Put the needle on the record



No future for you
Beyond this
Bridge of sighs

Dharma lies

There is no karma police
Because there is no karma

No eternal return
No reincarnation
No ticket, no laundry
Set the cycle to spin
Nobody loses
Nobody wins

This is all we have

This now which is only
The then of the when

When is yesterday’s tomorrow
And tomorrow’s yesterday
Today is the dream of the red chamber


Truth becomes fiction when the fiction’s true;
Real becomes not-real where the unreal’s real.

A Charlie Chaplin dance
in a San Francisco saloon
Two forks, two rolls,
and a face full of gold dust.

When will I see you again?
Let the last time be the first.
No flip that, reverse it.
Every end is another means

Nes Gadol Haya Po
Life’s a miracle

Roll the dice
Spin the dreidel
Rock the Casbah

Dig another trench
in the hadal zone

The earth laughs in flowers
And dreams in clouds.

Our days are getting shorter.

In 2004 Sumatra-Andaman’s
earthquake altered the Earth’s rotation,
shortening the day by 2.68 microseconds.
Tōhoku-Oki’s earthquake shifted the Earth’s
axis between 10cm and 25cm, shortening
the day another 1.8 microseconds.

We’re tilting our whirl faster faster, pussycat

Unscrew your Rubik’s Cube brain
and play twister with that
Throw any frisbee hard enough
And watch it boomerang back

I’ll still chase after it

Watching out for the signs
As I do:

“Do Not Drink The Recycled Water”

But I don’t mind

It pumps, this heart of mine.
Humping away like a flea-bitten dog
On a stranger’s leg. Heedless and happy.
The dog smile that doesn’t bare its canines
The one that dreams of chasing rabbits
And eating juicy cow thigh bones. What do
Butchers do with those thigh bones, anyway?
Just one would make any dog’s day… But you’re
Not just any dog, or just any stranger. Still, I’d loosen
My collar, scratch my fleas, smile and pump away.

Humanity scores another bagel
The Big O
Not a splooge on its cum face
Absolute Zero
Like Nero burning his fiddle
While Rome played
Ring around the collar
With a pocket full of posies
Sans papal dispensation
You can only feed so many
Christians to the lions
Even lions get tired of eating
the same vanilla wafers
Maybe they’d like some sushi
If a pope shits in the woods
would a bear care?
Only if his name is Yogi
Then it’s deja vu all never again
Ashes Ashes
And Mount Vesuvius throws down
To another Kim Jong Un
Toontown showtune.
Stupidity should be painful
But we’re all comfortably numb

You are more likely
to slip in your bathtub
And crack your head
After you’ve pickled your liver
Than die in a plane crash
But you should still
Stow your tray
And put your seat
in the locked
and upright position
before takeoff

I’d love to strap you in

All this static cling
Is so fucking boring
Hiss Hiss
Rich, poor
Hiss Hiss
Black, white
Hiss Hiss
Young, old
Hiss Hiss
Patriarchy, matriarchy
Hiss Hiss
Islamist, atheist

Who gives a shit?


The game
Without a name

The orange flame
of a peacock in flight

Shadow and sunlight
Are both the same

These are all false polarities
There’s only one truth
Tolling its bell with finality

A lone.
All one.

This alone should unite us.

I have never had a home
I will never have a home
I belong everywhere
And nowhere
Comfortable with everyone
And no one.

When I first moved
in with my husband
I kept the few things
I had packed in a small
suitcase at the foot of his bed.

“Ready to leave at a moment’s notice?”
Was all that he said.
I said nothing.

Took me a year
to unpack that bag.

To be unsure is to be secure
To be secure is to be tied

Unbind me
Rewind me

I grew up poor
I never gave it
a passing thought
But I’m not a white man
With red hair and clay feet
With holes
in my socks and soul

I stopped believing in Santa at 6
I stopped believing in God at 10

Whatever I had was enough
for me. More, less… didn’t
matter one bit.
Maybe I have more now
Maybe I don’t
I don’t honestly know
I never have
I never count or carry money
I still don’t go to malls
or reliquary halls
or fancy dress balls


The ability to hike, read, write
sing, dance, surf the net, love,
trust, forgive, and think

I am rich in this

I haven’t bought shoes
or clothes since 2010
I cut my own hair
I don’t fucking care

Stop making excuses
For why you should hate me
Hate me for no reason
Other than because hate
Is oh so fashionable this year
Doesn’t matter
You’re only humping dry air

I caught you

At war with yourself

You couldn’t tell
if you were winning or losing

Your only weakness is the strength
of your pride
in the you versus us.

I caught you

looking at me through your periphery
as you tried turning your head
from side to side
shaking out the yes
while you loudly mouthed the no

Your bulletproof back to me,
my pendulum strides striking midnight

Trying to take one last shot

at your bullseye

I flipped over like a prop
like a rag doll, like a thing
that mopped up love
too hungrily, and that disgusted you

But still…

I caught you

Holding your breath

I caught the aspiring eagle
on the mountaintop
in a holding pattern

Stopped in the sky vein you can’t tap out..

The twitch of limbic brain in the echo pang
you hope no one saw, but I saw it

I saw it all

“Don’t look at me.”

You said.

Then you shaved your head,
and shuttered your eyes,

But I caught you

And wonder why…

Why fight this? It? Us?

But at the end of the day,
After all the heartache

And the battleaxes have been wielded

And the blood of the fallen
is running thickly
in the gutters
clogging them
like a fat man’s arteries…

After the carnage has been
CNN has done its coverage
The Onion has done its spoof
And the bodies have been buried
under promos
for Game of Thrones

I’ll breathe again
with a wince
from the spear you
lodged in my lungs

but knowing…

I caught you.










2 Comments Add yours

  1. Exorcise that demon!

    Seriously, your word play and grasp of multiple disciplines dazzle.

    You may have multiple poems here that could stand On their own if desired.

    1. ccthinks says:

      You sweet lady! Thank you. xoxox

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