the nod [2010]

the rabbits are here     with me

  as I pass     another night

in front of this computer

bogged down     (warm and moist)

  in a process

  which is     slow

Erika is     at work    (amongst other things)

  for the third straight night

and the apartment is     starkly quiet

on occasion

  the beagle downstairs

  has begun to     howl

  (seemingly at random)

  breaking     the numbing routine

                                   (someone is snoring)

however (he has retired)

  as the clock     and I     tick

  into the early morning

I'm all but     immersed     in sleepy silence

and I'm growing     growing     increasingly tired

I've begun to     nod off

  off

(. . .) 

if not for the tickle

  of whiskers     at my ankles

  I'd probably be asleep
                         right now

perhaps     I should consider

  going to bed
          for     a few hours

before I leave     to retrieve Erika     at 6:30?

or

          maybe I should     prepare myself

  a hot cup of Darjeeling
                         to stimulate     the mind?

what     to do?

                         do     do     do

(. . .)

I think I'm going to     opt

  for the sleep

(. . .)

  the only problem:
                                                                             Beauregard has decided

he's going to bite     pull     and eat

the carpet

(my mind is carpet     is not)
                                                                             and that's     no good
                                                                             for anyone involved

                                   (someone else     is also     snoring)

oh well

  I guess it's just 

  the nod 

  for me

and     this poetry 

  poetry

(. . .)

HERMIT artwork: "The Coronation of King Pig" [2014]

Vienna [2012/2015]

sick [2010]

I've not much of a cough anymore

and the fever has receded

but sick still?  yes quite

sick to my blood

coursing corrupt through us

a poisonous divide

sick to my eyes

swimming in syrup shadows

witnessing mutations of hate

sick to my flesh

necrotizing months now

peeling off in thick fetid layers

sick to my soul

without a music to follow

the metronome broken

sick to my core

a slow rot upon my kindness

an affliction of the nerves

I am sick with it all

all of these and those and them

yet

in my breathing well 

I can just make out faint echoes of

                 the loons of 1982

                 the rasp of my Grandfather's laugh

                 the rumble of the neighbor's muffler

                 and a profound cacophony 

                 of me

this is not terminal

the birth [2011]

a parcel (twined in gut/trembling)

arrived (of the U.S. mail/sweat-soaked)

at my door (off the hinges/kicked-in)     

              the birds (chirping/striking wicked postures) 

              gathered around (violent hunger/pecking) 

              in curiosity (eyes bleeding/darting)

       my Scoochie (a primary character/herself once a parcel) 

       who feared the post (unlike being peppered/stroked) 

       pointed out (from Baby Blue/speeding by) 

       that the package (a special delivery/carboard entity)

       was alive (stamped and spanked/a postage infant)

              the birds (frantic/lusting for blood)

              attacked the twine (carnivorous/knife-beaked)

              dissevering it (an umbilical feast/placental din-din)

                                   I shooed them (satiated/no longer posturing)

                                   with eager hands (striving/reaching for life)

                                   snatching the parcel (now my baby/a responsibility)

                                   from the porch (perhaps a pedestal/shrouded scale)

       I slammed the door (broken behind me/still a barrier)

       and ran down the hall (a hasty decision/awkward) 

       coddling the parcel (an instinct/confusion)

       and panting (deep breathing/a redundancy)

       into the bedroom (crickets/tumbleweeds)

my Scoochie (back from her drive/errands complete)

walked in behind me (not to be undone/a perambulator)

and we watched (without words/in awe)

as eyes developed (deep goggle/a penetration)

below the return address (previously unnoticed/now clear)

              VICKI & LARRY WOOD

              7654 BIRCKLAN DRIVE

              CANTON, MI 48187

                                   the birds reappeared (frantically chirping/observing)

                                   along the windowsill (a soapbox/bully pulpit)

                                   with bloody beaks (time crusted/still sharp)

                                   and a smug confidence (a collective/choir righteous)

       I placed the parcel (eye to eye/a connection)

       onto the bed (an arousal/inviting knowledge)

       and it began to spasm (a bouncing/ breaking free)

                     it shook (seams tearing/a rumble)

                     and then sprouted legs (full-size/clean-shaven)

                     as I looked on (in wonderment/transfixed)

                     and Scoochie gasped (startled/an initial realization)

              suddenly (establishing precedent/a contradiction)

              two arms burst forth (warm and inviting/tiny hands)

              and began reaching for me (an urgency/attraction)

                                   then the eyes (displaying strain/determination)

