Monday, May 14, 2007

sometimes i feel like a hunted animal

sometimes i feel like a hunted animal,
blood sport for burrowing reporters,
a fugitive, nimble as kimble,
on the road like kerouac,
starving hysterical naked craving penguin dust,
dented but un-sussed,
running, hiding, a jungian
shadow man dwelling in caves,
like plato, seeking higher truth
yet hounded by attorneys, by feds, by SEC–
by journalists burned,
i turn nocturnal,
journey into the whirlwind–
my crimes invented
my options resented,
i earn no salary, i earn nothing
but scorn,
friends lie & squeal
my position reveal,
i am blamed, framed, valerie plamed–
tormented, tried, tonguetwisted
stalked and staked out,
so wired so weary so worn–
i want only to invent the future,
to restore childlike wonder.
i offer to settle, to pay.
i say
name your price
let’s make a deal
spin the wheel
survey says–
we are gaining share
& i have more to share but there
is not much time. let me work again in peace.
let me live in daylight
while daylight remains. otherwise
we will all be stuck with windows
& nobody wants that.

Monday, April 16, 2007

R.I.P., Kurt Vonnegut

Rest in peace, Kurt Vonnegut.
O bard of war,
O master of whimsy, you
were the voice of
a generation,
rich & famous & much-loved
& yet
the bad voices drove
you to attempt suicide.
I must admit
I never read your books
though at Reed I carried
Slaughterhouse-Five everywhere
& talked about it
as if I’d read it.
Jon Ive says he read the first
few pages of Cat’s Cradle
& found it boring
& fell asleep.
A bit unkind of him, I think.
We asked you to be in our
“Think Different” campaign.
You said you hated computers
& wouldn’t even meet me.
Too bad.
We would have paid you a lot.
Now you are dead.
So we can use your image
without your permission
& without paying you.
So it goes.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

R.I.P., Don Ho

Rest in peace, Don Ho.
O troubadour of the tropics,
O football star,
O father of ten, you
kept yourself busy, apparently.
“Tiny Bubbles.”
That was your famous song.
But others made more money on it.
Still, you were the most
famous Ho in Hollywood.
And that is saying something.
You even had your own TV show.
I watched it once
while tripping on acid.
Intensedelic is the word I use
to describe the experience.
Don Imus called you “nappy-headed.”
Not very kind of him.
I’m glad he got fired.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

sometimes i feel like a golden god

sometimes i feel like a golden god,
glowing perfect unstoppable, a colossus
bestride the narrow world, a master
of all domains, an artist
of vast unimaginable scale,
an enigma, a tangle of contradictions–
open yet closed,
public yet secret,
cloaked like christo,
silent like cage,
white like rauschenberg,
a chef who serves
only an empty plate
shiny white
so clean so perfect so pure–
& you pay & you pay & you pay
for what?
for what is not there
for the still center
for the silent surface
for peace for ease of use
for pinch & slide & multi-touch–
this is my genius,
this is my soul & art,
my poet’s heart,
sold so low, i
solo like lowell on
a brackish shoal, stroll in
whole-food supermarkets, an
angelheaded hipster with thin
smart phone containing multitudes,
songs & contacts & email & web, ringing
with rhythm of roethke,
dark, dark my light,
& darker my desire–
which i is i?
iMac, iPod, iTune, iChat, iPhone–
brilliant as bowles,
i am i, but
you are not i.
which is really
too bad for you.

Monday, December 25, 2006

R.I.P., James Brown

Rest in peace, James Brown.
O Godfather of Soul,
O hardest working man,
O sex machine, you
auditioned for Mulan, Shrek & Dreamgirls
but Eddie Murphy, the lover of shemales,
stole your act & got
those parts instead.
John Ive says you were domestically
violent & did time in jail. Not
very kind of him.
“I feel good.”
That was your theme song.
Not anymore.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

R.I.P., Alan Shugart

Rest in peace, Alan Shugart.
O Father of the disk drive,
O surfer of waves,
O wearer of colorful Hawaiian shirts, you
were both floppy & hard,
and well-loved at Seagate.
Until they threw you out.
Are you kind? I once asked you
when there was no weed anywhere
and you said sure come down &
gave me that incredible homegrown
from your friend’s farm in Scotts Valley.
Jon Ive called you scuzzy.
A bit unfair of him, in my
opinion. Though you did make
your dog run for Congress.
He was Ernest.
You were not.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

R.I.P., Ray Noorda

Rest in peace, Ray Noorda.
O Father of Netware, you
enabled millions
to connect locally.
Until Microsoft crushed you.
Jon Ive says you were a Mormon.
A bit unkind of him, in my
opinion. In your later
years you created eHarmony
which helped even more people connect.
That, I think, was your great gift
to the world.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

sometimes i feel like a great chef

sometimes i feel like a great chef
who has devoted his entire life
to monastic study of the art of cooking
& gathered the finest ingredients
& built the most advanced kitchen
& prepared the most exquisite meal
so perfect so delicious so extraordinary
more astounding than any meal ever created
yet each day i stand in my window
& watch ninety-seven percent of the world
walk past my restaurant
into the mcdonald’s
across the street.