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Category Page: poems
Note that on the category pages, the posts are in chronological order, unlike the rest of the weblog.
Monday, February 19, 2001
I'm going to do something different this week. When I lived with my last housemate, I wrote a poem every night for almost two months! I just went over there to pick up my mail, and there they all were in a little stack! How sweet, so I will now share them with you. They were written in 3 formats, in a little red steno book, in a book with flowers on it, in a wide-rule blue pen-tab book, and on various loose sheets of paper. So, for day one, I now present to you, the little red book poems:
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:33 AM
little red book poem: untitled
(what is this?)
Work it out Work it out
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:34 AM
little red book poem: untitled 2
(what is this?)
The Dalai Lama is on the radio
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:37 AM
Tuesday, February 20, 2001
poems in the flower book
Today I continue my every day poems. Today's poems are the poems that were in a book with a bunch of flowers and their scientific names on them.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:47 AM
flower book poems: that still place
that still place
it looks exactly like love- but
I will take some time and make friends with it.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:48 AM
flower book poems: asymetrical
My left foot is smooth and callused,
Look at the two of them stepping my
They do the job.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:49 AM
flower book poems: the very next moment
The Very Next Moment
Smoke on the head of incense,
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:51 AM
flower book poems: to love a ghost
to love a ghost
It's no damn good to make a list
I remember what passed between I and she
Memory the guest, and I the host.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:52 AM
Wednesday, February 21, 2001
poems in the blue pen tab book
The next book of these daily poems was a Blue Pen-Tab wide ruled notebook. There's 7 of them, so I'm going to do half today and half tomorrow. Please enjoy them, or at least make little cooing noises while you read them and you can convince your brain that you are. I know most of these are a bit maudlin and naive, but keep in mind that they were often the last thing I did before I went to bed, and I knew I would have to look at them in the morning...so they were often meant to be some kind of inspiration. Like Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handy.
Oh, as I was looking for a deep thoughts link...I found this one.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:19 AM
blue pen-tab book poems: touching boy
I'm Such a Touching Boy
I'm such a touching boy
The paper, at least, I can contact it
You made it so easy to love someone
Why do you not have such a body?
That kind of comfort is not what you offer.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:29 AM
blue pen tab book poems: red crayon
(written in red crayon)
The morning makes me feel so feeble and tiny
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:30 AM
blue pen-tab book poems: aflame
Set Everything Near me Aflame
I looked gently in those places where there was once so much heat
When an evening and a night and a late nite
Was I ever well? Or just trying desperately to set
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:31 AM
blue pen-tab book poems: five limes
Blue Pen-Tab Book
5 limes stood with me 'til the end of time.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:32 AM
second day of pen-tab poems
So, this is the last 3 poems of the Blue Pen-Tab Book Poems. Let them invade your very being, and then write a detailed blogvoices comment on each and every one...even if it's 3pm and the server is a dog. I expect your report on my desk first thing monday morning. Really though, if you have actually taken the time to read these I am very appreciative, it's kind of nice to share these tender things with the world and know that some small percentage of such has seen them. It's hard to have enough of an attention span for me to read poetry online when there's 50 million forms of instant gratification out there...so I know those few moments can really be a sacrifice. So, without further ado:
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:24 PM
blue pen-tab book poems: 17 islands
Sturdy shoulder blade of a goat
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:25 PM
blue pen tab book poems: let my looping gentle down
Let My Looping Gentle Down
Let my looping gentle down
Let my breathing ready rare
Let my eyesight bright aware
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:27 PM
blue pen-tab book poems: i am the one who is going to bed
I Am the One Who Is Going to Bed
I am so tired like I just ate a bunch of MSG
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:28 PM
Thursday, March 01, 2001
the loose pages poems
Ok, I am going to still do the rest of the one a day poems. I have a handful more, but instead of going in a notebook, these are the ones that were written on various random scraps of paper. To simulate their disconnected quality (and maybe to drag it out) I'm going to do them one a day until they're all gone.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 03:13 AM
loose pages poems: I'm too skairt
(written on a notecard)
I'm too skairt to rite a pome...
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 03:21 AM
Saturday, March 03, 2001
loose pages poems: tip from a llama trainer
(on an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet)
llamas are very territorial
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 08:57 AM
Sunday, March 04, 2001
loose pages poems: bosnian dream
(notebook paper, ripped out of the coil)
I dream of the Autumn
They smell like a smoky morning.
Mirisu hao dimljeno jutro.
Translator's note: This isn't a very good translation, because you would never use the word 'smoky' like that. The word I used is only good for, like, sausages.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:57 PM
Monday, March 05, 2001
loose pages poem: untitled
(on a blue handmade piece of Tibetan paper)
Our tender friend:
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:30 PM
Tuesday, March 06, 2001
loose pages poems: don't forget
Loose Pages (on a brown paper bag)
make a list. write a sticky note.
you are alive.
please don't forget.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:37 PM
Wednesday, March 07, 2001
loose pages poems: got nudie?
