Dreams and Bliss: Dostoyevsky's Paradox

Reading Dostoyevsky 
on an icy April morning 
makes for strange moods:

the tender fears 
of lovers and dreamers 
are carefully unveiled
and left to make us wonder 
why moments of bliss 
can never last 
a lifetime.

The very nature 
of those lost moments
                        (fleeting and poignant)
will return to us 
on long evenings
only to 
render our dreams useless 
and make the mundane 
all the more real.

Suburban Haiku

Every time I hear
a distant car door slamming
I await a knock.

Poles of Inaccessibility

• The most distant point
• Most challenging to reach
• Remoteness prevents access
• A construct, not an actual phenomenon
• Subject to varying definitions
• Of interest to explorers

A Daily Affirmation

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

I love and approve of myself.

An Easter Poem

Easter came early this year,

but the narrative’s still the same.

He died for you.

Irony with teeth?

Steadfast declaration?

Moral codebook?

Good story?

Bad joke?

But it’s still the same:

mythological martyrs,

scapegoat saturation,

a willful worship

of pity and prayer,

blame and sacrifice;

So deep and so thorough

that even if you don’t believe,

you still succeed in thinking

that worth is measured

by the inconveniences you bear

and the suffering you endure.

13 Verse Anti-Fantasy

Last night I saw a nun

On highway 61

Shoulda slowed down

But I was on the run

Robbed a bank with my old lover

Tried not to blow the cover

But the teller was my brother

And he called my fucking mother

We had it all worked out

But my brother had his doubts

Started to bloody well pout

Cause he lost what he’s about

He’s been trying to change his ways

But the steady jobs don’t pay

His banking by the day

Was turning him sick and gray

He missed his drugs and money

He missed banging all the honies

His criminal days seemed sunny

And that bank boss, a fucking dummy

So we cooked up a little scheme

The parts of a seamless dream

A lover, a brother, a queen

The supreme criminal team

But my brother’s flagging worries

Put him in a hurry

To call our goddamn mother

And blow the fucking cover

So now I’m on the run

On highway 61

I saw that poor old nun

And out came my loaded gun

I pointed it at the window

And drove by real slow

My maniac obsession

Starting to take hold

Our eyes met for a minute

And I was feeling lit

The looting was a hit

I didn’t want to quit

When she saw that gun

Her face went blank and stunned

She broke out in a run

And nearly spoiled my fun

I could hear the sirens wailing

The cops must have been tailing

My mind was busy railing

A love of money hailing

The plan was quick and dirty

Get rich by the time you’re 30

Live your life on the lamb

And stop giving a fucking damn

A Harbinger of Spring (2 Haikus)

Yank of the rip cord
Lawnmower sirens greeting
Smells of gas, cut grass

OR

Lawnmower sirens
Sweet mix of gas and cut grass
Suburban summer