question the moon

ask the question.
go ahead.
ask.
wait.
hear the answer.
follow it into your heart.
do what's next.
grin.

more bad poetry

i found this in the back of an old notebook of mine.
i think this would make a good, bad country/western song.

not the brightest thing
i've ever done,
falling in love
with a son of a gun.

you'd think by now
i'd learned not to.
then i roll over
and shit-it's you.

get out of my way,
out of my life.
go back to your horse
back to your wife

i gotta learn how,
gotta think this through.
can't live this way
it's too far from true.

this is only tangetially related, but damn...

this is the bad poetry i promised

(with apologies to every poet who ever lived, anywhere, at anytime.)

i wrote this quite a while ago, and had, blessedly, forgotten about it. now it's back. sorry,


thoughts arise, and die again
with distressing ease.
they come and go like taxis,
erections, or a sneeze.
and yet we give them value,
permanence and place,
a vain attempt to make a world
that never changes pace.
when things tilt, we tighten up,
we fume and spit and seethe.
we rarely do the easy thing-
relax, let go, and BREATHE.

SO glad to have gotten that out of my system.