This poem:
Fingerprint on the
Face of the world.
I live here—
For a little while.

I am a racist
Anti-racist.

I growl as Schrodinger's cat
And meow as me.

I was raised racist and
Try, every day, to erase it.



Adverbs, 4:18

Molière died in his boots
Backstage after the show
Imaginary validated

Carrie Fisher died on a plane
Coming home from a UK shoot
Schizophrenia chicken salad

Her last scenes, her last words
Her final funny "*******"
A brilliant exit ballad

It's not a debate to negate;
It's not one or the other.

Fallacy of false dichotomy—
Makes you think less of me?

He's dead.

How do we do this?
Thread the racism needle?

Carefully. Humanely. Sincerely.
Coltrane said "Supremely."

A love supreme.
A love supreme.

Cat-n-dog.
Lovers?
Snugglers?

What you'd expect?
Mutt 'n Jeff?
Jeff loves Mutt.

L'll baby
Crashes into
Gunther's nose;

He knows—
Old dog about to
Bark his last "BWARK!"

(She loves me…
And I like her—
No, love her, but…)

(Actually, she bugs me;
Her nose hugs claw me!
But, she needs me…)

Cat loves dog.
Dog…loves cat.
And is better for it.

Old dog Gunther
Is feeling lil' Lucky
Canoodling his pock-marked cheek.

A little less bitter
A little/lot  better
Let's add more butter—
Anything's better with butter!

A little/lot more richer
It might even bewitch her.
Let's ply her with chocolate
Everything's better with chocolate!

What's cake without icing?
Or for that matter, the ice cream?
Treat yourself with love as dessert
Sleep well, and have a nice dream.

A super 8 film
Flickers on the screen;
Sprocketing film sounds
Comforting in black and white.

One clip:

A boy in chef hat
Dances gleefully with spatula
At a barbecue with family.
Memories made visible with
Backyard in background.

Another:

He looks like a chemist in the wading pool
Water sploshed from bottle to bottle.
There he is, happily pulling tails of kittens.
Perhaps a future biologist?

There he is:

In line with nine siblings
And matching striped pajamas
Running to rip presents open
From happy boxes under the tree.

Year to year,
The siblings age;
Black and white turns technicolor.
Pops shoots more movies.

A baby falling over;
A sly smile to the camera;
Chocolate covered lips at Easter.
And always a shot of mother smiling.

Who will chef-hatted spatula dancer
Chocolate lipped-
Proto-scientist
Future clown grow to be?

Me.

Bomb!
(nuclear bomb!!)
Pshew! Pshew!
You're dead!

Not funny.
Seriously;
Not funny.

A musical once asked,
"How do you solve a problem like Maria?"
Or the father of Ivanka.

Give him a pony.
Or a destroyer
Festooned with
"Mission accomplished."




Me have cookies now?

Who will be the next White House resident?
Barack Obama set a precedent

I'm ready for the first woman…
I'm ready for the first Asian…
I'm are ready for our first Latinx…

What about an Amerind President;
Original resident as president?
Wow to that!

Which Hmong among us is ready to run?

Orange cheeto has to go.

Darling,

A redeployment
Next week:
Clean-up crew.

After:
Logistics.

And then:
Shore leave!

I'll be with you.

Soon,
My commission
Will be over.

Then,
Our next assignment
Will begin.

Darling,

A breakthrough in WWD:

I realize
Battles lost
Can be restive—

And if used right,
Restorative

Depression isn't always
Destructive.

Here I hunker
In my bunker
Reflective.

Truth to
Millennials
Is hard

Grandfather talk is
Lost on them

I do my best
As "honored elder"
To bestow what I know

Maybe they figure it out
Themselves

We hear her call
Emigrants all

Statue beckons across the sea
"Your unfortunates are safe with me"

Warm welcome turns to ICE
A promise broken thrice

To me, to them, to you
Please, let our people through

I am a realist.
I'm an artist.
I'm a humanist.
And a humorist.

I'm an atheist.

Yet, I am gob-smacked, daily,
By the beauty of this ephemeral world,
I am flamboozled, daily,
By its dire contradictions.

