rattlers on the lost dogwash trail in

spring.  the new government
healthcare plan.  the new government
student loan plan.  the chances to
get hit by a foul ball when
sitting in the 3rd row on the
1st base line.  surviving  a
brain tumor.  be
coming an actuary and
digging it.  be
coming an actuary and
figuring out all those numbers above.

rattlers on the lost dogwash on trail in
spring.

cubs game in spring training

sitting in the third row
first base line
six days before opening day
reminds me of obama's favorite word
reminds me of obama's latest accomplishment
but do politicians accomplish anything?
mlb cable predicts 2nd or 3rd for the cubs this year
well, i tell you my dear,
baseball players and
politicians
have one thing in common:
victory,
defeat,
and that thing that
george washington's face is on.

go cubs, go; it's
been a unicentennial plus.

visiting the folks in phoenix

over spring break
reminds me
to be grateful
for ma and pa

the Idea Man

comes up with Ideas every day.
sometimes he writes them down.  and
sometimes he doesn't.  sometimes he tells
people.  most of the time, he keeps them
to himself.  he forgets a lot of them.
most of them.  sometimes he throws away those pieces
of paper.    the next one will be better, see.
so nothing gets done.

wait.

the Idea Man
comes up with Ideas every day.
sometimes he writes them down.  and
sometimes he doesn't.  sometimes he tells
people.  most of the time, he keeps them
to himself.  he forgets a lot of them.
most of them.  sometimes he throws away those pieces
of paper.    the next one will be better, see.
the Idea Man
comes up with Ideas.

have you ever stood up

to watch your shit go down
all that black & brown
sometimes white surround
ed by water & paper
and, i hope, your
relief, hear
the flush--o that sound!--
wash your hands, now, wash
your hands, now,
toilet symphony in your ears, now,
pollock shitphony in your eyes, now,
disappears now
disappears now
reappears some
time, you
pray.

march madness entices

even this basketball hating
jew.  i just saw tennessee beat ohio state
u. back and forth, see, back
and forth; forth and back; forth and
back.  what did the volunteers have tonight
that the buckeyes lacked?  kar
la graduated in columbus, as did her bro,
her dad, my sis.  tonight they were a
miss.  the last few minutes.  po
columbusians, po po fans, i ask you
this:  what's better, a buckeye dead near
the finish line or a blue de
mon never to feel Death's kiss?

one 5th decade white boy jew

in the high school hallway saw two
latino girls thin as fingernails
figting against lockers
while the crowd grew around them--
free show, see,
everybody's got cable, right?
but this was live--
i tried to separate the chicas
glued as uno,
and with the help of the football coach
(without whom i'd be gone-o)
they were dos again,
taken
downstairs to
the cops
but who knows what who'll see
tomorrow?

The Breakdancers' Club noise just

outside my room door
keeps repeating re
peating, via mp3
repeating e
ven ghostbusters dammit,
as they spin on the hallway,
the damn dirty hallway
where junkfood (w)rappers
stumble and old teachers
grumble to turn that shit down
as they twist on the ground
but they keep on spinnin'
and kickin' the sky on
hands and knees and backs
wearin' ski caps inside
with nothin' to hide
sayin' who ya gonna call?
hip hop cultcha.

mp3s

these days
make me realize
my fingers
are beginning
to suck
like fish
not play
like i usedta
and my songs
o those songs
even shorties
seem long
even longer
than those one sided yes songs
in 3/4 then 5/4 then 17/8
o my fingers
po po fingers
even tho
students say
let me hear you play
i say no cuz this old man
needs to start practicin'
his dorian scales
gray.

i smell the already

sliced onions here in the front room
the sliced onions in the kitchen
waiting next to a sharp knife
on a wood cutting board
near a cast iron pan
on a gas stove we bought last year on sale at sears
o sliced onions!
sliced onions!
soon you will spice tofu, zucchini and mush
rooms two
rooms to
my left
the holy kitchen
where sliced onions
will sizzle
in a song that sings:
add everything now!
then they will all dance in the pan
and
then

we

will
eat
them.

