This is a nice relief. I try to creatively write about porn but it doesn't amount to much. Here's a few reboot poems. (during my reboot) 
Pancakes in my Blood
Food obsession lately, a result of barely having any around.
Chili powder rice burritos – 5 a day, give or take.
“But there’s all that fish and soup in the freezer?”
“I know – there’s the bag of cat food too I could eat, be quiet ova there!”
It’s organic propaganda. Street pushers of burritos. It’s nice to be out in the world. Buying burritos in back alleys. Smuggled bean and cheese, sometimes a good green chile with the right timing.
My cat drinks water from a coffee cup.
And then the world turns upside down, then back again, then upside down, then back again.
Guitar in the pawn shop – it’s always when I don’t have a guitar that I want to play one the most.
Driving around today – a small reminder, some salsa of what I’m aiming for.
Cilantro dancing, shredded beef and bean for glory!
Homemade delight, cat hair blankets – cut into spaghetti western gunslinger ponchos – woven clown dream. Then a pot of clam chowder enters the picture – somebody tossing it in, spread out through the air like a wave – surf/crash – an arc settling over at seaside ocean.
California? Oregon? Louisiana? Litterbox beach?
A campfire at night – half moon and breeze – tea, sadness because everything is so immediate – can’t hold onto this place and none of us will ever be here again…
I was born to be here, only here, right here/right now – with baby skunks waddling around outside – looking up into hazy windows.
Changing your Oil like Words
It’s all about writing to ring out the demons..
They get loud sometimes, kind of a low level roar that’s hard to hear – deep soul past the audible frequency.
But it’s there, and it builds.
What’s wrong? Is it this, that, he, she, me?
Write it down and figure it out.
Maybe it’s a weird loneliness…
A person winds up missing themselves, find themselves lost, further and further from home.
The external world starts getting overwhelming and spins like the a top.
Finally, it slows down and falls out onto a blank page.
Ink spreads out, hot glue, changing the oil in your shitty car because it’s overdue.
“Wow, it runs better now!”
You’re goddamn right it does, now change the filter too – don’t forget that part.
Fall’s coming up here in the Pacific Northwest.
The air wants to be crisper, more sharp – start feeling like beautiful nostalgia, and drive people into cozy burrows.
Scarves getting anxious to jump out of closets and choke everybody.
Whales Hanging Outside, Far from Sea
Early morning – new place, time, surroundings, rugs, neighbors, bathrooms, windows, lost whales laying out on the concrete next to the dumpster far from home…
What are you guys doing here? The ocean’s way the hell that way —————->
Bored they say – wanted to check out something different.
Certainly different. Is this the best you could come up with though? Beached next to my dumpster on the concrete?
They don’t mind – they like it. I decide I should just leave them alone,
after staring at the moon with them for awhile. Smoking a cigarette with them, talking.
I should quit smoking, again…
But I don’t mind, sharing a cigarette with these beached whales outside my new apt. next to the dumpster.
Intuition/emotion. I don’t know that words help – they don’t seem to help getting those things out and across. Where’s the logic? It’s there – like pancakes though, butter, maple syrup, and a couple stray french toast. Toasts? – Toast I say, hop to it brotha’!
Moon, whale, sleeping cat, bathroom down the hall, old brick building, dumpster, concrete, open wounds, new forgiveness looking way back, time travel, midnight brew coffee, wide-eyes, kitty cat snoring, and hot summer nights.
Passions – confusions – vibrations,
Mindfulness lost in the shuffle of the cards – pick one, quickly – don’t wait.
Sounds of the trains going by outside – can see the whales still hanging out, still beached out my window – having a good time though. Concrete amusement.
– future.
