Wednesday, December 16, 2009

here's to the journey



with belle
in the bath,

i study
the lines,
the smile,
mirrored in
my image.


there i am
that infamous explorer
drunk and wild,
riding the north star
into storms
and heavens
only adventurers
know.

my first mate beckons
from a sea of bubbles

and i know it's time
to travel downstairs,
downstream -
to find our port and name it
with pen.

goodnight my
sweet love
may the wind
always be at our backs and
the sunshine warm
upon our faces
now
until forever.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

shootin' hoop

i've been
engaged to a
mr.

and we played
one-on-one
in a closed court

but that hoop
hung our
knuckle ball

and my dish
ran away with
a spoon

no honey do
list here -
just a, to do

because i'm busy
shootin' free throws
to score a better me

and wonder if mrs.
will ever be a trophy
by my bed

Friday, October 23, 2009

immunity head

sittin' heavy in
a monarch's seat of fear.

like 1918,
this flu is pandemic
and my heart is contagious.

can't sleep
knowing bugs bite
no matter the smile.

grew up beyond death
in the land of never
and damn, i love you
more than dreams allow.

being a parent is hard.
and sometimes harder.

love you my belle.
"miss immunity head."

Thursday, October 22, 2009

scorpio's prophecy

i hung up the phone to
a chest full of drawers:

letters, wishes,
drawings and bottles -
wine, musk,
and your peanut sauce
all labeled by year and vintage.

i know:
love is freedom,
love is pain,
love is your hand on my ass,
and my wishful thinking.

be.
and know that this too will pass.
and be again.

i sculpt lines under my eyes
to recall learnings
and to forget the losses -

only to wonder
when scorpio's moon
will be a good vintage.


Tuesday, October 13, 2009

zoo

belle and i went to the zoo.

as we were driving south,
i thought about that writer vegetarian
protesting the "tao of zoo."

i recall late 90's punk shows
lined with animal activists
(gory chicken pamphlets ring a bell?)
preaching passionately against
animal captivity and cruelty

and i wonder
why the gutter punks
never rallied against
the mass incarceration of kids,
you know, public school.

at least zoos try
to create habitat resembling "the wild"
and i ain't ever seen
a classroom
built in the trees.

have you?

Sunday, September 20, 2009

act then talk

i can't tell 
you 
to do,
until 
i have tried 
it too

the more
weary
i be,
the more
i want
you 
to act 
fearlessly

act 
then
talk.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

what i think

wearing a weeks worry 
cuffed in my blue jeans
i found refuge in the resurrection of yesterday's lover.
 
and who said lovers can't be friends?
i did.  but then time passed, and MISS matured into
WOMAN who saw beyond her wine soaked lips.

lust, if you're scribbling short stories, but introduce
soulfire named BELLE and my game withers, my dignity rises,
and i think i can, i think i can, 

until YOU and I are,
swinging in each others arms
shouting gospels until we cry wolf.

i love you.  i love the way your head sits on my shoulder
little girl, and ex-lover too.  the stress is gone,
buried beneath my winter sweaters.  still sweating from this purge.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

a love letter

dear clear lake,
it was never my intention to grow attached to your cattails or whistle guthrie by your flaccid banks. but i have and i do.  i've fallen in your depths, sweet lady - seen belle delight at your holsteins, picked berries under your alders, and conversed patiently with your elders.  i love you and thank you for each kiss of dew across my cheek.  simple and true, my love.  
until tomorrow,
jh

a something

there's a something 
following me
through.

a thud,
bang, or rustle - 
i know its there
as i pick blackberries,
feed belle a bottle,
wash the breakfast bowls.

i hear it, feel it, 
over there,
below me-
like a puppy's nose 
against my ankle

not sure what or why
but i'll keep on 
and hope that it 
does too.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

slaughter

walking up a country road
mirabelle and i encountered
cow slaughter.  

