Word Stream 01

December 2, 2011 § Leave a comment

words to ban from

all American poetry

relationship  stars  junkie  love dream  lonely  money

luminous suicide  mother  father  cocksucker

names of greek deities shadow

wound  deep  rich  names

of european poets tender

lather  seaweed  moon

names of  european


straw  drunk

bird  resonate  brother

names  of european  painters  resonant  sister

snow  falling  cedars  Paris  human world heart boundary

numinous nightmare diaphanous  tide  ghetto  panties  oppression


O ebony world

how you love to set me desiring

such opposite flowers

like the nimble skipping moon

now nestled in the groin of a tree

now in the bath of your hair

now spreads that white canopy

that beautiful smile of death

The Frenchman

He’s seen it all by the age of three.

He’s got the book on you and me.

But of course! Mon Dieu!

(we come into view)

Il est tre evident!”

his encantory refrain.

His eyes follow his nez:

Voila! Dedain, dedain.

My Friend Fred

(Who Looks Like the Philosopher)

He’s handsome, the eyes gleam

His hair’s even combed volcanically

So why don’t he think like Nietzsche?

He’s got the look can’t you see?

Even his mustache droops walrusly;

So why don’t he think like Nietzsche?

Tokyo at Night & Kanji

busted cart wheels

twisted umbrella ribs

cracks in the sidewalk

electric fishhooks

brush smash to paper

collided coathangers

hang blue and red giant

hologrammic dye

at night in Tokyo




24 rolls of tp on sale a mini wall of pale pink

sorry we don’t have bags that big says the

winking checker so out goes the poet where

she must walk a block downtown during the

busiest time of day she must cross Madison

everyone in the world  watching her tp wall

together she and it get their attention and

before she can make it to her apartment door

the viewing public has her bent over trying

out a fresh roll she knows she feels them imaging

her trying all bent over her anklecuff pants

and now their eyes up her eyelet and the pressure

she applies they apply to their eyes to blot out

that too vivid reminder of where we’re all joined

Venus rises from the parking lot

is there no end to this river

I see you cross the parking lot

red miniskirt, minding the sun

mocha ice cream scoop shoulders

generous shadows across your chest

the sun so melting on you

so action full of summer roundness

your legs get me like the white parts of a river

my limbs feel cartwheeled

a spoke of your fragrance

halves my head at the core

the ache to swim in your dreams

throws me down this endless river


Two bathroom poems

 Ode to the faucet

My galaxy, my tender lover

My bringer of life and form

My improviser steady as a bank

Why not an ocean a river a bay a lake

determined and cooperative with the lay

of the land or the engineer’s torques

screws gaskets and pressure

bring me your gleaming noise

fountain cousins parcel delivery

Stand and serve and obey yet

you know your power

you own us and

we ignore you in return


Ode to the toilet

white empty may you always be

A clean throat of many favors

a courier not unpleasing in shape

(like an elephant embryo)

You let us decide anytime your hospitality

Firm or choked your gargle your flush

Recedes all from the surface

how you welcome our hugs when at our lowest

we give back to you our blasphemed essences

Without reproach blameless dutiful

with such joyful sush and rush

you force on us the celebration

of commodious internal wash



Lazy Poem, summer 2000

I just love sitting around being American and lazy

Nothing is required of me

Only that I let the blue sky rain down on my crown

I can sleep in the park I can smoke I can be stupid

sitting around being American and lazy

A bit puzzled because every beautiful girl I see

doesn’t want to get laid by me

So I’m sitting around being American and lazy

And looking at American leaves and lazy American trees

Thinking about our lazy food our lazy seasons

our lazy sports like golf and baseball

(don’t worry, it’s only one game; it’s a long season)

our lazy minds that swirl like lazy bottomfish

I love our lazy birds and our lazy suspicion

I love our lazy greetings Hey-ho-hi-sup

I love our lazy shrewdness and our lazy honesty

which astounds the world

I love our lazy jazz and rock and blues

I love our big lazy guts and our jelly donut hearts

that make us cry at ball games,

anthems, sunsets and dog rescue stories

hail lazy dragonflies who raze the man in the lazy hammock twirling his lazy bar-b-q fork

hail summer sun lazy as a slow twirling cement truck

pouring dopey lazy light everywhere and too lazy to really set

hail lazy poets who walk their words ten twelve twenty! to a leash

(so fucking lazy!)

