Free Form Kiss

Peck:
to mark the page
I want to kiss
I've been trying 
and trying
I miss the mark
the slightest purse
imperceptible pressure
invisible wall
Where is our Wailing Wall?
the print, seen or unseen
always there
perhaps slightly moist
not violent

Open Mouth:
but look, it is already there,
wide open
the Great Mouth that filters the oceans
ride to it
be cleansed past the glottis

with the algae, the seaweed,
the minnows, jellyfish
all water around us slowly spinning
draining

once we were expanding
at the time of Abraham and Noah
now we retract back to the Source
for saltiness

out of a Great Nose
we return to the world
washed up onto a sandy shore
undiscovered by man and woman

the sand crabs edible
if only we could dig after them
but hands must remain tied
behind the back 
until the baptismal
drains through the little hole
at the bottom

how strange it must feel 
to know that nothing will happen 
after this kiss
that it is perfectly impotent
between one man to another.
But why?
Where are the Impatiens 
that belong in the shade 
beside the house?
Those certainly did have the power
to mark something,
whether or not it was this kind of kiss
---maybe not
but we could ask them if only they could be found.
that of course in a memory long gone

Peck:
It's the warmth of the kiss
that is indelible
They say body temperature water
can induce transcendence
We know the Spirit 
is our amniotic fluid

 

What do you think about when you think about bread?

What do you think about
when you think about bread?
K thinks of gluten, no doubt.
Perhaps E thinks of her favorite cartoon.
I suppose the right thing
to think about would be the Eucharist.

I think about sustainability
(and peanut butter).
Like how unsustainable my life is, financially.
Like how I can't sustain more than
a handful of lines.
Like how this, my favorite pad of paper,
is about to be used up.
But I don't think about nutritional sustenance.
The peanut butter takes care of that.

Cleverness

The efficacy
of humility
in terms of writing a letter

is better than
a wild pen
but truly I would never

want to be
the enemy
of a clever poem in hiding.

Who wouldn't want
never to wane
in the court and wink with the king?

In the cool upstairs room
I read the words of a mystic.
You read the impressions
Of your impulses,
An innocent dance,
The most innocent dance,
Of an unfettered conscience
Spared of the exposure
To ultraviolet rays of judgement,
which paradoxically begin to burn
At the onset
Of linguistic recognition
And the realization
Of language's prison-like structure.
But I'm trying to teach you
To abide
Such that you won't find yourself in a prison
But a shelter.
You choose the path
that has been chosen for you.
Choose wisely my sweet child.

Affirmation?

No more holidays
Or days on the bends.
I'm crooked
But let's not pretend

That there's not a way
To spend the whole day
In productive reverie.

Ambiguous Air Quotes

My mom air quoted
the word "writer"
when talking about
my responsibility to
record the things Edith says.
Like, you're the "writer"
you need to write a memoir.
I don't know what she meant
by these air quotes
and I'm too cowardly to ask.

Unifinished Limerick

Once there was a short man
Who through the course received a command.
While on the hill
He fit the bill
And relieved something something in the sand

Noonish

We're out on the porch.
It's hot noon.
You're coloring
With a green and red crayon.
Sweat is bubbling up
From the pores on your nose
Like your Nana and her mom too.

We had chicharrón and sparkling water
For breakfast.
Three dollars flat.
Our friend, the cashier,
Listened to my affliction
And with a kiss on your cheek
Pointed us along the Way.

I prayed that God
Would condense my words,
Like searching for the right prime,
Because there's something
Stuck to my ribs
And it's been there
Thirty-seven times.

This is one
About smoking
A smoke
Before you and I
Capitulate.

My mouth is on fire
From a smoked andouille sausage
I just ate.
That's a good way to put it.

I want to be the victor
In this little war of two.
But then what would
A surrendered spouse
Be good for?

You came out back
And lit your own
And watched me
Finish this line
With bloodshot eyes.

Highway 71

Highway 71
Is a stretched out line.

At 80 mph
I just assume that
We'll pass through a line
Worth recording.

Crossing a railroad track,
Which runs East-West
Before the crossroads to LA,

I turn around to see
Our daughter smiling

And you're rejoicing
That we're all together.

