Buddhism Caveat #19

Paris #2

NYC #12

Scribble

Scribble

NYC #11

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After working a few weeks bartending until 4am

And sucking down fried food hastily in a kitchen

The sleep schedule becomes

A little screwy

And the mind tends to become

A little cloudy

So I returned to my time-tested remedy

And ran when I could…and I found myself

At 4:30am in Central Park

With calm and steady strides and my past

Victories reignited in my soul and there I am:

800 meter Olympic final, about to win America the gold

Since Wottle in 1972

When a man passes me and I think,

“Don’t think so, buddy,”

And I sprint past and for the next 30 minutes

We’re racing neck and neck until I break him

And while I run away he yells,

“Thanks brother!” and I keep running

For another 5 minutes until turning into the bushes

And vomiting up chicken fingers, Olympic champion.

 

Next night my muscles are aching, trembling

And I knock a drink over on to a woman’s lap

And she shrieks, “This is a new dress you shithead!”

And the shift manager grabs my shirt and pulls me to the back,

Eyes bulging, “One more dumbass move like that and you’re fired,”

Spittle spraying my face, but I can’t help but smile,

And he asks, “Why the fuck are you smiling?”

And I want to say, “Because I’m an Olympic champion,”

But I say nothing and return to work.

 

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Insomnia #15

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There are lifetimes

Contained in breaths

Cycles and seasons

Of birth and death

Can these mortal passing thoughts

Be merely electrical signals caught?

Briefly, instantaneously

Between the scattered synapses

Billions of electrical field gradients

Shining as varied patterns bent

As magnetic resonance images

Are anxiety and hope only the blinking battery messages?

Joy and despair chemical scrimmages?

Limitless combinations of reflective cinemas

How can these electric mazes be

Conscious of the game and change the game maybe they only

Tame or frame categorize reality to maintain, stay sane?

I should close the curtain because I’m certain

I won’t be able to sleep with the neighbor’s light

Another labored electrical device

Affecting my fading sight

I might just close my eyes tight

That’s right all right don’t fight just listen to the

Sounds of the night.

 
 
 
 
 

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This Hill.

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I’ve been here before

This unforgiving ascent

The moment before the burn

 

I’ve stared up this path

Squinted my eyes

And taken the final breath

 

I’ve heard these songs

These excuses

These reasons to stop

And go home

 

I’ve glanced up empty roads

Glanced down at trembling limbs

Felt icy winds cut through clothes

And had tired eyes go dim

 

I’ve asked myself:

Who is it

You want

To be?

 

This Thrill. This Gift. This Wild

Moment

Before the

Strain

 

I’ve been here before

I know what to do

And now I will do this

Once

Again.

 


pre outside trailer

Prefontaine, the one running on the hill above and one of my heroes, lived in a trailer while pursuing his running dream.

 

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Just Another Stranger #3

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Sunday morning slog

Sweating out a hangover

And grinding through

Last night’s bad decisions

I see an old woman

On a river-side bench

Staring off into the distance

She has a deeply-creased face

Large, crooked glasses

A gray, wispy pony-tail

And layers of faded pink dresses

On her lap is a book

I glimpse the title: Wuthering Heights

And for a moment I wonder

If her soul has been ravaged

By unrequited passion

And sleepless, tortured nights

If she’s thinking of her lost love

And a lifetime of missed chances

As she stares off into the sky

But I’m already choking on my

Next breath and

Running by

 

 

 

 


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The Simple Glory of a Hot Shower

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After a run

On a cold rainy day

Sit around for a while

In damp clothes

Develop a shiver

Wait until the extremities numb

Then turn that hot water on

Step beneath that stream

Close the eyes and realize…

This is a fucking miracle.

 

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Pro-(Re)cess Vs. Res-(Ad)ults

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You can only celebrate

And dance for so long

On the summit

Of the Mt. you long

To reach.

So you might as well

Learn to savor

The taste of dirt

And the texture of rocks

For all the times you

Face plant

On the way

Up.

 
 


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Last Night At Sly Sam’s Secluded Swamp

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Moonshiners bw

 

Sitting on logs

Passin’ the bloody brisket

Y’all hear them croakin’ frogs

And the racket of crickets

Sippin’ on leftover

Bootleg moonshine

I’d say tomorrow

Boss’ll pay us a pretty dime

Now Sam, put that gun away.

Quit horsin’ around…

One more time I’ll say

Put that

 


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Wisdom and a Brief Confession

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Heart from a book page against a beautiful sunset.

Actions

Speak

Louder

Than Words

 

Yo mama

is

Loud

in bed.


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Social Media Girl #1

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She has

So many

Likes

And so many

Views

And so many

Followers

And so many

Friends

But none of them

Would give her

A kidney

When it came

Down

To it.


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I ain’t no hipster

0
CRATE

hipster tree falls

I got plaid shirts
But I ain’t no hipster
I drink beers that’re bitter
But I ain’t no hipster
I quote philosophers on my twitter
But I ain’t no hipster
She says my beard scratches her
But I ain’t no hipster
I sometimes wear suspenders
But I ain’t no hipster
I prefer vinyl records over digital
But I ain’t no hipster
I listen to music that hurts
But I ain’t no hipster
I move into neighborhoods that are becoming bi-racial
But I ain’t no hipster
I shun things that are popular
But I ain’t no hipster
I own an old-fashioned typewriter
But I ain’t not hipster
I post links to poetry
on my facebook
Fuck.

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Irony hipster