the works of America’s greatest living poemetrist, alive or otherwise.
i love that part
of human nature
where nothing
is good enough.
score one for the Buddha!
the extinction of
the human race
via plague:
it’s very much
a possibility.
honesty is my option
of last resort.
anything but that,
and i mean anything…
that’s what i need!
a serum,
like in a bad sf movie
where the mad scientist
never needs to sleep again….
there’s no reason
i have to do this.
there’s no reason
i have to do anything.
the beauty of choice.
it’s never going to be perfect.
win the powerball & have millions,
and i’ll still burn the toast,
stub my toe,
say something stupid out loud….
trying to take seriously
that everything i learned
to take seriously
was wrong.
the only serious thing….
there are troubling signs
that the things
i have long depended on
for the soft reassurance
that my life….
because my brain
is not broken
but badly wired,
the way to fix
my life….
the whole idea of “life”
is pretty irritating to me
these days.
what’s the point
of years of struggle….
nothing
nothing
nothing
is ever
as good….
but i don’t want it to rain today!
i wanna ride my bike today
and i’ll ride my bike in the rain
but i don’t wanna
ride my bike in the rain!
pinning my hopes
on the stuff i can buy
never works out
as well as i hope.
if i were rich….
without a good night’s sleep,
nothing works.
each morning
i sit with
pen & notebook
and search for
certain words….
