I Have a Dayjob

I Have a Dayjob

I have written a story
By putting one foot in front of the other
I make art because I breathe
And I breathe
Because I make art.
I have made music my morning coffee
Trilling like the birds along with toothbrushing hiss
My eyes have opened
And I want more
Than pedestrian footfalls,
Important-sounding office shoes and
"TGIF" celebrations with sickening corporate sugar and extra whipped cream.
It's not all bad, I know
But I wonder now, at this point
If I can make the proper u-turns
To step in line again
Or if I will always be sticking my head out, peering over the shoulder of the man in front of me
Thinking of new words for the colors of the sunset.
7/18/11

The Old Man's Dwelling

The Old Man's Dwelling
(Coyote Hills)

I sit now
Some distance away from those in the acrylic dwellings
Chuckling to myself
Young Man Crow says that I am the son of a woman unmarried and that
I think too much for my own amusement.
What does he know?
He’s good at the word that the people with the gray skin call business.
But the gray-skins don’t know that my eyes are always on them
My laugh is the same as the hill
I am what they see when everything goes cross-eyed
You killed my people, my sons, and therefore
As revenge
I give you ridiculous death.
Also, they have come back twofold, tenfold.
Yes, now, in my time, I was the one who invented what you call
“Lies.”
You are all a pack of amateurs.
7/5/11

Container

Container

"I cannot help my condition"
Says the wise man or woman
But instead we are kept here
Feeling pain, in a temporary hole for those on their way to somewhere else.
Really, we do mean to improve
But unless the jar is voided, and everything runs out
It cannot be full again.
Open, and let it rain out
Down the Sisyphean hill.

7/5/11

Carnage Angel or, Judith in the Day Without Sword

Carnage Angel
or, Judith in the Day Without Sword

Primeval ward
Wrought daily with ignorance of his own guilt
Paid sorcerers of words
These spell-casters and manipulators are.
You will not escape the sword
Of they who judge the judges.
Arcane logic and
Archaic reasoning
Are not only on the side of power.
The ignorant eyes of the peons are bound.

Take the stand
To call out your abuser
It matters not--
These pens, barriers, boxes, courts and barracks
Are a divine cartoon.

You will end in a sweet light-flash
Borne up by angels of carrion
Flesh upon decaying flesh
We fantasize of doom pornography
But the real picture was
That we looked for his alcoholic charmer heart
And it was hollow.
Dead before we arrived to suck gleefully,
Let the carnage angel kiss out
Your unremembered vein-filling.

6/28/11