poking crosswalk button again. withdraw index pusher. counting. each. grain. ooze. thru. a. tube. right. before. fierce hunter-gatherer. adrenaline recirculates. I intended to form an hourglass shape because this is visual verbal art.
We know it's a game of guessing whose name, and when and where the x crossed eyes will be next
poor George, poor George! zero chance, negative respect from the hangman's knee
an eternal team of tree hangers, uniformed, hawk-like, leisurely capture any melanin ornament
hawk-like, yet I must admit I felt their cold hippo jaw molars crushing my neck in thousands of pounds per square inch
then as now, chump change, chump change, then as now gotta try anyhow, yes, we must, cameras first in tow, we too can capture now.
a traditional Japanese haiku Whoa, bushy squiggle- Fidgeting virtuoso Leave my dog alone
I fail thru ditches, I fail around peaks, following which I grow outward roots in all directions. The only rootless failure is an atrophied approach.
I steal oddities from the ordinary
by avoiding jargon as often as I can.
Fancy phrases swell my head
like a bloated gut, boring my viewers
quicker than a drilling tool does.
I use verbs that intersect with daily commutes and invite the pedestrian on an enriching tangent.
I coordinate every detail of my artistry
like a Cirque du Soleil choreographer
creating crisscross motions in mid-air.
Pulse is a privilege. So squeeze your veins with thanks as often as your hours will allow, O infant, clad in overlapping rainbows;
Welcome to our green-blue twirl world which comets frequent in their profuse circuits, You refresh us like lavender oil on a rainy afternoon.
Your mother's womb is a chamber of secret synergies. Springing forth from a union of gracious deity gates, you are like a geyser of ripe, frothy, daybreak dew. Plum blossoms in full bloom envy you and your folks.
You are as kinetic as magnet eggs in birdsong, eagerly yearning for a ball of yarn to weave the waves of your days into a scarf of warm memories.
I reserve my tears for twice a year
Two days after he died I cried
In sadness instead of laughter this time
His tall tales are like 10-story buildings
whose points become references
long after the architect kicks the can.
His anecdotes are winding staircases of moths
that trip up, then delight the audience, SNL and elsewhere, upsetting standards of other comics
If you like to stretch your comedy dollar
Or chuckle at Germany or North Korea
Here is Norm, humour in human form.
Eh hmm, Mr. Weinstein, Epstein and Cosby,
I spray your kind with these daggered phrases:
You ingrown cannibals engorged with
incest of thought whose rancid oral sores
tremble with a spongy mesh of maggots.
Twisting resentment into vicious grasps,
that razor-rimmed mouth guts the innocent
like a rusty corkscrew smothered in false gold.
Spirituality is a chance for a spark to surf through a spiral.
I'm a pagan but I would pay to preserve stained windows and Arabic motifs, both of which exude precious patterns.
Zoom in on my pupils, and watch their playfully wild sparks, kindled fiery tendencies that automatically refine real virtues.
Solitude loans me twin gifts— my grand tininess near sacred spaces and my pulsing interest in guarding the holy libraries:
be they Latin or Pali,
verses or sutras,
canons or Ramayanas.
To hate ABBA is to hate inhaling. Which sane lover of liveliness can reject milk and honey? to rejoice in their counterpoint is to honour the milky way galaxy.
40 years of wondering are tapped on the shoulder by a rebirth of stellar avatars. They're a fusion of then and now like a solar core.
I will shout from any rooftop for you I will groove for half an hour for you I will raise my glass of tears for you As you make wine from my teardrops O Bjorn, Agneta, Benny and Frida.
Audio Who dares explain our laughter to us? I refresh myself, as you refresh yourself, leaning back my head to laugh out loud with you at the explainers and at the open naked skies, let’s watch that arena of night horizon while tracking the shooting stars breath upon breath, sigh upon sigh, recycle your lung bicycles, mount your heartbeat pedals with me, cycle on and on and off.