#729 a hole in my pocket

i'm living my life for other people

shovelling someone else's driveway,
while i can't get the car outta my own
cutting someone else's wood,
while i freeze
cleaning someone else's house,
while mine's a mess

i got a yardful of obligations
and a pocketful of hope

#728 rambling

habits are like hoses without underwear
cliches are high-heels on hippopotamuses
tradition is a web-covered attic box
and today is a sick rat at the bottom of a forgotten mineshaft

#727 in with the old

age is not outdated
age is reinventing itself
is age not wisdom, but there is a correlation
age is a reality
age is an advantage
age is not entitlement, but it used to be
age is awesome
the new age age is awesome
and awesome age believes youth is awesome

#726 playing with the font

italian
face
large
small

#725

out of place and dangerous
like a hammer on a cloud
funny and serious,
odd and noteworthy
like a hammer on a cloud

#724 the bath

she charges out the opening door
limbs and appendages contorting in the wind
crashes headfirst into the nearest mud-puddle
stealing the smell, battling the shampoo

#723 100 degrees in the mind

there is a thing brewing in me
a thought? an idea? a feeling?

there are bubbles clinging to the pot-bottom
they will give in to the heat soon
the water is at boiling temperature without boiling
the silence is suspect
the stillness dangerous

this thing is ready to boil
tomorrow? today? now?

#722 acoustic guitar

the instrument sits on a stand in the corner
metal strings curled like a handlebar mustache
tuned and ready to add life
but instead we press Play
and let technology live for us

#721 isn't marathon training hard?

running is easy for me
i have legs that work
they are not fast
or strong enough to stand out
they are miracles
like everyone's legs
but they are plain, as legs go

running is easy for me, i know i can do it
though i may doubt my ability to run well
i never doubt my ability to run well enough
so if running is easy
what's the hard part?
...going running

stepping into the shorts
forcing feet into socks
lacing the sneakers
all easy
even easier than running

but choosing these things
choosing to step outside
despite a hundred easy and excellent excuses
that's my hard part

#721 kamakawiwo'ole

a new old instrument catches my mind's focus
the meaning of the lyrics grows with my attention
as i take the time to uni-task
one song
for by studying on one thing
we learn about ourselves

#720 tempo day

the best way not to let one day off
turn into two days off
is not to let no days off
turn into one day off

#719 back-up

bits of eraser holding unrealized ideas
swept to the floor
like snow in a palm-size globe

pink rubber tink-tinkles
against the floor
like slow-motion glass

abandoned thoughts shatter
into the world of lost files and what-could-have-been

#718 317 unread

the mail-shelf is full
so is my inbox
the bank accounts have more going in than ever
and more going out than ever
my days are full and disappear into themselves
i have substituted soul risk
for perceived socially expected risk
and i will not receive a soon to be ousted penny
for my thoughts or on the interest accrued on my soul
that is lost with the 10-year old boy i was
the one that sat on the well and cared about the world
more than he cared about the world's opinion

#717 being away

where are they
i'm only in my thirties
but when i visit home
they should be there
dead pets and deceased relatives
they should be there, with tea steeping strong in the kettle
the others have lapped me on the track of grief

#716 dog walk

the world's stresses grow in my head
i walk
her ears flap-fly as she bounds toward me
then jiggle as she walks just ahead of me
tail up
tennis ball in mouth
and the stresses shrivel to nothing

#715 duty calls

nothing motivates like the urge to pee
so i deny myself the trip
until the poem is ended
if i gave in to the call of the bladder
i'd return, to this couch
to this cursor
to waiting for a masterful first line
but more than a masterful first line
i want a poem

#714 a jolly good fellow's dream

masqueraded intellectuals
gesturing stemless wine glasses to no one
upside down penguins
marching with briefcases under-arm
spiral stairs twist and turn
as stars fall like sparks from a birthday-cake sparkler
and the fat candles outweigh the cake
usefulness
as judged by society
faded to black yesterday

#713 my friend

chemicals and liquids fill his body and empty his life
he dies, three days at a time
and i know the boy who use to jump over cow patties
use to lay down on his stomach to receive water from the brook
but now the stomach is dying and the brook is a dry gravel bed

#712 up on the couch

Black Dog is watching me
her eyes haven't left mine
and mine haven't left the laptop
still she watches
watches, hoping for an invite
up onto the couch
typity-type-type
watch
watch
the daily job finished
i tap-tap the couch
okay

#711 gazing through the pane

from his couch, he watches his TV
during his Muted show's ads, he gazes at his street
he sees his neighbour of two years walking up her drive
he's been in love for two years
they've never spoken
she finds the keys, disappears behind her opaque door
he un-Mutes the TV and returns to his show

#710 all for not

vultures in blenders
daffodils in armpits
centerfolds in hymnbooks

black blood flows
through transparent veins and arteries
from the heart to the extremities of the being
then the return trip
again, and again, and again

#709 pink earl

pink synthetic rubber
undoes my mistakes
i sweep the bits from paper down to floor
and i'm sad
the mistake is gone

#708 Fla Chiu Lanse

the lyrics and the beat
play over in his mind

leaving the gathering
leaving his sounds and smells behind him
it happens to us all at some moments
we leave these things behind us

the night's perfect wind, broken
only by the birdsong of the invisible anatidae anas
low
flying
their song a metronome, guiding his steps

then the title hits him
and he laughs to no one

#707 daily

new notes distract like the neighbour's dog
and ideas feel as fresh as mouldy flecking paint
so here he sits
banging old words
in search of new combinations
trapped in familiar routine
looking for novel results
not today
maybe tomorrow

#706 penny and my thoughts

the building was home
the people my family
for good reason i left
now
i am visitor, a nuisance
a moldy penny
when will grown-ups grow up