Idiot Boxed in Real Time

Once upon a time, 
At a loss with what 
To do with his id 

Most of the time 
The couch potato 
Just sat on it 

And waited 
For it to sit back 
All of the time. 

Not Just Anybody's Distress Call

From out of nowhere, 
When I needed someone 
To tell me who I was 
And where I was going, 
No one showed up 
To call my name. 

Notation on Negative Capability

Shit I can’t read 
A goddamn note of music 

But sure looks like 
The starlings 

Strung out like so 
Much sheet music jamming 

The utility lines can’t either. 

Hard Awash in a Fog

Thick cotton swabs 
The mind white 
Gone soft too 

To many harsh black 
Landscapes too thin 
To hold water 

Just right for you. 

A Poem, More or Less (after Porchia)*

One can never say enough— 
It has to be less or more, 
Till what’s left is just 
What you’re looking for. 


 *The catalyst for the above: 

     “Whatever I take, I take too much or too little; I do 
not take the exact amount. The exact amount is no use 
to me.” 

--from “Voices,” translated by W.S. Merwin, Big Table Publishing Company: Chicago, 1969.