Friday, April 30, 2010

Prose Valentine

I blow my nose

on a patch of grass

and wipe it on my sleeve

I am only nine years old

if you don’t count

the other sixty

see how insidious

prose is within the

thinnest words already

a self coagulates

the blood builds

an organ for the narrative

to swim through

and you my love stare off

never more beautiful than

at the moment of surrender.

Poem Valentine

A poem is a person

who gets up every day

and throws all his clothes

all his possessions

right out the door

and is calm and satisfied

with nothing for a while

to be naked and poor

for a while before

lapsing back into prose

which is not yet a person

more like a dog or pet

for which it must be forgiven

for which it is constantly

whining and making excuses

enough to make a poem

pull itself up to a slanting

position and fly off.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Rising Valentine

On the first sunny day

after the full moon

after the third Thursday

following that last time

you climbed the tombalo

nearer your home town

stepping into the thick air

of windswept paintings

of this island where

a cache of gold lies

panting under a chapel

of stone still glittering

up at you through sand

your life rises to meet you

almost again and again.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

H.'s Valentine

Let me divide it with you

this way Horatio

whatever develops in the body

is not something physical

working or not working

on itself the body

is just a foot-print left

behind or a foothold

for some still invisible feature

of ourselves constantly

being hacked at and played

with by wiser windfalls

than we alone

can ever gather.

Loaded (Full Moon) Valentine

He saw goodness everywhere

as the most volatile

of all the elements

to work with how

quickly unstable by

their very own efforts

others notice only later

but if you catch it at

the moment it slides

from rashness into

knowledge or from

vanity into bravery

it will not be possible

to turn back he saw

and reach home.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Curious Valentine

As high up as one would go

one must have sunk that low

that’s a question to have

been there and be capable

of going back to the dirt

farming it took to get there

in stamina I mean

this time digging out

from under one’s own

compost of lies and tears

in the world formerly

known as truth

in the truth

formerly known as

curious object.

Unacceptable Valentine

At the end of pleasure

you get to wash down

the warm red bricks

with water sweeping

the sand away

the petals and fallen fruit

the ungrown portions of

a person cauterized

by trauma or cut short

by early death strange

early deaths in full flower

in which the seed

of sacrifice is sown

but who can really do

another’s work for them

or accept for them

the unacceptable loss?

Monday, April 26, 2010

Secret History Valentine

When you tell one person

you tell the whole world

the secret history of

embarrassment that

others know more

about you than you’re

ever aware of yourself

except during sleep

when you appear

in the cupola

of your own brain

that dome that work

of art as one

of the faces

you’ve sketched in

among the blessed

and the damned.

Weak Valentine

The thing is to not stop

being crazy and compassionate

for oneself when others

are already ranged

against you it’s

a test of warmth

and inner mobility

leaving anger behind

the weakness of not

wanting to hurt others

which is old mixed fear

and patience not

the kind of kindness

you’d think of when

you think what’s needed

for this world.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Sunday Blues Valentine

A lone duck

powers overhead

quacking fleeing

I’m a lackluster lake

for you but if you

could settle into me

leaving Atlantis

arriving in Cheyenne

in such a hurry

chased from your home

in hunger

delusional with grief

like the young guys next

door human furniture

in some department store

with no where else to go

in this greedy

rotten system.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Never before have I loved so much Valentine

The young soprano

from Alabama

easy for you to sing

thoughtful bitch

in the best sense

of the dance

words return

to their first gestures

I’m not moving to Alabama

find somewhere else

how much is the bookcase

would you have moved

to California if you’d known

do some people own

music and just rent it out

to other people?

