Some Definite Rough Beast Love
(some kind of non dying being)

It's not enough
to inspire a young girl
to hold on long enough and remember
that one moment in time between her
and the electric body of another person:
that one trick pony ride
to the other side of her life
held in place by a 20 year old hug:
her tears, hair and young skin
against my face for just one minute
was enough to sustain this common
not so exciting cycle of days and hours
months and minutes, years and seconds
into a life of imagined babies,
shy eggs in the womb
clinging to the walls of love,
waiting to be noticed
waiting to be loved.

Surely there must be more than this.

Say we make a bodily agreement:
If you share your eggs with me
I'll put my life in you
so we can begin
the automatic cell division
and work at becoming
some kind of non-dying being.
With luck one tall-tailed swimmer
will meets its terminal obligation
and love the egg.

So save me now.
Regenerate me please
into some kind of definite rough beast love.
Make me holy again and save me
from love reduced
to death's everlasting darkness.

I turn my face away.

One hug was enough
to brighten a young girl's face
and capture the light shining in her eyes,
enough to remember
what we had then
and hope now we still do.

Breaking Down the Vision

The joy of sublime self absorption
Inching along down Ecstatic Booze Road
Sip by sip & thought by thought
Ideas more brilliant than the sun come
And sum up life's profundities
Oceanic soma, misty narco lust
Pure womb regression

Then always
The eventual entropic decline
Back down the hill of one more time
To the lowest common denominator
Divided self's downfall into ungraceful state
The plain brain
Empty again

I always come back to you
Always return to the natural
Unaltered waking dirt of my being
All cells, capillaries, corpusles
Reign me back in
Breaking down the vision
Illuminating the path back
To the time before first drink
Back to the momentarily forgotten soul
Intimations of the Holy
passionate, suffering body

Lost Chance at Charity: Unable to Stop

Where I run sometimes after work, the Los Gatos Creek Trail, I see a man in a wheelchair, a black man. He has some condition of palsy and/or paralysis, such that he must use his mouth to drive and steer his wheelchair. There's a big bucket like container attached to the apparatus, as well as some other thingies I'm not sure what they are. When he speaks, it's the slurred speech of someone who obviously has very little control over his muscles. I guess his age is maybe 30 or so.

He usually wheels himself to a spot along the trail and faces out, in one lane, and watches people go by. The course I run is always an out and back, so I usually see him both ways. Sometimes runners or bikers that seem to know him will be stopped by him chatting with him, patiently waiting for him to extricate the words from the cage that must be his body.

I have thought to myself, why don't I stop and say Hi? Me, in my excellent marathon runner's shape and body, my limber and muscled limbs, my ability to run and stretch. Yet when I think about it, I wonder if I will insult him, as if he needs someone like me to stop my busy routine and chat with him. How would he perceive me stopping. I don't know him. Would I stop and chat with anyone? Does he want or need me there?

Every time I run by, I see him try to turn his head to see who it is. His head moves slow, as he struggles to move his neck muscles. I've run by his dozens, dozens of times, and never have I stopped. Part of it is I am not sure what to say, or if I will have the patience to listen to him mouth out his words; part of it is fear, fear that I will insult him, or maybe he will like me and want me as a friend and I may not be up to the challenge; part of it is pure vanity, not wanting to stop to interrupt my run.

Yesterday, I was at the start of my run, down at the far end of the trail, and there he was, coming down to turn around. I stopped and looked at him, then down, as I stretched. He parked himself somewhat near me, but not too close. I kept my head down the whole while, and stretched outside the entrance so as not to be too close to him. As I got ready to run, he looked at me. I said hello, wondering if he would return the greeting. As I passed him, he twisted his head and I heard what sounded like a 'Hey.' On the way back, I saw him at another place father up the trail and I wave and he moved his head. I think he was trying to say hi.

White Trash Kafka Entry


"We had christ in our house once. We made one out of that free cardboard tastin' government cheese mamma got from the food shelter. We put our little cheese jesus on a government cheese cross, but we eventually got hungry and had to eat him. We said a prayer before we did and we all thanked him for his sacrifice."

Bee Loud Race: Pacifica 35k - Finished in 10th! (Or 8th?)

