every thing

—

every thing is a song

but not all songs are of beauty

—

and every thing named beautiful

is at best fleeting.

—

joy is everywhere

but we must cease

to be ourselves

to let it in

—

and this is no tragedy

—

because if we can be free of self

then we can become joy.

—

sorrow is coupled with joy

existing equally everywhere

and when it overtakes us

then also we cease to be

our selves

—

and this is only proper

—

because when full of joy and sorrow,

when severed from self,

—

we become pure.

 

—

 

GJK

3JUN04

 

Advertisement

the meaning of life

—

a little boy runs down the sidewalk

pocket jangling and curly hair bouncing.

he runs after the ice cream man

whose cart bells clang and clamor.

the boy’s life is singular and purposeful –

he is chasing happiness

which is easily apprehended

by a child.

he trades a few paltry coins for any icy treat

which he promptly shoves into his mouth.

simple.

—

GJK

16JUL12

rattle

—

my death is in this cigarette

in this pouch of coins that clatter

on my way to the source

to score another forty grams

of satisfaction that chokes away

my breath as it stokes

the fire within, the conflagration

that holds the jackals at bay.

—

my death is in the sun

in my reddened skin

in this darkening mole

in this furrowed brow that squints

through the incessant glare

as temples thunder and quiver

and pupils shrink from moons

to flagpoles.

—

that stained glass there is my ruin

is forever sleep

—

and this cup here is false awareness

is fake awakeness

—

but i have made my choices.

—

i light up in my lot

and reach the bottom of the hill

at the edge of downtown

before the last drag hits my lungs;

each footfall is a day i have lost

to recklessness and joy

timidity and sorrow

lust and debauchery

and ascetic deprivation.

each footfall is

an hour

a minute

a street

a tree

a river

a stone

a person

—

my death is in these shoes.

my death is in this cigarette

this coffee

this plastic water cup

these exhaust fumes

this asphalt

this carpet

this pillowcase

this television

this phone

this computer.

my death permeates every bone

of my brittle frame.

—

my death is my only certainty

so i’ll have another smoke

another coffee dose.

the wine i have left behind

because i want to be awake

when i die.

—

my death is in everything that i touch

so where then is my life?

i would say that now it is with you,

but hell, i have presented you with nothing but

facets of my demise.

—

GJK

25JUN12

all the words are wrong

—

sullen isn’t the word.

embittered, perhaps,

or chagrined

might be closer.

beaten down but determined

to press on –

faltering but not fallen –

no, sullen is not

what i am.

nor am i morose.

but i am close to that morass.

just one day without

calamity, that is all

i ask.

 

—

 

GJK

25JUN12

 

no end

—

beat.

dragged out, wasted,

spent.

it’s seven in the morning

with twenty-four hours left

before her first day on the job,

a new job in a new town.

—

and me,

the manic-depressive-drunken-zen-lunatic,

must be her driver through the crumbling streets

of mill-town and tosa and the god-forsaken burbs –

i must be at my best

shiny and fresh

when next the sun rises,

must be responsible,

must be

sharp

attentive

ON TIME

—

so today i am screwed.

—

cannot shake the vampire life

the graveyard shift.

been awake since yesterday,

eighteen hours or so,

and have not the luxury of slumber

for at least another twelve.

—

thirty hours.

thirty hours awake

to prevent the ruin

of two lives.

—

heavy eyelids

weary brain

tattered spirit flags

—

i waste time with the nullity of television

i pop pills to kill the backache

i suffer tinnitus

hayfever

cigarette withdrawals

no end to troubles

no end in sight

no end at all

—

i am nothing, nobody.

—

perhaps i am doing something right.

—

GJK

20MAY12

the tumult

—

that day at the falls i gazed upon you

standing atop the outcropping,

your orange top and golden hair

ablaze with beauty

framed by the miraculous horizon where

the treetops nestle into the sky –

that day resonates

rumbles deep within me.

it was the beginning of

the tumult.

—

that day on the beach summer dawned

with the sky cast in grey and

hand in hand we searched for

treasures of wood and roots

feathers and stones

and i gazed again upon

your blazing beauty.

at the terminus we kissed

so deeply and with such abandon

that the universe swallowed us

and everything stopped.

—

when i opened my eyes

i saw you as the raging rapids

from weeks before.

you consumed me utterly

and i was born.

—

GJK

26JUN14

for Sunflower

keeping house (1)

—

it’s inevitable that something will go wrong

every day.  today the cats grew thumbs

and popped the lid off the container of fresh

chocolate mint picked just yesterday and

flung it all over the kitchen table.  needless

to say, i was pissed.  but i had meant to

put all three varieties of mint from the garden

into bags and into the freezer so i suppose

they did me a favor. those irrepressible

little darling creatures decided to put an end

to my procrastination in the herb department.

so now that the mints are nestled in the

freezer next to the red chilis i feel better.

mess created; mess dealt with; crisis of anger

averted.  rain pelts the roof and i am at peace.

—

GJK

19AUG14

the wheel

—

three flies swarm the gaping wound

in the belly of the dead mouse

splayed on the grass and dirt

killed and left there

by a house cat on the prowl

asserting its nature

to hunt.

—

the corpse nurtures the flies

it is a beautiful dead thing

spindly limbs frozen in rigor,

its death invigorates

industrious insects

and nourishes the soil;

next spring the mouse will be

a dandelion

that delights a small child

and perturbs the adult

obsessed with the concept

of a lawn.

—

it is a wondrous corpse

it is marvelous and pristine

even with its entrails spilling out

and glassy eyes fixed upon

the eternal.

—

GJK

15AUG14

haiku, cubed

—

coffee pot gurgle

ceiling fan rattle

television buzz

—

bitter taste usurps nausea

cool dry air abrades eyeballs

repetition nullifies

—

potent revelry

unquiet solace

attention withers

—

GJK

14AUG14

 

11AUG14

—

(one.)

framed by golden hair

your face glows in candlelight

love outshines the flame

—

(two.)

your flower opens

under my deft fingertips

sweet nectar glistens

—

GJK

11AUG14

 

we

3:25 a.m.

and i make the coffee

brew up a kick-start

to your day as mine

winds down and begins to bleed

into the next.

my nocturne is your

reveille

on days like these

when my mind is in upheaval

and patterns don’t exist.

my ephemeral presence

shimmers and wavers

but always is

in your orbit.

we are twin planets

of the same sun

and that sun

is love.

—

3:30 a.m.

and i am drawn

to your bed.

inexorably entwined

me with you,

our limbs entangled

our hearts as one.

 

—

 

GJK

25JUL14