Too Much Too Soon Valentine

I had no idea

how long the angel

had been standing

there staring at me

that grin on his face

I didn’t even know

that’s what it was

until days later

the gods are always

hard at work inside

felling whole forests

for paper products

carefully dismantling

the physical world

teaching us to live

on love alone.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Last Bus To Puebla Valentine

Sight which is secondary

to science dancing

as fast as it can

divides its time

between I think of you

on tenor sax

there on your coast

and me on mine

and how I love the distance

of love how you can

send me a close-up

of your face to study

as part of the experience

of faces we spoke of

everywhere clamoring

to break through forms

layered in by sheaths

of color from

embryogenesis to


in and out

the other world

entered in sleep

or after death

that land of oxides

and fiestas

where no one loves you

like I do.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Blooming Valentine

A meal should not mean

but be perfectly taken

hummingbird said sipping me

I prefer to be outside

in some open place

than to be in my body

as if guarding death

said the woman in the dream

it was that kind of afternoon

the trees full of movement

about to fly off

looking up I see

the Palo Verde blooming

for the first time.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Sam's Valentine

Only have this time

before they take me

thirty thousand

feet in the air

to focus on one body

hanging at a time

yes I’ll have some coffee

while I wait

for your call

rehearse disasters

our species has flown

one at a time

try to think back

to your fiery heart

on which we’ve

layered city

after city even

unto the thirty

thousandth layer

of crushed bones.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Cat's Valentine

Just as I cracked open

the blinds to peek out

at the quiet morning light

a cat in the middle

of the street leapt

on four pigeons feeding

close together all

of whom escaped

splashing into the air

as we watched

them fade and then he

looked over

directly at me

I felt our eyes click

before he turned

back again

swaying slowly

toward his house

having insured

nothing would ever

be said about this

regrettable event.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Carpe Noche Valentine

First he was mineral

a red tourmaline

then a pliant stem

one of the grasses

as animal he strayed

between pelican

and beaten donkey

whatever you want to call

the sense of something

moving in the air

in spring

in the fragility of all

social relations

he could see the sinner

in me and forgive

in him I could

seize the sin.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Federico's Valentine

What we carry

around inside us

isn’t the world like

the word ‘gitano’

before we look it up

grasp its

lineage but when

it’s just the sound

of a country

what does it mean

eee ahh ooo

I do and don’t want

to go to Salamanca

or Arles

for that matter

so why is there

something that penetrates

amazes and insists

on suffering for it?

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Hating Back Valentine

The failure to recognize

how prose always

hated poetry always

tried to undermine

annihilate and finally

replace him with herself

how this goes back to

childhood even to life

before birth before the Greeks

even the later comedians

the post-savants of their time

still pretended things were mended

between them and their rhymes

but it was all just suppressed

a gag order behind walls

until poetry started

to hate back again

even if only to expose

prose as prose

wherever and whenever

she appears as poems.

High Valentine

One of the world’s

most original flowers

but it blooms too

high to be seen

like something left

behind by someone

descending from the

summit exhausted

and alone finally as if

the whole planet

was a single person

about thirty years of age

emaciated addict

sleeping on the lawn

outside the library

starting to crumble.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Human Valentine

This lack of final

this lack of resolution

in the pictures

and this after a little rest

it still goes a long way

to come at it trochaically

where words are allowed

to fall back to human

movements how hard poems

need to hold the enemy

prose at bay

anaesthetizing us

with its syntax

so we have forgotten

our mother vowels

how they only fill

to empty the heart.

Mississippi Delta Valentine

My first weakness

is the mercurial

world for which

we’ve created these

various bodies

imprisoning them

to take them

through death without

fear to the other side

of the door I guess

consciousness cannot be

consciousness ultimately

that is not kind

that will not wait

chatting with people

hearing their poems.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Limp and Uninspired Valentine

That screaming

three year old

outside your window

at five this morning

that boy who so

offensively woke you

up way too early

that was him finally

wasn’t it

that was the Buddha

but you missed him

didn’t you

you cursed him

didn’t you

and now who knows

when he’ll

come by again?

Mythological Valentine

Morning myths me

I did not imagine

the hummingbird

came to the lantana

one takes what one

can get in case by

the time one gets

to the aloes there’s

not even impatience left

or was that cyclamen

it never visits

cactus its old lover

never wilts.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Shadowy Valentine

The garbage truck

bellows at every gate

but I’m still not hungry

after a piece of bread

that looked like a work of art

dipped in butter

and honey the wind

flicking its robes

angry at someone else’s

sorrow lifting

the book from my

hands and you

ride through the yard

sweating with your bike

home I’m here

over here

swept into

this dark corner.

