a haiku in regards to studenthood

To be a student today
is to be a professional
to be a professional
today
is to be a student
figuring out what went wrong.

I am a Politician

I should run for

governor

no

senator

nay

president!

Why not?

The Cinderella story of

all

Cinderella stories,

better than the

girl surfing with

one arm lost to a shark-

or the boy calling

football games with

terminal cancer-

or the black man

running a country

who never knew his father-

America loves these

America is these

America is a Cinderella story

America has God on its side

America will support these-

like in Israel.

I will run on the platform

if he did

it, so can I-

and by he

I mean the governator

that big sick studly sunofabitch-

or

if she did

it, so can I-

and by she

I mean the Palienator

that sleek sexy snappy sista-

I am the next

JFK

but not Catholic

the next

Teddy

but not fat

ready to take it on

ready to take the lead

ready to succeed when

I am supposed to fail,

it will be a campaign

in Vegas

everyone will make money

everyone will lose money

everyone will be on a rush

in a blur

fearing

loathing

not remembering

drinking!

Outside E Street

Seahawks squak man

and a duck dives,

still on you trudge

still in Asia someone is unpaid

in the Middle East someone died

in Africa someone is thirsty

and in Europe someone smoked one too many cigarettes

so in Kansas some dropped a bomb

and in Tokyo some girl disappeared-

and the wise steps

in, to say-

when your young

you drop political play:

be it witty

be it gritty

be it true,

but brue you got to talk

relevant,

you got to spit me and you-

and I thought

about a teacher white haired and full of

robust nature,

and typed out of my mouth-

son all that is true

is relevant to me and you,

all that is real,

we can fael

it is in all the birds in the sky

it is in all the flowers in a field

it is in all the leaves on that tree,

don’t you see

it ain’t true

unless it is all, and it is

all, with you and me

and man that is

true-

and he puffed a poke

and spoke-

ah I see that was fresh,

you paint a picture,

that was real, but man

you got to just feel you got

to just fly…

this is the truth, it is a dove

brother a line free,

to me-

I let fly-

I lean against a lamp pole

and you glean against a wall

smoking a cigarette

and speaking all about

drinking a tea,

and here I am leaning

and speaking,

came out all mad, came out

talking of correcting my mom

not listening to song

man that was cause I had not heard jazz

and had not had tea,

and now

I write

and we speak and it is flyin’ free between

you and me

and man that is dig

cause they was playin’ Thelonius

and I was writing an application till

I heard, and had to write

somethin’ else,

cause man

it was Thelonius and Droopy

was on high

The Giraffe Catcher Poetry Hour

Listen in tonight for The Giraffe Catcher Poetry Hour on ksdt.ucsd.edu at 5:00pm

also check out THIS.

Eat and Write

How pathetic it is there be
a professional tour of poker
playing people?
and for men’s sports to be
coveted most?
as if they were female
bodies.
Not to mention, myself, alone,
on a date at a sushi bar-
writing and eating with pity-
going so far as to devour roles with
names of Philadelphia and
California, blah and yummmm!
Jibber jibber new year! jib jib
jib blap bop blop pop!
That’s it right there:
nice jacket, good shave-
good tablet, nice pen-
alone at a bar
can’t buy a beer-
eat and write.
Eat and write.
better than drink and mumble.

a tree said to me

if you can’t speak

to trees

then how come this

tree in front of

me is asking me

to say hi?

his face is tired

and his shoulders are broad

but hunched

and his mustache

is hardly trimmed

he has eyes cast deep

a nose that droops

and legs limberly

thin strong too

but with all this

to me he

says he is sad

that the building

behind is unkind

and the cars

that roar through

are quite rude

he says the sun

takes time to

shine because of

modern architecutre

and as it sets

off go his bets

but somewhere

i see a smile

a sucked in grin

a reminder to

chuckle

his little tune

ready to be spun

nature’s last breath

he said go home

be simple

Stopping through the Angels

On an eve, a
great warm wondrous
winter eve,
in a car on
a trip, in a lane
on the road-
stuffy car,
stuffy air,
warm green
saturated, stuffy
Orange county air-
stuffy stuffy stuffy stufy
Orange county,
greedy air-
greed fueled by church,
church field by state,
state fueled by money,
driving through while
stopping through-
nowhere to wash
my hands,
nowhere to go to
the bathroom,
just red lights
and white lights and
honks and burps and
hipsters,
advertising modern-
beautiful advertising-
bulbs of advertising,
bursting with stupidity.

Tonight's Show

These are the poets who were in the studio tonight...look out for a lot more of these things...also check out their stuff, cause it is really really really, freakishly good!

Ian schimmelfennig

Richard Chiem

Jesus Castiillo

Taylor Katz
(doesn't have a blog yet)

Also, check out the Facebook group page...HERE

Radio Show

Hola,
Today at 5:00 pm is the radio show: The Poetry Hour! It is not world known, but a few people listen to it and claim to like it, one guy even telling me it was "sexy!" So, I offer you the opportunity to give it a listen just go to ksdt.ucsd.edu and click on the little 128kbps button and tune in for the show. If you want to know what it goes like, listen to this link which is the show from last week. (that is the link)

Hope all is well, and enjoy the show...did I mention yet there will be a surprise?

