he thought

              Not to knock it  its a good saying

heldup his hand to bar the sun from his eyes

                                                   Haste makes waste

though not necessarily true

his dear friends Jeff  Jeanine

 

both terribly accomplished terribly wealthy

                                              exceptionally generous

he was a beneficiary a confidante

                                      never turned a blind eye or held his tongue

he was peoplenot obliquely believed he risked their patronage  was their rabid truthteller pulled no punches withheld no outrageous language cunts to assuage their highbrow gilded ways

often attacked their society

    Jeff

         You really ought come out play eighteen with me to better understan . .

. . Your society sounded like he spat

Really Joe, need to be so brusque?

Yah Jeff

         Penetrates your ears your brain better than me being namby-pamby like many of your cohorts concerned not to offend youyour sensibilities

I tell it like it is

 

Haste makes death

Jeff was involved in a horrific auto accident leaving the country club after two eighteen hole rounds of golf with business partners assorted well-heeled constituents  exhaustive negotiations

Jeanine called him

                     Joe. Jeff . .

. . I heard on the news in route to the hospital  Sit downbabe don drive youre beside yourself Ill call as soon as I shakedown a doctor

I can’t. 

Jeanine  Stay put please

                             Please Jeanine

I can’t. she hungup

Jeff was DOA massive head injuries

                                           Jesus

he hoped Jeanine thought betterstayed home he called the house no answer called her cell went to voice mail

Jeanine  Call me

she didnt

she didnt arrive at the hospital

he went to their place

was on their Security list

front door was locked

smashed a window

                     Jeanine  hungup on the railinghalfway down their magnificent curved marble staircase

her blood cascaded down the steps

                                     puddled  in the foyer

 

after the reading of their wills a number of family friends were upset they didnt get enough

several commiserating  were on the large thirdfloor balcony overlooking the grounds behind the house

he stood inside the threshold overhear a kid bitch  kids father stood at his shoulder 

Hey fuck he roared Wanna shut your piehole Yacant Ill come out there an knock the hell out of ya

his father muttered  Over my dead body.

Got a gun

            dropped him with a single punch

kid didnt rush in

no  of course not

                   called the police from his cell

by the time they arrived he was gone

                                        no onewisely  tried to delay him

Jeff and Jeanine left him their place in Vanuatu

they had deep affections for it

                                 shared it together  many trysts

 

0317,  2sday,  26  11. 24

1013,  2sday

was thinking his head leaning against a sunwarmed bus window on his ride home

    . . . only way their sex could be better was if they were in love

could hear her Whadaya mean by that?  wideeyed blinking as she said

The fortune cookie  Recall

                             Straight forward an honest

We were making love.  blinking again

he was having sex she was making love

    then . . . had he lied to herNO

was she lying to herself

We're lovers.

    Lovers  Pleasant for sexers

Sexers?

Straight forward  Honest

Really?  Sexers?

Yes

You're a sexer?

You werent

wideeyed  You'd say you were a sexer?

I can I was

             If I hadnt I woudnt have provoked youprompted  you  to call me your lover

There’s a difference.  blinks

   Yes

          Whadid your fortune say

Mine?

Yah

Said . . you’re full of shit.

It said I was

YOU’RE FULL OF SHIT!

Nah Not me

               Tha was a lousy fortune shoud have said wed have gotten you another

Thawas an expensive dinner

For Chinese

Thursday,  7  12. 06

2025,  Monday,  25  11. 24

Bobby Ford

friends

    you make them

you lose them

a few you make love to

some you fight

    other friends are made

but few are the friends you give your back to

                                                 or they to you

who know you

                or that deepest you youll allow   because

the deepest you allow  belongs to you

    days rise

one at a time they die

                         steal away bits of your heart

but you gave themyou  

                         parceled it out

so when the last is gone

                           if you have survived them

you have remnant sparks that keep firing

like a quiet candle flame on the stub of a once proud young taper

seems theres a last friend who remembershelps  keep the others alive

                                                                              anif that survivor

is capable

           he or she will inject them into the minds of others who  unwittingly  will keep those friends alive after theyve died

   we steal scraps of our lives  piece them together   like an illfashioned comfortable quilt worn over our shoulders

they wear too

the Art of our lives become redpurpled black embers of a stubborn fire  occasionally burstingflickering   warming

                    someones mind . . .

