BY Michael

11/01 Direct Link

I assume there is no sight

†in the afterlife

Nor sex

(certainly in North Portland unless

you pay for it.)

Nor would there be cake.

I assume this idea toward

†a friend who is somewhat

disbeloved to consider that

there may not be coffee

†with appropriate condiments.

Of course there would be

she argues

(Owns three LPís

By the Singing Nun.)

Hot and cold running


Latte does not run

Even in this world

I point out.

He is a lazy boy

Labeled so even by his mother

Who grew up in North Portland

And inexplicably later

Moved to Ohio.

11/02 Direct Link

Taking a risk and stepping

outside my door

I am shuffling white socks

†through a deep pile

of dead leaves on the drive,

a nearly perfect rectangle in front of the

garage placed by the hurricane

that struck New York last week.

This is what the hurricane

has left me.

A shout loud enough to reach Michigan

from the East Coast

has cleaned all the leaves from my trees

has scraped my yard clean

and dumped this tidy pile on my drive way.

I donít know where it has put the rest of

the leaves.†

somewhere further west of here?

11/03 Direct Link

As I hear the grind of the wind,

the roar of implements

Neighbors dancing riduals of

leaf removal and grass grooming,

proudly displaying brightly painted

automated lawn manicuring machinery.

the latest which would have made the

1920-s farmer jealous I am sure.

And I am of course in a

different place now.

I think this is probably place number 6

in a two and one-half car garage reduced

to maybe a three-quarter car garage

by collections of things that need

to be saved.

Jesus saves.

Meijer saves.

I save.

In the afterlife there are left

things that have been saved.

11/04 Direct Link

I have fallen behind again.† Blindness and behindedness.† As I write my head begins to feel light and my vision blurs.† Yesterday as I sat here I felt as if someone took the chair and suddenly turned it sideways and then righted it again.† What was that?† A new kind of seizure? ďDo you see people or hear strange voices?Ē The doctor asks.† Well I see strange animals darting about out the corner of my eyes and the voice I hear is my own sometimes cursing an unknown entity, or sometimes asking after a long gone friend out of nowhere.†

11/05 Direct Link

It is raining.

It is to see the rain driving

over a tall green statue of a crane

reaching for the sky

gulping the water

as if this thing would

come alive if it drank enough.

This wet hunk of dark molten

might shiver wings loose

from a bloody metal body.

It would lurch.

It would fly.

It would pull the iron.

stake stove up into its belly and its

hunky heavy body would gain light

and its eyes would flicker

its beak opening in a croak

of pain and surprise as it

leapt to touch treetops and

†be gone

11/06 Direct Link

It's a wet day.

But not so much Like any other.

It is the red wheelbarrow

leaned up in the dance

of the

red shed.

It is a slow dance

with the rain bleeding rust

and paint and the sweat smell

into cacophonies of cloth and skin.

There are so many variations

on this day and those that are

just like it how is one

to know when you have stumbled

over a root

a brick

an idea

a blinding level of blood sugar

smack into a different day?

Is it the

dance of the lean

on the Red shed?

11/07 Direct Link

As I hear the grind in

in the wind

in the trumpets ceaseless in my


in the shining implements

of my neighbors moving with such


parade floats across the neighborhood

lawns following the dart of the baton,

wind instruments taking their lessons

today in grass removal and leaf corruption:

Early November.

Havenít I been here before?

I am of course

in a different place

on a different day

for the seventh view.

I recognize the collections:

Things needed to save me

to save my children,

the things needed

to save the blind associates.

I have been here before.

11/08 Direct Link

Walking now

past the ERA sign.

The road is not for sale.

Nor is this indication of

equal rights.

The Sun

in the Club Skye

is for sail.

No one has reserved it.

Sailing the Sun

requires a special license

available only to the exceptionally

physically and financially fit.

Only the 1 percent need apply

and of course they are born licensed

to run the Sun

across the sky

dropping champagne bottles on the rest of us

and what not do they care?

So finely disbursed

they do not have to dodge

things that come flailing down from the Sun.

11/09 Direct Link

I don't have my book.

I have to compose instead.

It is better to compose

than to decompose.

Were I

decomposing I would be listening to words

instead of spewing them.

So I am putting words into my box

rather than taking them out.


I feel my box getting heavier as words

drop into it increasing its


and of course I am not tired.

Composing reverses my aging process

because I am NOT now decomposing. †

I think this is a good idea to walk

and not decompose.

I should have thought of composing myself

a long time ago.

11/10 Direct Link


things get a little iffy because

nobody coming Street wants

some sugar and I don't have any and

I'm not sure what the body chemistry

really does at this point.

†I know that if I hang on

for a little bit that it will level

on itself and be okay,

but I have told been told

this is not good and

that I shouldn't let this happen

but it does happen anyway and

people have suggested my body is

eating my brain you know

self zombie

which could explain

the nature of things I find

written on my computer.

