i am the cat in the box

from: trouble in the bubble jungle – diary of a punkrock poet – 11 poems 2000 to 2007

       i am the cat in the box
trapped in someone else’s experiment
locked in someone else’s question mark
but i’m clever, and i drink the poison
and with my insane disdain to drink anyone's 
       half-glass of bullshit
and my magical powers of scio te ipsum 
i convert it to vinegar in my gut
in the corner of the box i piss
the acid burns a hole and i crawl out

       now i sharpen my teeth on real trees 

and i’m chewing thru random wires, inverting map legands
i’m banging on drums made of duct tape and dirty jokes

i declare this alley, these loose bricks, burnt newspapers
this pile of ford pinto an institution, i declare it sculpture 

i’m blocked all downtown rush hour madness
for emergency poetry yard sales

       i’m joining random counterculture revolutions
to meet pretty girls and collect free bumper stickers
i’m doing the neolithic antihero freak-show-bar-hop
		i’m performing human folly
with freelance daredevil authority and a two-drink minimum 

	(i was there when they invented slam dancing
	i know how to give and receive love)

i’m washing my face with industrial strength mask remover
my survival is hop-scotch thru the mainstream minefield
		my youth is eternal 
				full of piss 
                                        and vinegar 

	i lost my label, my brand name, my serial number 
	took a giant academic sized dump, flushed and it was gone
		i’m existing without a guild
			without a publisher
			without an em-eff-ay
	without a pepsi grin, a juicy ass to kiss, or a walmart handjob

all these tall towers of glass standards, these glass monsters, these glass hammers
looking down on me, scolding me:

	you can’t bend spoons with your eyeballs
	you can’t play piano with a baseball bat
	you can’t wear your hat as you please
	       inside or outside or in-side-out
	you won’t make any money writing this crap
	don’t expect us to take you seriously

					bite me
                                        yours truly
                                        the cat that
                                        pissed all over your box

the element

if love is an element
a solid
a liquid 
a mist
of electrons and protons 
with viscosity and surface tension 
if love is magnetic
beyond magic
if love crawls out of the mud and becomes amphibian 
if love sleeps in a cave 
and climbs up out of the roots every spring
if love is the grain of every day 

if love is a mythological being
that orbits the sun
if love comes in a dream 
and lives longer than the day
stands tall in all shadow
if love is in the jetstream
and it breathes and speaks and bends all the trees backwards
if love is all the wind and all the rain and all the sun
and everything that burns in this world and the next 
and the next, and the next 
if love is

then we walk like gods within it
together everywhere 
as walking gods never walk alone

poster for the sunday muse and earthweal

place your (bananas) in the bag

so i was sitting on my side of the street
eating a digital peach
static dripping from my teeth
sitting, watching, thinking 

(mind on simmer, heart in hand
feet secured to street, mission:
breathe as much oxygen as possible)

Internal diagnostics complete

digital colors are just mathematical expressions
the orange man in the orange jumpsuit
looks a little blue
looks a little green
any moment now, he’s going to spew 

press one if you need a hug
press two if you need a canoe
press three if you need to pee 
and that’s when i saw you on your side of the street
eating an analog frog  
we play mirror cats all day long
then you yell to me: we have no peaches on this side of the street
could you text one to me?
and i yell back: just eat the fucking frog 

boo-doo-dooo i’m sorry, the number you are trying to reach doesn’t 
want to reach back, perhaps you’re boring, perhaps your breath stinks
get a life, get a breathmint, get some real friends and try again

sometimes i have i.o,t. nightmares
last night i overheard the toaster talking to the blender
about the vacuum cleaner and all that stuff we did
(last night was quite a bender, everyone toasted
good thing i have a vacuum cleaner with a non-discloser agreement
and dolphin-free disposable dirt) 

yes, i hear voices 
normally this frequency only gives me weather reports
but then lightning strikes and blam!
frankly my dear i don’t give a damn
mets leading reds with runners in scoring position
kablam again and
andy and opie go fishing
i thought i was going crazy
turns out i was sitting on the remote

someday, all my favorite foods will fall directly into my mouth
from a wormhole grocery store app in the sky

please place your (bananas) in the bag

someday, employers will replace all paychecks with lottery tickets
and only some of us get paid
oh wait, that’s now

place your (i can’t believe it’s not butter) in the bag

looking over my bank statements 
retracing my digital footprints
updating my oddly romantic serial number
i realize my identity is better off without me
and i need a hug

place your (hug) in the bag

and take your receipt 

and thank you sunra rainz for writing the line “just eat the fucking frog” it’s become one of my favorite expressions

posted for earthweal