It occurs to me, having spent the greater part of my Sunday immersed in Paul Tillich’s The Courage to Be, trying to finesse a poem that simply won't come, and making heavy notations on Maslow’s thinking about the marriage of “higher living” and our instinctual lives (including his concept of “aggridants"), that it might be [...]
Banshee
it’s that time of day the air vibes like a kicked over can saggy tits and a plastic martini a man approaches on 5th and Chestnut, dreaming like he’s walking, going on about how all the most beautiful things begin with the simplest of phrases a punch of adrenaline, a shot behind the eyelids, a [...]
Matchstick
last night between two dreams i had a little chat with god who was also getting a glass of water and asked him why he makes some of us uncool on purpose why couldn’t i be dope like Ezra Pound or a fly cat like Kerouac or better yet a love poet on Pinterest with [...]
B-Sides
This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 8/21/18 I find that I am prone to more frequent bouts of spontaneous creative activity lately. This thrills me. Makes me feel soulful. What does that mean, anyway--soulful? Integrated? Aligned? Deeply and holistically expressive? Yes. Back to alignment. Makes me think of the Peterson book. [...]
Patchwork
I don’t contemplate trees or the latticework of a banana peel like a tulip lined fence under the bark of a dogwood preparing to burst its flowering buds in the wake of a blue bird’s wing I don’t like structure or formalism or heavy expostulations or connect-the-dots 1-2-3 like academics and paper hangers do abab [...]
Blink.
I continue to be surprised by the writings of Abraham Maslow. No more, perhaps, than by the depth of his interest in the intricacies of human sexuality. (Who knew?) In masculinity and femininity and their relationships to human motivation, creativity, growth, and self-knowledge. It was, in fact, from a brief analysis of male-female courtship or [...]
Lo Air
And the day was a man With a beard for a bird feeder A caved-in spine and a forest for a mouth And the night was a wave, broken and blue, A somersault between my knees Lo air, lips, and two half-parted fingers A roomful of glass beetles, like three dozen departed souls Winging their [...]
