Many believe they know the law
Because they were arrested;
Others know how to teach
Because they too were tested.
If you have a religious question,
They attended church;
Mention you've an ache or pain,
They diagnose your hurt.
Should you bring up politics,
Republican or worse,
They'll explain Democracy
Cause they've been free since birth.
Admit your car is pinging,
Your faucets aren't behaving,
The oven isn't cooking right,
Your fridge is warm and shaking,
The air conditioner's out of whack,
Your furnace has turned blue,
They'll tell you what to do:
Change the thermo-coupler.
It's always their one answer.
Say you like this stock or bond,
An investment that's appealing,
They'll  discourse that all agents
Are cunning conniving stealing.
On Monday mention the big game,
They'll re-play, play by play,
As if you slept right through it.
If you hear a rousing band,
Attend a movie or a play,
Know-its are informed critics,
Once they were stagehands.
They pose as friends and family,
Waiting for an opening,
To disrupt with diatribe,
To display how much they know.
I know what I'm on about,
So let me advise you,
I'm a Know-It-All poet,
All I write is true.
So,
Never miss the opportunity
To keep your mouth shut too.

loving you is like
                                              far
          ­                                l l
                                    i
                         ­      h
                           p
a rock rolling u
or catching a f
                         a
                            l l
                                 e
                                     n
                                            star
just know that i tried

losing you is like
endless rain on a sunny day
st!ng!ng pain from the ultraviolet ray
destiny denied

if the world is made of
red and blue swipes
then why not just be
purple all of the time?

if i don't need love
or musical pipes
then you can find me
lost looking for rhyme

my baby never sang a song
to fix whatever might be wrong
you think your boxes have the key
but a quick coupler isn't me

loving you is like
a (myth) that never did exist
or a (woman) in this world trying to resist

losing you is like
learning i could fix myself with my own strong arms
turning fields of barren land into fertile farms

into the ease i'm free
so call me when you understand
how to please all of me
how to be more than just a boy-man

i'm glad it's over.

I watched, fascinated, at each Stag standing,
legs splayed wide, chest expanding,
one hand playing pocket billiards,
the other cupping an imperial panetella,
or the odd ***-end of a king-sized silk cut.

I watched each **** strutting, squinting
against the improbably impressive smoke signals
emanating from a side grimace, indicating
not just contemplation of past glories,
and an absent kin,
but a surprising level of self-congratulation
and not solo signals, but a tribe-wide cloud of pride,
bellowing in resonance, creating a crescendo of
'you just know they would have loved this'
coupled with an elaborate semaphore display
that would put any plume of peacocks to shame.

My family gathered to mark their history,
to reinforce a crucial coupler of family territory,
to shout their quiet authority like ancient royalty,
as monarchs of this urban manor, their laughter
rising in assumptive victory, leaving no doubt
that this clan would face all future threats
with no more than 'a quiet word'
and a micro-assertion of their claim
over their ancestral turf.

I watched my forever-family,
my forever-England, planted secure
in my ever-after summer,
on this once green, scorched earth.

Symmetry of bearing crosses
And couplings, coupling, couplings, coupler, couplers.
Fastening of compression springs
And backlash, backlash, backlash, backlash, backlash.

Pitch and diameter of the intended thread
And chips, chips, chips, chips, chips.
Wire thin spikes
And for fastening ears, ears, ears.

Write poetry, at least write text.
At least write the letters mixed up.
Write at least Previous and Next.
At least write a video on a flash drive.

At least write "alpha in half."
Let everyone understand that alpha is a corner.
Put a banal smiley face on Instagram.
Get to work with Yandex or Googol.

Old man nods, say on, we know where it goes…

Thanks be to each.
And every redone dance, right-ual usual

slow to near selah, float
farther from the old choir chanting
"row, row" the ship of state,

state your busy ness, what good do ye?

look who is talking, look at you, good news,
eh, what do you say,
welcome,
enter in.

Smiling Spider Wombed Man, hands you,
a kite string,
you feel the lightning and pause,
gasping, perhaps,
at may being yours to administer, as master.

By leaving certain rights common,
dirt minds may find them left behind
as educations process progressed toward

collectively minded individuals,
pragmatic "***'er'done" team spirited,

broad shouldered men, guardians of story
key verity, verily, verily so.

Three gated mysteries, of course,
magic is but a lost art, for art's sake,

alone, each hermit learns, or lies and
interprets the scene and setting as proof,

see, imagine
this, Xanadu or the court of little blue men,
be cool if cool is need-full
be hot if heat is need-full, see the needs as equal,
each has a mean oppositioned,
on all the othersides, yours, mine, theirs.

We, the living, practically may remember
each aspect of everything we found meaning fully
hot and fully cold.

As a part in an ancient automatic click
to the thermo-coupler,
spark, let'say, a billionth
of the lightning bolt, at scale.

McLuhan could have co-known this, before
I knew it, I was watching Goldie Hawn,
and the forgotten other girl, ask,
"Marshall McLuhan, what'er you doin' down there?"

Fanning the flames, my dears, fanning the flames.

---- at 2:39 one day, in the autumn of 2022,
a raging thirst prompted a deal to trade ice cream
for gator ade, for the electrolytic
little gut critters.

I'm so dry, I
know, I justabout justaboudid all I came to be,
that once,

in those other stories, cameo, me, I imagined that,
Stan Lee, man,
you got me thinking ifery or else otherwise, and be
****** if it did not work.

Hell was never a right idea, it was intended, to keep,
a certain standard,
folk art, or hauteur pop yergnaught

Gold is only good in connecting mind and matter,
we evolved to live with mercurial switches,
flipping fluidly according to tension,
in time with the tune behind your
time
to  make the donuts dream.