Haiku Motorhome Valentine

On Boxes Street

you wonder and

lose time

it flies out so fast

you can’t tell

from which place

then returns

from the opposite side

it can take 60-90

seconds between

retrieval and supply

but leaving

it doesn’t see

the feather

still falling


our rest.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Blue Valentine

Which of these blue bottles

most resemble Maine tide-pools

I get wet about to taste

salt on the skin again

of your body

being worked on for eons

still unfinished


how to get the matter

through the spirit needle

purer and purer

yet still not nothing

when all you can carry back

looters after another chaos

is your own saved

love of life?

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Plant Valentine

Isn’t a plant

a less sophisticated

class of animal

is there less

personal desire

in the lupine

than the lynx

who wills my will

to be unspokenly

your desire

or sees how

with water

our bodies

came down

how it begins

always with tears

of resignation.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Not Another Spring Valentine

How far away

do you have to stand

from your own will

to feel this tsunami

of green rolling north

driving just a few

days behind it or

ahead when it turns

crawls or races west

all the animal cries

sent out to the far spaces

then the long wait

to see what

comes back.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Two Crows Valentine

Can a poem

have too much

thinking going on

in it before it’s

all about you

recording the experience

of that feeling-perceiving

you’re so fond of

unless I was thinking

of that other you

which thought

unleashes thought

wanting to be

what floats away

its line of flight

a scrawl

not fish or bird.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Stranger's Valentine

I love you but

don’t take it personally

these things happen

it’s just your life

trying to kill you

when you see someone

do something you

would do laughing

or when the inability

to visualize one’s own

horror is what distinguishes

us from one another

don’t consider any

hurt feelings automatically

your own when they could belong

to almost anyone or when

the motive for embarrassment

is always gratitude and fun

in all the places

you are waited.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Returning Valentine

Sitting outside my house

I observe a bird building

a house inside my house

actually in the eaves a pair

of sparrows who come back

every year or else their

offspring have passed

down this summer house

how I envied that

growing up in the city

wintering in empty

resorts a bird’s

life from mouth

to mouth with

you my love.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Spring Valentine

What were tears

in childhood soon

become these words

thy sun-dial flesh

putting everything

back together again

with green stitches

on green stretches

of dunes and flowers

so much darkness

bursting into light

perceives us totally

alone precise still

arguing passionately

it’s a little creepy

over power or love.

Easter Monday Valentine

Whose mood is this

I think I know his

physiology how much

he’s playing with the

mechanism one

embarks wherever

one ensouls everything

that’s done exists

gets written down

ends up in a book

no one can translate

everyone reading only

one’s own copies

or painting one’s

own paint.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Easter Valentine

The petals bleed

onto the turtle’s back

this takes thirty millennia

of the first morning

waiting for a nuance

to awake I could see

a child reading a book

sitting on the top of

a huge rock across

the street a real event

or a symbol in someone

else’s dream minding

its own business

asking not to be judged

simply by the origin

of its bifurcation

is it perception is reception

or perception is reflection

that’s the mantram

for today?

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Holy Saturday Valentine

And when the priests

can no longer hear

the speech

of the gods you’ll see

how space descends

into time how

the room is empty

except for a few shelves

one place to sit

to watch the body

being swallowed up

into the ground

into the counter-world

where the double and

the witness meet together

with their collaborators

and the soul-cowardice

of generations steps down

from behind the midnight sun

empfinden empfinden

and you are seen my friend

walking away again.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Good Friday Valentine

Our work is clearer

and clearer seeing

until seeing becomes hearing

what one sees is saying

and then becomes the living

thing seen from within

as if seeing double

the self-made self

it will follow what we do

on earth was already done

in some equidistant heaven

try not to think of a thoughtless clock

only a mind that can’t hang

with its own thoughts

will fail to see

another future

in the prior fact

of thinking itself.