Your lips
slightly parted;

pure smile
of ancient Greece
seen on endless
broken statues.

Smile of sun
and knowledge.

Smile of Artemis
and Athena.

Smile that smiles
in the endless
moment.

Eternal
feminine
smile of
the mysteries.
  ~mce

This was just published so it is copyright 2015 by Holy Cow Press ~ mce**

Poverty is the fence around your life. Poverty wakes you up at 4 AM only to whisper meaningless slogans in your ear. It is the school of Piranha nibbling at the back of your brain. It is two hours waiting in the anteroom of despair for $22 worth of food stamps and being glad to be there. It is changing your phone number frequently because bill collectors are such boring conversationalists. It is the empty space your heels used to fill. It is letting your hair grow long and scraggly and your grizzled beard sprout because you know that although you sleep in rented rooms tonight, the street is not far off, and you want to fit in when you arrive. Poverty scalds the lint from your pockets. It is your private Treblinka within which you rage but are crushed. It is desperate prayers against dental catastrophes, blown tires, surprises of any sort. Poverty is when everything you own is frayed including your nerves from sleepless moments spent trying to solve the equation that will make X number of dollars cover X + ? number of bills, knowing that such math would defeat Newton or Einstein. Poverty is eying the cat's kibble imagining that with a bit of sugar and a splash of milk it might be fine and then eyeballing the cat himself thinking of protein of last resort and trying not to measure him against the microwave door. You ration your cigarettes; whiskey is a fading memory. Passing a diner on the street, you catch a whiff  of burgers too expensive to consider and experience a Pavlovian  moment. Poverty is trying to keep your head up and then remembering you pawned your neck. Poverty is watching the needle eat your last few gallons of gas. Poverty is the archeology of despair. It portends the death of irony. There is nothing ironic about a car with 217,000 miles and no insurance on it. Facts are facts in the world of poverty. Poverty is the last quarter reclaimed from beneath the cushions. It is too much time and not enough quarters. It is the specious logic of the self-righteous proclaiming that you deserve to be poor because you are, which in Amerika passes for wisdom. Poverty makes each day like the next because nothing does not vary. It is who you are and where you are going, although you won't get far. It is the life you lead inside the fence. It is the sum of what you lack. It just is.
   - mce

Pale green fire
that consumes me.

Your gaze
reduces me to ashes.

Most
marvelous
burning.

   ~mce

This woman
never looks
at the camera,
always into
the camera;
just as
this woman
looks directly
into my heart;
this woman
with her
sweet and fierce
Tiger eyes.
This woman
is something new
in an old world.
This woman.**
   ~mce

Years ago,
I was ambitious;
now it
is clear
nothing will
happen.
   ~mce

~ short ode to PTSD

Though capable of rage,
I am harmless enough
except when cornered.

If you decide
to visit my life,
just be sure
we always sit
in a circle.
   - mce

Wallace Stevens
once wrote
that money
is a kind of poetry;
he did not say
that it is good poetry.
- mce

The doors
of the world
are surprisingly
open unless
you lock them
yourself.

   ~mce

The man of deeds who lacks the word
is simple, stupid and absurd.
He works and struggles all the day
for nothing more than mindless pay.
He loves the rich and thinks them smart
for gaining through their lack of heart.
He loves his boundaries; worships rules;
considers those who break them fools.
His mind is closed; his world is small;
he has no words to think at all.
His conversation tends to stink
because he never learned to think.
His only drive is buying more;
he's little but a Hoople *****.
He does and does and that's enough,
if he can just keep buying stuff.
He never questions what he's told;
he's just a thing that's bought and sold.
And when it is his time to die;
he'll lack the words to wonder why.
- mce

Birdsong and Mozart,
perfect morning music.
Wake to it; wake with it.
The uncertain night has fled.
Sunshine floods my living room.
Sunshine and possibilities;
Birdsong and Mozart.
Anything might lie ahead.

I will take this day
into my arms
like a sleepy lover;
I will embrace her
and walk into whatever
she may bring,
enveloped in
birdsong and Mozart,
together.