I ran the Pacific Coast Trail Runs 35K on Saturday and it was great! I came in 10th with a pretty decent time of 3:53. Actually, two people ahead of me only ran 31K (must have gone off course) so that would make me 8th. I ran a smart race, which meant to walk going uphill during some of the uphills. Mainly when it was a crowded single track, there was no room to pass, so powerwalking was as fast as the runners. And, walking up some of the steep hills coming back from Montara beach was not only smart, it was nearly mandatory, as the grade was so steep running was nearly impossible. Overall elevation gain: 4500 ft.

During the first 7 miles of the run, a swarm or hive of bees attacked the runners. I was following behind this guy, having settled into a nice pace with him, a woman and man behind me, as we all chatted. All of a sudden, I see a pack of nasty little Kamakazi bees dive bombing the guy ahead of me. I mean, these bees were assaulting him. Then, the next thing I knew, I was being bitten and flailing wildly to get the bees off me. I decided to run my ass off. I looked back up the single track switch back and saw the lady helping the other poor guy behind me swat a swarm of bees off of him. I got about 3 big stings and a few little ones. It stung pretty bad. Ate some Benedril. The guy behind me (who I ended up running with most the way) got about 10 stings. One woman I saw at the aid station had a back full of welts. All along the trail you could see clumps of dead bees, people's clothing they had shed and left, every once in a while a person stopped trying to get bees off them. It was crazy.

All in all, though, a beautiful race, and the views from the peak of Montara mountain were worth the climb and the bee stings.

Entropy

Has become my lover
My mother and father
My God and devil
All my children and
The essence of my water
The spirit of my poetry
And the blood in my veins
The air in my breath
And the look of love
In all the eyes
Of all the women
In this world.

When she almost was asleep
On her bed of death
Dreaming of God
And things so beautful
Not even the birds
Could have sung
The voices of the angels,

Entropy
Took its place
In my soul.

Entropía

Ha sido mi amante
Mi madre y padre
Mi Dios y diablo
Mis niños y niñas
El essencia de mi agua
El espiritu de mi poesia
La sangre en mis vena
El aire en mi respiración
La mirada del amor oscura
En todos los ojos
De todas la mujeres
En este mundo.

Cuando ella estaba casi dormido
En la cama del muerto
Soñeando del Dios
Y cosas tan bonito
Que ni siquiera los pájaros
Pudieran cantado
Los voces de los ángeles,

Entropía
Usted
Tomó su lugar
En mi alma.

Amacord Marlborough Lights

Amacord Marlborough Lights
too much makeup girls
w/buck teeth and tight shirts
sleeping with punk rock love stars
junk veined lodestars

Amacord Marlborough Lights
driving all night only to smoke more
creosote kids in kitchens
cooking up crank for mom
dried out obligatory flowers
some girl's mother's day

Amacord Marlborough Lights
CB radio shacks
white cement walls
crank piles on plates
blond baseball guy
now talking jibberish
hairy forearms
dirty shoes
dried out eyeballs
no longer my friend

Amacord Marlborough Lights

The Temporal Nature of All (un)Happiness


Slow
One moment in her arms
Eternity in her eyes
Then Love slipped away

Pacific Coast Trail Run in Pacifica

I've signed up for my next race, which is a first time run set up by Pacific Coast Trail Runs in Pacifica. I'm not doing the 50k, but I will do the 35K, mainly for training. Don't run fast, by rather slow, paced, go out relaxed, walk the steep hills, and try to remain fresh for the last third of the race. The Pacific Coast Trails people put on a great race, very laid back, great aid stations, and always the most beautiful (and hilly!) courses in the Bay Area.

So the goal is to get in the flow and rhythm of racing, and also get the opportunity to run in Pacifica, which actually is up in the mountains behind there and the Devil's Slide/Montara area, where my long lost, most favoritest people in the world (Ian and Rachel) used to live. I can run down that big mountain to the Immortal Sea, reminisce on old times, then head back up the monster hills to the finish line. And, get training for the next race (with Arturo) which will be a 50K. Then next year, aim for a 50 miler. Allah willing.

My New Favorite Anti 'Bush' Group

Axis of Eve