like an hourglass in a paint shaker

my universe unravels through the key hole

of your front door.

i know i'm not that good,

but i'm not that bad either

like a girl with crooked teeth

and it's not until she looks sad

that you realize she's beautiful

waking up

curled into tightest ball beneath too thin blankets autumn tent colorado

legs like original american factories, tired and rusting functioning at less than half capacity

sun wakes up freezing body through zipped-up-window trees

and i feel awful today

oh avalokiteshvara

the boddhisattva mahasattva

please teach me the way to practice

please teach me the way to no mind

no suffering and no cessation

please someone provide a still warm copy of the heart sutra

and the tibetan book of the dead

and read it over my dead mind still laying in bed

eleven thirty a m

land of shambhala

land where i live and breath and drink

and die each day under the watchful gaze

of the three yanas and marpa peak

land where i condemn trees to death

and condemn myself

to endless lives long gone by

and wandering mind from morning til night

sun frying my laid up naked body

wind chilling my skin sack bones

rain drenching my pine sap hands

but grandmothers please

do not weep for me

do not pray for me on worn out rosaries

do not mail letters that will never reach me

for i am lost in the mountains

and i have fled from the cities and towns

and i am waking up

spent the first night of summer

   asleep in my sizzling car-

spent the last night of summer

   on the opposite shoreline of your endless ocean bed.

i suppose i'm finally reconsidering these relationships-

have i surely sailed these ships

too far for any one of you bastards to follow me?

we'll see.

sorry ancient east asian/psychedelic/native american/neo-classical/french revolution/new age/beat/mod/american west/transcendentalist/jungian-dada-surrealist/early 60's surf rock culture for pilfering your greatest works into a shitty amalgamation of bullshit non-idealism

good bye past-life neil cassady

i was once like you

or were you once like me?

sad eyes wide with wonder

fiercely mad at a world so deeply in love with

tricked, duped, confused

screaming down dark country roads at the moon

to reveal itself-

show us your secrets!

enlighten us to your mysteries!

save us from the disconnect of humanity

we so struggle to comprehend...

but now i see your sad eyes

fiercely mad

at everyone and everything around you

tearing down the moon and burning cigar holes

through the mysteries

good bye

JUST TURNED 24

just turned 24, fat, and my teeth are rotting

hungover, unhealthy, and a dick

bukowski and brautigan on the bookshelf

should have showed me
what the rest of my like would be like.

-prove your love to me in the briefest flash

of immeasurable happiness 

said she and i smiled laughing

and pinched her pink flesh.

watching the red lights flashing on radio towers

fading away in the distance 

what the FUCK am i gonna do tonight 

riding home with the windows open

the sun never sets on my pipe dreams of finding true love 

so fuck the drinks i bought for you

i've already earned my money back

in late night stolen pulls of wasted whiskey

and the lost memories of never ending nights

that all died in my mind

moments ago

IT TAKES A LOT OF GUTS TO BE A POET

and i wasn't born with them -

but i've pilfered them from the graves

of walt whitman and thomas james

i've snorted the ashes of allen ginsberg

and buried peter orlovsky beneath a pile of dirt

i've resurrected richard brautigan

in a half-mad translucent ceremony

and summoned shakespeare

to read the last rites.

so if i've offended any of my favorites -

i apologize

in a language you'll never hear

and a time you'll never see

and i'll tell you all in person when i see you,

my best friends i've never met.

what does it mean?

to wake up still drunk next to puke bucket

and stumble outside to wander through woods

crushing sage bushes underfoot

and fall among heard of deer bounding off in all directions

where all the young bucks barely have antlers

in the land of buddhadharma

I deserve something -

i can't say what

but alone in my bed i dream

of rekindled romances and sensual surprises

i dream of flying over new york cityscapes

and questionable encounters with beautiful girls

i dream of swimming through aquariums

quivering with marine life

i dream of dreaming about

the amazing things i've yet to see

i dream of taking drugs that don't exist

and i dream of falling through the ground one day

and waking up in a world

where there is no dreams, no ground, no colors

no beginning, no end

springtime in the city

some half-retard rap battle champion

dashes out on the train tracks

chasing down some pigeon pile a' shit

breaking his toe on a king cobra

glass shattered bottle

gets so distraught

he shoots up some mexis at the mexi restaurant

cops chase down sewer and capture

pantsless face down in pile of sewage

surrounded by rats.

still life

the last cucumber

in the supermarket checkout lane

cradled by a fat lady

with lipstick on her teeth.

hey shorty

if all art is scrap

paper hearts drawn on trash cans

and all scrap is art

discarded in parts

buried under new mexico dirt

and all the empty beer cans in the whole world

can't build a tower to heaven

than why are there still love songs

on the pop charts?

the biggest fuck you of the 21st century

the biggest fuck you of the 21st century

didn't come with a whimper or a wail

but on the living room floor of an outdated apartment

with hips seething like breathing dragons

so let me know who i'm ripping off

ya bitch

January 1st, 2011

Turned off the broken lantern

in the reckless summer light

of yer kentucky bluegrass

Shed the black wool of yer two

thousand year old fur coats

and turned off yer porch light -

fireflies ain't coming 'round here no more

* * *

saw the last dumb drunk on 14th avenue ask for a quarter -

gave him a nickel

***

wat'chu know 'bout railroad stations?

tell you what -

more'n nothing

***

clipped the last clipper ship with two barrels a that shit i won't drink while i'm still seein' straight

it's a strange few i'm still talkin' to

***

fuck off, yella belly