mass mental

a mental hospital in winter. i found this place accidentally because i can't keep out when the signs say keep out. it was the most haunting surreal place i had seen outside of new orleans. i went back several times. in the middle of this sprawling empty complex of buildings, which was completely embedded in the woods, was a town square with a town hall style building with a clock, and a church. and a rotary. it was beautiful and foggy. i felt like i had found the abandoned set of some post-nuclear film. or the twilight zone. it was 1950 and it was empty. there was an untended nameless graveyard and an abandoned swimming pool that was completely covered in, so that the level of the weeds and soil was level with the edge of the pool. the diving board hung inches above the ground. the manacles attached to the cold ceramic claw foot tubs were silenced. the paint rejected the walls entirely, on it's way out, in every possible incarnation of industrial color. a history of poor choices. a screen door opened onto a courtyard like apple pies. wheelchairs and electric shock. so many sounds in the middle of the silence. layer upon layer upon layer in building after building after building. mass mental.

central park prayer

in the summer before 9-11 i walked central park from top to bottom. i would start down south and work my way up through the day, and then try to enter that exited area the next day, trying to slowly make my way through. i found this image one morning. i sat with this man by the edge of the water. waiting. watching. later i noticed the twin towers.

chuck, 2008

he emerges something like an echo
his armor blue velvet and colorful tunics
sumptuously hovering
in a borrowed time-frame

a rented suitor, roused
in some epic poem
immediately, and without qualm, ablaze

chuck
tangible and transient, descended

the exchange of energies, between floors
the cross pollination, from life to death
spattered, he looked laquered
on the pavement

beneath this portrait
were plum-colored pools
his face was grey

i wanted to say
i did not get to say
goodbye

the forgotten document, 2007

the forgotten document
the lost marriage, certified
the sunshine
in my face on the bridge
in my face on the road
in my face in the city
the smile from inside at the losses
and the gains          JFK
the secret      the smile      the silence
i walk in circles

i give you america
it has been yours all along

reverse direction, take off the suit
avoid the kids and coffee, your thanks
your tears, 'it's just so emotional', again
but not for me, the silence throbs

later, up the stairs, the last child is sent
the one we call 'the dealbreaker'
first envoy of the new world
with a message for the other man

this land is your land

camp whatever, 2008

in the middle of the woods, by the parkway
picking up trash and dead soldiers, she said
'sleep sleep sleep, cuz when you wake up you'll be all alone'

piss and shit and slugs all over camp whatever
drunken adonis, drunken bull, drunken wound
two, laying spoons on the ground, we found ourselves
beating each other about the head, with meat fists,
we left ourselves behind

horseshoes, wheat cent, needles and beer
dreams of knives, the roar of raw pain
scarred, scared, skid row, scattered
faces tattered with small cuts like red kites
lovely little lawn mower bites
already starting to heal

adolescence

tea party simplicity
and a greasy disgust
greeted one another in the miscarriage
of my adolescence
private illnesses, violent thoughts, standard pains
greeted one another in the accounts of their own little troubles
compelled to spend no longer restoring promise
i lit the golf course on fire
explored women's underwear
and stole sterling silverware
as dancing couples brushed past me
disgusted with myself
i tried to form
an ethic
more immersed in suffering than even i could bear

inspiration

this is really inspiring. a time of shift, the beginnings of a new consciousness. 'change' doesn't feel powerful enough. change is a constant. this feels like an awakening. i'm excited and inspired by the choices of my fellow citizens. i keep thinking about kennedy, and richard pryor, and the civil rights movement, all moving, all bubbling up into our larger, sleepy national awareness. 'we shall overcome' has new meaning for me. a promise realized. a waking dream. a new connection between heart and mind.

in traffic, for sherie

my nuclei are all smiles today, opening
my heart
listening for your heart
in traffic

a love moves in, for sherie, 2007

i miss you, too
i have been dreaming about you all morning
love and calendars and clocks

'what is this?' something within wants to know
doing this new thick math, slow
scraping at the backside of my soul

a love moves in, is already
alive in these dark quarters
forward looking, laying alone

i rise, for sherie, 2007

we have breathed and brought the season
which will see you leave, together
sewn the fabrics of past and present,
unzippered, between sheets,
barefoot, boldly, beautifully,
full moon, half moon, new
halfway around the world from you,
i rise

self-portrait with wheel

laura lush sublime, 1994

quick knee in the wet spread
a gleam of music across the pond
Aunt Bessie was thinking about her lunch
cigar in mouth, all wheels and speed
my pale eyes turned grey milky
we camped on the plain of yellow grass
unbuttoned gyrations spurting vapor trails
laura lush sublime

sunken trees crept slowly under stars and panther dreams
our mad twitching spasms bumped the hull
and out there on bronzed water
where monkeys screamed
dawn came, always a fool, her caramel eyes would want
childish stories
in the upper air i'd follow her anywhere
laura lush sublime