Archive for travel

down to the bone…

Posted in Learning About Life, love n' luck, Poetry, travel, TWTC with tags , , , , , on October 22, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

tendons of a feather

lost the last bits of clarity
of purpose (as intended)
by the skin of luck & forest
blocked light. trees ringing
a lighthouse aren’t
inspired to greater heights;
nothing could be further from
the truth.

samples of atmosphere are puked
onto t-shirts & bumper stickers
sold at discount shit shops
littering beach roads everywhere.
what do they sell in oklahoma?
i’ve never been there & now is
no time to start.

enough hurricanes for any
coastline; too much knowing
after every bad decision comes
a cock-up redemption attempt
boiling down to the desire
toward continued existence.
all tied together like that,
it’s hard to believe
we were ever separate to
begin with.

——————————

Thoughts on comings & goings. Always one or the other it seems.

the caapi tales (part 1)…

Posted in Poetry, Series, The Caapi Tales, thoughtful trips, travel, TWTC with tags , , , , , , on September 28, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

vacation

i was already sure i
had to taste something
other than the stale air
recycled continuously for my
benefit while a small crowd
watched for signs of life.

nothing says alive like the
plume of smoke coming off
another cigarette. all the shades
of green agree the signs are
good; so far everything
shimmies when i exhale & wonder
what can be so savage as see-
ing the world through new eyes
in hard to reach places.

mouth & hands work together
underneath a good mans
experimentation on the universe,
plant life, whatever. biota
at its finest.

hands shake the last drag
from a loaded cigarette ready
to fire. instead it’s smudged
into an ashtray & left to
burn out. ever as such, my
daily lamentation expressed
with my devilish smile. i
won’t even ask why i wasn’t
told all this a long time ago.

————————————

The boys at the home office have really been on my ass for a new series. After immersing myself in the proper literature as well as a hat/tip from a disembodied voice, the whole thing came together in a nice trip package. I’m guessing a four part series, but it that isn’t enough & psychosis fails to set in, there may well be more. Until we meet again… get a hat.

late in the day considerations…

Posted in Cigarette, Descartes, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

& what are you, anyway?

if i laugh too openly whenever
the razor closes in on one of
those mainline highway tours
it’s only because i’m holding
out hope that someday i’ll
grow up & be a cigar-store indian.
i test myself for sanity every
time i wake-up having watching
myself catch river-water in a net
under semi-dark skies.
everything is plural here.

next to the impossibly blooming
cigarette flower were palm trees
lining a riverbank illustrating a
pretense toward chalice duty
had the the sky not been so cloudy.
forgetting such experiences is
one of my chief preoccupations
& the way i spend most of my
starting into space time.

it fades to a regress of half
captured images memorable only
for the gaping holes in each frame;
the rest is mist, something about
the sun god apollo, maybe a
pattern in the camel smoke drifting
past my eyes. everything dissipates
into the same extirpated landscapes
& actions as actual rainfall
weighs on everything trying to stand
straighter tomorrow than was
possible today. cigar-store indian
training continues apace.

————————————–

Dedicated to normality. It’s more unique (at times) than one might think or expect.

quasar the vermillion dust (part 4)…

Posted in Poetry, Quasar The Vermillion Dust, Series, thoughtful trips, travel, TWTC with tags , , , , , on July 10, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

contents under pressure

i can breathe therapy
into heartbreak wearing
silver shoes. knock down
the slight noise of footwear
tappin’ down cement hallways
to speak plain. kill the echo
with a hissing canister
under pressure, punctured by
restorative moments of
grace, calm, & hope.

elsewhere squirrel rabbit-wannabe
traces paths of gutters &
ditches hoping to find food or
water. elemental hope; always
around the next corner
(extended faith in satisfaction)
retro cool but worried all the time.

like grabbing a skinny strip
of skin & bone, cutting through
then looking down to see if it’s
tail or neck.

i can breathe therapy
back into empty necks,
replace silver slippers,
kill the echo with that
canisters kiss after
puncturing it in a moment
of extreme crisis &
untamed reaction.

as the dragonfly…

Posted in Early Morning Silence, Funny Morning Stories, Ha Ha Funny, Learning About Life, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel with tags , , , , , on June 30, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

vocal mix

there was old advice
playing on the stereo &
leaking out through
summer-set windows
while i was staring at
waters edge, watching
wannabe frogs get eaten
before they’re any use
to a french chef.

waking up off-schedule,
a broken-memory late-
night scene loses hold to
a new world, slightly
leftward of historical
precedent. catching as
catch-can, drowsy dragon-
fly can’t fly straight
during the month-long
drought when words
failed to show. slightly
certain mythology comes-
to-life in supplication.

old advice assuages a
symptomatic mind from the
underlying condition. at
best it’s good enough to
try & touch any immortals
happening to walk by.
happenstance counts as
much as controlled sub-
stances these days.