Stories of people being horrendous.
Stories of people being stupendous.

On the cliff-ride of hope,
I hold tight to a string
That floats above despair.

Oh, the quasi-related grace
Of saliva on the toes;
The reds, the blues, the greens
Of pregnancy.

Castration?!

We melt like mosquitoes
Across the heated causeway
In June;

Pepto-Bismarck?
I hate shocking pink.

Before I die,
I want to live
Loudly.

Before I die,
I want to travel
The unknown.

Before I die,
I want to host more
Students from
Not-here.

Before I die, I want to
"Perform something
Bold, tragical and austere."

Before I die:

Lava flows.

Norway fiords

Northern lights.

A car driving me or

Hyperloop SF->LA

Sub-orbital flight to see
Earth from space
(aim high before I die!)

Proof we aren't alone.
That would be a big one.

And while we are alive,
LET'S DO THIS!!!
Before we die.

Word.

Eye eight Iowa’s spill chicken.
Its' all-moist never rite.
Tern Otto-collection rough.
Lean two spill Youseff;
By egg dictionary.

Hail, Nero,
Friend of Piso;
Welcome to the villa

Agrippina at Mar-a-Lago
Ivanka in her tower
A Melania apologia.

Left we are all stumped
Under water and in ruins;
Unfortunately *******.

Shaken
Awake,
Naked

Hearing
Staring,
Naked

Meaning
Nothing
Shake it

Knowing
Something
Take it

Sentences are easy,
Stanzas: scary.

Stories are told;
Poems, expressed.

Feelings to words
Ideas to image.

Thoughts distilled
To pleasing sounds.

crushing through it
here comes Pruitt

promoting coal
he has no soul

what was protection
is now destruction

a man named Scott
the best we got?

the EPA; now EDA
our Earth, sadly, DOA.

Nope.
Don't want to.
I'm not driving.

It's a week night.
I have to be at work early.
Can we leave at intermission?

Yes; let me think about it.
Yes, I want to see them.
Saturday at six can work.

Well, that was really wonderful!
I know! I'm glad they came.
Thanks for doing it.

With my armor off
Attitudes adjust.
Thankfully.

Young man down
In the prime of his life

Young man down
Senseless loss tragic

Young man down
A man with promise
And feeling
And vision

A leader.

What's black and white
And red all over?

Young man down.

Left fist at 9 o'clock
Right fist at two
I'm flying, flying
Superhero style.

Nothing can stop me now.

The bullet missed;
Locomotive late;
The building's been left
Shortly after lept.

Lois Lane aside,
I'm soaring solo.

I like the way my cape is flapping,
Snapping
Tapping
Down at my thighs.
Super, man!

"What?"

"Supper?"

"OK."

"I'll be right there."

MC Escher drew it
Unshure the best way through it
Down is up
Around is down
Gravity hilarity loops
Infinity turns and hoops
Puzzling faces, birds and places
Morphing yin to yang
Ending is beginning to
Circle around again.


Darling!

So good to see you—
And feel you;
Loved by you,
I love you.

I still feel your lips
From this brief visit,
Shadows dispelled,
I thank you!

Back to the front;
But World War D
Is easier now.

****** Spock!

Jim?

Why, why, why!?

Jim?

*** was that, Spock?!

What, Jim?

Delving deep;
Spilling the beans?!
Letting your guard down!?
Schrödinger's cat out of the box!?
Revealing the secrets?!
Violating protocol?!


…It is the truth, Jim.

Sour milk.

She walks to Three Corners Market. 

An unseen sludge of mud;

a slip, a fall—
PAIN!

Ice helps;
Not enough.
"I'll wait for you in the car"

1 hr. @ Urgent Care.
Tedium at Emergency.
Inconclusive X-Ray.
Cloudy CAT Scan.
Inconclusive.

9 hours later, 1am, sleep.
This morning?
I'm guessing:
PAIN!

I'm off to fill her prescriptions

And get fresh milk.

Darling,

Still on the front,
I hold my territory.
No enemy in sight.

Interregnum
Or Interim Peace?
I wait for insight.