11/11 Direct Link

So much for the day

Like any other day theory.

I think as I pick the blog of

Oatmeal from the hair in that

Hollow at the base of my sternum.

My son is off to the store or

Perhaps to some other adventure

And I have been a peculiar

Collection of

Aches and pains lately

Such that it has me looking

Over my shoulder to see

If some mythical life settling beast

Is sniffing after me.

Perhaps I am deep in the throes

Of hypochondria.

Perhaps I have gained too much weight.

Perhaps perhaps there is really

Nothing wrong.

11/12 Direct Link

I feel folded up a little

too tight

and I donít care for the

music selection this


I really donít have much else

to whine about.

I could pound my

ineffectual fists

and scream that life

is far too long

or too short

damn it!

(I really forget which

was my take on it today.)

But I was rather looking forward

to my walk in the woods later

(shoes slipping through leaves)

and my talk with you

and to telling my son that

ďTheyĒ had raised my car insurance

rates twenty-five dollars

for no reason at all this year.

11/13 Direct Link

I'm not sure this compost

will survive.

I think it a little jerky

and the little green things

sprouting here

seem pale.

Iím walking toward the bluffs

and Iím thinking about all the

times Iíve spent out on the bluffs

and well you know

why they probably call them

bluffs in the first place.

Yes I have seen men and

animals do the walk

just like Wyllie E. right off

the Bluff and give that yelp over

the shoulder as they hung there in mid


I just didnít recognize that odd tipsy

feeling because I was walking toward you.

11/14 Direct Link

Two Men and A Truck

deliver furniture to a home.

it looks like a piece of a

casting or loving couch.

Perhaps a part of a triangle,

certainly long enough

to be the hypotenuse.

Were I in a love triangle

Iíd not want to be the hypotenuse

but Iíd not choose another leg either

or the triangle at all.

would not hike up into such a truck.

would walk alone instead

The fare is far too steep.

Adultry being its own

worst punishment for either the longer

or shorter ride.

Clearly in such a

polygon there is no

positive †side.

11/15 Direct Link

In molded hard plastic jars

this black sedan

cruising past me

flashing lights all Brighton Bay

so much like a police cruiser

looking for bacteria like me

it was not of white cell

it was a black cell

ranged to blue

but it was really

not even sure

it wanted iPod individuals like me

dripping from semi normal neighborhoods ceilings

jumpy at the site us off blue

black white phases

coaches in the box swinging by at

to ask

random questions and occasionally

slinga body into the backseat

where we are educated:

The door does not open

from the inside.

11/16 Direct Link

It is my real nature

difficult to lose

humanity in terms

of the Arts on E saints online

and it's my nature rather to live in

a white male Republican community.

They do not know that the older white

Male did not

†vote for

mister Romney

and I have to admit the other

guy has also given me cause for

economic concern.

My community is not

All the way to

Full blown one per center nasties.

They want to be.

They gave it their all,

But they were shunted

And co-opted down to the

offer nazty snot

like efferyone else.

11/17 Direct Link

Your lovin gives me

sutch a tuch

and mine un-decomposing machine

retires in mid-sentence.

It's probably for the best.

Somebody might hear me babbling about

auburn ass titties as I wander home

to watch TV.

Please clean stubbornly

dead to the oak trees

like the Republican to live in

the upper nazti skank stubborn

to the idea of life after well

you know all this huh.

Clearly it's not going to be saying

because the China is out of the bag

along with a whole bunch of other things

in new guns too greedy

to think well off is enough.

11/18 Direct Link

Someone has been dropping

little cigarette butts on my


Smoking them all the way


to the brown butt

and smashing them flat

on the drive way

four or five a night there.

Standing out in the cold

perhaps glancing up

fingers holding those glowing red

coals in the dark


fifteen feet below my bedroom

window in the dark.

Are they considering the square

Of light above their heads

Representing me?

Or are they just interested

In my car?

Smoking, coveting it through

the window in the door.

Moonlight casting a dark shadow

highlighting a fender just so.

11/19 Direct Link

That privileged one-per center

son of Zeus

steers the sun

behind another bank of clouds

and I am thinking about his

ten-thousand-dollar watch

and wondering what is going on

up there.

Ennui and debauchery

most likely. I have seen

the cockpit by

accident one time,

perhaps the same accident

that made me not

a grasshopper

or a snail for which I

should be grateful,

the same accident which

gave me the awareness

to understand the economic machinery

and machinations

and compounded stupidity

that perpetuates the nasties

and the stainless class system

in the land of the free to do


11/20 Direct Link

Iíve made it through the

slow violence

of almost learning

how to forget you.

What I remember

Isnít so much the

silky veils of ardor

so much

as the solidity of you.

I remember

you better than

the person

I once called me.†

In memory you are

so real I can walk you

through my front door

any day of the week

with every hair perfectly out

of place.

