Saturday, October 30, 2010
A RELIABLE FICTION…
…just showed up, batting her eyes,
sporting surplus war paint,
saying, “I’m nothing without you, baby”
and me racing to recall whether that’s the code
to break this chance encounter, whether
my credit card # hasn’t already been
compromised, identity theft a forgone
conclusion, and I think,
“Better you than me, mate…”
Monday, October 25, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
RADIO SILENCE
The wind spins like a derelict surgeon seeking a scalpel point.
The satellites sputter, a sudden
blind-eyed chorus with one push of a button,
and all that’s illuminated is now dark.
All the cell phones just lost their charges, all the servers down, all the wire relays garroted
by larger wire relays
and so on and so on.
All for this moment of silence, so I could hear you…
Sunday, October 17, 2010
DUTY NOW/DUTY FREE/DUTY LATER
Penniless at the border, I recant my last cant
(Wait a minute, is that legal?)
And didn’t you just move the border,
according to convenient product placement?
I’m stuck out here pissing into the wind,
while you’re busy keeping warm
off kindling from all the shaved angles.
I look at you, and don’t know you at all.
You look at me, and know me too well.
And the wind howls around us,
measuring spaces…
Sunday, October 10, 2010
INTERNAL DOCUMENT
Forgive me. I was busy applying myself
to the fundamental principles of Manifest Destiny,
knowing that everything is free until you take it,
when I suddenly find out I’m interfering with an ongoing investigation…
[This conversation is presently being rerouted.
Everyone is innocent, until the new app is finalized.
Papers, please.]
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
WHOLE SALE NIGHT
The moon, immutable, punches
tin-plated grey calligraphy
across the swaying tree tops.
The slow rotation of the electric
fan like cars shushing
down a distant desert highway.
The words can’t be read, or even
said out loud. The night will close
us whole, if we just let it--
leaving us reduced to our essence.
Like the quickly ticked-off items
in the police blotter of some
small town newspaper, random
acts of petty larceny and
drunken vengeance,
the ink of mingled lives
coming off on our fingertips,
as the night’s heat disperses…
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THE DEAD ARE THIEVES, TOO They’ll pick your pocket clean, like that Ozark you left by the river. How many times do I have to talk to you? ...
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CIVILIZATION AND ITS’ DISCONNECTS Turn off your computer. I know, I know. I will cease to exist. I will return to my cave of shadows, ha...