—————————-

marisol goes to the beach…

Posted in Early Morning Silence, Hysterical Romance, love n' luck, Marisol, Poetry, sex, travel, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , on June 19, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

shadows on the sand

shadow photograph

quick serve pink-berry smoothie
on a spring evening trying
like hell to be summer afternoon.
speedball winds blow hair past
eyes until the sky cleared in a
equatorial tribute to
blue crystalline.

it ain’t exactly our secret if
everybody knows; pushing past
your front gate while you claw
at my back only gets us so far.
pushed forward by every
treasured gust of breath leaking
pressure from under the sky;
lack of laid path doesn’t still
our footsteps, four across.

shadows result from interception
of sunlight by the mass of
our bodies. on sand pictures
won’t give up any ghostly
figures traced on shore; it will
catch them in the shutter
speed of a certain instant when
our hands touched while walking
dunes under the clearest
of skies.

———————————

For Marisol. Thinking back to the beach will always be where you can find me.

marisol reviews the attendent literature…

Posted in Cigarette, Early Morning Silence, Marisol, Music, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on May 28, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

someday

expressively styled by time spent
& a little excess.
no plan to follow
& never too many mornings
waking up to your alarm.

one invitation
was enough to get you here;
looking past unexplainable miracles,
fate or destiny, etc.
that kind of thing
never was my specialty,
even in the years
when nothing was as
probable as everything.

there isn’t any rationale: i
forgot to read your words & licking
the hand holding the pen is my
way of speaking to you while
you move around the room.

everything in time. three minutes
after forever, who will know the
prescience of momentary stillness
just before you take me home?
as you assure me you’ll stay
another night we admire
the inside view from the others
mask. even a kiss that
trumps zirconium conversations.
all questions will arrive;
how & when
is anybody’s guess.

quizzical reflections on
pirate princess radio
with just enough static
to remind us of summer trips.
climbing from bed after
a five year daydream with
frequent pause for
cigarette fantasy-fulfillment
moments; the last of the
immortals reminds us that
sometimes forever is just
a really long time.

————————————————

Nice flip-flops. We know the ending already. The fun part is finding out how we get there. So… how do we get there?.

happy holidays y’all…

Posted in Admin Announcements, Early Morning Silence, Friendship, Funny Morning Stories, Laughter, Learning About Life, Poetry, travel, TWTC with tags , , , , , , , on April 20, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

a general good morning

i’m not here to compete
with anyone over anything.
why bother? i’d rather be
playing swing-set games
past my expiration date
whenever it’s time to grow
up or find something else
to do for kicks.

one too many early hour slap-
dash pinners seeking a kind
effect; pulling a knife & spiking
my own punchbowl with bad
luck & proclivities for soft
baked pretzels knotted into
unpretzel shapes already
smoldering in the oven.

aces flick-a-trick brings a
little light into the room. temper-
ate zone behavior because
everything is different when
i can see it all laid out in
front of me; a toy map to
practice on where i can
fuck it all up without any
repercussion. my eyes are
half-open & i can kinda see.

plungers already done yeoman
work pushing the night past
another day. since i’m not
wearing black until damn good
& ready, i can pretend master
peri-sensibility like i had class,
like i was going to rick’s to
drink with sasha, dreaming of
a future whose most notable
quality is recognizability to
the past. everyone lives here
now-a-days…

we don’t always throw
bricks at windows &
each other; ya
gotta save something
for special occasions.

——————————–

Inspired by my poet friends. I’d list out y’all but there are too many, and besides, who inspired what line matters only to the rail-thin set of razor’s darlings. We, not being they, do not concern ourselves with such things. I’ve been missing in action for a while, for which I apologize to anyone who has read this poetry blog & deserves a visit back. I’d make a claim of irresponsibility, but you knew that already.