some days viki's vegetarian puerto rican jibaritos

set my white jewish tongue
all aflame,
sometimes not
well today, it was hot--
she was busy
and forgot
that the flat fried plantains
surrounding green pepper slices,
tomatos,
cheese,
onions,
mayo,
and spices, spices,
spices were going
my pale way
so as i write this i sip
vanilla and plain kefir
like i drink vanilla lassi
while eating
dosas
o those dosas!
on devon.

in Just-

vernal equinox,
when our day is 12/12,
and yesterday was 68
degrees, i drove win-
dows down,
warm in one jacket,
toward the sun,
hours pre-e
quinox,
the last day of winter was
warmer than the first
day of spring but
one thing,
not to worry, i
still see be
neath the flurries the
be
ginnings of those tu
lips still con
tinuing to
grow. 

the class played this family feud-like vocabulary

game, two teams
35 words,
instead of an announced quiz,

and the score was close
between the two teams,
words like functional and engaged
procrastination and inquisitive
regretful and alien,
words like inconspicuous and rage,
until this sound, it erupted,
student t's fist through the back of the tv,
did i hear that? yes i heard that;
the crimson blood on his finger's thin black skin
was hard to see.
we were both calm.

the back of the tv had a hole in it.
he apologized.
the class just kept doing their thing.


t and i talked later.  he says it's cuz there ain't no black kids in our class.
but he likes me.
he said.
he said he likes the old white teacher jew.
we shook hands.
then he walked to his next class
down the hallway

alone.
like the one boat down the river
toward the sun,
the crimson blood.

i tried to redecorate the table

but the goddess
the goddess made of wood
that we bought once in senegal
the goddess with dark breasts
and beaded earrings
and a big face
and one shell hanging from each hand
and two lines on each cheek
yes that goddess with small dark breasts
she hit the ground
my heart jumped
i had just moved one plant, see,
she was silent
i heard her say:
put it back like it was
where it was
where i was
and the moral of this story?
there is truth in
her breasts.

i stared at the computer

late at work to satisfy bureaucracy
that bureaucratic crabs created with
tax dollars clipped from my very own
paycheck.

and now i attempt to create
creative poetry 'bout those senseless senses
as i see senseless words,

invisible lights
colorless colors
in a soundless room?

i am hungry.  it is late.
and i need to cook something for dinner.
something quickly.  something healthy.
something with senseful whiskey.

we sat in silence to listen to the news

thatweknewwascomingsoon
andsoonthenews
thenewswaswe:
we'recuttingthis
we'recuttingthat
andit'scuzthegooseisfat
it'scuzthereain'tnowaytopay
everythingthat'shappeningeveryday
nosirnohownom'amnoway
we sat in silence

we'recuttingthis
we'recuttingthat
andyesit'strue
we'relettinggo
somekindofnumber
whichone?wedon'tknow
justsleeprealsoundly
we'llgetbacktoya

we sat in silence
weheardthenews
notonthenews
butinreallifeviews
andwerealized
maybe
thatthegovernmentwasnotlying:
theirlieswereinfactthetruth.

some peoples' voices and

stories
on
the
phone
m
a
k
e
i
t
s
e
e
m
l
i
k
e
y
o
u
'
v
e
b
e
e
n
c
o
n
n
e
c
t
e
d
f
o
r
e
v
e
r

her black radio fell

and there was no longer
sound.  the radio was no
longer a
radio.

