I am fond of the term “up river”
As a child I lived beside a river
Imaginary crows, real ones—
What luck! Here comes one
That will walk on my grave!
**
Lots of hate in my country
Would that I could talk with the pros
Marlowe, Shakespeare
Sun coming up
**
Did you know your parents were crazy?
Yes
Did you try to please them anyway?
Yes
Are you still trying to please them
Though they’re dead?
Yes
It’s late in the fourth quarter fella…
**
Sometimes I read self-help books
Then I read Wittgenstein
Since no one knows what the self is
Who am I really helping
Death of course
But Ludwig says death
Doesn’t exist
So I’m a dented Buddha
**
If Wallace Stevens was my neighbor
I’d bring him a glass doorknob
If Walt Whitman was my neighbor
I’d bring him fresh hay for his pony
If Emily Dickinson was my neighbor
I would never knock on her door
The heart has many mansions—
To paraphrase Jesus
**
I used to like the big heavy telephones
You could kill somebody with those things
Ma Bell and Maxwell’s silver hammer
Those were the days!
**
I once met a very old man
In an Estonian bar
He said he was the child
Who rang Strindberg’s doorbell
Then hid in the bushes
Hence, he laid claim
To being the inciting ghost
He was of course
Very drunk
**
Whitman’s pony was named “Frank”
Planet of the Blind 