~mce

Sometimes
the dice
simply cry out
to be rolled:
pass them bones
over, God;
baby needs
a new pair
of shoes.

_ mce

Got it buzzed
back to GI days.

A quarter inch
all over, I said
to the dubious barber.

It took some
getting used to
when passing
mirrors.

But now I love it!

I call it
my Monk's haircut.

No maintenance.

Wake up, perfect;
Swim, perfect;
Stroll about
in hurricane,
perfect.

Now I love
to feel
the wind
in my hair
that is
no longer
there.
   ~mce

Please keep in mind
what Jaron Lanier said:

You Are Not A Gadget.

Anything you own,
hardware or software,
that you can't explain
and is smarter than you
makes you
less of a human.

I prefer to be a human;
I hope you do as well.

mce

My ancient cell phone died.
Had to replace it with a smart-phone.
Samsung Galaxy. No Choice.

Smart-phone my ***;
nothing but a hassle
since I got it.

Phones should
make phone calls.

I don't want the weather
in Ukraine.

I don't want people
texting me.

(What the hell is texting?
***, LOL. IMHO.)

Don't want to play games
or listen to music.

Sure as hell don't want
to watch movies.

What kind of *****
watches movies on a phone?

Ned Ludd where are you?

Call me if your phone works.

We need to make some plans.
   ~mce

Let your body
be a
cherry tree
in spring,

its petals
falling slowly
to cover me

completely.

   ~mce

She dreams out
of windows
because she needs to live
in both worlds:
within and without,
alone and together,
past and future:
all right now.
   ~mce

Nothing
wrong with it.

Everybody
wants it.

The young
deserve it.

Only, after a point,
you realize that
you don't need it
and that taking
what you don't need,
can interfere
with getting what
you do need.

And that, as the
old, but true,
cliche points out,
makes for
a whole new
ball game.
- mce

I'm no good at this
and my cabin doesn't help.

Decades of dirt and grime,
a decaying outhouse,
cobwebs and insects,
windows nearly opaque:
Cabin, you are lovely,
but you are filthy.

I am in urgent need
of a French maid
(uniform optional)
or maybe just
a compassionate
and tidy friend.

Or, probably, I'll just continue
not to look too closely.

Ah, the bachelor's life!
  - mce

Pirates
are fun
to bed,
but woe
to wed.
  - mce

Persist.
We are made
to persist,
to complete
the whole tour.
That is how
we find out
who we are.
   ~mce

The Five Precepts
of Buddhism are:

Non-violence
Honesty
Fairness
Moderation
Sobriety

Not one of them
I haven't ****** up.

But hope lives
in the spinning Wheel;

many more chances
to get them right.

I call that Grace.

~mce

I'd like to believe
that it will be better
than the past,
but as the they
used to say
in the teachers'
lounges
when I taught
high school:

There Is No Bottom.

mce

Though not
from the generation
of tattoos,
I think
I would
love to kiss
all of yours.
  ~mce

I admit
that I pillaged
your Facebook page
for more
of your pictures.

Forgive me.

I couldn't
help myself.

Not doing so
would have been
like walking
on a beach
covered with
sparkling gems
and not bending
to pick them up.

Forgive me.

I am too much
of a pirate
to pass up
such treasure.
   ~mce

Because
I don't want
ever again to be
a businessman
stuck at a desk,
selling ****
to morons.

I'd rather be
Han Shan,
cold and hungry,
uncertain,
but joyous,

writing poems
to the void
on cave walls,

laughing at vanity,
chuckling
at attachment,

wandering the woods
like a happy ghost
riantly doing real work,

struggling
up one mountain,
down the next.

No path; no plan,
but never lost.
  - mce

Once again I am
entangled
in a *******
with Chaos and Doom.
Nothing **** or new
about this trysting.
I have known them
since chopper nights
thick and dark
as blood fudge;
since divorce nights
of keening despair
and humbling rage;
since madhouse nights
of weirding drugs
and weeping angels;
since jail nights
of lonely screams
and obscene rants.
We go way back,
and here they are again
old, grim lovers,
demanding and deadly,
but oddly comfortable.
From morning until evening,
they smile and taunt
until night comes,
we snuggle up,
and I escape into dreams,
the only privacy
I own.