Tuesday, November 29, 2016,
living room, Freshwater.
4:12 AM: I woke like any other morning
which means my eyes opened
my voluntary muscular system switched on.
This time.
Slowly.

But it wasn't like any other morning.
I woke up in the living room,
lying on the floor
next to Gunther, my dog.
He's not doing well.
He's old
and I spent the night with him.
Mostly.

5:24 AM: Woke up again next to Gunther,
cold and sore after disappointing moist dream;
went upstairs to bed for another 165 minutes.
Whatever 165 minutes later is:

Woke up, got out of bed,
dragged a comb across my head.
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream.

7:12 AM: Drove to work
knowing how many holes you need
to fill the Albert Hall:
12,347,023. Plus or minus.

8:47 AM: during my morning constitutional,
I noticed:
Catastrophic Trouser Failure.
Colleague saw me leave the
East Genderless Restroom
in the basement of House 54 at
8:53 AM with stapler in hand.

I moved cautiously through my day
not wanting to rip my metallic stitches.

9:12 AM: Over the last 7 1/2 minutes
I have flicked 17 ants off the top of my desk.

2:40 PM: After carefully maneuvering around campus
and getting through my day without exposure,
it was time to go home—but not quite yet.
The file uploaded that my students needed NOW
was corrupted and inaccessible.

Workarounds ensued.
Another day at the office.

3:54 PM: The black army has arrived.
My desk is aswarm—
anticipating their conquest—
my desk has fallen.

4:47 PM: Arrived at home.
Used PBS to relax.

9:03 PM: Moved on to Brandy.

Better.

William Jefferson Clinton
did not come for our guns.
Barack Hussein Obama
did not come for our guns.
No one is coming for our guns.
They come now for our TRUE weapons:

Our words.

The FIRST (not the 2nd) amendment
is now officially under attack.
PED (President-elect Drumph)
tweeted to the cast of HAMILTON:
"Mike Pence was harassed last night at the theater by the cast of Hamilton"

Freedom of speech is harassment?
A gentle message by a gentleman playing a gentleman
founding-father said to Mr. Michael Pense:
“There’s nothing to boo here, ladies and gentlemen,
there’s nothing to boo here.
We’re all here sharing a story of love.
We are the diverse America who are alarmed and anxious
that your new administration will not protect us,
We truly hope this show has inspired you to uphold
our American values and work on behalf of all of us.”

Harassment or free speech?
Bullet points, people. Bullet points.
I am NOT throwing away my—SHOT!
I am NOT throwing away my—SHOT!

I'm a character in a sitcom
And in telenovelas,
A character in a melodrama
And then again, in farce.

Different kinds of drama for the
Seven ages of man
Infant, lover, soldier…
All in a day.

Pantonlone one minute,
Punch with Judy the next.
Arlecchino makes his entrance,
Exit, stage left, dour il Dottore.

All my life's a stage;
I play my many parts.

We fall who we fall for
Feel for our amour
Evermore.

We came into kemmer
But it got dimmer;
******.

As we both grow older
I need a shoulder
Less colder.

Future peaches
pretty in pink
Soaking up the
Afternoon rain.
A reign of rain,
Biblical rain!

Reminds me of a poem:
"From Blossoms"
by Li-Young Lee

How I look forward to:
“the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.”

I remember dust.
I remember summer.

I'm enjoying (drawing) again,
my (sketch pad) open
a (#2) poised
capturing images.

I chip away at it:
editing coarse lines first
particular words next;
an (eraser) sharpens punctuation.
Violá: a poem!

It was zen, then.
It's zen again.

Tears, blood, *****, sweat;

These are the waters of a man.

Muscle and sinew, **** and bone;

These are the solid earth of a man.


Seeing, hearing, touching, thinking;

(thinking, thinking, thinking, thinking…)

These are the shifting winds of a man.

But wither spirit? Where is fire?


Lost in the hum of electrical ether?

Warped and worn on the grindstone of work?

Slipping through films of ****** desire?

Fading in a fog of drunken forgetfulness?

Sunk deep into cold unfeeling depths?

Shrunk to the size of a tiny, selfish, wrinkled pea?


All of these.

All of these.



But quick, look to your left—

See it; seize it.

