Hey mister, can you spare me a dime
or maybe just a moment of your time
I hate to admit, I'm a starving artist
and these days are the hardest

it seems senseless starving for art
artistic integrity plays a big part
parting my ways seems so hard
hardest part is silencing my heart

hey mister, can I sell you a rhyme
it might mean something over some time
I'm proud to admit I'm a starving artist
but my choices aren't the smartest

I was seduced
And I seduced.
And I lost and she gained
And so I stole back something else.
*Assurance.

I want to be seen,
I want everybody and everyone
From miles between
To see
me.

I want to be spotted
I want the world to know
That inside,
I am Blotchy
and Rotted.

And I want to be kissed
and missed
But not much,
I want to make it on her list
of the ones shes
Kissed
and the ones
she wished
she'd kiss again.

Please don't talk about him.
My brain, my eyes, my fist,
Strain.

Expose me not to demons but your divinity,
That of you which belongs to another realm,
Another cloud, another time.
Expose yourself not to those eyes and that hair,
He endows himself the world and gives not
Care.

Ease me, or at least
Tolerate.
Because, honestly,
You please me,
And you see me
And lead me away from death.

And I don't want to die.

Drinking my tea
Without sugar-
    No difference.
                                        
The sparrow *****
    upside down
--ah! my brain & eggs
                                        
Mayan head in a
Pacific driftwood bole
--Someday I'll live in N.Y.
                        
Looking over my shoulder
my behind was covered
with cherry blossoms.
                                        
        Winter Haiku
I didn't know the names
of the flowers--now
my garden is gone.
                                        
I slapped the mosquito
and missed.
What made me do that?
                                        
Reading haiku
I am unhappy,
longing for the Nameless.
                                        
A frog floating
in the drugstore jar:
summer rain on grey pavements.
        (after Shiki)
                                        
On the porch
in my shorts;
auto lights in the rain.
                                        
Another year
has past-the world
is no different.
                                        
The first thing I looked for
in my old garden was
The Cherry Tree.
                                        
My old desk:
the first thing I looked for
in my house.
                                        
My early journal:
the first thing I found
in my old desk.
                                        
My mother's ghost:
the first thing I found
in the living room.
                                        
I quit shaving
but the eyes that glanced at me
remained in the mirror.
                                        
The madman
emerges from the movies:
the street at lunchtime.
                                        
Cities of boys
are in their graves,
and in this town...
                                        
Lying on my side
in the void:
the breath in my nose.
                                        
On the fifteenth floor
the dog chews a bone-
Screech of taxicabs.
                                        
A hardon in New York,
a boy
in San Fransisco.
                                        
The moon over the roof,
worms in the garden.
I rent this house.

[Haiku composed in the backyard cottage at 1624
Milvia Street, Berkeley 1955, while reading R.H.
Blyth's 4 volumes, "Haiku."]

To dare not tell the ones I dream of
That I do
Is to revoke a right they have earned.

You stuck in my brain,
The lot of you,
And it is my thoughts you now burn.

I feel guilty for withholding
so few words,
But I can't bring myself to speak.

The effects have lingered,
Their personalities
Every single one of them is unique.

I wake with their faces and
I stare at my phone.
These are just memories
That I can postpone.

Sometimes I think about how it'll feel when I finally hold your hand.
Or lay eyes on you for the first time,
and it hurts a little bit.
Well, actually, it ******* aches. A Lot.
I ache without you.
I ache at the thought of you.
I can't even breathe.