Rich Night

The night rich
Of light sounds

The distant hum
of highway 89

The closer ring
Of the cricket town

The soft vocals
Between yours and mine

Your sister's confession
On the line.

Before the midnight hour
We exchange a glance

That says we've still got a chance.

There's a feeling...

There's a feeling
That's a little like
Paranoia, but not scary.

Like the way
You speak Spanish
To me when you're happy

Or the way
The thunderstorm
Strikes in the valley

And the way
John and Jules
Never get weary

Like the way
To a room
In your memory

Like a locked
Corridor
With no entry

The smell of
chloroform

Sunday at Olive Garden

Sunday people all around,
Around town.
"I hate Sundays,"
Says Jay
And there's so much locomotion.
What exactly does
"Prepared fresh daily" mean?
Ordered lasagna.
Now Gramma wants more red onions.
Ward off the vampires, perhaps?
And then the obligatory photo,
Twice.
The aforementioned
Lasagna is... decent.
In the end
Our toddler is racking up points
Gathering everything
Within reach.
And the two of you
Enjoy a chocolate
While the others
Fuss with the check.

Your Butterfly

Come and see
I'm a butterfly
Floating through
Your garden.

Your tender thumb
Lends me room
To dust my wings.

Hold out your hand
And call to me
I'll kiss you and
We'll be enlightened.

Waters

Oh, waters
I've been breaking
I'm for the taking
Let me wait
At your funeral rites.

Maintain the illusion
Of motion to ocean
In lieu of
A victory fight

Weeding

Weeding,

I was breathing through my mouth

In the heat by the house.

I took a break 

Straight down the middle

Of a deviate septum

And realized I shoulda left 'em

A long time ago

Who ingratiate to affiliate 

With the Devil

Biff

Morning Job

The first part is
To situate
Perhaps on the couch
For example.

The next part is
To alleviate
Tension in the gut
And the sacrum.

Relax! One could say
But the coffee's too strong.
The wrong places
Always play the wrong song.

And you've had enough
Of tough love
From above

Now you're wondering
About the rhythm
And rhyme scheme.

That's when you need
To take a break
And fake
A noble edition.

Consider the condition
You make a wish on,
Realize what
You should've written

Was a villanelle vision
But you've too much suspicion
Of strict structure
And would rather fight.

And then you remember
How your shrink
Scoffed and balked
At talk of the finer art.

He said
You'dve better
Consider what matters

And stop youthfully
Dreaming

To the Night Bugs

To the night bugs,
To the things that creep
You're all out on this porch
While others asleep.

Even the snail
You all get a bad wrap
From the vertebrates' chests
Who judge all the rest.

To all the locusts, and roaches,
The pinchers, and moths,
To the ants and the spiders
And beetles with antennas on top

You're not as evil
As Grandmother said.
Just keep your distance
And we can be friends.

Only one thing I ask,
Maybe you can relate,
That you stay out of my dreams
That keep me awake.

To Nanita, Love Edith

While Edith sings
Herself to sleep
Into an afternoon of dreams

I too will sing
As her mouthpiece
An ode of your praises.

You're very strong.
You work so hard.
Your endurance does amaze us

When at the end of the day
You do not betray
Any sign of vile hatred.

No! Your heart is pure
And you do endure
With all the life around you.

What I can't comprehend
Is how willingly you bend
And send endless love unto me.

I love to hear
Your voice near my ear
When you sing so nice gently.

Your comforting touch
Is more than enough
To make me wholly believe.

For the Cicadas

Do you lament
Insouciance
Has been your symbolic
Appointement?

I hope you don't,
I for one won't
Use the term
For you.

But in our time
There's little rhyme
For an apology of much use,

Yet let me sing
Your praises clear
My loud rich little friends.

Your tune's obtuse
But more than the birds
Your life represents

The Orphic myth
But with a twist
You loose no partner when you ascend

From underground
After all those years
So there's no need for tears.

Maybe that's why
We charge insouciance
And deny
Your right to recompense.

But tell me who else,
While snow comes and snow melts
For so many seasons,
Waits in the dark underground

For a simple chance to be free
And to sing what's to sing
All the while
Being at the bottom

Of the animal chains
Of being and eating.