Special thanks to the 10th Muse (way better of a poet than #’s 9 or 11) for my first opportunity to read live (in public no less) Friday, April 22nd in Richmond. Go read her kick ass poetry @ Arspoetica and if you find yourself in Richmond, VA this Friday, look it up. I guess I should get new earrings.

instructions from the setting sun…

Posted in Laughter, love n' luck, Monday Poetry Potluck, Music, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, travelogue with tags , , , , , on January 23, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

instructions from the setting sun

i swapped part of my hard won sassafras
luck for one green flash salute to the sun
as it faded from view. transfixed under
splendid emerald refractions, i wandered the
market picking through variously flavored
evening-hour solutions priced to move.

sunset argued convincingly for an immediate
administration of unconstrained-salvation. a
visiting pharmacotherapist told me to “take
what ya get.” he didn’t need to tell me twice.
background scenery changed before my eyes
& behind my back. waking up home in bed was
an expectation fulfilled after that long
conversation with the recently departed sun.

homegrown early-morning hallucinations say
i’m late to hit the road. reports of barricades
blocking sections of pavement between here
& there are yet to be confirmed, but i’ve got
faith in detours. just to be safe, i changed the
setting from ‘innocent-angel’ to ‘easy-wicked’
before gettin’ too far down to give a rational
explanation to any of the uninitiated that might
be waitin’ on me along the way.

good reason to take extra time on prep-work;
small talk banter bordering on gibberish won’t
help matters with a schedule to keep. detailed
instructions from the neighborhood star offers
part of an explanation & a promise to return soon.
another sassafras exchange gets me everything
i need assembled for travel. seven tins of madness,
gasoline & a day-ending emerald flash in the sky.

in a few breaths i’ll wake up somewhere else,
wondering where the fuck i am n’ how i got
there while trying to figure out the fastest way
back to Cayo Hueso. i’ve always wanted to see
that green flash when the sun starts playin’ a
half game of hide & seek behind the horizon.

——————————————

Dedicated to the city of Key West. CoB,O may be long dead and gone but the spirit of Marvin Gardens lives on. Anyone going to MoTM 2011?

prostrate lunatics with grandiose delusions…

Posted in Insomnia, Late Night Silence, Laughter, Poetry, sex, thoughtful trips, travel with tags , , , , on January 20, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

delusions of lunatic grandeur

assuming an amusing story arises
a suitable distance in time, failure
wrangling compromise from commitment
damages only previously shaken faith
in wisdom gleaned from experience.
focus drifts from discarding tragedy
toward all-consuming efforts aimed
at maintaining escape velocity.

evening hours crack, chip, &
finally disintegrate, falling away
from an elegant sigmoidesque curve.
demands for ex post facto concern
thinly veil a malevolent agenda;
expressed by obsessively repetitive,
violent arguments between adherents
of similar interpretations of meaning in
thunderclaps. rational discourse loses
ground amidst adverse circumstance,
shackled to all manner of resource
exhaustion.

i can’t sympathize; all the things that
used to scare me to death
now turn me on. unfamiliar territory
for anyone satisfied by wandering
aimlessly, grabbin’ remnants of
desperation. forever waiting as
a million hours making up unknown
numbers of days jam into
one single moment.

sunrise parades, unidentified sunsets,
& calenders of every possible origin are
allies with common cause removing
thought-work from existence. only thing
left is taking battle against the
all-night brigade & their ebullient
admixtures of chemical variants to
their home turf.

by first light, we’ll sift through
every possible ambidextrous
solution to carnal desire hitch-
hiking down single lane highways,
wantin’ nothing more than to find
an elusive, easy peace between
revolutions & the transitory voyage
of the nearest star.

—————————————-

This poem was an attempt to build a personal narrative into a larger context. Obviously, it is not for the writer to declare success, but I can say after 7 hours of tinkering with language, thematic development, grammar and expression, the poem is ready to leave my hands. It was originally inspired by a long discussion with a local frozen pizza distributor looking for a short-cut to f0r his delivery schedule. We went back & forth for a while until I realized he just wanted driving ideas, not existential debate. What was it they say about leading a horses ass to water?