3 butternut squashes
sat for seasons on our
counter; we didn't
plant them yet they
grew in our garden.  we didn't
eat them and they knew they
were no longer edible
fruit.

so i banged the
silent radio upon
one tumorlike squash
and i began to hear static

and then beats:

the dead squash was not
wasted.

i threw them away today.  we
see the

space.  she

hears the
radio.

in honor of health

i ate my cornflakes with
kefir--thick yogurt-
like, pro-
biotic, vanilla and
plain, un-
sweetened
milk.
so thick.
so thick it rested
in my goatee.
so thick.
she saw it.
i asked her to
lick
it.
she licked it.

she

licked

it.

so
thick.

target (tar-ZHAY) on a friday

evening, i say,
say i see
easter candy
different flavors of cadbury
and they're all wrapped in springpastelfoil
aisle after aisle
i see smiles
in kids' stomachs,
karla's stomach,
karla's tongue;
karla's tongue will taste
bombay sapphire soon,
i'll taste tanq
tanqueray,
but in target we smell starbucks
crumplechinos, 3.79,
in mart-k
it's a packed parking lot!
in mart-k
of today.

seeing musicians i

saw decades ago,
half a life,
dare i say,
in a near empty bar,
as i sipped makers mark
on the rocks
on a wednesday
made my fingers tap,
my lips curl
(in a smile, see)
and say
let this be once again
in two more
decades.

chicago broke 60 degrees today

for the first time this year
and i felt the warm air in my lungs
as soon as
i left my school's heated building.

i drove home.
with my window open.
i heard the warm air.

home, i changed clothes,
then we went for that walk,
that first walk of the year,
where we saw the warm air
littered
with paper,
newspapers,
parking tickets,
plastic bottles,
and junk mail catalogs filled with merchandise
too expensive
for unemployed
chicagoans
to afford.

but they can taste
free
stale
gasoline
flavored
warm
air.

i heard my health & benefits

member services coordinator
reading words like
based on blahblahblah then
clearly stated then
closer review would have alleviated then
their difference between irs definition and ours blahblahblah
and in the end the response was
we've taken your 500 dollars, sir,
shoved them up your ass, sir,
then turned them into our
somekindof feast
that tasted incredible, sir,
incredible, sir,
so thank you, sir, or
was there even no
thank you?

my lunchbag was full

when i left home this morning,
when i got home this evening:
i was too busy at work to eat.
so when i unzipped that magic treasure
and saw one plastic box filled with chips,
potato chips,
salt salt salt,
and one plastic box filled with a soft green medal,
a sliced avocado,
a green and black zebra like sliced avocado,
i dipped the greasy yellow
into the soft forest,
the firmmulticoloredsweettart avocado,
and let the tastes dance on my tongue
before i had the time to sit my pleased ass down
after a busy day at work:

one busy moment chewing potato chips and avocado.

in just meteorological spring-

it's just past march 1,
and our backyard's snowluscious;
it's sunday, i get to sleep in but
i don't.  i wake to

piss.  and when i do, i hear birds
singing

for the first time since last
decade, so i smile as
nature's water hits
nature's water in
manmade's bowl

and i don't waste time
flushing, i
just go back to bed
and place my balloonMan against
her skin; when she wakes
i'm sure she'll feel him
far
and
wee

solo le pido a dios

last night i heard a song while making 2 martinis.
i always hear songs while making martinis.
but this one shook my shaker.  this one shook my ice.  my olives.
i stopped shaking and listened.
and i wrote down the title.  and her name:

mercedes sosa.

today i found the song and downloaded it.
here's just one version.

oh yeah, my martini tasted better like it, too, was toasting
her words, her voice, her eternal spirit.

seeing the two bottles

inside the white envelope:
shaking them, hearing the pills--
anti-seizure maracas--
feeling the bitterness toward the unknown:
is it caremark?
bluecrossblueshield?
orthomcneiljanssen?
why the cost has risen hundreds of dollars
(or the congressmen)
hundreds of dollars in 6 months, i say,

let's shake the epilepsy,
i see the fuckers all dancing.

i felt the white pimple

aliens in the corner of my left nostril all day at work.  after, i saw them in the mirror.  two little plops, hidden in the shadow of my nose.

so i popped 'em.

the white became red and the bumps became flat.  let's see what i see in the mirror tomorrow morning.

my fingers

are on the keyboard,
my MacBook's keyboard,
and they feel the letters
as i begin a silly blog
(all blog's are silly)
related to senses:

i have 5 senses.