And for such little time
Do you see the sun.
Perhaps even less than a season.

You above all else
Sense the ephemeral
Drift and unreason.

Yes, when you fall
From the trees
And litter the paths
With your green iridescent bodies

Then we will see
How remarkably
You bore
The unbearable lightness of being.

Commodities

"The misery of man appears like childish petulance, when we explore the steady and prodigal provision that has been made for his support and delight on this green ball which floats him through the heavens."
-Emerson

And then I was awoken
By the sweetest muffled sound!
It was Pasadena Public Works
Clearing a trash heap from the ground.

The hazard beeps played so bright
A melodious little tune
I could not help but appreciate
Nature's calling to her womb.

And so I woke
And went to watch
A giant tractor
Yellow and young

It's cab so clean
And in between
A man
No older than me.

And for a moment
With all my heart
I wished I were
Like him

Clearing away the wreckage
In an obscure ally
Which mostly doesn't matter.

The One for Mom

"Embracing disfunction"
was the term he used
to describe what I had said.

This was right after
you were elated
by hearing the same.

I wasn't honest with him
about how I quit my job.

So when I got home
I found myself prostrate before God.

A tear fell up
out of my right eye
toward my forehead
and I still want to cry

in your bosom.
 

The Eclipse

There was a solar eclipse.
I asked to look through a nice lady's
eclipse glasses. I saw it for a second.

Later there was a happy young guy
with green braces who
stopped me and offered his glasses.
He was still hoping for totality
having been actively watching all morning.

Between those two people
there was a Black man
riding a big loud motorcycle
playing old school hip-hop
with a big Hispanic woman
straddling the rear.

That was more wonderful
than the eclipse
though I was far off the path of totality
so others might think otherwise.

Believer

I've been trying to work on
the one about imaging Christ,
but that Puerto Rican Bieber song
just keeps playing in my head.

Sunday Morning

It's Sunday morning
and the fact that it took me
an hour to get out of bed
only proves I'm only human.

Also the dirt under my fingernails
is a telltale sign of my scrounging.

I'm wearing a Hawaiian shirt to church.
Just before I put it on it crossed my mind
that it might be considered irreverent.
That issue is not the point,
I bring it up to explain my self-doubt.

I said something about belief
and John replied,
Well then you don't really believe it.

I wonder if he's ever thought,
Aren't they just sides of the same coin?

Oh First Star

Oh First Star!
I've missed your light.

Afar, who might catch you?

Aaron

I’ve been wanting to write all day.

A few lines have came out, but not enough.

So I picked up the book of your ex-lover

To see why he’s so cool.

Now after a bite of ripe cheese

I want to string one together

Without effort to prove to you

I’m better than him.

So here’s one about resentment.

Or jealousy.

What’s the diff?

Beach Poem

What wonders have been buried here

On the miles of the shore.

And the power of the waves so near,

Curling toward the source.

The Pedant

“Hello John, I’m at a loss of words

For this majestic feeling inside.

I’m thinking that you my mate

Might relate and help me intellectualize.”

“Portray this feeling you say you feel

I’d love to share, my friend.

But before you start I’d like to say,

I’m not aware anywhere in Greek or Latin or Hebrew

Of such a sharp distinction you make

Between feeling inside and out.

That’s not to say you’re right or wrong

I’m simply saying I’m weary.”

“Okay, well that is interesting,

You’re always sharp and shrewd.

I don’t want to be a fool,

And based on my source you may think me so,

But Zarathustra’s famous imperative is

‘Distinguish! My friends.’”

“That may be so, I’m not saying not,

But the truth is always clear.

We may have limited access,

And that’s why the Scriptures are so dear,

My only point is to clarify

What you mean by ‘feeling inside.’

Pun intended: the ins and outs of things

Are important for me to find.”

“Well what I was feeling was

Something in my heart.

But now with all this indigestion

It’s moved down and turned into a fart.”

The Important Sutra

Could it be

That no-dimension’s

Infinity?

Late Afternoon

In this moment I feel

I must work,

My afternoon’s got

Nothing to say.

But when one tries

To bloom too soon

Things are bound to go away.

Without a flaw

This’ll be the last straw for my ma and pa

That I’ve done nothing with my day.