TO SEE GETHSEMANE

April 19, 2019

Blackened breezes rustle
Sacred/ olive trees, skies muscled thick.
I took a sight that set me more lost
More sour than seasick.
I see him, knees bloodied,
Face drawn/ down
to earth.
I was being/ once/
Just a man also.
I spied/ by my back down
To my murk/
I cried/ by my own shadow,
But did not cry out,
To interrupt all that too intimate.

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When I was a young/ more willful man,
I fasted/ from dawn friday
Until the last of easter/ Today
I’m past that/ I take the families
To the best italian place,
For sacrificial lamb & blood red wine
& all before that, maybe grace.

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far-flung near

December 3, 2018

far-flung bits thereabouts

are gone as nowhere is

friends who’ve fled, I’ve cared about them

can surface, fish

bubbles, sun-lined,

but stream-lined washing by.

fled friends & lovers come by,

off the map,

if the hour is late enough

for the final nightcap

I guess there’s a blur there on

my best point-of-vistas

that insists

that remnants that wear on

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Imaginary Friends, My Readers listen up
December 7, 2018
Brand new website without all those effin adverts, commercial interruptions,
basically uninvited strangers. distracting us
But You…I re-invite you
So if you are subscribed.. subscribe again! there’s gotta be a subscribe button somewhere
namelessneedblog.com
(just drop the wordpress)
(I think there must be a mailbox there too I’m thinkin)
if you wanna paste me into favorites (where I was before, right?) I paste easy enough
let me spill my guts for you guys. like Tom Waits sings “Step Right Up!”

S I D E D O O R

July 23, 2018

I’ve got it.

If I  got floating.

I can float forever.

(“and when I want to act…”)

I can float forever & a day.

It’s harder than it looks.

Don’t be taken in by talk gone bad.

(“and when I want to act”)

there’s an exit stage  left

 

 

DOLLAR-STORE GLASSES

January 5, 2018

I wear dollar-store glasses
they help me work on perspective.
I live for nothing I can think of.  fact.
It’s suggested I might strive for focus.
In my day bed i might live
with one window & uncertainly my curtain cracked

I can wear one seventy five
On dollar-store glasses
I passed par for an old guy.
I’m far from passed, muy alive.
Tho’ she could present a good argument
Contesting that mad “muy” adjective.
I’d abstain again & again
And I’d hate to publicly substantiate

11-17-2005-07 Read the rest of this entry »

MUY GOOD JOKE

December 31, 2017

picasso is said to have said

“Art  is the lie that tells the truth”.

seems  if he did, seems valid.

.

(Though  some tries  along these lines

can only shine as sly & slippery lies)

.

His muy good joke/

& lucky for our sake/

Actually/  the accidental awaits

us/  Fog & smoke machines make

bonfire smoke signals rise up

until unreasonably  sound  Beauty clears/

Us holding the pen? we’re  without a net nor warm blanket.

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Sure, sweating stallions are dynamic

& may have beauty

but some  Clomp! the blossoms

god & me made.

clods  now

RYE INROADS

August 4, 2017

On  inroads, scraping,

& Faced with less escaping;

One  reclamation.

.

.

I’ve  erased  all boasts

Of   encroaching  clarity.

Thought I’d caught a glimpse.

 

1)

S U R E

 

There’s business on the burner.

These semi serious matters

sort of  need sorting out.

A lot of it needs looking at,

and some just ditched out,

not the other way around,

like when sure  attic treasure gets pitched down

to the cellar.

 

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.

2)

M E R E

.

I think! that there’s a theory in

quantum physics

that holds that

the mere act of observation

changes and shapes events

observed.

The science of truth

isn’t my strong suit.

But I can watch from a garage roof;

take semi evaluative notes,

& make up semi reflective reports,

&  fake some

control.

.

.

3)

REFORM   DREAM

.

Surfacing from a waterfall bottom’s

Churning pool,  into mists,

The tall intense man they call The Baptist

Pulls you up,  and through, by your hair.

It all means too much now.

The colors hurt, and light on water

Diamonds up the air.

Though  new, non-consise  power  leadens you,

You rise again  to surface

Just  all  you

 

A W A Y

May 16, 2017

Sudek

photo credit: Josef Sudek (“the poet of Prague”)

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They some time may say/ Time  dwindles  away/

I  say   swindles.

 

-gray r. melvin (“the poet of vague”)

 

 

An ordinary miracle

Might  make my day  good night.

An everyday freak  hailstorm

Should soften the  certain gravitas of  agony..

Would my monday to monday/ Gone on to a good gravy, when

My  dumptruck  of good luck   sails in?

All this will be laid to waste.

Then  strong  sprouts/ in not long/ will  no doubt

Green  the  place.

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(5 yrs back)

CRECHE SHEPHERDS

April 8, 2017

An imaginary friend, a French kid, he calls

(They  call  the  wind  mistral)

All the Northern winter wind..mistral.

En Francais, one says, Eventhough  baby  jesus…

Creche shepherds are threatened by mistral.

They hold on to their hats, insteada solomnly go

Doffing their fuckin desert chapeaux.

 

mistral