Tuesday,  21  11. 06

1438,  Monday,  25  11. 24

Coloured people intrigued him

his intrigue is this

   to a Black man everyone else is coloured

   to an Asian everyone else is coloured

   to First People everyone else is coloured

   to a Hispanic everyone else is coloured

   to an Indigenous person everyone else is coloured

   to a White man everyone else is coloured

for some absurd reason America needs race asif one will win out in the end

                                                                                well be Mixed

he can do without the abuse of race abuse of ones sex

                                                          he sees only people

everyone  their distinct separate stories

were awash in truth and fiction and wholesale lies that havent even been scratched yet

    and he has itches

Saturday,  2  12. 06

1201,  Monday,  25  11. 24

he says write  W R I T E  or  rite  R I T E

                                              confuses others has to confirm what he means

truth of the matter is that long ago he dropped the W

when he picksup his red Mediumpoint BIC pen to rite letters all hell breaks loose

                                                                                     all bets are off

he steps aside as an interloper mediator medium lets the grease flow has no intentions of getting his feet dirty pant legs soiled as Volumes splash unimpededfollow  the paths of least resistance

    Out

           the rite looks like text madeup challenging Jackson Pollock abstracts

in there somewhere  some sense

                                     but

the recipient must be willing to sort through the mire and gore slipoff their shoes rollup their pant legs shirt sleeves blouse sleeves

                   probably best

get naked

           best to sort unimpeded by fabric that will cloak raw nerve endings recoiling from reading bones scattered on the earth reading innards of sacrificed animals like once ancient Roman Vestal Virgins did whose virginity had nothing to do with their sexuality

    he rites braves its outcome spelled O U T C U M   he witnesses remarkable utterings that otherwise might have been muttered under his breath

                                   and lost . . .

riting isnt for the faint of heart isnt for someone easily embarrassed by what flows unimpeded out of the pen

riting is for someone who prefers Lifes sheer black an white the whitest black blackest white withoutNO  wit out

wit out beginning or end

    his pen accusescries

                            You put me up to this

  

Saturday,  2  12. 06

1040,  Monday,  25  11. 24

Cream  Tales of Brave Ulysses  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRSbjpXZYEA

after a sumptuous meal of food he struggled to pronounce and ate with chopsticks

    he earned a cookie

                              slightly tanned slightly open  as inviting as a vanilla woman

laid beside the bill

begging his hand

he picked it up

inhaled its scent

                     the passionate scent of a vanilla woman

gently pried it  gently

brittle

       it snaps open

then savoring before eating

he read the freed fortune

                             finally 

words he doesnt struggle to pronounce

                                           You have the reputation . . .  Nuts yet again his reputation getting picked on

his date asked What’s your fortune?

                                        if quick he would have said You are 

My fortune

she purses her lips theyre fetching 

I  I have the reputation for being . . .

                                          he dangles it deliciously

sips his green tea swishes the warm vanilla body part he nibbled  its tucked to his cheek   and swallows

Yes. Your reputation for being . . .  she inquires smiling   dimples

Straight forward and honest

    Hmmm.  Is that true?

he smiles sips more tea the vanilla cookie gone

                                                   Sure

Woudya care to catch a movie at my place

                                              the right Chinese Fortune shouldnt be wasted

he carries that fortune in his wallet

                                      right beside

one

     of several free yellow-coloured Banana slug rubbers he stuffed in his jacket pocket when he picked his daughter up from UC Santa Cruz health center where she worked

830PM-ish,  Saturday,  2  12. 06

1927,  Sunday,  24  11. 24

    the Fates asked Clotho The Spinner  Lachesis The Measurer Apportioner   Atropos The Unbending Inflexible One

they asked  Doncha wish you could talk to Gawd?

he tilted his head forwardbrought his hand to his chin hid his humourchuckle

                                                                                    he appreciated they used his lingo however complimentsflattery fell flat on their face when attempted on him

they werent foolinpersuadin him

                                     Nah  Too much talkinyappin gets in the way of doin

Chandogya Upanishad  You know itof course you do  Tat twam asi

                                                                         which he understood to mean Use your Death  Use your Life  William James translated it as  That Thou Art  “. . . that capacity to conceive the immersion of all thought in the ‘blooming, buzzing confusion’ of ‘pure experience’”

Taedium vitae state of extreme ennui weariness loathing of life  James said “My words are to deal only with the metaphysical which is peculiar to reflecting men.”