                                   began to rise (revealing a nose/revealing a mouth)

                                   and before I knew it (I knew nothing/I am anew)

                                   a beautiful head had formed (long blonde hair/alluring smile)

                            with a final push (gargantuan effort/a labor)

                            the box morphed entirely (breasts emerged/a rump)

                            exposing the body (a finish/soft white flesh)

                            of a fully formed (naked sweetness/an affirmation)

                            adult woman (no words/speechless)

                     the birds squawked (ca-caw ca-caw/a joyful noise)

                     and flapped their wings (celebration/a triumph)

                     against the glass (a chorus of chimes/a chamber music)

                     as I stood dumb (taken/arrested)

                     before the prone beauty (truly a gift/like no other)

seizing her opportunity (once in a lifetime/destiny)

Scoochie lept onto the bed (always the acrobat/daredevil)

and dove feet first (a courageous move/leap of faith)

into the neuter crotch (the unknown/a strange accommodation)

of the newborn (though not a child/quite clear)

              she moved around (seeking comfort/a good spot)

              and situated herself (adjusting organs/untangling arteries)

              until all I could see of her (always covert/a sneak)

              was her mouth (lips warm/properly moisturized)

              and she spoke (from between two legs/home): "Bear

I will be a voice for her

(though there will be others)

and we will be your wife

for all time

and 'til the end of the counting

now

smack-a-lack!"

              I did not misunderstand (always a bright one/a scholar)

              and extended a hand (helped her assimilate/dressed her)

              as the birds flew off (plans to make/very attentive)

              and I decided (working the wise/persuaded)

              not to return her (she was mine/a new address)

                            we were married (dogs as bridesmaids/all the birds were there)

                            on the 24th of September (in the backyard/tiki torches burning)

                            by the Postmaster General (cranky old zealot/bossy)

                            and despite some setbacks (dirty birds/the crazy)

                            we are one (and with rabbits/still one)

this is dedicated (a sincere appreciation/a tear in my eye)

to Scoochie (my love/my all-star)

for knowing (in infinite wisdom/super smart, talented, cool, pretty, etc.)

what needed to be done (a difficult task/I am not easy)

and when to do it ("now do it!"/"pet it!")

                                   THE END

                                   (...of the county)

G[ ]MM -- "Etude #010 (is 'The Raging Bull' Manny Fernandez)" [2015]

calculations [2009]

nightly

awakened in

augmented equation

deciphering     and tethered

to an arrogant ill

     a mixed mad math

this does not equal

is not less than

cannot be denominated

     or greater

it is no empty set

yet the calculations…

Dawn Again and... [2015]

home movies [2015]

[…] snow has begun to fall across beams of street light — 

a car is driven forward into all and)

found a table : and a manic, middle-aged man attempts to join us in an instant) 

is driven away, 

and the wife returns from the restroom with a woman from Dakhabrakha / 

and 75 Dollar Bill. […]                                                                         

[there is a fair amount of sitting until there isn’t] — René Auberjonois — 

smiling at the lights…

drones are established and fade away { } 

and four young women dance until they are empty)

(and they are empty holding hands and empty)     

I drink water and think about resurrecting Urecco Trio. […] […] […]

(apologies to Dan Orme and the Art Ensemble of Chicago 

and all those beautiful Japanese women) 

— all those beautiful Japanese women — […]

*a moment is taken 

— as the temperature in the room is realized — 

to observe teenagers pretending to not have sex*

[…] 

: the wife : the ceiling : the construction on Woodward 

: the line for a sandwich in the cafeteria at work 

: Muriel Rukeyser’s “A Certain Music” : projections 

: cannibalistic intentions : the filthy inside of the microwave 

: the coyotes out back : dead wrestlers 

: Mike & Becky’s place on the 19th : dawn again and snow… 

and Miles Davis’s Dark Magus)

[…]

the middle-aged man returns and finds a seat on the floor next to Dakhabrakha

(later, they will leave (together) before the music starts […] and the music starts 

: and Mica is a guitar or a spicy microphone, creeping along animated walls :

and I am seen — by cigarettes and that time at Deer Park Funland — 

smiling 11/4 time at Greg Baise 

(groovy, 

like that Ellery Eskelin show at that place in Ann Arbor that no longer exists, 

or something)

          __spinning, spinning, spinning…

          into toy Holland and Deer Park Funland again)

          (never has there been so much crying     into yellow)