where like curs they nip the barefoot feet of lazy neighbor kids

hail lazy brother, lazy sister hail your dandelion minds fly-blown

borne on lazy winds this lazy American summer



Two Stations



winter swaddling just drops

red tips sprout from buds and dogs

the smell of cooking greens and clay

small busts rounding on fruit trees

boys hook and girls arch and

from a nest with Christmas tinsel

I swear I heard a robin chirp “batter up!”

there is no way to love you more

if I could train seals to speak

or live a thousand years

I couldn’t love you more

we cannot stay is old news

our first ripe thought

until then I walk to your weather

and everywhere with my ear

on the belly of everything

I hear heartbeats


how do you do it beautiful

make death so grand

your orchards of color

your theatrical drop

the firing squad falling off

your last sales-job before winter

you make it all seem worthwhile

to wither and die in your embrace

what causes night will come for us too

we’ll go for your red lips

and find ourselves on the side

of so many used things




 I’ve got you before me but you’re gone

on the suicide of Guillermo my apartment neighbor


I steady your shoulder with one hand

then take a swing at you with the other

of course my fist goes right through you

because you’ve gone suicided to leave

we hadn’t even gotten started:

Mexican movies of the 40’s, Chávez,

Augusto Monterroso, Villa Lobos

and have you met the Divine Barrios yet

didn’t we agree how much you had to give

you fooled me with smiles and elevator greetings

revolving girlfriends and a note under my door

after our talk in the laundry room

thanks for your words of encouragement

thanks for the ghost and no poem

thanks for just the facts:

the hole in your head the gun in the street

I wish I could have said come back

put the gun down and come back

we’re tired of ghosts and memories

to kick live ass Guillermo is what a life is

not punching ghosts and always missing


troubadour moon

the full moon is a sound hole

my bars the strings

they make a guitar of my cell

I’ll play for faces bodies

unnamed and unknown

I am mostly longing I see

for touch and smells un uned

can a man be carved of such nothing

but when I die I’ll be uncontained

a hole in space that plays

songs of every longed for thing

The Cave Painters of Lascaux

you left us bison color action while

professor expounds: utilitarian worship

superstition before the hunt ta dum ta da

isn’t there a knock-this-off-my-shoulder

excellence, who were you trying to impress

as though you knew what would happen

that we’d make wonderful things, shuffle kidneys

drive in the air or take it to breathe on the moon

visit whales dance down ocean home

your love of fire presaged our turning screws on the sun

but we stand before your animals unknowing as prayer

estranged in the fifty fiftyishness of what our life is now

tell us how far we’ve come O Neolith

tell us why we seem to be doing some bidding

and tell us why we seem to be in the way

you get a laugh scratching in your furs

of course you knew what you were doing

you had to know you struck the rock of beauty

your cast for the ages in unlit visitation: take this




have you felt like this


if you’re not here then why am I on fire

I can’t stand sit for thinking of you

I move and want to walk into you

to heft your tits to thumb your nipples

but you’re where me I can’t only

visioning in some itching mind

harrowing as a trapeze artist

fuck the spinning miracle galaxy

I can’t walk across the street

it’s all you scraping the sky

all I want is to toss your cushions

grunt the way I can’t do anything else

flop frolic spread myself out with you

bounce your waves like a kid on inner tubes

move my head big like a cow over your pasture

pulverize desire where close discovery is

behold a tree so calm so uninitiated

before my rude indigestible solitude

desire’s dropped over me like a net

keeled me if you could see

I’m writhing and you’re not here




sorry, europe

I could fold your country

into the shadow

of the mountain

in our back yard

waiting for foreplay

the rivery swish

of clothes sliding off

limbs in the dark

nothing left for fantasy

I forget the last time

I lay down outside

something about a bucket of berries

the sun had a rude backhand smash to it

the river was hot


I gave you my heart

I gave you my soul

where they went when you left

I don’t know I don’t know

death’s nail file

an icicle at noon

dripping onto a boy’s

tongue below

some dead

lonely dead so lonely

the wind blows them flowers

off other graves


A white piano world?

Sweet sweet child!

Beware the white piano.

