Cheating

This is the first time
I couldn't sleep while
you are in bed

and I know that you
will never know that
I wrote this poem alone

unless it's published
and you read my poems
while on a plane or

to some friend for
the firsttime. There then
you will know that

you slept through its
composition and maybe,
you might feel like

I deceived you, I
took something from you,
but that's not true;

It is you who dreams
sweet dreams and
coughs in her sleep

while I ticktock
away little plastic
keys of consciousness,

while I belabor
reflexivity, you get
to let go of the handle

to the San Francisco street
car, to brush off your
friend's comment or sleep on the plane

and I'm still stranded
back here at 1am in
the spare room; typing.

Jack And Jane

Jack and Jane went
up his brain to
fetch a pile of
cocaine

Jack feel down
and broke his
frown and Jane
went freezing after

those frostbitten friends
went round again and
Jane went vomiting
after

again and again
in arms and in friends
with dollars and
no nonsense

the mirror the night
the morning the fight
the frenzy of powder;
pubescence

Jack and Jill, they
found some pills
to stretch the
all night bender

then Jane came home
to needle her arm
found Jill in arms
in their bed

"Oh Jill Oh my God"
Screamed Jack, he was gone
while Jane just jittered
jonesing for smack

She didn't ever care,
just sat in the chair
rolled sleeves and
eyes from the bread

The three of them there
one needle to share,
horse singing the songs
of the dead

"Oh Jack and Jill Went
Up The Hill to fetch a
Year of Rehab! Jack Fell
down and bumped his crown

and Jill came tumbling after!"

6 Semesters of Teaching at Private University

Most teachers are afraid
of losing the mind's of
their students, of losing
the respect of their students

so they puff up their chests
and raise their voices and
"know they know everything"
all at once, everyday;

but some of us let our
hair down and show them,
the class, that we are
still humans; we let

them take us and forgive
us and relate to us.
We are the truther,
the "keep-it-realers,"

who always get bad evaluations.

Memory

I know that I won't
remember writing
this poem; I won't
recollect composing
these words, never

no not ever. Instead
we should have some fun
with "old" me, my memory!
Did I write this on a boat
outside of Crete,

Or was this written
in the nude near Needles
Neveda, with a woman
in the bathroom before,
well...with just two moments?

Did I smear these words in
a notebook on my waterbed
in the 9th grade or outside
the IN-N-Out burger, watching
the planes land?

You'd bet I wrung these
five-lined rushed proses
out while watching some TV
or eating a nectarine or
even grading papers;

But really, I'm still 25
in a grey shirt and blue jeans
sitting in my office
in the dark, staring into
my computer's screen

much like you are now.

For Satan, Forsaken

did you guys
know that drugs
make holes
in your brain?

Holes the size of
your nostrils,
Holes that reflect
the blow on the table;

oh! let's not forget
the money that
went up your nose!
Have you forgotten

those fucking fabulous
fantastic times. Are
they the ones you blew,
the years you blew away?

Leila (#1)

moments ago, my lady
was waiting and
staring past
my eyes

her brown and
black rushed
me back to where
dark beauty lies

and as I sit
at my laptop
and mouse
around the screen

the ghost of
sphinx, that
little minx
has disappeared unseen

Hump-day Waltz

With hardly enough
time to tap
out these phrases

my neighbors are
screwing so loudly
it's crazy

"oh god, oh
my jesus
your fucking amazing"

my headphones
won't stop them
from screaming, from praising

won't pound on the
wall when they're
pounding it for me

this is awful
appalling disgusting
abhorring

is that
their old tv?
he must be quite boring

she screams
and she shouts
with cannned laughter applauding

what fine midnight acting,
she hides
while she's yawning

he must not be that
great or
very exciting

those screams
and the moans
keeps her frown kept in hiding;

are we,
the young listener,
wrong for this writing?

Or should we read
fiction instead
of confiding?

Say It Ain't So, Joe

crickets skitter
like skittles

rainbow poppers
crusty broken bread

oh you wanna
crunch me

crush on me
crush me dead

won't we wait
for that boulder

to come for
our head?

in our dreams
on our pillows

sleeping time
slumber, in bed.

Exhale With Sound

We are waterfalls
of speech, unconditioned
unmitigated lovers of sounds

the sound of our voices,
my voice, as unrelenting
as a river spilling from

a cliff onto boulders
below, trickling into
ears and minds of others

other lovers, other brothers
who slip and re-spill those
natural streams, liquid prose

splatter and cover miles
and meters; minds and meteors,
mines and bullets, my own bullshit

laid out, stretched out in the
sun, to sparkle and glisten, like
water now listen, see what we've done

The Dead and The Hopefuls

Give me this,
at least this,
to have
on my own

like a
softball sized
lump above
my eye

I've fought
with you for
days about nothing
just punches

and kicks and
knives and nicks
i'll take my
lumps, take my licks

youth has held the
cards so close to
her heaving breast,
I guess I'm singing

simples songs to
songwriters who've
past long ago or
who are unborn.

Silver Splinter

betrayal mostly starts
when you've betrayed
yourself.

My mother once had
a restraining order
against my father

those are some
nasty roots
to bear blossoms

what kind of child
might turn out kind
when glass is in the soil?

how can we drive
when the gas-tank
is packed with sugar?

I'm the kind of man who
can't understand a plan
when it's written or told

hungry and cold,
juvenile or old
italics and bold

oh no, don't show me
that silly smile
where gold gleams

just past your gums.
I've done enough for
you. Let me go.