I have emotions
that are like newspapers that
read themselves.

I go for days at a time
trapped in the want ads.

I feel as if I am an ad
for the sale of a haunted house:
18 rooms
$37,000
I’m yours
ghosts and all.
- Richard Brautigan

I''ll have my coffee black
And my pancakes chocolate chipped.
Don't take the paper back,
I was reading those comics.
What happened to your shirt, darling?
(That stain below the pocket…)
It was crisp and white this morning,
Now it’s got a puddle on it.
Here, let me open the window up-
I want to hear the sunshine.
Here, let me refill your cup.
Oh my, it’s nearly nine!
Wait, I'm going to give you a kiss.
For that there is enough time.

New York Sun Editor John B. Bogart once said
When a dog bites a man, that is not news because it happens so often. But if a man bites a dog, now that's news.

I think the same could be said of life,
at least, mine anyway.
Don't worry, I'm not going around biting dogs,
but I am living it up as if my life were a story,
because it is, otherwise, I'd be bored.  

But, if it were up to my parents,
I'd be working some dead-end desk job
at some marketing firm shilling packaged bread
so I could pay off my student loans,
own a home, get a wife & make enough dinero
to march to retirement, just like everyone else.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


Isn't it more exciting to read
about a roving poet skipping around
the world from Cairo to Toronto
occasionally stopping to smoke on beaches
all the while meeting people
who seem like they're from a different dimension?

I'm not saying I want a book written about me,
but... if one should be in the works,
I know it'd be a real page turner.

Although, most in my generation has been told
we're all unique and special;
getting participation trophies in baseball
& ribbons for being in the spelling-bee,
yet we're all also told, or rather it's highly suggested we
follow suit & get in line like our parents & grandparents did,
continuing their stories of countless wars and conformity.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


But nobody will read all these identical stories.
That's part of the problem with people,
only a few are living like they have a story to tell
while most fade away in some gray apathy hell.

Well, my brothers and sisters,
I can only frame it to you this way,
if you had a choice between reading the headlines:
Person Does What they're Told Until Death
or
Person Dies in a Skydiving Sound Circle **** & Bake Sale
which story are you going to read?

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have to make some magic brownies
because I'm late to my skydiving ****** education lesson.

Glass is cheaper than the stone skin
tattooed on their foreheads. The palace, a splendid fantasy,
half built when the idea will be abandoned.

Freedom is a powerful nuisance! Their only
sin is looking at the world through rose-colored
glasses, make people feel at ease despite distress and disease.

The right wing redneck reactionary republicans continue
religious slaughtering. This nightmare scenario should
be nixed, said with a sneer, I hope they’re wearing warm socks.

Still, I couldn’t crack the code. Changed envy to admiration
to cultivate mystery rare as it is rewarding. The weird thing
is the high-end whiskey collecting dust on the on the shelves.

Nothing short of astonishing, like the space farers gazing back
at the home planet. Distant. They fascinate people.
Animate the inanimate environment. Isolation above.

Looking back I am ashamed of the mess we are leaving
our children and grandchildren. How to allocate these limited
resources? The key is to engage. No easy fixes.