"known destination," "sinking ovations," and "21st-century schizoid man"

known destination¹

dedicated to Katarina Petrović 

we are not here
to sober up
we are not here
to conceive an orgy
we are not here
to weep at surety
and die our deaths
so shittily that
god won’t think twice
about giving up on us

¹ A negative translation of Bukowski on “The Meaning of Life” in Life, Dec. 1988.

sinking ovations

let’s not lie about instincts
now matter how much I tell myself
I’m a fighter
I couldn’t stand my country
 
I moved away in 2019
left my family
left my friends
left my house, jeep, and harley
left my kush uni gig & a doctorate degree (in the making)
left my poetry community
   my beloved new orleans
 
in a new bio I wrote
I moved to “try sinking
some place new”
which enshrouds
my flight from political shit
 
was my expatriation completely an act of political dissent?
—show me something complete from this century—
 
it was
about leaving
but also about love
and dreams to expand and live and keep living
 
leaving                                            is learning
muddies what you can    or can’t         sacrifice
inside            as well as                outside of us
 
I do miss
native english
 the new world, no matter how I much I watch her spoil from afar
 
we await a looming second round of “greatness”
but my complaints run deeper than the executive branch
—even what passes as our electoral democracy—
namely how we mistreat our people & planet:
                                                                    the medical system
                                                                     the police state and their murdering
                                                                     the criminal justice system
                                                                                environmental and
                                                                                       foreign policy
 
that’s not even getting into the economy, culture wars, immigration, surveillance, alliances, and drones
 
I struggle with the left
as well as the right
so I left
and I continue
to write
 
sinking ovations
 
in the vain hope
a new form of humanity
might come around
contagious
as applause
 
(or at least a jazz funeral
for the sixth extinction)
 
mostly I miss rivers

21st-century schizoid man

rather than looking
into my canal
with its complexion
of old verdant glass
when passing
I let the canal
look into me
with a slight shiver
from the morning
breeze
which l expose
myself to
sitting outside
in the shade
of morning
wearing gym shorts
and tee I slept in
let the wind mix
into my being
breathing
like last year
a baby duck
swims past bleating
with mama for
a scavenging lesson
which reminds me
of something I told
toulouse yesterday
about big kids
and little kids
as they passed
riding doubled up
on their bikes
and really how
the world is full
of big kids
I was referring
to college students
but I also meant
world leaders
ceos mgmt
and anyone
else that likes
to form cliques
or boss or bully
people
around
including me
now responsible
for his well-being
and turn-out
which brings me
back to mine
at forty-one
on my birthday
writing a poem not
promised like a bit of sun
in the cold courtyard
a big kid
not waking up
the rest of the family
so that he could steal
this moment
knowing we will all be late
for school work
and anything else
that resembles responsibility
entitled to this annual
rite of passage
like the explorers
before me
and their ships
and slaves
and manifest destiny
this very second
I don’t give a damn
about anything but
“me and you”—
how my son responds
when I ask him “who did that?”
pointing to the stickers
all over the sliding glass door
after he interrupts—
how my son tells
me he did something wrong
but really he means
me and me
the truest aim
next he asks me:
“what you seeing?”
but I tell him
I’m not looking outside
I’m looking inside
now go upstairs
and get ready
I’m right behind you...
growing up in a second
we can travel
across for infinity