it's my only talent
i know where to dig for the gold
and my gold is a renewable resource
music with momentum
harmonies that levitate
meaning where there is none
motivation in a vacuum
women who steal your breath with a glance

gnarly opinions from my algebra professor:

"about a year ago some idiot took pi
out to the ten thousandth place"

sometimes inexplicable (to me):

"i don’t like that Please Aunt Sally Stuff"

awesome litanies of cliche:

"you can’t see the forest for the trees
nobody comes out of the womb running
you have to crawl
i don’t say this because i have free time
or to hear myself talk—
rome wasn’t built in a day!"

sometimes he strikes gold
telling a tardy student:

"try being late for a ship
try standing on the dock
see if they sail back for you"

when the same kid asks the date:

"what does it matter?  you don’t know the time!"

a limited frame of reference
that’s why people are such morons
they’re not inherently stupid
just narrow and myopic
you’d think with tv, the internet
easy transport and open borders
eyes would be wide
nope

(obviously i wrote this poem before the borders closed)

for most of us
working a job is a lifelong mindfuck
we've been snowed into believing
we must dedicate our lives
to making some invisible ******* rich
pay unceasing attention to tasks
unimportant and irrelevant
commit unflagging effort our entire adult lives
to nothing special
until we're parked out to pasture
so we develop investment strategies
for enduring the workweek
spend too much for designer coffee
pay extra for easier parking
buy lunch when we could bring a sandwich
flirt with the skirts or broad shoulders
all effective crutches to keep us going
it would be epic
to get more of a return on our investments
than a dishwasher or two

if you have 4/4 going on
it’s cardiac rhythm
you like 1&3, i like 2&4
but either one gets you on the train
you can layer anything on top
saxophone, guitar, synth
barking dogs, crashing cranes
airplanes, aggravation, nuclear ordinance
moans, groans, koans
your heart’s dancing

the problem with aging
is that most things
that were inspiring in youth
are not relevant anymore
and the things that are relevant
are not very inspiring
pop music, for instance
yuengling, nursing students
jumping off a bridge
to reach the honkytonk downriver
they've lost their torque
gears are slipping in every direction
mayhem and pandemonium lose their spark
when they're not a choice
but an inevitability

"**** right i got the blues"
a buddy guy signature tune
it’s tattooed on the patient’s shoulder
the words embedded in buddy guy’s polkadot strat
i can’t get him to wake up from sedation
which is necessary for me to pull the breathing tube
he’s almost there but not
after an hour i drag a computer into the room
and play the song
thinking what a cool way to wake him up
it doesn’t work
but he comes around eventually and i pull the tube
"you play guitar, right?" i ask once he’s with us
"he tries," says his wife
we all laugh

you think anyone was looking
out the window of the World Trade Center
9/11, 9:03 am?
she’d see a mammoth jet
zooming directly at her
becoming colossal in a split second
and she wouldn’t believe it
until she did

that lawn mower
is heavier than it used to be
and tonight i’m paying the price
i see that old age
won’t be the easy transition i expected
i should have known
but i’m a blithe optimist
my trouble will be a diminished capacity
that day by day, takes me by surprise
some days more violently than others
well you gotta live your life
i’ll have to discover my limitations
the hard way

so much joy with mom & dad, grandma & grandpa
my little cats spikey, spooky and pep
but the memories are tinged with grief
my delight has a halo of melancholy
so much love but i miss them all
i grieve at their absence
it’s a heavy thing

i don’t feel that way with michael, jack, al, the duke
it’s light, it’s buoyant, jubilant
they’re gone but they gave me stuff i still enjoy free of charge
i smile when i listen to the band dada which jack turned me onto
i laugh at all his whining, which was his way of processing life
and the duke trying to beat me up over cindy
the bartender throwing us both out
another night when he jumped on stage at cbgb’s
to purloin the mike from jeffrey lee pierce
making showbiz history
then there’s al’s consoling wisdom
when the old trache patient croaked in front of me at midnight
a shocking horror show and i still had rounds to finish
al simply said "this’ll happen again
you’ll be alone at the end of a dark hall and a patient will crump"
which did come to pass (alright, not such a merry memory)
but he framed it in a way that made it possible to cope
and michael, my long-haired james dean socrates
he was so cool he made a *** belly look tough
three years older, orchestrating the coolest moments of my youth
presenting me with smoking, music, ***, girls
taking on the creepy priest who scared the **** out of me
when he told me i’d go to hell for being jewish
michael jumping in for my defense, bold and brilliant
at age 12 getting in the clergyman’s face
"how do you know he’s not going to a jewish heaven?"