Chaplin “Life isn’t a meaning, but a desire.”

hed skip jump rope hold hands with any of them

                                                      Nah so there was no mistake Ive no interest in yakkin

You’re very certain?

                      between them they were spinninghandling someones life  were their words a threat

he didnt think so

apparently they understood

they implored him again Doncha wish?

he couldnt staunch his laugh 

                                  I apologise   No  I do not wish

for a moment they quit their workspied each other  turned their gaze on him

he didnt drop his eyes from theirs  his spine stiffened

                                                          there was no submission in him

    We understand. they uttered

Wha do ya understand

others may have been horrified

We  Understand

                   their expressionssneers veered towards Gorgon quality  another trio of godly sisters  Stheno Euryale Medusa

           but he did not turn to stone

Wednesday,  3  1. 06

1823,  Sunday,  24  11. 24

the will of black sleep

                        demands catatonic Sleep

he deniesunveils it

                     emits queer images defies physics liberates senses sensibilities morals  keenly unbinds unmoors pairs  drafts currents  revolutions counterclockwise akimbo bloodless bloody  humid arid monochromatic coloured

he defiles Sleep

                 drives a stake through its vampires heart gleefully stomps it like a puddle of mercury  broken thermometers

                    then patiently waits for the concave floor to reassemble its will to assault it again

he doesnt quibbleconfesses

                              Sleeps not inviolate  My spirit is strong

   his spirit incensesviolates black sleeps will

Tuesday,  15  5. 07

1210,  Sunday,  24  11. 24

William Empson in a review by Paul Alpers is quoted  “The feeling that life is essentially inadequate to the human spirit (because the spirit is tethered, anchored, in the stasis of living – its single form – “of standing?”), and yet that a good life must avoid saying so, is naturally at home with most versions of pastoral.”

“of standing”  position status reputation

pastoral  literature portraying an idealised version of country life

                                                                       triggered him to write didnt grapple with it  let it flow

human spirit

                 human spit human squirt humanid emission humidhuman emission

    I am, therefore I cum.

Tolstoi  “Art . . . is the one sphere in which human beings can assert their freedom from history.”  which means one doesnt have to look back over their shoulder    

Tuesday,  15  5. 07

0943,  Sunday,  24  11. 24

Tolstoi  What is Art?  https://home.csulb.edu/~jvancamp/361r14.html

NOW (2113 – Saturday – 23 11. 24).

                                         What do you got?

Guess well find out

    You don’t sound very optimistic.

Im tryin to get past tha baby girls head

                                         Like marzipan  bright blue eyes

I usually don care for sweets

     She was delicious

That . . . . that . that’s not . optimistic.

Optic-mistic

              Youll note I said it asif it were hyphenated highfiendnated caffiend  callowfiendnated

An immature

inexperienced

fuckinup fiendishness

                        Like anything it takes works  It doesnt appear out of nowhere asif Touched by the Hand of God

    Hand of God.  Creating fiendishness?

Yakiddin me I bet sometimes He throws a handful of mud at the wall to see wha sticks

Hes a funny motherfucker wicked sense of humour

Hang your Son on a cross

                             Bit like eatin a babys head

I don’t think you got anything.

    You

Me?

Whayagot

Why you asking me?

You asked me

                Goes two ways wha ya got

I got you’re troubling me.

I said you’re troubling me.

Nothing?                                                                                                                     

As I understand an interviewing technique

                                                Remain silent  Anfor some reason it provokes the interviewee They become uncomfortable think they answered incorrectly or insufficiently an need to explain but theyre not givin a lead in any direction so they fill it with noise that has absolutely nothing to do with what was asked

    I have nightmares too.

It wasnt a nightmare

That was a nightmare.

Time comes I have one Ill tellya

    Now you sound optimistic.

I am

       Were treading in my reality my long an unwinding real

Long and unwinding . . .

                            Reel? Or real?

Spell

R E E L.   R E A L.

You said it

What do you mean?

Either orders accurate

he thought REEL REAL REAL REEL

                                       That’s uncomfortable.

However

            Accurate

    Wasn’t a nightmare?

Not according to what Ive witnessed

    You think you have PTSD?

