Category Archives: Uncategorized

Life Gets 3 Stars on Amazon

Imagine life was something you bought on Amazon

and you could rate it

would you give life five stars?

we would want to

but on most nights, no

so on those four, three, two and one star nights

we pray to that five star hotel up there

to let us climb this fire-escape from this inferno below

to go from the words of Homer to Thoreau

The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.


Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.

What if everything we’ve read is a work of fiction?

The Bible, The Inferno, The Bhagavad Gita

all written by mad men novelists

pawning themselves off as memoirists

then who are we praying to?

what are we rating?

nothing and everything is relative to nothing

when everything is nothing

and I rate life three stars-

good show, but I know there must be something more-

meaning I can’t wait for the sequel

At Least Bad Poetry Can’t Be Quarantined

Being cooped up in your apartment for weeks comes naturally when you’re a writer.
I’ve been practising social distancing since high school.
Back then I was a nerd when I said I couldn’t go out because I had to stay home and write.
Now I sound smart.
Now I am writing and I’m missing my friends and family.
I saw my mom today from the prescribed two meters away. It was the first time in my life that I did not hug or kiss my mom hello or good bye.
What the hell have we come to?
This is the difference between writing and living.
This is the mucosa between wrapped in a dream and a comforter a second after the alarm sounds.
This is the placenta between not knowing you’re drooling in your sleep and rolling over and waking face first in that pool of drool.
This is the distance swimming the lake when it’s ten miles to either side and like newborns, we just keep kicking.

Why We Walked Out of the Sea

When we swim in waves of thoughts that are not our own
when we see our bodies are only on loan
we won’t fear where we’re going
when we don’t fear where we’ve come from
like sticking your ear against a conch shell to hear the ocean
in the middle of the desert

When We Know When

“Why does life have to be bittersweet?”
you ask me between sips of beer.
You’re really asking the wrong guy, but but but this much I did hear:

look at life as a song
you can’t listen to the same note too long
music needs flats and sharps
sometimes horns sometimes harps.

Or taste this life this moveable feast-
alone salt and pepper we’d never eat or paprika,
but when tossed on a sirloin into this same pot… euerka!

We like our drinks cold
our steaks sizzling
our coffee hot
our ice cream and
our Alaska baked.

It’s like seeing the forest in the tree and every inch on which she feeds
supporting this tree at her most beautiful,
wearing this death-mask of Fall only to be stripped naked by Old Man Winter who buries his fallen children in snow.

Here is where we feel the rub of life:
to feel connected to anything, to separate us from androids,
our circuits have to be continually
shocked and stimulated
by an infinite amount of currents connected to an infinite amount of emotions charged positively and negatively
or else we lose our sensitivity
until we can’t feel these elements burning our skin.

The Future Wrapped Up in This Present

will still be Now at the end of this some how
though we don’t know where in the Tao we’re going
how will we know when we get there?

We don’t know where we were before we were born
who knows how long we’ll belong on this side of the sun
how easily we believe anything that makes us see the future as something soothing-
like today is the workout
and tomorrow is the muscle balm.

We’re born innocent only to tumble down into depths too unfathomable to be believed
by any mother holding her infant son the first time
when we finally see our depravity
is it too late to go back and change its gravity
when nothing falls up
though we grow up
it’s like the past and the future pressure the present to give up the ghost
but there’s something in the wind, there’s something in the blood
that pushes back in both directions
so we can get nostalgic about tomorrow

I Think Therefore I am Drunk

I don’t trust antivirus software just like
I don’t trust sun cream
cruelty just has a way of seeping through
so does beauty
and we can do our best by being healthy, wealthy and wise
simply by not smoking
and I wear a seat-belt when driving
I even wear one when falling in love
but that’s another poem
I don’t drive drunk
but I do think drunk
I’m thinking now, therefore I must be drinking
taking pot-shots at poetry
driving there are rules both legal and logical
driving 200 miles an hour through rush hour traffic while smoking crack is
illegal and illogical
poetry is smoking crack while driving over 200 miles per hour turning up the
volume on the radio
why can’t we be
tested to see if we can drive 200 miles per hour
through rush hour traffic while smoking crack
and not killing anybody
then we get the license
and if poetry should demand such a license
I would have my poetic license revoked entering this
love affair between writer and reader
knowing inevitably we will break up
it’s been nice knowing you
I hope you find some other poem to fuck.

Make up Time

Tonight we bravely push our clocks an hour ahead
like a compulsive gambler pushing his chips in on a bluff
why not go all in?
Why not just jump off the bluff?
Why not move our clocks a billion years ahead?
Why not a trillion? A quadrillion? An octillion?
Why stop at just one hour?
Why be so unambitious?
What do we have to lose?
We’ve already shown we can make it up any time we remember
we made the hands of clocks
and imagine how much we’d have to talk about in November.