Category Archives: poetry of the mind

Hafner at El Rio

20170318 Hafner Continue reading

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dinner

one hemisphere and the other,
my wife and my man,
my speaking softly, loudly shouting,
my questioning the knowing
of the ocean, my thirst,
for shopping and having,
thinking and sleeping,
living and dreaming,
spinning and careening into
a big white plate of kale and kid’s pasta. Continue reading

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going downtown

an enormous cloud hangs over the city
as i walk up 2nd Ave smoking
the remnant of a good night, breathing
the rain-washed air of a good day.

i snap a picture of the cloud
with my phone, with my phone
pay the bus fare, sit in the last
square of four seats occupied by three
silent, independent women, each wearing
a distinct set of dark shades. mine barely
cover my eyes as i look south to see
the cloud retreating and the bright sun
emerging, blanketing everything.

suddenly, the three stages of consciousness
blind me:

first, squinting, measuring the luminosity,
cursing myself for forgetting a hat,
wondering about skin cancer, meditating on the family.
second, reasoning, realizing that by
slightly lifting my limb i can slow the effect
of aging. finally, believing,
breathing in, being,
eyelids down aware that death is
and will always be, so may as well
repose on the sunny side. Continue reading

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notes from my phone

how do I create
how does one scrawl the thoughts incessantly knocking on the othe side of the glass
pika Continue reading

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SAS 9

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SAS 8

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one day in a blustery, sunny daze on the side of the hill,
the next, wolfing down tequila and orange juice
in little triple-cubed glassware,

sitting around the table like three California quail
and some other beautiful bird from across the country,
all contented as can be,

bleating about the unmistakable mysteries of charcoal paper,
pastel paper, notebook paper, the electromagnetic spectrum,
and imaginary trees.

in between the green, green leaves,
past the gradient of brown bark,
far, far behind the white noise specks of space,
lies something. Continue reading

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ten

2006

he had never been to Japan.

he’d never lived anywhere but California, Arizona, and Nicaragua.

he’d never been to Greece, Turkey, Hungary, or Spain.

he’d never been to the Netherlands or the Czech Republic.

he’d never had sex, and he’d never been arrested.

he’d never eaten a mushroom or licked acid.

he’d never contemplated creating his own religion.

he’d been in a band, but he’d never been a DJ.

he’d grown his hair long, but never past the collar.

he loved reading and writing, but didn’t think it’d make money.

as for him…

2015 Continue reading

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1137

The duties of the Sea are few—
To boil and to freeze—
To inhale all the Earth provides—
Exhale life on the breeze.

The pleasures of the Sea are broad
To wash and splash about—
A Waltz that pushes and attracts
The waxing, waning Moon.

The kinsmen of the Sea are Keys—
Harmonious—Rhythmic—
Dissonant—Endless—
Sung simply through the Epochs.

The limitations of the Sea—
If you ask the nearest crone—
Or professor—or pelican—
Will forever be Unknown. Continue reading

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SAS 6

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i have a rain stick in my bathroom that makes the sound of my other half, tumbling pebbles. my mother brought it from New Mexico, a place i’ve been directly west, north, and east of. the stick makes the sound of pebbles thrown around the globe, skipping across flowers, people, pools of sugary rum blood, sinking into multiple dimensions of angiosperm flesh. Continue reading

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let the words flow like fog

let the words flow like fog
from the abyss, instilled with meaning
only after traversing a million miles
across the mind, dizzy
with dreams.

let them hang low,
mingling among the trees,
buildings, people, fiends,
dampening and dimming
natural aversions.

let them grow long in lines
from sunrise to sunset to sunrise
hinting at stupor
through deserts of verdure
fueled by our favorite toxins.

dissipate — let them
when they will —
diadem of universal wisdom
pour forth like fate
from thy dripping, inky quill. Continue reading

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