   - mce

The ultimate arrogance:
believing you can live a life
without consequences.
- mce

Am I drinking
the whiskey
or is the whiskey
drinking me?
Hmm...
- mce

~ for W L Winters

Never *******
a buffalo,
a grizzly,
a moose,
or an
ex-wife.

If you do,
run
as fast and far
as you
possibly
can.

   mce~

"every heart, every heart, to love must come, but like a refugee."*


Be wary, little, pretty one:
If you wander too far for love,
you may lose your citizenship
in the country of your own life.
Be sure of the direction you take.
Leave yourself a trail of breadcrumbs.
You may need to find your way back
to the safety of your own sanctuary.
The world already has too many refugees.
You do not want to become one more.
   ~mce

We must all
live with a
full measure
of loneliness.

That is
inescapable.

We must never
destroy ourselves
with futile
attempts to escape
this loneliness.

Sit with it.
Accept it.

That will only
make it sweeter
when it ends.

  ~mce

train to Chicago...*

See it from a train.
Should have called it
the Rust Apocalypse.
Endless piles of industrial
woolly mammoth skeletons
turned red by the rust
that never sleeps or blinks.
Miles and miles of factory,
mills, and foundry corpses.
The workers long scattered
to $10 per hour ***** jobs.
Businesses gone with the workers.
Globalization at its finest.
The end of the people's value.
Amerika crumbles of dry rot.
Enjoy your stuff, good citizen.
This will all come to you.
There is no immunity
to endless, mindless greed.

   ~mce

On this shortest day,
the dark has risen,
a black cloak
covers creation.
The light,
reduced to spark,
awaits its time.
The earth turns,
the trees remember,
the flowers,
in imagination,
dare to hope
and blossom.
On this shortest day
the darkness falters.
Smoldering embers
flare again.
Soon, the world
will turn once more
from cold to warmth.
The light of the east
will not be denied.
Death, rebirth, new life.
On this shortest day,
darkness defeated.
  - mce

Thanks for the title, Boss.*

When I was a kid
my hometown
basked in that
(uncertain) period
of peace and
prosperity between
Korea and Vietnam.

It bustled
with busyness
and it seemed like
everyone knew
everyone and there
was always more.

Even the poor
felt included.

Half a century later,
peace has fled
for good and
prosperity too,
leaving only
vacant storefronts
and neighbors
who do not know
each other.

Perhaps this
was inevitable;
perhaps it is
progress.

But there are
moments when
it feels like
a lifetime is
just too much
to witness,
just too long
to live.

Nobody loves
a corpse.

~mce

Just found my
honest to god
vintage 1963
James Dean Ray Bans
in the garden where
I must have
dropped them
last summer.

Even as an old man
they make me feel
like Steve McQueen.

Now I can pretend
to be cool and smooth
again; but I doubt
my Lady will be fooled.
   ~mce

thirsty pages
gasping
for ink

a Muse
shriven
to whispers

the whiteness
off the Whale
unmarked

a privacy
of sadness
and desire

a dumbfounded world
demanding
a departed
Logos

mostly
disappointed.

   mce

Sometimes
silence
is a gift
to be
savored.

   ~mce

for Matthew and Richard*

Your children are not yours.
They are a gift on loan
from a generous universe.
They honor you with their presence.
They bring you laughter, joy
and sometimes worry and tears.
They are not your life,
but they are the substance
of the best part of it.
You try to raise them with love.
You would take a bullet for them
and smile as you died
knowing your brothers
would take revenge.
And when they are grown
you regift them to the world,
but you never stop worrying or hoping.
You know, that with luck,
through you, they will make
the world a richer place.
You hope they will always love you
and hold you in their hearts
because you know you
that you can never let them go.
You know you weren't perfect
and hope they will forgive you.
You pray that someday
they will speak of you
to their children with affection.
War, friendship, madness, romance,
nothing can compare
to the time they were in your lives
and nothing ever will.

