My newspaper tells me

90% of the universe is unaccounted for

missing

perhaps that is where you are

lost in some obscure mathematical equation

an X or maybe a Y.

………..

I am refining my calculations.

cleaning my telescope’s lens.

repainting my ceiling.

I’m inventing a new alphabet

where words travel faster

than the speed of sound

2

where nothing’s missing

Bcuz everything’s been said

B4.

left handed necrophiliacs

against cremation

schizophrenics for peace

and disarmament

Gucci fund raisers

for bag ladies

pensioners

against the death penalty

the Hell’s Angels

ride for brotherly love

MMMADD

(Mothers of Mass Murderers Against Doing Drugs)

Cristie Cookies

Girl Guides College Saving Plan

Help Save the Sea Algae

Narcissists Anonymous

Give! Give! Give!

……….

Yet the harbor

fills with yachts

and you can buy

exploding condoms

only $30 a pop.

Somewhere a man

is purchasing a small country

with his Mastercard.

……….

The Cause????????

Nobody gives a damn…..

The Cause is the Cause.

You said that our love

should be honest as a bed,

yes that is what you said.

……..

I said that our love

should be noisy as a bed,

yes that is what I said.

………

Now can our bed be both

full of honesty and of noise?

Yes, we said, such is the product of the difference,

between girls and boys.

Here it is halfway through winter

And I have yet to find

A way to your heart before

The snow piles up so high against the door

That I cannot get out from myself.

…..

Yet the sun shines

Through the window, through my eyes,

Through my mind, through to you

Yet not your heart

Which escapes in the shadows never

To find my door and dig me out.

…….

this winter half empty

And I can’t wait for spring, the filling

Where the only shadows are those I cast,

The only heart I can’t find, God’s,

But first I must drink up the winter

And find myself in good Canadian whiskey

And the warmth of a well insulated house

That keeps me from you.

Don’t talk to me about love.

The shirts need to be picked up from the cleaner’s .
The cat’s gotta be fed.
There’s the hairdresser’s and the new 5 slice toaster
and remember
tonight there is today’s Movie of the Week.

Love? Let’s have children.
Love? Let’s join a fitness club.
Love? Let’s look at our new sofa.
Love? Let’s make it twice a week at 5:15.
Love? I’m reading a book about it.

Don’t talk to me about love.

when military spending is so low
when I gotta plan this winter’s getaway
when it’s raining outside,
when the neighbours just bought a new car
when the alarm clock’s just waiting to blow
it’s time to go.

Don’t talk to me about love.

Let’s clean house, the Little’s are coming over……

Nothing endures, all fades

Photographs yellow, stars burst

Even my lovers pearly whites

Seem to be vulnerable to cavities.

Only those minute bacteria, those earth turners

That hold the world up on their shoulders

Seem to have learned to be.

They die over and over, thus live forever.

They have learned that the laws of our universe

Do not apply to the insignificant.

Write slow enough so people

enjoy the telling

Write fast enough so people

can see it swelling.

When they lop off my head

erase every god damned word

When they mop up all the blood

one thing will remain —

the fact I was heard.

…..

The mind moves and nobody knows

this alone,  salvation

A light goes on yet nothing shows.

I write poetry

like a goose might

take a shit.

So, what of it?

……

As the smiling cook at

the boy’s home said

as he took off the pot’s lid,

“Anyone can have a kid.

It’s simple, like making soup.

But it’s the stirring that counts.”

……

I write poetry

like a sick man

walking down the street

might spit.

So, what of it?

Nothing I can really do.

The real is up to you.

“Then forth he came, his both
knees faltring, both
His strong hands hanging downe,
and all with froth
His cheeks and nosthrils flowing,
voice and breath
Spent all to use, and down he
sunke to Death.
The sea had soakt his heart
through; all his vaines
His toils had racked t’a laboring
woman’s paines
Dead weary was he.”

— Keats’ favorite lines from Chapman’s Homer

Tired. Tuckered, puckered, knocked out. I am so tired. Tired of being a man and the flesh I’m found in. Tired of counting my beating heart and waiting on a number that has yet come up, tired of doctors and little paper cups.

Tired. Kaput. Fire to soot. I am so tired. Tired like a stone that’s seen it all or a tree that’s withstood the fall, the inventions of eyes or the wooings of artists (those spies). Tired to death, even too tired to die. Tired. Tired of writing, why, why, why ???????

Tired of fires that can’t butt go out, tired of facts and figures (how does it figure?), tired of posture and procedure – that things just go on and on and on, tired of getting up each aching dawn.

Tired of the smell of tires and the squeal of civilization, tired of the flowers that just die in the vase, tired of the next craze and the fool that asks for another one. Tired, too tired even to be amazed.