Loose Pages (8 1/2x11 copy paper folded in half)
I got no nudie but I got a cozy bed
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:29 PM
Wednesday, June 20, 2001
interview with aidan
So, I promised a little more about the kid portrayed on my masthead. One day, I came home and started trying to write a poem. I was stymied, though, and although I tried to think of all kinds of deep thoughts, nothing would come. At about that time, Aidan's babysitter dropped him off and he came loping into the room. "Whatcha doing?" he said.
"I'm writing a poem."
"Oh." And then he proceeded to talk my ear off, and I started writing down every word he said. I was asking him questions, but I didn't write down my questions, only his answers. This boy is the original tiny. I present to you:
Interview with Aidan
did you know
women's lips are soft
some women wear lipstick
you and me,
sometimes you wear lipstick
your lips were really squishy
my guardian angel kissed you
ask my guardian angel
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 06:15 AM
Wednesday, July 25, 2001
haiku for a friend '
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:36 AM
Friday, October 05, 2001
In the slaughterhouse of love, they kill
- Coleman Barks Translation
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 12:22 PM
Sunday, January 06, 2002
not regretting it a bit the next morning
a tinyblog poem. shhhhhh...
I laud the practice of drunken familiarity
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:47 AM
Sunday, May 19, 2002
i felt like such a dork because i just found out
i once liked the mrs butterworths maple flavored syrup
you take the bad with the good, the hot sex with the crazy ness
i wrote the second longest story in 2nd grade
now i just have this album everyone else knew about for years and wonder
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 02:42 AM
pome of filial piety
i walked down the street with the styrofoam
hey man can i have some food?
but it was really my dinner rushing for the bus and i
like somehow those men
like vultures, the endangered species that no one
i feel ashamed and then i miss my bus
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 02:52 AM
pome about a friend
i found out my friend was in a mental institution
i called her on the phone and she said she was
i sang a buddhist song
she sounded so sad i couldn't get out of my head the
you know, she said, people can visit until nine o clock
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 02:59 AM
Thursday, April 29, 2004
in my new life as a householder: shlock one
In my new life as a householder, I live in an overgrown hobbit hole and what I do has more to do with the needs and feelings of those around me than my own nightly whims.
In my new life as a householder, I get to be generous and inscrutable to newcomers: feeding whoever comes to my door with fish soup, wine, and tea made from plants in the backyard.
In my new life as a householder I don't have to keep a tally of all the women I know and how likely they are to become romantic interests. In my new life I do not read poetry naked. I don't advertise. I have some of that precious unattainability, but strangely, nothing to do with it.
In my new life as a householder, I am trying to think of the long term plan.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:17 PM
in my new life as a householder: shlock two
In my new life as a householder, I am very glad that we don't have TV, because this kind of life would make me very susceptible to the Comedy Channel, Cartoon Network, and Court TV. Law and Order has wasted enough hours of my life already.
In my new life as a householder, if I have an idea about how I want to change my life, I have to chew on it awhile, and then clear it with the committee, and perhaps the sub-committee, and in the meantime my little stream that once curled around many a rock, now starts to seem like a fat, silty river.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:26 PM
in my new life as a householder: shlock three
In my new life as a householder, my newest fascination is weeding. It's sort of like a waste of time, but also very pragmatic. And also dirty. I like that. I won't have a single pair of nice pants soon. I do not weed with a trowel, just my grubby fingers. I should probably use a trowel for morning glories and horsetails; they are tenacious plants with freakishly long roots, but I am too stubborn. I can get everything else by hand. I just pull slowly by the base, so slowly, because the stem is the most fragile. I ease it out until I can get my fingers around some root. Then I stick in a finger and pry it up a little. Then I just pull slow and firm and almost nothing can resist. Except himalayan blackberries. The spade is the only way to go for them.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:34 PM
Friday, April 30, 2004
householder interlude: what is a shlock?
Well, in short, it's a word made up by Loverzan. It's roughly translated as hunk, but usually is used to describe some quantity between a teaspoon and three tablespoons of some semi-liquid (like yogurt or sour cream).
In this case, I am mixing that meaning with the Tibetan word shloka, which is basically translated as stanza, and usually means a group of four lines in a Tibetan prayer, poem or liturgy.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:31 PM
in my new life as a householder: shlock four
In my new life as a householder, sometimes I'm acutely aware of all I'm missing. I wonder if I'm being dampened, like my creativity could go off like a rocket now that my Saturn is returning or something, and I could be writing and doing business and wooing expatriate plus-size models in Nepal. I see Richard Gere at the Dalai Lama's Kalachakra empowerment, and he actually comes up to me and says he really digs the teaching work I'm doing in prisons and wants to know if he can get involved. I greet him a little coolly in spite of myself. I'm not sure I want this prison thing to be the next celebrity 'thing'. Besides, Richard doesn't really pick projects that I feel are in line with his Buddhist ideals. I give him a card and tell him to call the PrisonMind office. He seems genuinely excited at this blatant brush-off.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:36 PM
in my new life as a householder: shlock five
In my new life as a householder, I'm pretty selective about what I read. I don't have much time and I read plenty of pulp as a kid. The problem is, that I don't have the fortitude for most of the classics. I feel stupid because I literally cannot get past page three of any book by James Joyce. I'm sure he made a great contibution to fiction, but I'll just have to read the people he influenced. I guiltily stick to modern Pulitzer winners with their restrained cultural prose (and undeniable skill) hoping to find that golden balance between revolutionary and readable.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:39 PM
Monday, May 03, 2004
in my new life as a householder: shlock six
In my new life as a householder I feel so helpless to do anything in the realm of politics. I can't even convice my childhood friend that the president is a dangerous idiot. This murderous profiteering is business as usual, I guess.
