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No Dice for the Zen Buddhists


I lit another Export A

with the butt of my last one

& put it out in my Spumoni,

when some shadowy religious sole

stepped up to my table & exclaimed,

“I know you can obliterate the ego,”

when I responded why don’t you

forge your way out the door, asshole

&  make some shadows,

they formed a circle

around me, but being

the elusive type, I disappeared

into a pile of ashes

on the barstool.





     after Arthur Rimbaud


15 minutes ‘til the matinee, my sweet

the summer of love revisited

my beer evaporates in the sun

as we stare at the dirty hippies


The Bass dance in the vast sunlight

burning like Hesperus

Yesterday’s agitants in shirts of cotton

looking like “The Carpenters”


we dance silently as pudding

as they slaughter

the lamb

on the hill

for the fifth time


O, we say goodbye little charmers

subjects of Babylon

Venus would quit in an instant

at the site of these lame children


maybe if it rained hamburgers

these gypsies would

leave us in peace

to attend to our afternoon swim.




Cinema Automatique

        for Apollinaire


the children are either dead

or dancing at the movie theatre


they enjoy their death

these children of vile women

seeming bourgeois with

their imported cigarettes


& Catholic burials

the music is vile

& the nuances of the heart

commenced like barbed wire


the movie was over

& they charged out like Romans

crushing each other

with perfect symmetry

their souls rise out

of my beer glass

with a murmur

like neon.




Clare A. Voyance


We aim to please the passing choirs

as they charge through the mosque

in their burgundy camaros, thinking

of Duluth & the danger of falling into

                                            the sad Lake Superior


& her fantastic undergarments,

trout are singing in the ice cream mirror

of love that lives on the street of vanquished opportunity

the air doesn’t matter to the Iroquois rating

buttons with their hats made of bells


St. Clair is calm and the moon is in love with the

beautiful rivers that dance ecstatic in sunglasses

the jet pilots are large as they explode in

the penniless sky filled with marbles




the moon over Africa


the moon will rise

over Africa, tomorrow

now it sits like

a hat on the horizon,

clouds still visible,

these plants that dress

up the earth

thriving off melted

snow & rain,

I personally am

heartbroken about

running over a

porcupine &

seek shelter

in the folds

of your dress.