          ) and no one : is happy : about the choices that are being made

               in their honor__                                                                           { }

people can’t dance, to drones again, but Micachu and the Shapes. […] 

loneliness / a sweaty, desperate, empty man / manic, middle-aged —
everyone enters and exits the street light at exactly again / 7:30 AM / 
the first to our car) (the headlights harbor projections or... I am then, too

[everyone was so naive back then, smoking : on all those reels]

[…]

the ride home is cold / the wife is cold,

and there is a familiar basset hound 

bounding along through old snowscapes and beams of street light

to the tune of “Low Dogg” and)     driving is forward into all and)

[…]

"What is my name?" : ("Am I on this one?") […]

test [2010]

no ripe prognostication

(another's mention of THE mute cat?)

will lead me

through the Solution Passage

to my east

where mythological characters

are not facts

but simple hypotheses

to be bandied about

and/or around

as if in the margin

of a Biology notebook

or upon the surface of

a pool of stagnant water

(an expression of THE higher power?)

I'll need the scientific facts

and a little selective luck

if I'm to get through this

nature is cowardly [2010]

an unfamiliar man knows that

despite all uncertainties

a fear must be forged

of

the boughs of the tree

and the barking dog

and the outstretched landscape of the world

this creates a fracture

in the contemporary facade

which

offers no understanding

but reveals a certain hypocrisy

only his most intimate other

and his two rabbit companions

might properly discern this enthusiasm

and

understand what is being confessed

when he and his nature

face that which is most cowardly

he does not often find inspiration

when there is not something else 

he should be doing

meaning

if his mind is not otherwise engaged

he has no poetic process

               (“I have not     
               yet     

               resigned myself to this”)

portrait (reconciliation) [2011]

  featuring music by The Jimmy Giuffre 3

"end of a trumpet, and drums

finished the leaning burden, burn

take time with rusted strings before

the phone is her, is quiet her

limped through low light, to her, to

arrive as if not 

and the dogs not

and the candles not..."

through the blinds     he iced into looking ["Did you get a chance to fix the railing?"

woolen and knee deep in an hourglass "Yeah.  This afternoon."

                                                                      "Awesome.  My mom will be here around seven,

took a fright when first he brushed impatient so make sure you guys get cleaned up before then."]

and gestured     to adjust the morning

  a board-blank snow fell

as her car approached

a reluctant waiting atop the stair

left salt-soaked prints     and an anagram ["When I first heard this record, I couldn't believe

how sonically pristine it was, considering it was

Jimmy Giuffre's clarinet     tea steam recorded in 1961."

a bewildering greeting from Voltaire "Yeah.  It sounds great in here.  It's

like hearing ghosts, without the haunting."]

he dropped CANDIDE and

kicked it to her feet

conversation left napkins in the nook

and dried     not a red raspberry jam ["My little brother had one when he was a kid.  I think

his kindergarten teacher made it for him."

he lit a soy candle     and placed it "Well then, I think it'll create a strong 

between the Paddington lamp and the book historical connection in the room. 

And, I think he'll like it."]

she might have seen more

on television

leaning quiet against the banister

he listened     as a fabric folded ["He's got a rash again.  Doctor Ferrazi said we might

have to try something new."

later     he failed to swallow his food "Like what?"

and his nausea sought incense cover "Like, I don't know.  Maybe we could start with some

peace and quiet."]

she used his toothbrush

and called her mother

he unveiled it late     his newest art

bearing resemblance to a fair season ["Would you pose for me?"

"Can't you just take a picture, or 

he touched the task with a tortured finger something?"

and stepped back from the trick     oak apart "It's not the same, but I suppose so."]

a sandalwood sleep

befell her portrait

he rolled awake in cold-linen regret ["You left another stain on the sheets.  I really wish you

a novel blanket of snow     sparkling wouldn't eat in bed."

"Fuck you!  Where would you

the bath rug knot     a damp confession suggest I eat, the nook?"

soiled rags neglecting the bassinet "That's what it was intended for.  But I suppose you've

conveniently forgotten about that, as well."]

fresh tracks revealed

her once again gone

he pulled the wool over his frozen feet

disengaged     the hourglass alarm

in pants     he dialed the babysitter ["Just tell that little bitch that she might as well keep

and established a time for them to meet him.  She's practically been raising him as it is, right? 

You know, I've had just about enough of this shit,

anyway.  I'm going to my mom's."

"I finished the painting..."

"Great!  Maybe now you can hang it on your painted,

pockmarked ass!"]

"...and I worked there

and I grew there

and I loved there...

until one day

in November of 2007

                                                     I just didn't…"