no grief for these guys, just a lifetime of laughs and inspiration

netanyahu’s gotta go
putin’s gotta go
trump’s gotta go
but here’s the news
you can scream yourself hoarse
into the online ether
you can march to city hall every day
until your tracks cut to the center of the earth
netanyahu’s got it covered
putin’s staying put
and trump’s riding back on an old brown horse
so let’s sing it together
wah wah wah

usually you think what you're supposed to think
a stray diseased notion may infect you
but the antibodies of society eradicate the menace
so the rivers of money keep flowing
into the oceans of the rich
and no one loses sleep
including you

if you decide to only worry
about things you can change
and when you analyze it
that’s not much
your worries shrink drastically
goodbye weather
goodbye world news
goodbye *******
goodbye fate

the top shelf at stingrays
isn’t like the top shelf at another bar
it’s more like there’s no room on this shelf
so let’s stash it somewhere up above
but i figured i’d give it a shot
so to speak
"i’ll take that abners up there
the bourbon"
petey the bartender nodded
bent down and produced a bottle of abners
it wasn’t even bottom shelf
it was on the floor
but it got me messed up

lounging on couch, young naked
chin resting on thin shoulder
she across room, pad on lap
penning preliminary sketches

outside, one sickening screech
of brakes, one suspended gasp
of skidding, one tremendous crash

not a twitched nerve in his body
no stroke broken on her pad

events outside remain outside

haven’t thought about it in a while
but in a lifetime of wacky decisions
the wildest thing i’ve ever done
was at age 16, my girlfriend 15
we’d ******* a bunch
but i wanted to spend the night together
it was important to me
god knows why
so we made a plan
one night i sat on the couch
watching TV with her mom, dad
her brother and sister
and at 10 pm i said goodnight
but instead of going out the front door
i snuck upstairs to her room
hiding in her closet with a flashlight
and dostoevsky’s house of the dead
no thought of repercussions
which might have ranged from shrieking
to assault to jail to fatality
my mind was focused on one thing only
even more astonishing
from my current advanced perspective
my bladder was entirely tame
no need for any bathroom break
a couple of hours and several chapters later
when the house was silent
i slipped into her bed
mmm, mmm, mmm
at 5 am i skulked down the stairs
and hiked to the diner for a victory breakfast

you say you’re a patron of the arts?
then *******
i don’t feel like getting patronized today
every singer must fight the urge to pander to the crowd
sometimes an audience gets in the way
i’m only playing to an ideal anyhow
two ideals actually
and though pretty girls listen occasionally
they seldom buy the complications i peddle
so they’ve disqualified themselves
which leaves my other target
myself at 20
i don’t see that fellow either
the *******’s probably out smoking a joint during my set
but i’m going to assume he’s listening
with one ear at least
so i’ll keep broadcasting the love
besides
thelonious monk said a musician plays for people
and am i gonna argue with thelonious?
even if i wanted to, i missed my chance

when you have the blues
when you lost something
you’re never gonna find again
you might have the inspiration
to write a sad song
but why would you ever sing it?

a covid patient arrests
unvaccinated
hovering between here and gone
leaning towards death
her daughter comes in the room as we’re scrambling
to keep her heart beating and oxygen saturation viable
"i know you guys are thinking she’s gonna die
we need her alive
we NEED you to believe that she’s going to live"
a sad rush of emotion
a vaccine might have been more effective
than my happy thoughts
but that’s how it works on my planet
on her planet, who knows?

i'm going to pretend i'm merce cunningham
on my bike ride home from work
hope it's survivable

how did it come to this?

scurrying to "work," participating in this "economy"
plugged into abstract patterns of baroque behavior

well, complaining is easy -- it's just one of those days
when the larger perspective seems alien

you can put quotation marks around any concept
to yank it out of context for examination

bad?  good?  pathetic?
“bad?”  “good?”   “pathetic?”

the melodies are fanatical
the harmonies are undisclosed
the rhythms are giraffes tripping

at least
that’s how it sounds to the marketplace

drop a sock at 4:30 in the morning
soft landing, no damage
my wife sleeps on undisturbed

shootings, stabbings, drunken beatings
car accidents, covid, RSV
all in the last day and a half
gotta love working the holidays
in the emergency room
oh and here's a cardiac arrest
** ** **

this morning at work
i read the new york times
listened to huey lewis
ate a pepperoni pizza
with banana peppers
took a nap
and had a cup of coffee
why would i retire?

the Fourth *****'s method
of "cutting waste"
is like curing cancer
by shooting the patient

but it's really not
about cutting waste at all
it's about shooting the patient

i think guns are a pandemic in america
but if every ******* has a gun except me
i figured, at minimum, i’d better learn
how to load one without killing myself
the instructor eyeballed my sandals
and said nope
then handed me crocs and a glock
he taught me what i needed to know
and after firing a hundred rounds
i can say that if you ***** with me
your right knee is going down

just got a $1.11/hr raise
the rich get richer!

