Tagged: lia purpura

Poem: Why Not Me?

My friend the genius musician artist said: “The three words that define Los Angeles are Why Not Me?” The correct question, as any enlightened person could tell you — and probably would if given an opportunity no matter how slender or conversationally tenuous, like a run-on sentence in an increasingly ponderous poem – the correct...

Poem: Your Choice

Where you want to put it, fool? On the dark? All right. I’ll say it again: All right. All right. You know it’s gonna be all right. Everything is gonna be all right even when it’s not. Perfection includes imperfection. And that includes you, fool. Perfectly imperfect worry machine, forgetting to clean behind the scene,...

Poem: Settled Issues

The darker the berry the sweeter the fruit. The higher the thread count the better the suit. Extraneous issues pretend to be moot. But inside our dreams they squawk and they hoot.   Now you want to challenge me? Pay the fee? Catastrophe of misunderstanding and misoversitting of petty hair-splitting and imprecise fitting – it’s...

Poem: Abdication

Brother man can’t be chained put in a cage vomiting rage. Brother man is free. Try to put the wind behind bars try to chain the sea. Deflection misdirection missed connections. But still they flow immune from prison. When stopped they go. You could call it Zen. The ineffable indescribable unpoemable Soul is free.  ...

Poem: Respect Your Elders

Stubbornness wants to be a virtue, aspiring to be thought of as a mark of good character, nearly related (as if by marriage) to the better qualities Determination and Stick-to-itiveness. Stubbornness, however, is not Determination nor even Stick-to-itiveness. Stubbornness is an affront to Nature, an insult to Evolution, an honest admission of stupidity. I do...

Poem: Yoga Lesson

What is arrogant contrary to your view would be to presume that the threshold of excellence you’ve artificially set  — what does and doesn’t qualify for literature art excellent worthiness – earned along the way the organic certification, the one we all hope we’re worth. In fact, my dear, my darling, my [insert pet name...

Poem: Poet Philosopher

Let this be my manifesto to be tacked upon cathedrals and posted on digital walls where everyone in the world goes to look at what isn’t happening to them. It has thusly been decreed that He is I and I is He – another way to say that I is We, and He and You...

Poem: Scandal

IN MEMORY OF EUGENE KONIK, born February 27, 1936. R.I.P.   And although I don’t share your candid misanthropy I understand and I am sorry. Father who left us all too soon I understand and I am sorry. Our species, the one you claimed to despise, having peered inside yourself and all around the carousel, having...

Poem: Ochocinco

A contrite Chad Johnson apologized for showing disrespect to a judge, a white lady in Florida. The former NFL star best known for a peculiar and unknowable fetish with his own number had slapped his attorney on the ass in court, just as he had slapped countless male asses before in end zones and sideline...

Poem: The Battle

While outwardly appearing as serene and placid as a Minnesota lake at dawn, before the first fisherman has revved his outboard motor, inwardly the armies rage, warring viciously, like Macedonians conquering Persia — like imperialist sophisticates showing dark-skinned peoples what’s best. The body functions, yes, by all appearances it does, beautifully, and with an efficiency...