It’s black piano world.

the beauty of war

helmets with heads, still in them

gloves with hands, still in them

boots with legs, still in them

shirts with chests, still in them

still in them

scattered over the red red grass

it’s the beauty of war boys

our daddy’s lesson never learned

it’s the beauty of war boys

kick back and blast

hey, we’re brothers at last

a blond head here

a black leg there

a torso wags a wag

soon to be all nature

it’s the thrill of war boys

a lesson never learned

let’s just break all our toys

and say we never heard

and the general sent them to die

how could you he doesn’t ask

a thousand cars drive over the bridge

he dreams of dead boys

driving lit cars over the bridge

how could you he won’t ask

cause it’s the beauty of war boys

our daddy’s lesson never learned

it’s the beauty of war boys

just kick back and blast

hey we’re brothers at last

The Sun  Skids

The sun  skids

a flat stone

above the clouds

the  Square Cat

his square sun

our sponsor

takes on time

gives good run

does without darkness

rich with children

infinite golden coins

through his spokes

a golondrina flies

many children flying

through his spokes &

we older than the sun &

his square cat

his juicy flirtations

going before him we

know nothing lasts



The Sleeping Juggler

the sleeping juggler sleeps

uncocked on the bench

the children walk by

sad & curious

the world arcs

the sleeping juggler sleeps

the children walk by

timid as stray planets

watch children watch

the sleeping juggler wakes

he’ll throw it to you

Mr. Piano Scale


Mr. Piano Scale

bucks and plunkers

down the street

checkered Stetson cocked

at a too cool angle

he stops at our place

says hello chile’

on his way back

into the street he trips

but rights himself

quickly sees a lovelyette

slides into one of her ears

and out the other

he strides into an ice cream parlor

sometimes you can’t understand him

hell say take that cat out and beat him like a high hat!

or darlin’ you in full bloom sweet

yes you a full sweet blossom oh yeah

he strolls on

he strolls he looks so good

in black and white

sometimes folks don’t notice

he just keeps on winding

turning crashin’ and yes

sometimes tripping

since he is beautiful

and nothin’ beautiful

is perfect





I can’t believe I’ll be gone someday

no eyes wet with living

to catch the ricocheting sun

off bottles in the grass

no guitar clacking the canister of my skull

I’ll take the scratchiness of living

the sweetness of just before sleep

the frenzy of sugar

who’ll scream at TV when I’m gone

who’ll flip the bird at idiots

O vague sky who’ll get my thinking done

who will kick the rock in the road

who will love the world when I’m gone



backwards stripes upwards polka dots

poofing fish sticks and poison

fishy snakes spiny swimming birds

crust and bone sand shots inky salady fish

garden slow motion garden this

neighborhood of toughs thorns and stripes

take out and gobblemeister crunch kings

venom tails and quiet tiny mirrors

tipping spokes of sun in your eyes

far from the delight of porpoises

to think a thought through such a long swim

further from the delights of coffee

big dumb ocean avant guard ocean

murderous bouquet of tethered magicians


Guatemala Sequence

Río Dulce

A body floats in a green pool

a twig cracks under a native paw

a bird fusses with its leaves

the sun coasts on lily disks

a frog blinks in the shade.

noiselessly in this drifting world

the finger’s caught on a tough vine

bowed over the bank

the finger lets go and the body

leisurely cartwheels in the pond

the finger’s green and letting go

Point of Destination as Point of Departure

a quiet house Puerto Barrios

a blowing horn in harbor

the quiet ones sit and stare

the noisy ones go with the horn

the metal’s hoisted, the dock recedes

the cranes are cocked

whores and families eye the ocean



it’s love good ol’ goddamned love

there it is you can’t wish it think it

sleep it throw it away it just stays around

like a rangy cat on the edge of your yard

good ol’ goddamned love

like a hunk of leftover cement

like a Chev up on blocks on your front lawn

O Christ it’s love goddamned love

it’s love you can’t wish it think it

shove it stow it away it’s love

that broke-tooth old cat snifflin’ round the porch

it’s love good ol’ goddamned love



 Jazz River

A cathedral in the river?

The effluence swings the bass lines clamp

Unsteepled rocks toil underneath.

A cathedral in the river?

My Africanized ear assures me

The rattling river cuts whichaways.

(Clamshells on the shore worth millions

Coyote steps into the frame and sips

The song sounds the same at night.)

A cathedral in the river?

You can’t hear everything

Except sitting by the river;

The river is that jazz: laughter

That annihilates mountains


Even Now

After Bilhana Bhartrihari

Even now

I hear your cry

the sound of love’s attack

from your throat

down past

your belly

Even now

I hear the hiss

of your skin

under my nails

Even now


your breasts

my lips recall

Even now

I smell your temple

your sweat

the scent

of my annihilation

Small Caps


Beware: 3 L Word

In a room totally wallless

You’d have to call it flawless

Unless, of course, the ceiling’s fallen

Unless, of course, you’re half inch tall n’

Then your just a spreading mess


(drinking song)

                           If my name were Gumersindo

I’d join a traveling show,

Put on big green shoes

Juggle fat frogs on my toes;

Dance merengue, cha cha n’ tango,

Learn to skywrite with my nose.

