what are deadly nightshades, you ask?

deadly nightshades are only plain old nightshades until they open
 and face the sun and if you get too close, spit in your face.

deadly nightshades only open in absolute direct sunlight -
 no smog refactoring, no northern hemisphere pseudo-direct
 ambient crap. only the equator. only at a certain time of day,
 under certain atmospheric conditions.

the deadly nightshades in my living room and in your backyard
 are about as deadly as you and I. put together.

the deadly nightshades in your backyard were planted by mortal
 enemies of your parents, when they were young and arrogant
 and had many mortal enemies. now they are calmer
 and their many mortal enemies don't care so much.

but their children do. and so do you.

the deadly nightshades in my living room were planted by your parents,
 when they were young and wanted to remind me that death
 was always waving hello just out of sight. now i am older
 and my sight isn't as good as it used to be.

deadly nightshades not at the equator are only deadly if you pry
 them open and look inside.

so is that answer enough?

or must you have more?

New Orleans Hug

sometimes i need
to shut hell up
come in for a hug
size of new orleans

Aquaman?!?

This month's Blogging for Books is being hosted by Joshilyn and Mir. The topic is "superheroes."

Now we've done it. We've pissed off Aquaman.

I wonder what was the final straw? Was it as long ago as Exxon? Or one too many dumping companies? Maybe we're lucky and this was yet another warning, we still have time to mend our ways.

Maybe that's not so lucky after all.

Who knew Aquaman was so powerful? He looks like such a dork, who cares that he has power over 90% of the world? We're busy saving the world for democracy, man! Who's got time for some little pissant with delusions of grandeur?

Well, who's the pissant now.

Please help us, Aquaman.
We'll make you a better looking outfit.
Please.

Not...Dead...Yet...

..although it's not from lack of trying.

The blog. Not me.

Last week I was in Montreal. Nice city, if you can get it.

Here's some silliness I wrote on the way home:

Stuck in Montreal
too much cheese
weighing me down

too many thoughts
jumping around

customs won't let me in
with all that din

lose the good stuff
come on home

Welcome back!

I missed you!

Here's an old poem I found again recently. It reads a little...off...to me, but there's something about it I quite like.

Dandelion Horde

As he dreams about the dandelion horde,
he sips his wine and remembers:
the golden mob undulating toward him,
his frantic breathing, stumbling;
he scarred his knee that day.

A sudden insight into the dark and seedy side of nature,
the danger that lurks behind any sign that says,
don’t pick the dandelions.

But after the adrenaline -
rush to the car, stem the blood spill from his veins -
he watches the dandelions.
How they socialize,
how the brilliance of the sun is reflected in every dandelion,
even in a horde.

Superfluous Squid

he bought too many again

he knows she will leave him
over this mangy mollusk

she will stare
at its sad tentacles grasping
at vague memories

she will see the squid as it could still be, she knows
if she is fast enough she can save it,
flush it to the ocean
or the sewers

and the sheer size of its potential bloated growth
will reach into the present and split
the garbage can in two and leave
pockmarks on the ceiling
ink in the rug

and he knows she knows she will leave him
because she will come home to the squid
every time

persimmons?

I have only known persimmon through other people. I'm not entirely sure I know what it is.

I imagine a group of children of some mingled, confused ethnicity, laughing and eating persimmon seeds, which exist in potentiality with the children themselves.
I imagine a woman preparing persimmon pie. A man appears. They are both sad to discover the children do not exist.
The children themselves are happy. Having eaten their persimmon, they are sticky with its juices. Soon they will run to the lake and go skinny-dipping and shiver. They will catch pneumonia and stay in bed for weeks and it will all be worth it.

The man and woman are older, now, not so sad. They have a persimmon bush which does not exist, yet takes the place of the children. They had a persimmon flower for awhile, but their neighbors kept talking about it - “I didn't know persimmon was a flower!” and they had to get rid of it. Also, they stopped speaking to their neighbors.
They will move soon, they have decided, somewhere where persimmons grow on trees, and there are lakes.

I long for a day when I, too, can be face-to-face with persimmon, and know it. I worry – have we been in its presence already? Have we spent time together eating something we thought was papaya or parsnip?
Perhaps a persimmon expedition is in our future. We'll start small – Safeway. Giant. Asian/Indian/Mexican groceries.
From there, it's an easy step to the jungle, with its hothouse persimmons and persimmon piranhas around every corner. Persimmon tree frogs will serenade us. We'll stay with our friends and their persimmon tree and their beautiful, wonderful children.

In other news

...it's good to post again.

I highly recommend having a friend who organizes and hosts a 4-hour writing marathon. It's awesome, and mind-blowing. I was a bit numb afterwards, and quite exhausted.