  -mce

Sadly,
you can take the boy
out of the jungle,
but you can
never
take the jungle
out of the boy.
- mce

Over the course of 64 years (and still), I have encountered so many women (including my still lovely ex-wife) in person and in writing who struggle with their looks. It seems to be an eternal theme that crosses generations. So, I decided to write this humble piece in reply.
There are some who would say I can’t write about women’s feelings because I am a man. A patronizing old, white man. I note their objecions, but I disagree. I believe humanity always trumps gender.
We live in an artificial culture created and controlled by advertisers. Not only do they sell us stuff, they convince us that we need it. Women are perfect targets for them.
So they have created impossible standards for women to live up to. You must always look like you are 25, young and thin. They tell you this is the key to being desired, even loved. As it’s impossible to be young and thin forever, they just happen to have the products that will “help” you. They want your minds so they can profit by manipulating them. They do a great job of it.
So the key to loving your bodies and yourselves is to take back your minds. This is difficult. You are bombarded with a barrage of words and images that say you are not good enough. If only you were younger, thinner, shaped like Barbie, not greying, had longer legs, bigger *******, wore a size 2, you would be happy, and — of course — men would desire you. You would never be traded in for a younger, sleeker model. So many insecurities to exploit.
But consider the difference between beauty and Beauty. Beauty is human, individual and eternal; beauty is abstract, mass and reliant on current tastes.
I have known many women of all shapes, sizes and ages who were Beautiful. That Beauty was expressed from their hearts through their faces and eyes. They radiated it. It was not dependent on my or any other man’s approval. It just was. So I know this can be done.
Fashion changes so there will always be new things to sell. To the current ad masters, the Gibson girls of the late 19th century would now be called fat. Sell them a diet plan and gym membership. The angular loveliness of the Venus de Milo too cold and boyish. Sell her cosmetics and plastic surgery. Mona Lisa, a dumpy Italian girl. So many things to sell her.
And then there is that intense desire to please men that begins with daddy. I often hear its echo even in the strident voices of the most ardent feminists. The advertisers trade on that. That’s deep. That’s very hard to overcome. That’s both an individual and a cultural problem.
But many women never seem to consider that a great many men aren’t dumb enough to buy the 25 and thin forever image and don’t really demand to be constantly pleased. They might actually be looking for intelligence, heart, affection and respect instead of a perfect ***. Not all, often not the young, but many.
At some point, you have to say no and mean it. You are not your age, dress size, cup size or waist size. Those are just outward manifestations of the true you. If someone rejects you on the basis of such ephemeralities, you are better off without them. You have to take control of your soul. No one can give you that except yourself. You have to live with yourself just as men have to live with themselves. Again, humanity trumps gender.
I unabashedly love women. They have been one of the great delights of my life. I love the difficulties and the differences. What a woefully dreary world it would be if men and women were they same. So, it pains me to see so many women in so much pain.
You are, first of all, a person and that is worth insisting upon. Insist. Demand. Escape, if necessary. Be the only you you can ever truly be. Then you will feel pretty. And you will be as pretty as you feel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dbshnvztGA

  ~mce

Twenty or twenty-one. All volunteers. Barely women.
Straight from school in a thousand small towns.
Straight into the mud and blood and madness.
We dragged our dying to their open arms.
Twelve hours shifts; often more. Wreckage of violence.
Round eyes. Smiles that healed. Hearts that broke.
Girls treating boys. Telling the necessary lies.
You're OK. You're fine. You're going home.
Valor danced in their faces. Lips that spoke hope.
Old now or dead. But forever young and alive
in the memories of 150,000 wounded soldiers
they saved and sent back to the world.
   ~mce

You'll be a mysterious cavern
I discover by accident.
I'll be an intrepid explorer.
I will enter you like a cathedral
expecting holiness and hidden treasure.
You will grip me in your darkness
and hold me like the man I am.
Holiness and treasure will keep us there
until spent and satisfied,
we will return to our worlds
better than we have ever been before,
pleasured by the treasure we have shared.

~mce