I marvel at the way elderly couples can walk together with such delicateness that it's like they're holding the fate of the world in their hands, even though they know their connection is about to end.I marvel at the tiny salty thunderstorm of miso in
First there was nothing, then there was everything, because nothing was really, really boring. Nothing was so boring that it created everything just to have something to look at.
Stardust grew mouths and genitalia and it’s been a hot screaming mess ever since. DNA squirts across
You have got to be out of your mind.
You’ve got to be crazy enough to slap aside the hand that is offering you the Kool-Aid.
You’ve got to be mad enough to call it a spade when everyone else is calling it a sunflower.
You’ve got to
Scottish scientist Robert Ogilvie Crombie feared succumbing to habit and walking through life in a trance, so he devised exercises for himself which forced him to do things in an un-habitual way throughout the day like performing all tasks with a different hand.When having difficulty
I write poetry because it is much more honest than prose. To write prose I have to put on pants (ugh), squeeze into a bunch of way-too-tight opinions, load my arms with a bunch of dry, dusty Facts, and stand before you all saying "Yes,
I have gotten your attention,
either because you think I’ve got something to say,
or because you enjoy random skirmishes of poetical graffiti,
or because you clicked on some link on the internet
without really knowing what you were getting into.
It doesn’t matter.
You’re here now.
I pick up my
Once upon a time
there lived a blue world full of nattering apelings.They spent their time shrieking at screens
and turning trees into black smoke
and turning whales into coins
and digging holes in the planet
and figuring out how to kill millions of each other at a time.They'd spend
This is a call
to the swans in your chest,
and the pterodactyls in your eyes,
and the primordial reptiles
swimming beneath your tongue.
This is not addressed
to your yammering thinkbrain,
which biffs and boffs about who goes where
and what the right and wrong things are.
This is addressed
to the peacock feather
March the children off to school,
for they’ll be criminals and fools
if we don’t fill their tiny minds
before the Russians get inside.
March the children one-by-one;
don’t let them skip or dance or run.
Hose them down with gasoline
and march them into our Machine.
March the children off to work;
Everyone hates waiting
but everyone’s waiting.
Waiting for things to get better.
Waiting for death.
Waiting for life.
Waiting for love.
Waiting for enlightenment.
Waiting for the revolution.
Waiting for the Mueller report.
Waiting for Q.
Waiting for the Messiah.
Waiting for Godot.
Waiting for life to begin
while their cells replicate,
while their lungs take in oxygen,