In my new life as a householder I actually get enough sleep sometimes.
In my new life as a householder, I have a loyal and forgiving wife. She smacks me on the head, which is sometimes okay, and sometimes secretly makes me feel humiliated and angry. She's very sexy and does all kinds of things that I absolutely love with very little persuading. We cook nettles and lamb and she clings to me with complete abandon.
In my new life I get a lot more done.
In my new life I'm amazed at the possibilities.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 03:54 PM
in my new life as a householder: shlock seven
In my new life as a householder I experience an unprecedented mix of contentment and restlessness. In my new life I'm really trying to improve. In my new life I am more aware of being one fly on an incredibly large pile of droppings. In my new life I know there is no one like me.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 03:56 PM
Saturday, July 31, 2004
inexplicable tinyblog poetry ii
boy do I miss myself.
I remember, back in the day when I was myself, me and myself we'd...
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 02:01 AM
Thursday, March 17, 2005
we each have our own faithless jewels
we each have our own faithless jewels
our own habits we won't admit
who has more secret hurts?
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 04:09 AM
Saturday, April 09, 2005
how will it end?
if I start
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:02 AM
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
poetry reprisal revue
This last christmas, I wrote a special poetry Christmas card for all my friends and family (and even sent it to the one person who could even remotely qualify as an enemy). You can download the .pdf (with the illustrations, it's about 400k) here. However, one of the poems was called Ragged, Joyful, and it goes something like this:
Iím a ragged joyful lonely man
All my cooking skills devolved
Everything here is where I left it.
Including the laundry.
My broken parts crackle in a chair
Now Iím riding a bike.
At least I quit smoking
To my great surprise, a month or so later, my sister, who is in three-year retreat in upstate New York, wrote me a similar chapbook, which I may yet publish, or write a sentence longer than this one.
The point though, is that she wrote a reprisal to my poem, in the style of a Tibetan Buddhist nun. Even by myself in a room as I read it, I could not disguise my explosion of delight at reading it:
Ragged, Joyful Reprise
I'm a ragged joyful lonely nun
All my social skills devolved
Everything here is how I make it.
Including the tormas.
Now I'm 'riding the horse of diligence'
Mostly falling off a lot.
At least I quit speaking
As if that wasn't enough, I wrote an poem called we each have our own faithless jewels. A damn sad poem, it goes like this:
we each have our own faithless jewels
we each have our own faithless jewels
our own habits we won't admit
who has more secret hurts?
And then, incredibly, in the comments, a dear friend of mine from Colorado wrote another reprisal of a poem of mine! It's a silly version that I think he wrote to cheer me up, but actually makes a great "other half" to the original. His killer version goes:
faithless jewels reprisal
We each have our own family jewels
who more has hurt the secret?
I thought those poems were so sweet and touched me so deeply that I wanted to record them here.
Eventually I will publish all of the excellent poems and illustrations my sister sent me in her two tiny chapbooks since she's been in retreat. But I procrastinated doing this post since March, so don't hold your breath.
Okay, hold your breath for my sister's poetry. It's worth it.
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:38 AM
Saturday, July 16, 2005
another sister poem: the daughters i'll never have
Another poem written by my lovely sister in retreat was requested, so I think I will post one of my favorites. It's called
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 12:57 PM
Sunday, July 24, 2005
another sister poem: "for d"
I reread through the Elisabeth poems today, had to share this one:
This is good shit, people, when you're doing nothing but meditating for a year you get deep into shit I guess.
In case you're wondering...I'm D, and yes she really did scream FUCK YOU at me the day she took refuge and became a Buddhist, and yes, I most certainly deserved it.
the handle broke off the mug you gave me
♦♦♦certainly you dwell in the inner
chamber of my heart
cut off from prying eyes
shielded in anonymitythey can't see you
but your home is here
♦♦♦you said, "Take care of yourself!"
and I screamed, "FUCK YOU!"
this was the day I became Buddhist
♦♦♦a heart exapnds and contracts
many times in one lifetime
perhaps you have felt alternately
dangled and squeezedbut you were never ousted outright
home is home, after all
this indestructible heart will house you
through all of our wanderings"hacking it out in El Samsaro"
for as long as we remain confused
until the moment of waking into freedom
when an ordinary human heartcannot contain the depth and breadth
of all the world's knowing and burning
♦♦♦at that time
we will pervade
the whole of space
lovingly or haphazardly posted at 08:07 PM
Thursday, October 06, 2005
The bus baby screams
End of a hard day
Shaky from hunger
They are so well groomed
I am a good friend
A prince in public
Two girls on the bus
So many haircuts
Pain is a message
It is October