Tired of obsolescence, the devirgined moon, the squeaky obscurity of scholars and the heavy eyes of noon. Tired of slowly growing old and watching others die, tired, just tired of so many goodbyes.

Tired of selling and buying (nothing that IS, lasts), tired of crying cuz I lost my gold god damned watch (bought another), tired of beauty smothered, a curse and condition we’ve caught.

Tired of language emptied of effort, the babble of idiots adding to unmeasure, tired of the noise and the party line, even tired of red wine, so often I’ve heard it slurped.

Tired of rich food and rich men (always asking, when?), tired of art and the anything it can be, tired of counting and pretending to be free, tired of looking at the sadness of death everywhere buried deep (even in sleep), who gives a bleep?

Tired of the silence of soap operas, the TV’s hypnotic glow, of sing-songs and friends saying so-so, tired of gossip and the snitching we’re always itching with. Tired, tired, I don’t know. I can’t imagine why.

Tired of progress as it does undress, leaving nothing for the eyes, tired of hope and holding on, not giving up the ghost but always asking why. Tired of questions, the same answers – nothing new, so few I dos. Just ask, watch the nightly news.

Tired of page turning, prepositions purposely misplaced, tired of saving face, culture and its clown paint, tired, so damn tired I think I’m gonna faint – my brain just can’t relate, predicate.

Tired of getting up and going to bed, tired of cafes and the silence they shed. Tired of waiting in so many lines, tired, the authentic always one step behind, weighted down, future blind. My O My! Living is so unkind.

Tired of laughs (cuz the jokes on us), tired of forgetting and the “your supposed to have fun.” Tired of the heavy cross and the pettiness of a boss that never shows his face. Tired, tired, waste, waste, waste.

Tired of tears that just come again. Like I said, tired of waiting and looking for what remains. Tired of hope and horoscopes and new hair, tired of swinging on the rope of despair (but who would care?).

Tired of words (so misunderstood) and tired of drinking (so misunderstood), just to drink again (when will it ever end?), tired of dancing, the music’s left the land, tired of it all, tired as a man can.

Tired of cleaning my nails, of wiping my ass, tired of widows’ window wails. Tired of broken dishes and car crashes, even tired of flicking ashes, Ecclesiastes, vanitas veritas, all else passes, but the earth abideth forever (which is the same as never).

Tired of trying my best, of getting ahead (and getting head), tired of sensation and the days that bend, into each other without end. Tired of alarm clocks and the secret message they send.

Tired of toasters and technology – buttons, dials, switches and knobs. Tired of telephones and the red light flashing on. Tired of escalators and elevators (the endless up and down), tired of traffic and transit (the continual getting off and getting around).

Tired of too much, too many and especially too few. Tired of him, her (and even you!). Tired of everything in front of me and all behind, tired ‘cause nothing’s left to find, nothing can ever truly be mine.

Tired of excuses (excuse me) and having tos, tired of getting ready and having to be somewhere, tired of brushing my hair, even putting on my underwear, tired of being clean and polite (I swear @!!*:##?!!@!***!).

Tired of tick tocks, clocks tick, time the sand merchant, growing grain after grain (for what gain?). Tired of eternity’s unproven undulation, of the moment, the hesitation upon which it sails, tired like Jonas in the belly of this big whale (I wail).

Tired of places but mostly people (always trying to be real, to feel, but what else could they be ?), tired of the strangers I meet but never greet, as I pass them in the street (who are they I ask, do they eat meat?), tired of being one among many, the crush and throng, I’m just a penny.

Tired of summer’s shadows and winter’s wasted white, tired of fall’s failing, springs unsprung, songs not begun by busyness and blankly being bored. I’m tired of being ignored.

Tired of things unsaid, of being unread, of those that wed, led like lambs to the shear. Tired of being near, to life, to pressing nature, the creature inside I can’t see (which won’t ever waver).

Tired of sinning and playing the saint, tired of doing wrong (the right (us) can relate). Tired of priests and boys, tired of laws, society’s noise. Tired of hate and love too – where one ends the other conquerors you.

Tired of hills heaped in hope, tired of fate, always being late. Tired of careers and promotions, the unquivering devotion to a job well done (only to be undone).

Tired of dollar bills and money, even the sweetness of honey (my! the bees are busy buzzing!), tired of lust and pleasures, old hungers now carefully measured, by age’s leisure, tired of drink and song, things done cuz we want to belong.

Tired of the hole, the absence inside, the aloneness, the abscess so wide! Tired of colours that must fade, all the troubles into I must wade, tired of never being still. Why do I exist against my will ????????? Is there a pill?

Tired. I am so tired.