Name it. Claim it.

Invite it back into the circle.

It’s yours, it’s here; it’s never left.

Stand with your brothers and call it back.

Drumming, chanting, singing, laughing.

Gather it around you and don it proudly.

Button it up like a brand new suit—

Looking good, man!


Feeling… better.


Tears, blood, *****, sweat

Muscle and sinew, **** and bone

These are merely the parts of a man.

Dignity, Clarity, Integrity and Strength

These are truly the marks of a man.

Empathy, Respect, Pride and Love

(And Love!)

These reside in the heart of a man

A conscious man

The spirit of a true man.

: 0

Blogs can slog
As long as they like.

Toot-sweet tweets
at 37 + 100 + three.

Twit a bit with only 3:
Emoticon with me.

; )

Fruitless friends
Who let you down

A pillow gone lumpy
Sour milk on cereal

Fruitless friends
Who let you down:

Disappointing pens

Old keys for forgotten locks

Pants that don't fit

A lonely left shoe

A two-cent non-forever stamp

Fruitless friends:

The bowl of bran
Sans raisins

Sad.

I had a telescope.
Actually, more than one.

I had a microscope.
In truth, more than one.

Eye try to keep an open mind:
Galaxies above,
Galaxies below.

Spiral swirls of stars,
Planets within planets;
We are not alone.

Smears of pond ****,
Spiraling up to light.
Life abounds.

And here we are:
Somewhere in the middle.

Darling,

The battle continues.

Thankfully, my depression
is leashed.
Sometimes a long leash,
Sometimes not.

On leash, it informs me:
I can see clearly now.

Off:

Devastating.

I am reading poems by Billy Collins:
AIMLESS LOVE, a retrospective,
A sampler, as it were
For the Books and Brew;
Our monthly selection.

Nine manly men
Meeting for monthly meals
And book-talk
And politics
And, of course, good beer.

They like nonfiction,
I like fiction.

Richard Hughes,
British writer of poems, short stories, novels and plays said:
“All nonfiction can do is answer questions;
It is fiction's business to ask them.”

Still, my repertoire has expanded:
Nike shoes.
Civil War.
Institutional racism.
Opioid addiction.
Rafting the Grand Canyon.
Climbing mountains.
With Baron Von Humboldt.

And now this:
Poetry.
Nine manly men
Reading poetry to each other
While sharing a meal,
One lovely poem after another.

You can't read a book of poetry
Like you consume other books,
Fiction or nonfiction.

The table of contents:
The lid of a box of exquisite truffles—
A map of pleasures contained within.
You look at the map,
And make a selection.

The caramel truffle
Is not the coffee truffle.

You look at the map,
Make a selection,
And bite!

The crusty chocolate cracks!
The darkness melts,
Floods your mouth with taste.

Then the rush of caramel!
Flavors, smells sloshing
Swooning with sensate memories.

What? Turn the page and read another?
Reach for the coffee truffle?

No. Linger with caramel;
Luxuriate on aftertaste.
Is that a note of citrus or salt?

I will enjoy my coffee truffle tomorrow.

Long lost *** mate
A little after wed.
Now just roommates
Alone asleep in bed.

Your touch once magical:
A hand on my thigh:
For Sammy — electrical
He rose, I blushed, I sighed.

Now, no sensuality
Expectations: none.
Ghost limb sexuality
Feeling: only numb.

Once,
long ago,
in a far away
familiar place,

a girl named Jill
with a boy named Jack
(along with three pigs,
a frog, a princess,
a wolf, a girl in a red frock,
her blonde, curly-haired friend,
three bears,
a strange, rumpled man
with a curiously long name,

his companion:
a tall, crowned,
black-caped woman
of white complexion
and ruby-red lips)

went up a hill.

The earth suddenly, violently
trembled.
And they all fell down.

All were injured;
five of them died.

But miraculously,
two of them,
somehow
managed to live

happily ever after.

Darling,

The war proceeds apace.

I battle demons;
Sometimes I win.
Therefore for me.
Then again for you,

We circle around ourselves
And find a place to land to
Negotiate peace.

If successful,
We both take off again.