Saturday, June 30, 2012

Station Birds

Back again this year you little flyers
Back to the neon signs and electric wires
In front of my station square
Feathers float frozen in the air
Ten thousand cries shrilling
Ten thousand birds milling

Those idiots from city hall
Shoot sonics of no effect at all
They stand and scratch their heads
To make their daily bread
Truth is I am content
Where your mating season is spent

No ones raises an eye
To the orange halogen sky
Save for once a year
When your flock draws near
And when you leave this street
They gaze back at their feet

I thank you from my heart
I will be sad when you depart
Although you sing gaily
In thronging compact amity
Here among the human herd
Such friendly song is seldom heard

Sunday, June 24, 2012

First Jobs

Job is such a dirty word
Blow job, lube job
Con job, boob job

And the first job
Is always dirtiest
Washing dishes till morning
Driving vans at night
Painting warped fences
Moving cans in the storeroom

The first job
Is a dirty deal
You are screwed for being young
The only thing that makes it doable
Is being young

So smoke pot in that kitchen
Blare the stereo in that van
Have paint fights
Drink a beer in the cooler
Steal sandwiches from the tray
(You know how much you steal
Is calculated in minimum wage, right?)

After work
Go to that all-night party exhausted
Or drive the streets silently with friends
Break into the park pool for a dip
Walk the summer streets of the city
Bask in the radiation of youth

Although the jobs will get cleaner
You will never be this clean, this pure

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Friday in Japan

Gym panted girls
Red rose tattoos on your shoulders
Playing a taiko drum game
In a seedy neighborhood department store
Must be Friday afternoon in Japan

White mini van
Tired dirty worker at the wheel
Blasting J-pop out at 100 decibels
Stopped at the redlight before the station
Must be Friday evening in Japan

Emotionless cop
Surveying the scene
Heavy stick in your hand
Manga in your back pocket
Must be Friday sundown in Japan

Dying coverall man
Phoning from Fukushima
To the CEO’s Tokyo office
Two men sweating on either end
Must be Friday night in Japan

Saturday, June 16, 2012

English Evolves

When the past tense of lose
Is loosed instead of lost
When schoolchildren no longer
Can understand Shakespeare
Then we have lost
Something of who we were
Becoming something new
Good or bad I cannot say
I will not deny evolution
Just wish it didn’t mean
So much will go extinct

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Gene Pool

Dark shadows and golden light
Dance on concrete walls of the Aquarena
Echoes of barefeet slapping
Other children laughing and squealing
Some splashing or horsing about
Swimming dangerously over the deep end
While we sit in chairs behind glass
Your leg in a cast, eyes wet
My first love
And I hold your hand
My swimsuit folded, unused
In the empty chair beside me

Saturday, June 9, 2012


Misty mountain cleavage
From a Sesshu charcoal
Held between bullet train tracks
Made of poison concrete

If I get cryogenized
They can clone tuna
From my stomach contents
If they hurry

The fastest cars in the world
Crawl down the slowest streets
Lights every fifty meters
Police vans blocking the flow

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Phantom Limbs

You wake as slow and sleepy
As I
Refuse to connect
Or even upon up your programs
No flesh connection
I feel you still
On my lap
As I work
I talk to the wife
Then turn to you
As she turns to hers
Until we sleep

Monday, June 4, 2012


That four am reeling
Dark before the dawn feeling
Drunk around the dairty dishes
Sick to me stomach
But needing the money
Cold and homesick for the rising sun
Sweaty dreams of the rolling fog
Snowfields a dream of their own
Will it ever be thus
It will indeed until the dream is done

Friday, June 1, 2012

In case you're wondering...

I am alive, as this blog. It has just been a few weeks of non-stop work and school intrusion on my inner life. Ends soon.