i couldn't protect 
her or i
from this reality,
so i spoke as if i knew
and asked her to tell me
everything.

she said,
"life is,
as death is,
and both are."

and we kept on
as if we were,

but i wasn't sure 
why.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

LOVE LIFE

two men 
said -
love life

one in a song,
the other on
a sign 

"love life"
simply

written 
or said

both men
are true

but fuck if it
ain't false
sometimes.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

tail feathers

wind whipped leaves
and your word 
quivers

no truth
can hide in
your feathers

and you'll wait 
'til the storm 
has passed

to take a stand
but it won't fly
in this nest

anymore.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

wise pop

how are you?
i'm alright, he said
only alright?

it's not that things
aren't well, 
i just want you and belle
to be happy.

we are happy,
just hit a few bumps
in the road today,
that's all

well, if you're happy
then i'm happy,
he said

we held hands and
tears melted 
his soft cheeks

and i knew
what 
he said 
was right.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

love is freedom


"our parents taught us to be careful with glasses and with our bodies. they taught us that the passions of childhood are impossible, that we should trust men in white suits, that people cannot perform miracles, and that no one leaves on a journey without knowing where they are going. break the glass, i thought to myself, because it's a symbolic gesture. try to understand that i have broken many things within myself that were much more important than glass and i'm happy i did. resolve your own internal battle and break the glass."
last night i awoke and walked into the garden's dew. mist collected in my curls and i wept. love came to me and i accepted. the Mother, the Woman, i had met seven years ago returned to my side. above me, showering me with truth, i lay open, gutted from its entirety. i hear you, breathe you, this water and dirt enveloping me is love.
i've been paralyzed with fear - fear of rejection, acceptance, and even success. sometimes i couldn't rise out of bed, under sheets of darkness, disappointment. the sun in my sky was a bruised apple and my heart was swollen with shallow sexual compliments and drunken abatements.
god is love. did you hear me, god is love. but can i give love without the promise of return? without dogmatic repercussions and compulsive hair pulling? can i give it without a "you" to give it to? can i save it for me?
cause damn, i thought my joy, ecstasy came from you. i cried for days when you wouldn't acknowledge, accept my love, you drowned in those blue blankets and i stared out upon the sea of asphalt for your profile in the shadows. but my pyramid was building. brick by brick. and if god created us for love then everything leading us to sadness is of our own doing. own it.
i thought love meant security, a pact against all odds, a commitment. but every promise i've made a mutiny on. and if i fall love, may it be from a high place because i am ready to sit in silence, to jump in the inferno of my own madness and sip the froth.
i knew i wanted this. to break the looking glass that peers out instead of in. i see you sitting there. do you see me?

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

stress relief

i was driving
down the freeway
with daily stress on
my brow
and found myself
pondering
the profession
of massage

i received
my first massaging
last weekend
from a 
dark haired woman 
who held my hand 
like a lover
during orgasm

god, when
was the last time
i did that?

with left hand
on the steering wheel,
i reached 
down to my crotch
and imagined
and remembered
until i came
right there
in the driver's seat

and  
honestly, it was
just that simple
to find relief

Monday, May 18, 2009

freedom ain't free

i have one sentence to fit everything because sentence should be spelled sentance the way i pronounce it and the 8 o'clock hour has inspired all these fucking conundrums in and around my dome like how i only have one life to live, minus the soap opera plus the ex-lover who complicates business because if i build it you will come but i'm afraid of failure so this isn't a school, academy, or center i'm constructing because those titles are loaded dogma and i can't stand associating myself with MIT teacher martyrs sucking institutional penis, but i have to approach and act with acceptance otherwise i'm as crooked as the cocks-man who unravels my existence, period

if i build it they will come, if i build it you will come, now shut up and do, period

A.I.

cheez-its
of modern
science

savor
the taste

of this
artificial 
intelligence.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

beach haiku

family members
with walking sticks
syncopate
beach mantras

belle rides
backside
arms stretched
her airplane wings

minus tide
plus mom and dad
with 10 sand fleas
marching up my leg

a boat 
floats offshore
captainless, 
perhaps plundered

back to the car,
3 generations,
hear their echo
in the shell.