There Lay an Angel

There lay an angel
in my bed,
curls of waves of golden
brown flow from her
head to her back
and from her glistens
soft sparkles
of sentiment-
she smiles in her sleep
and moans and groans
and squiggles to get warm-
I look over and
she smiles
I look back to my work
this poem
and she smiles
and says “sawee” for
distracting
and curls up
covering her
bare chest by using hands
as pillows and arms
as blankets
and smiles more
assuring I am healthy
and pills are popped
so I can climb back
and kiss her
more
so that she will smile
while she kisses
and my little sensors
will flutter
like the butterfly
that landed on the flower
in her hair.

The Radio Poetry Hour

hola dear friends,
Tonight at approximately 5:00 pm I will be entering a radio station on the UCSD campus to host a little hour known as The Poetry Hour, I will be playing some recordings of poetry, reading some of my own, reading some of my friends, hopefully having some friends reading their own...trying a little bit of everything. All that is certain is there will be jazz poetry and good spirits...so tune into ksdt.ucsd.edu and listen in!

ps. there are archives on there to listen to past shows and such...

Alphabet Laws

I remember the alphabet
like I remember
the world-
backwards and
random:
zippers zinging zodiacs!
yuppies yelling yes!
xanadus xenoning xus!
winds wailing whales!
vepras veering vertical!
universes unveiling universities!
trees tethering triceratops!
sleepers simulating sex!
ringers raising roses!
queens quoting queers!
pastels portraying paint!
omnivores owning owls!
nostrils needling noses!
mattresses manipulating martians!
liquor lipped lectures!
koalas kindling katsup!
jackels jabbing jinxes!
instruments initiating integrals!
hypnotics hypothesizing hyrdonics!
gorillas gargling gossip!
fish frolicking finks!
eagles emancipating engineers!
disks doling deadness!
cars cabooing carts!
bubbles bursting blasphemy!
amphibians analyzing animals!

unholy is the bugger who
disobeys
the letters of
the alphabet
and the law of
the letters
set here,
in stone.

Here in a Circle

here there is a circle
there are elders
dressed in leather jackets
beards of age
scarves woven of thought
glasses of a heart’s insight
there are youth of age
youth of many means
youth plugged into universes outside
thoughts
breaths
held hands
spanks
blessings
curses
garbage
expensive water
free air
all in a circle
a circle of survival
of surviving sustainability
songs sung silently
as breaths nod understanding
and legs switch to thought
and computers turn off
so that ears may calculate.
I sit and my heart
writes and my eyes draw-
rain batters the outside
so that cold grey
seeps through
ways
yet my stomach is warm
yet my friends’ stomachs are warm
yet my elders’ stomachs are warm
so that their words singe the air
with sage and tabaco and
forest grown veggies
feeding the circle
feeding the circle
feeding the earth-
in my thoughts I can run
in my heart I can sleep
in my stomach I can read
if my art is my love
then my love is the earth’s
soul,
for we aren’t human beings
simply
beings attempting humanity
stepping on broken sharp branches
flooding brown meadows
burning ink of the ground-
a lesson to be learned
hides in the balance of the fires
and stars and moons and seas
not to mention
all the beings.

Wishing I Were a Dog

I wish I were you dog,
lying down on my side in a slumped
demeanor
scratching myself and licking myself-
peeing on peoples’ shoes
pooping under peoples’ shoes
still being loved all the same
I wish I didn’t shower but still smelt right
I wish I didn’t have to brush my teeth either,
dog
do you like the taste of balls?
or the chase?
dog
is the bone tasty and satisfying?
or just tasty and bottomless?
like my high school diploma…
how come everyone loves you
and your mistakes are accepted?
are they even mistakes?
I would like to stick my tongue out kindly,
slobbering all over myself and into my nose-
laughing at orders without others knowing-
how come you sniff butts to say hello?
I don’t want to sniff butts,
but I am tired of hellos…



by the way, it is too bad you can't position out things on this blog, because this poem is supposed to be sorted...anywho, here it is

My First Radio Show

hello friends-I don't know if any of you knew, but I started a radio show this quarter on the UCSD campus, it is called the Poetry Hour, because it is all about poetry. Anyway the idea is to bring poetry to the radio, both past and present. Here is a link for the show I did on Sunday, which would leave me to tell you that the shows are Sundays at 5:00 pm on ksdt.ucsd.edu (I will be out of town the next two Sundays so no luck for those, but hold tight)

Click here to listen, and just as a head's up the first 6 minutes are from the prior DJ's, they were showing me the ropes, truly kind gentlemen.

At Night Re-Write

tea kettle steaming tops
stops of whistle squals-
ice cubes pop
pop prom plastic-
tea bag dangles warmly dutifully
capturing-
oats brans fruits seeds nuts
white cream of cow blend-
tummy accepts
tummy appreciates
tummy absorbs
tummy content-
books steam
loud stories-
kids pop
dance with groove-
farmhands arise
work without gloves-
clerks designers artists writers activists
concerts decorated with word-
world denies
world defuses
world dissembles
world content-

at night with
things in mind-
at night with
working fingers-
at night with
friends
tea
cereal
fruits and
nuts-
at night with
books
kids
farmhands and
concerts-
at night we
awake-
at night we
re-write.

A Bluejay's Song

Walk Home 2

Drawers

On the axis of the world tips
funny drawers
of makeshift consequences,
teetering to one side,
leaning to the other,
one good
the other
good
neither
great,
all something,
no
nothing-
it is a truly uneven
normality
not in the least,
unbalanced
rather, hypnotic and
humbling and warming,
fruitful even…
uneven based on a simple
equation of math,
some drawers heavier
some drawers lighter
all filled with
whatever
need be
filled with-
drawers are doors
and doors are exits
or entryways
your choice.