it isn’t a dream;
you really exist
here
a
sentient being
born
to live
and die
a blossom
of consciousness
in the
universe.

i need something.

i type with empty hands.

i compare the present
to what i’ve seen.

what i’ve felt
is what i am.

for Bobby A.

(w/beatbox)

uhh
feel the trouble
when i wanna,
i’m a gangsta
wanna be
prankster
like fitty
and thats when i change it up
and chase her,
when i get my lyrics after you
like Jason Vorhees
you’ll be in danger
like skinny dipping
teens
my lyrical flow
stabbing
nonsense
in your mind
with ease,
like poetic
easy cheese
i’ll bust a nut on your cracker–
cracker ass cracker!

like
chewed
up
gum,
sucking
the sweet life out of them
and then spitting them out
a
flavorless
gob
of
chicle.

(working at the Elle Women in Hollywood Awards)

Her gaze
fell upon me
repeatedly,
me standing in the back of the room,
and who am I
but a pauper
to her,
and avert my eyes.

I don’t follow the celebrity thing.
I don’t know her name;
a million or more do,
i kind of recognize her,
i know i’ve seen her before
on tv
or in a movie
and her and her friend
would periodically look at me,
they weren’t afraid to,
and i kind of recognized her friend,
i think i’ve seen her face
on a magazine…

Dressed all black
with slacks and
a button down
feeling comfortable
around the largest concentration
of hollywood elite
i’ve ever been,
me informing Alec Baldwin
that the Dodger’s
lost to Philly
in game four of the NLCS.

II.

Her flirtatious glances
were that of the muse
and i had an epiphany
an overwhelming feeling
that had nothing to do with
animal attraction–
I saw everything she represented…

my emotion is
the amazon river dammed
flooding
my jungle soul
that grows so madly wild
for your love.

Bob Dylan
in front of me
on the tv
in black and white
in a fight
over someone throwing a glass
in the street

undefined blues

i refuse
to define them
and try to deny them
while
i’m in them
cloud them in smoke
and drown them
in alcohol.

working.
doing
it.
not trying anything
only executing it
like a
ballistic
missile
strike;

execution
of what i
i need to do,
executing
it
like a twelfth century
black hooded executioner
axe slamming
upon
the chopping block
like a knife
through butter
like chopping the head off
a brocolli,
executing
my destiny…

execution as defined in the dictionary:
“a mode or style of performance;
technical skill,
as in music: The pianist’s execution of the sonata was consummate.”

Executing my reality
like Chopin and the Nocturnes
like Berlioz and the Grande Messe des morts
like Beethoven and Fidelio
and like
Bob Dylan and Highway 61 Revisited.

In 2012
the world was
ripe like
an avocado
and it was
eaten
by
a giant
planeteater,
a great big alien
that flies around
the universe
scouring for planets full of
protein
to devour
and return home to
regurgitate into her
baby planeteater’s mouth
waiting in it’s nest
of supernovae,
its hungry chirps
gamma-ray bursts
that the mother
planeteater
detects like
whale to sonar
to
find
her way
home.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti
read a book of poems
by Pier Paolo Pasolini
he translated from Italian to English.

A beautiful young woman
with dark brown hair,
dressed like a fifties hipster in cold weather,
clutches
the translation
to her heart
as Lawrence
and Francesca Valente
read to a packed crowd
on the first floor
of the City Lights bookstore.

I was there in back,
and for some reason
she looked back at me
making eye contact,
me
with my faded bukowski shirt…

When the reading was over,
she raced to meet Mr. Ferlinghetti
with a pen in her hand,
him signing it as he was mobbed
by all the people
and i left
and walked to a bar
on a random street nearby
and sat alone
drinking a beer
wondering why i chose
to leave.

waves
crash against
rocks
at midnight
booming,
my soul a wave booming consciousness
against the reality rock,
FLOWING,
to eventually
recede.

so beautiful
and so alone–
i wrote this
so you could
be here
with
me,
to see how beautiful
the midnight sea
glows from the moon
and the
ancient lighthouse
perched upon the
cliff,
still shining its brandon
across the foggy ocean,
guiding
ghost ships
home
to lost harbors
and
lost lovers.