We aren’t going to be long-lined about this
Or the poetic equivalent of dramatic
And it’s Tumblr that capitalizes the first letter
Of every line, I want to make that clear

It’s the “holidays” (read: Christmas with respectful, deferential exceptions if you’ve got your own other thing
But it’s Christmas that’s ubiquitous and uquittably the baseline
Like grass or asphalt)

So what that means is you miss someone
Or you’re with someone you would miss if you weren’t
But if so then you are probably at
Each other’s throats
Because that’s the way it often so often works
(where “works” is in quotes implied because
it is dysfunctional as they come)
You might be better missing them

Give it a human break if you can
Remember
To

Because this is how expectations
Own us. Humans. Never shall it be
All that we might hope it.
Hope is perfect as no night can ever be

The exchange of money for
Goods is always handy. And never adequate.

This occurs to me on the road.
Families proximate
Love practically set aside for logistics in raising
Rituals enshrined in catalogs
To a most intimate group choreography
Carving
Stocking
Presents
Joy(?)

Just another night.
Best to
Make it a
Good one on its
Own not some
Commercial epic.

Mikl-em, 2012.12.24.
Top of mind, riding in the Mazda 3

I just posted one on twitter. Now a spontaneous poem for my tumblr, too.

Whither-y

You can put that pun there, right there
Where the sisters can see it and the
Swatters of spiders dodge the sun
And brag like they were octopuses
Or cacti or locusts for that matter
What makes a man hunt arachnid all day?
Probably a classical education
And stolen afternoons of Police and joints
And toking for novelty and crafting
Short stories that beggar belief
Stoned, rolling off anecdotes gets you
Off work but good, but never for good
And it’s a hard hobbit that tries to break it.
We used to listen to Dio when we were cutting class. And I
Wouldn’t hurt a fly with a wire or a god’s eye. But…
yeah,

You can put that pun over there.

“Building the Inside Outside” by mikl-em (read by the same).

This is a poem that I wrote/read 9 years or so ago at 21 Grand in Oakland. I have a couple old readings which i made mp3s of way back when. It’s not the best recording, but I think it’s passable.

It’s of a sort of content-less poem I like to write. All implication, no fact. All candy bar wrapper which makes its own candy with no actual ingredients. In this case it’s political gesture or signification and no real concept or critique, which makes its own critique.

And by that I mean also that it is supposed to be fun as a priority. And funny.

When I re-listened to it recently, I realized it was oddly apt (my favorite kind of apt) given our weird political moment.