And all the kids would shout:

OO!    EE!    OH!

Gumersindo! Gumersindo! Gumersindo!

I’d join the wildest rodeo

If my name were Gumersindo.

I’d lasso Great Bull Brahmah

Jump in the stands and kiss yo’ mama;

I’d kick a fat calf, nail a buckin’ bronc, O!

I’d bounce roll spring and grin

Land feet first in a tank of gin.

And all the kids would shout:

OO!    EE!    OH!

Gumersindo! Gumersindo! Gumersindo!

If my name were Gumersindo

I’d be the star of a traveling show,

I’d twirl an elephant by the tail,

swim in the air, dive into a pail.

I’d whack a guitar with requinto

           Climb down a cannon  – BOOM! – Gumer? Ohhh!

And all the kids would shout:

OO!    EE!    OH!

Gumersindo! Gumersindo! Gumersindo!

The I.O.O.F.

          915 E. Pine

(drinking song)

One hundred F’s all in a row?

You bet, odd fellows every one,

We’re odd fellows under the sun.

We’ve got stairs in flights (maybe a ton)

And rooms galore (a hundred and probably one);

High ceilings and brass, silent actors and clowns

A panic-pink elevator on parade up and down;

The I double O F’s by god we got it all

Because we’re odd fellows under the sun

Odd fellows every one.

We’ve got hundreds of F’s all in a row,

Fools like FlinFlattery, gals named Joe;

The Eye Oh Oh Eff they call it a hall

It’s really a park, but one inside walls.

You’re there, you betcha, standing in line

(How do I know? Your hand’s in mine)

Because we’re odd fellows every one

Odd fellows under the sun.

To the Students Examining My Skeleton

you see the rational part, the design.

the chassis tells what it tells

pelvic nicks, striations of muscle on bone

interkinked vertebrae

nature’s imitation of stone

but the upholstery the cushions

at a Guatemala city bus stop

I ate the universal orange

from a beautiful wrinkled lady

the bus was late she packed up her stand

and slept by her fare with coins in her ears

then my eyes were blue as a spider’s belly

I loved an African with perfect walnut ears

my hands and feet were unused dictionaries

I clung to life like a man hoisting a piano

to have rolled in the spokes of the sun

and tasted electric rain

to stand for a time in affluent weather

to have been a part of this beautiful blue tree

to have felt that restless bird in my pants

look on my fellow twigs

I have neither leaves nor laughter

inhale to the top your smoky tree

rise on flat leaves your watery life


Where’s my cowboy girl

Gone to ride the sawhorses

Flung from a country mile

Where’s my cowboy girl

Gone to ride the seahorse

Tossed to humping waves

The steers are loose and looking

Find me my cowboy girl

The beasts are firing and free

Where’s my cowboy girl

So Much

So much muscle


So many used throats


So much combed hair


So still the eyes


Does one one eye open


20th Century

you took our virginity, last century

a brain attached to an unbounded fire

gone thanks to some wet animals

and fine machines stoked on babies and prayers

we stood with the wind soft as nipples

barely touching our necks and without

the mercy of an old blade

we breathed

we burned

we were gone.

did we have to know this

that leaves have grown back into trees

that rain can be knives and blood

the after air is now a bath of loss

and our thoughts are wary animals

afraid always afraid of the human

poet plots his first adultery

How easy to adapt to my own image as law

The trees go by me on my way

I am king a small god

driven by things higher than trees or vows

Am not myself you see but a force

the sparker of planets drives me

drives me like a bull his grip on my neck

his whip on my ass I can’t shake him

you must fall between those breasts

I am as rational as a torrent, help me Allah,

the invisible is giving me a bear hug

I must suck that body to work free of this blind burning

Where I live, (the Nettleton on 8th & Madison)

Don’t say canary yellow

if you haven’t seen a canary in years

if you live in a mangoless world

my frontier seems like a brain

full of gray and electric storms

broken cherry trees unsent prayers

where drug boys and girls suck at the corner phonebooth

old ladies with talcumed skin and done up hair for church

leave perfume ghosts in the elevators that take me back to the 40’s

beggars mind the electric door at Shop Rite

jonsing to the musclely spirit of Bruce Lee

standing watch over his old dojo

between us and a brown sun burly mountains

survey us like angry older brothers

guarding our long-ago cheaply swapped virginity

time is throwing light and light

a shrinking fabric around the day

simple waking is not enough

collapsing birds, depressive health

overnight capsules thick windows

uncloud uncorked clouds undrizzle

a moon spooning through the night

tells time and falls into the fried sun

it’s an animal age of warning drums

where fresh breaking orgasms scamper the walls like mice

now there’s music where a man once was

the uninvited universe a gate crasher with song

like a muscle beach party in my head

and a scream outside in the night goes

wo ist mein geld? wo ist mein geld?