you can tell the joke about the guy
who drooled four tablespoons of toothpaste
but you can’t make someone happy
if it’s her day to be sad

when it comes to cartoons
you’re either a disney/mickey freak
or a warner brothers/bugs head
it’s a stones v. beatles thing

we were sitting on atwood street
drinking beer and admiring the students
i was stumped:
"how come only women
came back to college this year?"
it was pointed out to me
there were just as many males as females
but i failed to see them

i’ve pinpointed the source of my corruption
when i was a kid my favorite cartoon was woody woodpecker
all the little ****** did was wreck the room, cackle inanely
and drill suckers in the head—
and the show was called WOODY WOOD PECKER
it’s astounding i’m still on the street

it’s a big country and a bigger world
there’s arguments for and against everything
one man’s meat is another man’s mcdonalds
for all the bibles of opinion and encyclopedias of conjecture
the citizens see what they want to see
a boy looks in the mirror and sees a hero
that’s what the president sees in the mirror too
then he sends in the marines and builds a library
if the poor believe the rich are crushing them
every bill is a boot
if the rich are afraid the poor want to **** in their pie
they’ll taste dooky
the horndog sees a summer oasis of mermaids
swimming towards him
it’s a big country and a bigger world
and the citizens see what they want to see

i checked
with my fellow medical professionals
and we all agree
patients who’ve been shot—
even when it’s much after the fact—
they’re always cranky

if i can’t give a lunatic poem
to a lunatic lady
what’s the point of writing one?
well, maybe there is no point

play in a great band and no one wants to hear you
write a fine poem and no one wants to publish it
even published, no one wants to read it
looking fine but no one’s looking
got a big **** and no place to put it
******* in front of me, can’t squeeze them
i tell you, it’s a miracle anyone ever gets off a load

back in new york my life was a narrow vestibule
but my dreams were cathedrals
reality was vapor
fantasy as concrete as 8th avenue

here in pittsburgh i’m living the life
but my dreams are deflated balloons

as i was visiting a greek friend
yesterday in astoria queens
greek america ground zero
i couldn’t reconcile the deep thinking
of our old friends plato, aristotle, etc.
with the greeks i know
an open-hearted, pragmatic
materialistic UNCOMPLICATED people
maybe plato’s inebriated symposium relates
but there is a basic disconnect

i ran it by a couple of my smarter friends
"look at the italians," said one
"some made art that advanced the human race
while their cousins hung out
on the corner eating pizza"
another pal framed it like this:
"it’s the language
all the declensions and conjugations
steer you to abstract genius"

hmmm…

there's only one way to be right
but so many ways to be wrong
you have a lot of freedom
it's entertaining
as long as you keep it to yourself
no repercussions
keeping your mouth shut rules
and if you overcome adversity
you can drink to your great victory
your strength, skill and awesomeness
as long as you don't broadcast it
everyone has a heavy load
everyone's job is a pain in the ***
everyone has to get through the day
nobody wants to hear from you
"that whiner, he thinks he's god's gift"
well maybe you are
you're not a whiner, you're a winner
you can step to your own parade
in silent celebration

my coworkers bristle
when i say i’m a poet and composer
and that slaving in a hospital is just a hobby
"no," they insist, "the hospital is your PROFESSION
music and writing are just HOBBIES"
ok
so for vincent van gogh
he who never sold a canvas
painting was a hobby?

the patient is quadriplegic
he has epilepsy, cerebral palsy
seizures, chronic aspiration
and he's blind
but mom has it down
she's always been on top of it
from day one (24 years ago)
why mom isn't running the world
instead of these evil bozos is beyond me

this morning in the ER i met a large fella
who jumped out a second story window
escaping his girlfriend and her knife
he landed on his feet
unfortunately for his feet
dude should have cleaned the cat box

he tripped over a pencil
and broke his ankle almost completely in two
he had a single tattoo on his scary belly
a big-busted beauty
"do you smoke and drink?"
"YES!"
"how much do you smoke?"
"PACK A DAY!"
"how much do you drink?"
'TEN DRINKS A DAY!"
"beer?"
"NO!"
he tripped over a pencil
it snuck up on him

the trump impeachment show is a lot of fun
those republications don’t give a **** though
so nothing will happen
but like bernie sanders’ cosmic environmental plan
it advances the conversation

maybe you've been running hard
and you still have more in the tank
but no destination
so you floor it
and that's your destination

i look death in the eye
and say "give me a cough"

people lie constantly
mostly to themselves
cause they're the only ones
who give a ****
we lie about who we are
and that's ok
sometimes it helps us
become who we want to be
a dream is a lie is a dream

there is no justice in this world
not in nature’s rules, nor human
the cosmos is a cockeyed moral labyrinth
if you want justice
you must apply it yourself
according to your own standards
and your best abilities
don’t expect to receive it in turn
not even on christmas morning
santa has other priorities

he held a bullet next to his chest with his left hand
with his right he smashed it with a hammer
which is why he’s missing *******
he still has a chest and beating heart though
and glistening red toenails
this fellow does things his way

when i was a squirt
i hated winter
and swore that when i grew up
i'd move south
where they never heard of snow
but when i grew up
and saw who lived down south
i said **** it
i'd rather freeze my *** off
than hang with those people
and those people are probably just as glad
that i'm living in an igloo