Friday, April 24, 2009

m&m

gobbling m&m's and 
slurping twisted zin 
couch-side on a friday night.

a four star calamity?

damn.  i hope not.  

but i did experience a 
hypercolor  rush
when i thought 
we might cross paths today

and now i'm trying to 
delete your junk from
my mind map

with cheap american euphemisms 
and self gratification

alas, to no avail.

you paved an interstate 
through my netherlands

no indulgence can erode.

must be time for bed.
yes indeed.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

reflections on success

driving, i came to this conclusion:

good writers are honest thinkers.

you've got to ink 
your obsessions, oddities -
underpants.

about the time 
you slipped and shit yourself
on a dusty logging road in 
northern california

or the lover who
ate you out
with chewing gum in his mouth;

and the friend 
who painted your ass yellow 
at a 40th birthday party.

i don't know.

but i used to steal 
panties by the dozen
from jc penny

and i ain't famous yet.

so i'll keep writing to 
see if i get any closer
to the truth.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

still waiting at the slide

in kindergarten
i frequented the park
like a well worn 
barstool.

on the slide
was bonnie, 
with storybook curls,
staring at me.

god, i wanted to
hold her hand,
so i asked her
to be my friend.

she said 
no, not now, 
but maybe 
later.

and yesterday
i received an email
from a man
i frequented

saying the same
thing.

i'm still waiting
on both
for a better 
offer.


Tuesday, March 17, 2009

you

i like you 
best

after i've 
had a drink
or two.

what?
you said.

yes, 
darling
it's true.

and there's only 
one more 
bottle

with 
your name 
on it.

so,
you were 
saying...

Saturday, March 14, 2009

never judge a book

book shelf
short and black

twenty books
mostly bukowski

where's keats, 
thoreau, octavio?

your house
earning interest

books like
booze flow

liberally from 
my library

but hank
stays put

i need
my plonk

to be
in stock.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

poor man's yoga

face down
stretched lean -

carpet the 
fragrance of

purple,
the orient, 
that house my parents rented,

this languid snake
has no bones

satori.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

photo shoot

cap to skull,
crab to shell,
he acquired
entry 
alleyside.

camera to hand,
cut to paste,
he captured 
faces 
beflummoxed.

cat to muse,
cage to bird,
he drew me
in tongue -
no eraser.

child to child,

we have
a long way
to go.

click.

Friday, February 27, 2009

fred's homework

fred rye V
handed me
his homework
one year
and 75 days
late.

yellowed paper, 
in faded pencil - 
ancient 
manuscripts
from a 
high schooler's
tomb.

i said,
"what do you
want for this?"
and he replied,
"recognition."

we swapped smiles
and i set the stack
of post-dated
past behind
us.

"looks like you're
set to graduate
fred."
and he 
reminded me, 

"it's never too
late to have
a happy childhood."

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

i stood here once
when a gust of wind hit
me like the fist of an
infamous grade school
bully, 
kurt girky.

i never knew
sand could
penetrate
skin
or
infiltrate
ears.

go here
if you can.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

roll call

cemetery 
attendance

"davis - 
here.
douglas - 
yes.
marshall, 
mr. and mrs. -
say i."

no one's
tardy

but it's
late
afternoon
and

we're
strolling
suburban
burial grounds

looking for 
our neighbor

but i
can't remember
his name.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

heads or tails?

i know
some good people
who call themselves
buddhists 

but how the hell
can anyone
BE
a buddhist?

ANATTA dammit.
and you can't
BECOME enlightened
for fuck's sake.

bottom line:
suffering originates in
the human desire
to BE something other
than nothing. 
seriously.

if i smoked,
i'd light up
and throw a penny 
in the air.

heads or tails?
god, i'm an asshole
tonight.
i need a kiss and
a mirror.


