Archive for ‘post-structuralism’

March 23, 2017

so much variety a person couldn’t find the same publisher in a room of twin publishers, with the same ideologies and inspirations and movements and where their coffers catch ($)

conform
or be
ignored.

March 14, 2017

the lottery

every day
is like
another
lottery ticket,
even if you lose,
at least
you can
still dream.

December 4, 2016

snow day weekend

to salt
the drive,
and sidewalk,
the 67 bus stop,
there is some
old ladies’ and
then mine.
after
pushing
that
not-
heart-attack
pack,
the fluffy
white stuff,
nothing
like it;
the melt
snow, –salt,
the to snow
melt, –salt,
surprise.
this morning
one more
chore
to do…
one more
thing
to find
a meaningful
something
while
breaking your
back
because.

November 22, 2016

easily defined

in the shower
this morning
i realized
there is a whole
world out there
ready to
define you.

thinking further,
if i remember
correct, a
person is what
they eat.

in that case,
i am weekend left-
overs, dead meat,
some fruit, and
cold cows milk.

easy as that, no-
thing more, i have
saved the lot
a lot of work.
they have one less
job to do now.

November 19, 2016

self and this house

i realize on self and this house,
more grit than our cat box
in the basement full of shit,
comfort as breast milk warm
where headboards should be,
cold in here as black crucifix
or clear ice formed on old leaves;
the death of fear is certain,
tho, enough with daisy metaphors
and stone subjective imagery:
i understand my mind as so,
and so as such, and this and that…
i realize one day weekends
go so fast to make us ready again,
and that real friends just are,
you really can’t ask for more.
i realize on self and this house,
no doubt the cold, can’t get out.

November 12, 2016

what is art?

last night i picked up a Bukowski again and
read something from his THE CONTINUAL CONDITION

then i thought in the parking lot
after the lady behind me bought my lottery tickets
and dark coffee because
the guy behind the counter
in the unwashed and untucked shirts
didn’t know if they accepted credit cards
or not and the line grew,
and no more money came from my pants,

what is art?

rat is art
tar is art
tra is art

i guess anyway you look
at it, those letters are art.

and the lady in line said: take it, no just take it.
and threw $2 on the counter.
she had a gallon of 2% milk and was serious.

like any-thing is any-thing
else.

perhaps decomposition of a loved one
since the year 2014 is art,
like pumping milk from a cow is art.

or maybe since the year 4201 is art.

i don’t know.
don’t i know.

i watched from the car
as breastfeeding went down in the lot
i didn’t want to be followed,
what a major calamity of sorts.

the gas station lights could
sense my growing shame and
how my patience was lost
in staring at walls or looking
for a cd that wasn’t scratched,
hoping for B.I.G..

crystalline frost formed on the vehicles
near the front lawn.
and i am happy they were there.

we rolled up late, an hour of stationary
before we got back on the road
and i tried to dodge deer
where brown and red smears said they died.

like the leaves piled and decomposing
they are tra, or rat, or tar

or art.

whatever you call it it is that.
like those bleeding hearts couldn’t take a loss.
like losing the lottery in america.
like driving at night with desert eyes.
like coming in late without an excuse.
like not needing one, but you do.
like knowing before others and pretending to not.
like apologizing for everyone like you for guilt, your guilt.
like feeling sorry that you don’t.
like telling people to move on in your shoes.

i suppose

maybe that’s why we all drink coffee
and tell our friends what we think.

and one day the sun won’t spin,
so bring a few extra layers,
everyone will be there.

November 6, 2016

making it ok

perhaps, in a country where we have made it
commonplace acceptable
to meticulously disrupt and replace
those in far-off scapes

at the push of cold button–now, also
we find it ok to explain which might
or could happen so dire to us
while something right in front

of our very eyes happens.  Imagine that,
we the people see the foreshadowed future
as more imposing, more real than our present
which stalks about us, which tells us

to be concerned for. think of that day
that hasn’t happened yet, and be worried.

October 28, 2016

loving the art

i am no grant writer,
i keep a simple blog;
as an unsolicited writer,
carte blanche & song.

*

i think you should write too.

October 26, 2016

daily reader

i read the newspaper
backwards today,
from the bottom up,
each sentence slowly,
word for word
left left left left…
one at a time
to make the story
come out differently,
better, in hopes
for posterity and that.
well, no such luck.
and on a rainy gray day.
when i reached the top
i found that
i was at today’s date,
& still confused,
& still wondering at
how fiction could appear
so viscerally spun. 

October 18, 2016

introduction, american opinion

meet melting pot america.
meet freedom of speech.
meet upset by freedom of speech.
meet why so mean america?

meet wow, i am confused.
meet holy shit, what freedom?
meet let’s change this idea.
meet we try to do and do right.

meet not broken don’t fix it.
meet individual in a group.
meet thoughts of talk and action.
meet make, make, make, and make.

meet comes with the territory.
meet that’s life, so they say.
meet i love Dr. Seuss…
meet cry baby, why baby?

meet the reality that is, and why.
meet why change, instead love.