geese - the significant

when driving in a dream there is no need to signal, yet i cordially wave and smile. traffic heavy melts together on the road, shut my eyes and nod off into a cat nap. in a splash, came to wakeful senses i did in a crowd. horns honking. waved back, had the change, paid the toll. told myself i could finish this dream, in an hour, if i rush. hit the gas, checked the time and then realized an hour had already passed. time flies, you know, some say, they’re right, some time. took another bite of sandwich, chewed slowly while i wondered where i got it and how to hold it with two hands while driving? seemed mayonnaise enough to me , i smiled at the hearty bread, tasty as reality, with long green salty seeds in it, and the tomato slipping out. aware that all the red was taillights all the honking were wild geese making restful music as i closed my eyes to finish dreaming. thinking the one last conscious thought, that i like geese, i really do. never met one though to get to know, i’d surly like to.

core thought

core thought core thought at home thinking a spark where day starts, all begins in the dark. five this morning playing piano in my head figuring it out, doing the left hand, making it better, keeping it tight, lying in bed. and i said, time moves on, six-thirty; oh, the sun is on the mask now, the stone medallion over the door on the building opposite our window. i’m up this instant and want to take a photo of it. the mask is already a few hundred years old and i want to preserve it forever, on celluloid? am i joking? and i take one, it is blurry. i take five, all are blurry. for one minute some days, some times i think of these swans in stone, this family seal. the sun kisses it brief moments, mornings when it is sunny. if i am looking at the right time, in the right month, i see it. though, can’t think of it now, planning this day, i am. have to make breakfast and shower, then catch a train to pick up the car. we’ll find a place to park it when we get here back to where we start, some other hour at the beginning, home again at the beginning of the day then, when the sun is rising

my cat is on the skids

my cat is on the skids

that's where he lives

lying in the sun's rays

he sleeps his days away

he's easy, won't hurt a fly

doesn't care, really

doesn't have the time

Gandalf must be the oldest cat in the world

but i'm sure he likes it that way

when my car pulls in

he runs home

that's the only time he runs

and when he's sure i'm holding the door for him

he slows down to a walk

i'll look at him

but hardly in the eye.

we know how to get along;

i feed him, and he comes around for it.

laid felt ye same sanome

“laid felt ye same sanome”
i wrote these words,
for years they were on a piece of paper
on the side of my refrigerator
i don’t know what it means
the words sound like something to me
the sounds are the poetry
it’s a chant, a mantra

more words are for my hurt
when i put it out there where it won’t go
i gave to someone who couldn’t give back
saw it coming
knew it all along
fell again
hurt again
should have ducked

that’s enough, for now, for then
in a while i may do it again
that’s what we do
always the ones we can’t have that we go for
the ones that want us, we don’t want

it’s in the past now
yet I recall
this foolish way of youth
felt ye same?

time to be wasting

awakened by the thunder boom
to start to another brutal rainy day,
below now, from the window i see
squatty dogs in sporty plaid slickers
out for a float and a crap
then home for a nap
while hard strung owners, with plastic bags,
chase down the street
before it gets away, faraway
before crap gets away,
a somber melody
in the key of life
for the eternal city

coffee to go

coffee to go

Juliano, I’ll have another Coffee Wombley, please
yeah, I don’t know either, just made it up
sounds Presidential, doesn’t it?
oh, and here's today's poem


after a night of solid slumber
roaming velvet treasure swirls
it’s a pleasure to emerge to exchange my
fogged over dream form
for this dogged down worn wrapping that I use everyday,
with substance enough to function,
to get another calendar page torn,
as back to the strife of life in this world I’m reborn


What’s that Juliano? Oh, thanks, you really think so?
but I didn’t spend hours on my hair,
it does it by itself,
I sleep spinning on my head

turn down the music
both hands on the wheel
take your time, remember to smile
you know that I know how you feel

if you want to know more
then buy the book
if you have to ask where
it's not worth the price,
one may question your judgment
and throw away twice
the dream cocoon you crawled out of
soggy, yet still crispy on the edges
have a nice day, Earthling
you too, Juliano

dream ride

the image of the name
flashed like a flame
now it’s a shame
not to recall

where, how, who it is,
what was happening and why,
I should have awakened and made a note
and written it upon the sky

debris on Wild Sleep River moved on,
floated tumbling, passed while I dreamed,
whatever so concerned me then
is not so important now, as it had seemed