Sunday, February 8, 2009

may i be your valentine?

adjacent to
slumber,
two candles flicker
across ceramic tile.

on the bathroom floor 
my after hours studio -
crafting valentines and
pouring ruby slippers
into glass.

door slightly ajar with
ears astute for tiny dancers,
i write love letters
to you, auntie, and
grandma.

a dimpled hand shuffles
in the bedroom.
i rise to sail the sea
of darkness to you,
my lips like magnets
find your forehead.

silence. i return to port
to set my pen's anchor.
cupid's quill drenched in
your reservoir of knowledge
and beauty.

because of you
i have something 
to say.
love is freedom,
my darling.
tell me more...


a lingering seriousness

brooding mirror face,
grimace -
beneath my eyes.
it's serious.

why?
a friend displaced.
who?
that leo with long hair.
so?
i still believe in happy endings.
hmm...

seagulls
in a swollen pasture.
i can't count how many
but there are plenty.

i wonder when this 
feeling will lift.  leave.

when the leo
summons the birds
to shore?

perhaps.
still waiting.
for what?


Sunday, February 1, 2009

i'd like

do you ever say, "i'd like to..."
and then espouse reasons why
your likes are impossible,
illogical, and ill-conceived?

sure. i do too. but i am quitting,
today.
i'm putting this salem slim light
out and lighting a candle of
remembrance

for the dream of paris under an umbrella,
for the want of a technicolored lover who reciprocates,
for the dinner party that lasts for 7 days and nights.

i'm ready to burn a steady oil
to set my word in plaster and
tend to it as a springtime garden.

i'll live and love
sustainably,
listen with intention and reverence,
and bathe belle with sloppy mom
kisses until we both expire from
tears of laughter.

now comes the hard part.
hold my hand and let's fly,

together we will.





Saturday, January 31, 2009

air aversion

i am plagued by
a reoccurring dream.

i am in an airplane
a boeing 747.

i perch anxious in my seat
a woman sat next to me.

i feel the plane take off
a revving engine.

i look out the window
a cityscape gray.

i wait to gain altitude
a voice declares emergency.

i see the tops of tall buildings
a little too clearly.

i panic.
i scream.
i cover my face.

i awaken upset.

a glass of water, please?

Thursday, January 22, 2009

anniversary


it's been nearly a year since i posted my first poem-like-attempt on here.

what did i hope to accomplish?  to share my writing with someone, perhaps a "one" who i'd never met and connect.  or piss off.  or fall in love with.  

i write because i am.  i write because i talk in circles.  because women break my heart and men tickle me to death.  i put words together like a seamstress with a bent needle.  i write like a scorpio.  belligerent and lusty.  words find me after a good fight, a documentary about migration, and well into a bottle of wine.  i can write sober and i will.

there is truth and ignorance in my words.  like a bicycle wheel, i have spoke-n.  ha.  that is the most brilliant line i have said today.  sorry.  that is pretentious.  

welcome.



coyote and crow.

coyote and crow met for a drink.
crow lit a camel, "night or day?"
"always day." said coyote.
"really? never would a guessed."
"ole' lonely finds me at dusk, crow."  
coyote took a drink.

midnight thirteen.
he's howling outside my window.
god damn hound of the baskervilles.  
his nose raw red with muddied mane,
sullen beast wails to no kindred echo
like a man left suddenly widowed.
i hit the flood light to send him packing.

"closing time boys."  the bartender
wiped down the bar.
crow threw down a quarter and 
coyote licked his lip, left the bar
and crossed the street
into darkness.


Wednesday, January 14, 2009

leather coat

the banquet was full of prime rib.  women laced in corsets.  men sweating tuxedos.  he sat heavy at the bar, arms longer than expected - hair that held gel.  she sipped from pink madness and approached with a napkin spiked to her heel.