Who doesnt   Baggage

                          Nobody gets out of childhood without baggage

taking in sun taking in vitamin D . . . or is it A

   dream

some may call it a nightmare

                               his dreams were other peoples nightmares

hes known this a longlong time

been insinuated he ought to be ashamed

he countered

              Like being wealthy  shitty job but somebodys got to do it         

    usually floored who tried to shame him

so he does his small part in the big scheme of things because

                                                                  this thingLife has to be a scheme a hoax

nothingNo Thing can be this full of shit by accident

or chaos is shit

or else were evolving into shit

    he called it a dream Wednesday night/morning to Thursday 1/17 – 1/18/2007

A DREAM

              eating a beautiful baby girls headHUH

maybe shouldnt be writing this in the sun in the light of day

                                                                   Darkness Required

from which it spawned

a sharp clean cut

                    amputation

rather than a decapitation

the childs face

wideeyed

serene

a hint of humour

                      she gurgled

Friday,  19  1. 07

1507,  Saturday,  23  11. 24

Paul Klee: One eyes sees, the other feels.

Octavio Paz: Truth is the vision closed eyes see.

Jonathan Swift: In the Land of the Blind, the one-eyed man is King.

    he watched the moonwatched Her  did not believe in a Man in the Moon

he is beside himself when the moon is fullbeside himself when her thinnest white cuticle present

they incite him

               the foreplay interplay intercourse innercoarse  grasped gaspedemptied

evolved 

revolved

rollved

ovoid

       not avoideddisregarded

    he watched keenly

saw

      witnessed

Hes out again

Whas in it for him

Come  You feel it

Yes

      Like a tide

An overwhelming tide

Yes

      

I always grab ahold of something so Im not shed Once I saw a Mariachi go

Their scream was horrible

Ive heard tell of tha Mariachi 

                                 Its true  I thought tha was a myth

No  True

    Eyes are the windows to the soul

Yes Hes graced us with tha

                               We see because he sees

ThankGawd for his eyes

either paperwork to either side of it January of 2006 or 2007

1214,  Saturday,  23  11. 24

it is a place

we never made

or arrived

a place of best intentions

a place together they could describe

if separate it differed only by slight shades

they could see it

                 feel the heat of its blush  its promise

just on the other side

of the next rise

it never waned

                 

                   not rise after rise

                                       after rise

                                                  after

                                                             rise

                                                                        after

after . . . .

it was a place

we never made

                  or will

cant

because

only he was now

he hadnt the will to be there without her

    to share

Tuesday,  2  1. 07

1133,  Saturday,  23  11. 24

There you are

she sat near the end of table in the lunch room facing the door she did that right half her sandwich was eaten remnants of fruit

she was chewing

napkin in hand

I was looking for you

stopped chewingcovered her mouth  Why? began chewing again

Your bio Mimieux  Yawrote onehunredanforty words of threehunredforty  I know I counted in those oneforty you twice described her stature

Coud have written Mimieuxs small a contraction a word saved the other onehunredanthirtyeight for composition  Id bet FourNine by her photo despite zip scale

You don’t bet.

No  Blackrimmed glasses Dutch Boy haircut   Oriental FourNine 

Oriental is inappropriate.

Not if I describe as Occidental

                                chuckled  An accidental to boot too   She looks all of eleven or twelve

She’s a woman.

ID her

I didn’t.

Fourteen tops Makeup makes the woman

    What’s your point?

Its a lousy bio of a person of interest I wanted to tell you to your face unlike your shenanigans

Oughta stick to your Neighbors column Question at the head Three responses vetted photos names ages cities beside their quotes

I don’t want to.

No you don

             Nepotism has advantages

she pushed her chair back stood straightened her A-line skirt

                                                                 It provides the benefit of Ironstone plat . .

. . Burleigh 

Yes.   Burleigh.  To eat your lunch from, silverware, mugs for your coffe . .

. . I eat from my lunchbox drink from the top of my thermos

    You do. Others don’t.

                            Could suppose they suffer benefits.

Letem

 

    You’ll excuse me.

Teed it up but Ill let it go

he left the roomdidnt hold the door for her as she came around the end of the table leaving her sandwich plate an coffee for someone else to cleanup

rainy dark AM,  Saturday,  23  11. 24

1000,  Saturday