A random piece I wrote somewhere in there:

Tantrum in the City

arms and legs flailing wildly
at first you think everyone will ignore you
but soon enough they start
to throw their own

the cars and buildings join in
doors slamming,
elevators dropping to the ground
in sheer ecstasy

over on the side
the only tree shakes its branches as best it can

headlines in the paper:
mass catharsis hits DC
city will never be the same
elevator repairmen working overtime

Movies Seen Lately

Catch Me if You Can
A trifle by Steven Spielburg, with Leonardo DiCaprio.
I have not been particularly impressed with Leo, but he was pretty decent in this movie. Too bad it was so forgettable. But Emily and I had a pleasant time watching it. We laughed a bit. We groaned at its hokiness. We discussed, over random bits of dialogue, whether this was really a true story. We turned the movie off and went to bed without a second thought.

The Triplets of Belleville
This is a wonderful movie. Oddly enough, it really loses a lot in the transition from the big screen to a TV. I think it's because the movie does such a amazing job of building characters through very small tics and mannerisms that when those subtle effects are even smaller they don't add up as much. Or, cleverly, a big screen makes everything bigger.
And it's the little things that make this one a classic for me. My favorite character has to be the little mechanic who looks, and squeaks, like a mouse.
I could probably do without the last 10 minutes or so (even a silly car chase is still a car chase), and the very very ending just leaves me confused, but I love the rest of it so much I don't care. Not one to see every month, but every few months would make me quite happy.

breaks

i fuck
in hate the line bre
aks every day i write:

if i break mys elf here
will i hurt or grow?
now? or this
other now?
which do i choose?

if i wash ash
or the coast of this world
will it burn more?
break less? fast?
when will we eat again?
under one patched roof
with duct tape glue and
jagged smiles and
pass the bread and
be at peace?

An old one

Not in the mood to write something new, so I'm going through old poems.
Here's one I liked:

an ode

of all her body
her chin liked me the most

(its quiver as i approach
sweat)

we tried to make time for ourselves
but the rest of her kept getting in the way

Must...post...something

So here's a little ditty.

Untitled

fear is best chilled
like gazpacho
anger is best warmed
with hot chocolate

a cold tomato tang
fire fudge following

world curl

on a day like today
i like to settle in front of the fire
give the world a big ol' scratch

exfoliate that forest foliage
open up those Amazon pores

itch rough flaky Afghanistan peaks
revel in dandruff slopes

massage the Indian ocean
where the world is still
little sore

leave Africa
for the chiropracta

let the world curl around me
take joy in its warmth

Movie - Kitchen Stories

A lovely movie.

The premise is pleasantly absurd. Home scientists in Sweden have, through painstaking analysis, determined the best kitchen setup for the average Swedish woman – where the sink goes, the refrigerator, etc, so as to make movement as efficient as possible.

Now those scientists have turned their sights toward the Norwegian bachelor.

Since it's the 1950's, there's no machines to record movements around the kitchen. Swedish men become observers, sitting in high chairs, making as little noise and taking up as little space as possible. And never, ever, talk to your observee!

Given this setup, the movie does a wonderful job of turning the audience's sights toward the characters involved – the observer, the reluctant observed. We see Folke, the observer, as he slowly meets and becomes part of the world around him. As Folke begins to fit in and appreciate his host, so do we.

Everything moves slowly, quietly. Humor and pathos arise naturally and warmly from the characters and their situation. It's all just so.

There are socio-political themes - plenty of Sweden/Norway jousting and mild jibing. Certainly some wry commentary on science and who watches the watchers. More of that type of commentary at IMDB, if you care to read it.

But I really loved the movie for the gentle friendship, the genuine camaraderie it creates. Movies about real male bonding are hard to find. This one is a gem.

wordplay

falafel zygote
superfluous squid
danskin dogerie
punctual lavender
irascible lavender
kokopelli nascar

add your own!

(good grief! is it lavender or lavendar? falafel or falafal?
let's call the whole thing off...)

This is the mood I was in today

But I'm better now.

Boxing

Talking to a friend this morning
I just reached up and punched myself in the mouth
didn’t even see it coming
WHAM
on the floor

So to teach myself a lesson
I boxed my ears
My friend asked me if I was alright
But I only heard this ringing noise
All I could think was what an idiot

So I gave myself a good hard whack in the balls
While I was moaning
And calling myself an asshole
I remembered I had left my boxing gloves at home

tsunami, dec 2004

the impotent man knows where his bread is buttered
the impotent man knows how to stand on his own
two feet the impotent man has, although one hurts right
now the impotent man feels he should do something
the impotent man feels he should do something to
help the impotent man feel
s

the impotent man hates smell the news reports say
smell is the worst of all it ties the impotent man down
smell it ties the impotent man up smell is the worst
of all the impotent
man cannot smell

one hurts right now the impotent man feels
the impotent man should take a walk yes
a walk will be nice
with money in the mail
the impotent man is doing all
doing all the impotent man can