry.
Or 11, for that matter.

---

Time passes differently
In prison with the white walls, or;
Love Like The Memory of
Black Letters on a White Wall.

---

Trying not to
Smoke today
in honor of vitimin C
Und all the angels in heaven
Lost in Haiti
Like last-night? There was
This gorgeous southern belle
You know the type--hair in three big
Swoops--on in the front and one
To each side. Healthy and well in her
Pomp and circumstance.

---

To my hand clings the beer
Cozy, long for which I had sought.

---

The three laws of thermo-dynamics
Are closely related to questions like,
What's the point of living,
Seriously, what's the point to life:
You can't win,
You loose heat
You can never escape
the entropy.

He was a knight, a science perv
Who could handle his muscat
adroitly--lord of the mechanical domain
Master of liquid dynamics
And ballistics.

---

Dark poem; Or, Forgetful Depression
Seventeenth in cycle
If mortality is a thing to be afraid of
Carry on--comfort found in the,
"For I know not an unreal fear."

An then it's gone,
The point,
Gone the way of the point
Jurrasic point jurassic?
To be sure

(What was it again?)
That heart of the matter
Is I couldn't quite recall

---

My god, it's been 5 days?
This isn't poetry but
Compulsory verbiage
Verbage to the tune of garbage
E-I, E-I OOooh
Fits more aptly
Than fits--frustrated fits
Of a day when he no longer must serve
The edge of Europa at
The prison with the fights and the dirt--
The prisoners and the grubs.
Free at last was Monday, king's day
But, O must I count the ways, dear?

---

Poem for 24 JAN 2009, 9:04 AM
As I stood there
Remembered vicariously, only
through boredom
And the burnt orange nude, reclined
On that shitty-soft manila paper.

It was this morning
I went for a walk in Tivoli Bays,
Found the tracks and followed'em
Down the river to the slaughter house.
Once we walked and kissed
Jars of whiskey, there,
against the cold,
against the night,
against ourselves,
held.

Maybe the frame would bring you back,
See things in a different light. The wrapping
and folding--

The wooden stick, whittled
The tag cautions: "Pointy."
Exclamation in parenthesis
Thought it would amuse--
Bring you like a vampire back from the dead
Unkilling with all the garlic hands and feet.

Suddenly just is the day's lament.