Saturday, February 26, 2005

Was it the Muse, or the Artist?

my muse did not die
on the contrary
she has awakened the poet
who was sleeping
in a sodden haze
dreaming
of a maudlin maze
wearing an ersatz mind
in the dullness
of a winter's day

and she has taken me
to a stream
deep within a forest
which has given me
new strength
to face the quotidian realities
of a business life

Monday, February 14, 2005

one last poem before the muse is dead

too late to change my mind
you're deep within it
too late to change my heart
it's in too many pieces
to rearrange
I will pass on this reality
and take it with me
to my grave
a thing to be remembered
as potential
never given life
because the muse is dead
and I have buried her
within my dying heart
within my lying mind

if she had a beret....

if she had a beret
a scarf of silk
a pair of high-heeled boots
if she had an accent
i could smile about
i might take her in my arms
and act
as if
i loved her
if she had a beret

Am Südwall 13, 14 Februar, 2005

from "When I Fall in Love"

in a restless world like this is
love is ended before it's begun

sat over spaghetti and beer
and watched women and men
act moonstruck in the magic
of the rose petals and candles
the restaurant provided
to make them think they're in love

if some of them last
to the end of the month
they've done good
if some of them last
to the end of this night
they've done better

when I fall in love
it will be completely
or I'll never fall
in love........

it is a nice song

love,
Jack

happy fucking valentine's day

Don't you just love the way
The idea of love
Can be commercialized?
Can be disembowled to make a not so honest buck?
What the hell, love sucks anyway.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

more about frank

not too many people
knew frankie prokop

he was my brother's friend
and painted roogie doo
on the inside of the trunk
of every '52 Chevy he restored

he shot me once
because of my sun glasses
and my German skis
as I was going up the mountain
to find god

it was his cattle ranch,
you see,
that I was traversing,
and it was posted well,
with signs that said just that,
"cattle ranch, no trespassing"

not used to cattle
in the pennsylvania snow
i kept on skiing
until he shot me in the shoulder
and knocked me down

it was a glancing blow,
a graze, as they say in the John Wayne movies
but it scared me enough
to raise my own rifle in defense
until I saw it was Frank
then I raised my hands in surrender
and yelled, "it's Zavacki"

hey, Zavacki, he said,
how's your brother?

ah, Mercutio, I miss you

doesn't make a difference,
does it,
if they're driving Mercuries
or gondolas

Mercutio always dies
Juliette's always under aged
and Romeo's a bloody ass
who doesn't understand
that when you're dead
you're dead for a long time
(with an appreciation for Frankie Prokop, his bicycle,
his plastic hat, and his dog, forever young)

i have never loved a woman named lizzie

i have never loved a woman named lizzie
but i must, and i hope she's not dizzie
i hope she's not fat
and pimpled and blonde
but if it must be
it's still up to me
to love
a woman named lizzie

a short note to all the girls i've loved

hello, and welcome to our show
it's nice to have you here
but please, don't love me
adulation is acceptable
worship is preferred
but love won't be tolerated
i am not your father's oldsmobile
not even my own volkwagen
needs love
we are apart
although you'll always be a part
(thank you, Willie)

a day in the life

with apologies to the Beatles

i am alive tonight
i can feel pain
in my back
in my gut
in my mind

can you say the same?

Kelly, Bruno, and the little guy with the sideways hat

Bruno lived out West
Pittsburgh
it's where he got the cowboy hat

Kelly was Kelly,
not a Polish name
but he was Polish
all the same

bullshit alec
was the other one
with two tone shoes
and a baseball hat
looking for
the beer he lost
on the wrong side of the street
because the light
was better

a short note on Manja Rembiscz

she would stand on the porch
her enourmous slavic breasts
hidden only by a rain coat
which she would open
when a machine made its way
down the hill
until one of them crashed
into Bednash's rock
and the police had
to take over

at least, they died in order

my family consisted of a father, mother, brother, and sister
my father was oldest
and therofore died first
(nice of him, don't you think?)

my mother (considerably younger)
waited until i had my second child
(perhaps a thought of replacement, replenishment?)
before she gave it up

my brother
didn't think
it was over
he had a young Beagle

and my sister
one year
into retirement
just disappeared

i will continue
until i cease
the last one standing
in perfect order
of age
in perfect order
of incompetence

egregious

Conspicuously and outrageously bad or reprehensible
that's what egregious means
conspicuous
outrageous
and reprehensible
that is who i've been
and who i will continue to be
and egregious saint
wanting too much
to please the clients
of my egregious consultancy
willing to love them
for the price
of my simple soul
only to lose them
as they begin
to understand

she was a dream

she was a dream
soft
and ephemeral
a dream
in which i loved
the way demented nuns
love god

she was a dream
and i
a dreamer
it was the perfect
dream
from which
i would not wake

and yet i sit
writing of Gertrude Stein
and Hemingway
unable to sleep
unable to dream

she was a dream
and i cannot sleep
to see her

en los trigales

a piece of music
a peace of music
in which the wheat flows
llike mysticism
along the stings
or a guitar
more beloved
than any woman

en los trigales
the wheatfields
in this glass
of dark
rich
German
beer
i see your face
your lovely breasts
i see your smile
and i add the salt
of my unapologetic tears
to the taste
of your lips
to my beer
to my wandering
mind

I think she was a Jewess

she was young
pretty
smart

she played the flute

we made duets
and love

there was a night of olympian proportion
which i remember well

she was young
and Jewish

and I
well,
I remember
well

Gertrude

i am jealous
Gertrude Stein
that you coul sit
with Hemingway
and Scott and Ezra
that you could listen
to their private
minds

i am jealous
Gertrude Stein
that you are dead
and you are famous
and i am neither dead
nor the other

there is a need
to write
a need to love
a need to make my fellow man
unencumbered
by this day

and yet
i am jealous
Gertrude Stein
that your pathetic name
is synonymous
with rose

Saturday, February 05, 2005

A Quiet Time

you need to rest
I need to disappear
you need quiet
I need nonexistence

I cannot explain
the sensory maddness
the inability to settle for less
than totality

I cannot explain
the need for perfection
and its antithesis

I am a mirror
which lies

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Gesundheit

i know you didn't sneeze
but the word means heatlh
a thing that's made me nervous
these past few weeks

feeling a pain in the upper right quatrant
of my gut
i finally found a doctor
who immediately thought liver
and sent me away for testing
after draining me of blood

evertyhing clean
everything in order
it passes
that my back
is not stong enough
to hold up my gut
which actually
only hurts
when I laugh

There is no word for you

no word for you
but paragraphs
and novellas

no word for you
not wife not lover not friend
you are all of those
and none of them
and I
stand quietly
in a corner of my mind
starting through it's heavily curatined windows
at the world you live in
wondering if you will ever wear
a grey beret
or speak French to me
over coffee