Shhh..little poet.
Why so angry?
I know you hurt; it comes with
Caring.

Black is a beautiful colour
When used for emphasizing
Contrast.
Alone it is a candle
In a dark room,
Unlit.

Life bites, kicks, pulls your hair
And puts its pointy fingers in your
Eyes laughing.

Other times it is a sleeping lion,
Warm and soft to the touch; too
Full and drowzy with sunlight
To anything but purr.

When Life bares its teeth,
Remember how much a grin
May resemble a growl.

Tell me how it feels to
Scratch the King of the Jungle
Behind its palm-sized ear.

All that glitters
Is gold.

Shhh...little poet.
Why so angry?
There is more to Life
Than life.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

I say to my woman, "Jeffers was
a great poet. think of a title
like Be Angry At The Sun. don't you
realize how great that is?

"you like that negative stuff." she
says

"positively," I agree, finishing my
drink and pouring another.
"in one of Jeffers' poems, not the sun poem,
this woman ***** a stallion because her
husband is such a gross spirit. and it's
believable. then the husband goes out
to **** the stallion and the stallion
kills him."

"I never heard of Jeffers," she
says.

"you never heard of Big Sur? Jeffers
made Big Sur famous just like D. H. Lawrence
made Taos famous. when a
great writer writes about where he
lives the mob comes in and takes
over."

"well you write about San Pedro," she
says.

"yeah," I say, "and have you read the
papers lately? they are going to construct
a marina here, one of the largest in the
world, millions and billions of dollars,
there is going to be a huge shopping
center, yachts and condominiums every-
where!"

"and to think," my woman says smiling, "that you've only
lived here for three years!"

"I still think," I say,
changing the subject,
"you ought to read Jeffers."

Drained* in stereo
Eyes toward vacated heavens
Deadlight escaping death

To sit and wait upon the edge of the great nothing
Arms wrapped and fingers entwined
Watching the sun dive down
Dimming into obsidian

Mountains erode to sand
And water overtakes
Stormy oceans of desolation

"We are a glimpse in the eye of cosmic decay
Dictating the future words of voices unspoken"

...I've wished the world away
Too many times to count...

I've watched the last days
And the tides change their ways
And the skies cease to be


I've seen the world die
But once in my life

And once was *just enough

sometimes i wonder
if the world i live in
is one i made up in my head
that exists only for me

and if that’s true
i don’t mind
because the world i’ve created
is filled with madness
but the best madness i’ve created for myself
is you

Scream’s stains these walls,
Throwing around words that we don’t mean.
Storming down the stairs
Saying things that give me chills down my spine,
Please don’t do that.
These men in blue come into the house.
Screams of pain are thrown from them
Detaining the animal you have become.