how I love the moon’s cold blade

how I love the sun’s citric morning

fist anglo-saxon

cage fike base fact uggh

scrim want ow choo choo

wife mite moo come file cast

core keen kem cal bank scan do

fuck dough git tor geld corn fro

kay sun shit bit look hit pay

cool snore core grrr foot

burp pill hat knife gore

gut prick fuck kick

Gravity is my Middle Name

the stairs crawl up the roof

the stars skip in the sky

under pillows the rivers rush

rush river rush river rush

with too much life

my bones are spokes

wheeling me down the mountain




Hello Kitty

Hello Kitty where you been

someone’s lapping at your bowl

while I’ve been gone

No  don’t tell me kitty

you’ve been with old cat Tom

saw him the other day

your milk on his whiskers

Hello Kitty where you been

someone’s lapping at your bowl

while I’ve been gone

Hello Kitty where you been?

saw you just the other day

cozin’ dozin’with old cat Tom

Went to see you Kitty

just the other day

just missed your fur, Kitty

(even missed your claws Kitty)

O Kitty! where you been?

hear you been sunnin’ runnin’

funnin’ with old cat Tom

Hello Kitty where you been?

someone’s lapping at your bowl

while I’ve been gone





Is this Love or Hemophilia?


Talking to a young dog

he points out the naked spy

look at the pinpoint cotton

the sweaty collar the cotton fly

dream up a friend: Jaime Solorio

What do you know Jaime Solorio?

scream the usual: “Juevo! Jaime! Juevo!”

the demonized flow the giant flood

the great bloodbath the bags of blood

throw the young dog out the airplane door

let the carnys bark their mortal fun

they’re louts and we love ‘em


Tell me is this love or Hemophilia?

Give me your gift of drag



Nothin’ But Future

(Ain’t no gettin’ off this train)


There’s nothin’ here but future

Tomorrow’s on display

There’s future future everywhere

Mañana  on instant replay

There’s future in the bathtub,

There’s future in the crib

There’s future in the boneyard

And future twixt mah ribs O-

There’s future in the rocking chair

There’s future in the gin

There’s future in despair—uurrrp!

Future future in each swig

There’s future in the outhouse

There’s future in the womb

There’s future on your fork

There’s future in your tomb

There’s nothing here but future

It all we’ve got to show

Let all the clocks run backwards

Into the future we will go

There’s nothin’ here but future

Tomorrow’s on display

There’s future future everywhere

Mañana’s instant replay


Miss Despair


she got tits out to there

she got video hair

she got ass to spare

when I stare she’s there, Miss Despair

I can do anything at all to you

I can clean you I can taste you

I can ram and jam you

and I can do anything but touch you babe

I just can’t touch you Miss Despair

She’s got tits in the air

truly Ferris wheel hair

she’s all that and more

and I can do anything but touch you babe

she got tits out to there

she got video hair

she got ass to spare

and I would do anything to touch you babe




Critical Mass


I’ve got critical mass,

building for you, babe

getting dangerous

take care of my critical mass, babe


Dead End Swimming Pool


Hit your head it’s the end of the line

There’s an alligator suitcase

But it’s made out of you

Floating with the leaves

There’s a beach ball, a parasol

A glass of gin and memories of thou

It’s the end of summer

In the dead-end swimming pool

And  still I’m going for the insides of a bikini

I’ll float here a little Longer

I’ll wait until next year for you

Miss top of a bikini bottom of a bikini

Sexy red onion sandwich the floating bartender

negative scum gone till next year

the parasol





The Beauty of War

Helmets with heads

gloves with hands, still in them

boots with legs

shirts with chests, still in them

still in them

scattered over the red red grass

it’s the beauty of war boys

our daddy’s thrilling lesson never learned

it’s the beauty of war boys

kick back and blast

hey, we’re brothers at last

a blond head here

a black leg there

a torso wags a wag

soon to be all nature

it’s the thrill of war boys

the beautiful lesson never learned

let’s just break all our toys

and say we never heard

our daddy’s simple lesson

and the general sent them to die

how could you he doesn’t ask

a thousand cars drive over the bridge

he dreams of dead boys

driving lit cars over the bridge

how could I he won’t ask

cause it’s the beauty of war boys

our daddy’s thrilling lesson never learned

it’s the beauty of war boys

just kick back and blast

hey! We’re brothers at last

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