It is me I cannot recall,

I who have been slowly

replaced over these years

by someone who

through some trick of particle physics

can remember someone else

but not himself.

11/21 Direct Link

The sun is going down

by itself.

Now there was a bit of raw violence

for you.

If I close my eyes there seem to be


crowding in on dimensions

and I become confused about what

I have been told

and what I sometimes seem to ďsee.Ē

In high school, I always

sat behind Apollo.

Alphabetical order was how things

were done.

And Apollo was the only kid I knew

who would take out a pretty

linen hankie to pick his nose

but then I suppose his father

taught him to do thatÖ

Fucking privileged children of the gods.

11/22 Direct Link

The apartment buildings were on Walzer

brick building with rounded edges

stuck into the side of a hill defying laws

of gravity and perhaps some local zoning

ordinances as well.

The buildings were close to one

another and the windows lit

by that hazy yellow light faced

one another in the evenings.

Anne lived in the apartment facing


and Anne liked to take off her clothes.

I never met her except in the evenings

at our respective windows where she

slowly induced me to leave my lights


and my own clothes off.

Pretty Anne living her life alone.

11/23 Direct Link

I am just looking for a

quiet place.†

I donít think it occurs

to me just yet that it is

obvious to the others

that it bothers me.

Maybe they donít notice.

Maybe they are just too


on the idea of those two caught.

Thatís what they are laughing about.

Cupid caught banging Psyche

out in the corn field,


Cupidís red ass up in the

autumn air.

Iím not sure it matters

or that she was meant for me.

Not sure it matters that I

was meant to hurt.

Twisting over a vision:

Psycheís hair in the dirt.

11/24 Direct Link

Iím back here again

in the usual place

just looking to take the edge off.

Sometimes itís a bit too jagged,

too rusty:

all these noodles of

bowel and vein and

boney crap stuffed into your skin.

You go walking

you know maybe the afternoon.

It's gotten a little too tight and

you start to think that things are

going to fall out.

And I don't really want anybody near.

Iíd be so fucking embarrassed.

it's not that I'm trying to communicate.

Itís something I failed in doing

somewhere else

and now Iím just trying to

take the edge off.

11/25 Direct Link

Then there are those pieces

that somebody writes on my

computer sometimes,

leaving them behind,

pieces that I really cannot

show to anyone else.

Who? I ask

would write stuff like that?

some of it I delete straight out.

I suppose I do leave some of it in there.

In the computer.

For my children to find?

Some people talk about the stuff

their parents leave behind

in their ďthingsĒ

after death.

That stuff has always been there!

Your parents were people too.

Itís just that we are not


allowed to be

without being considered some

kind of aberration.

11/26 Direct Link

Well I am walking and

there are newspapers piled

on everyoneís drive.

No one reads news

papers any more.

These papers do not even

have much news but bear

coupons for things I do not want.

Fortunately they are wrapped in

†tight little colorful plastic bags for

†my protection.

So I can pick them up and

recycle them without really touching them

and risking those consequences.

They are

Someoneís idea of a lottery.

Someone somewhere will pull off the

plastic bag.

Like one in a million sperm spewed

on the driveways of our community,

perhaps one message will get through.

11/27 Direct Link

Apollo is off

sailing the Sun today in

odd little zig zag notions I had

but did not understand.

There is another little

plastic bag with the newspaper

directly ahead of me.

I will have to

walk in a different direction

to avoid this.

it's put there by

people who want my money

There are so many people who want

my money and I know that they call it

my money but the soon to be someone


Best to understand the nature that it is not my money.

I don't know why they bother to call it

my money.

11/28 Direct Link

There are times when this 100-word limit is a true life saver. I know there are those who would agree with me and say that I was fully capable of humiliating myself within the 100-word limit easily and frequently and I would just have to offer that you have no idea what goes on beyond the 100-word limit, what lies on the cutting room floor. There is stuff out there. It would truly blind you I know.† I apologize.† I am beyond the pale. I am beyond Hall of the hills. I am beyond well you know all that okay.

11/29 Direct Link

Iím not very good at

this alignment of spaces

and letters thing.

I think I saw something earlier,

a lady walking by with one of those

three-wheeled strollers.

I believe they are jogging strollers.

I bought one of those once and

found it difficult to turn

as all three wheels were firmly

aligned straight ahead and

you had to lift the front end a bit

to corner the thing.

I suppose that was all ok

and it seemed to me that

if you were a skater it would

actually be helpful to have

the fixed wheel to shove off against.

11/30 Direct Link

My kitchen shears went disappeared over Thanksgiving, the good pair of course.† I had two pair because I use them so much that I always need a spare clean pair to use, but I cannot find the good pair anywhere.† In retrospect it is clear to me what happened to my shears.† In one of those mad cleanups after one of those big feeds, they were picked up with a pile of greasy paper and packaging and tossed into the trash.† I can see them now. x-ray like in a tied-off garbage bag sitting somewhere neatly packed in a landfill.