"may i?" she perched, pulling the skirt taunt under her ass like a christmas ribbon to a child's finger.  "i'm juliette."  she smiled, selling real estate between molars.  dipping her hand deep into purse, she pulled out a receipt scribbled in ball point madness.  

"care to hear a story?" she read.  he stood, dawning a black leather jacket.  it smelled like a beating.  the servers shouted last call for american slop and she put the paper to bed.

foot speak love

beneath you
my naked foot
reminds me
it's time.

your beauty 
eclipses the moon gaze
and i awake embraced -
full of shameless hope.

midnight jazz 
we wander through
pages unscripted.

write with me.

learned

pool stick
sticking me again

lesson learned
twice.

co-worker brian

his head

a penny
on a desk
disproportionate.

effeminate
hands clutch
my stapler -
give it back.

licking toads
like envelopes
talking 
on my telephone,

to his mother.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009


sitting cross-legged in the bathroom
eating spaghetti
i am alone (but you are not alone)
there are 2 scabs on my toes from shoes expired in 2000
and a glass of wine on a nearby ledge, 2/3 full. 
optimism.

it's time to bury this leaf in mud's melting pot.
run from the reaper to convince myself there is
still flesh in the body of your sentences
but karma surrounds
me with jumping spiders, those reincarnates of resentment.

amber showers fossilize love's learnings,
skeletons of desire, disaster, indulgent boners.
dna of a woman woven together,
tattered patterns make my
slumbers' blanket.
sleep to remember.
sleep to forget.
and goodnight.

stranger poems

recently, i posted a profile on the stranger's lovelab site. don't judge. there is something fascinating about people's descriptions of self and i created a poem from an array of personal ad headlines. my rules were 2: never put lines from the same person back to back and no filler words to help transitions.  

let me begin.

This part makes me laugh and feel icky at the same time. I just transformed 4 lbs of meat into balls. To make it simple, lets just think about it in terms of work and play. I enjoy the night life, having finally overcome a lifelong bout with a near-debilitating stuttering problem. I enjoy my little world of improv theater, filmmaking, friends, karaoke, writing funny songs for people, sleeping in on Saturdays, creating things, eating food, hanging with babies, surprises, live music in small venues, pubs, beer, martinis, movies and odd bits of pop culture trivia. All in all, it will be a delish addition to the Swedish christmas feast we're having. And I scrub up well.

I’m a well-hung sexually talented stud looking for a married woman who wants to make her husband jealous in order to procure expensive gifts from him. Tricky little mousey....you stole my cheese. I am what i am, a tragically disfigured man from a paper-mill explosion, i'm just now getting back into the swing. The meat is now known as Swedish meatballs. I believe in a world where everyone is treated with respect, and it is far better to help others than to be greedy. ( i.e. john lennon's 'imagine') and I have a terrible problem with staring at people - I wish I could draw everyone I come in to contact with.

Kinky Little Kitten. Here's what I do and what I like:
I'm pretty adaptable, and enjoy a wide range of things. A person's life can be divided into a number of different categories. Love, Meditation, Yoga, Cuddling, Nature, Camping, Hiking, Reading, Movies, Visionary Art, Learning, Audio lectures, Speeches, Plants, Mushrooms, Fulfilling my required duties in our democracy, World Peace, Communication, Vegetarianism, Environmentalism, Buddhism. I'm a male art model with a grant from the Endowment For the Arts, and a member of the community in good standing, seeks skinny love magician, muse, and life-force generator for the purposes of dreaming together.

While I tend towards jeans and boots, I'm not afraid to put on a suit.
I had a tarot reading some years ago that the girl of my dreams would be introduced to me through a stranger...and that my parents wouldn't like her. Now I'm looking for nothing and no one that cares about nothing and no one but doesn't want to be alone.

merry christmas.