Kubrick was Right

June 5, 2018

rehabilitation or
radical behavioral modification
stripping a man of free will

this is the crux of Alex
member of a murderous rape gang
brought in by law
to answer
for his atrocities against society

in novel
he reforms of his own volition
tired of violence and crime
he wants a job, family
perhaps, love and penitence
the author forgives the boy
because, maybe, boys will be boys

in film
there is no redemption
visual witnesses
as the audience is
to sexual assault and homicide
Alex endlessly strives to ingratiate
“my friends…” is pleading, pandering
but he is never reformed
the director does not forgive
determines free will is overrated
if not outright fiction

Kubrick concludes
if we can eradicate evil from the individual
by science, then yes
me must rehabilitate
whereas Burgess says, “no
the punishment is too severe”

the optimist believes wrongly
criminality will self atone
the realist understands truly
utterly, it must be crushed


Untitled Disaster No. 1

May 29, 2018

Powerlines explode into frayed dangling shreds
scorching blackened trenches in concrete
helicopter circles
sirens scream and converge
from every cardinal point
darkness smothers
only the telephone left aglow
full bars whispering the secret
there’s no such thing as alone


May 21, 2018

Too long, too mighty
kings of terror
half a century then some
at last diminished
brought low by a desire to be high
to be made great, fatally, again
when what it is
is what it seeks to be
doesn’t believe it, in fact, is
descent swift inevitably strikes
and thus the plunge, the plunder
cast off the world stage
economic capsize
in a self-made squall
railing against dual coasts
east, west, left, right
the center, weak, cannot hold
and collapse it comes
it does
free-falling far
into itself
internal crushing
a singularity of matryoshka dolls
forever inward
down and down
thus we are compressed
under endless pressure
brought to bear
by fear of progress
are we reined back
to the glee of competitor and enemy

Untitled Car Poem 2

May 19, 2018

their idea of luxury for you
all of your favorite things
encased in a Volvo
and what might
these cherished ideals be
is it a vehicle of your loftiest ideals
does it embody
family, health, home
a car more than a car
finely calibrated automotives are love
anti-lock brakes bliss
retractable cup-holder orgasm
your greatest desire, supreme joy
contained in a little machine

Untitled Car Poem 1

May 18, 2018

you’ve always wanted it
to own one
a Cadillac
today is that day
an American dream of deep debt
coming true at last for you
behind the wheel
ass planted in leather
endorphin rush of a purchase lush
to the grand machine surrender


May 14, 2018

The glacier does not grieve
the iceberg calving at its terminus
off to drift far and dwindling across the sea
and if only too
it could be true to say the same of me
cold and dispassionate
then happier, lighter

Tornadic Aphorism Buster

April 18, 2018

Black walnut rain
a pounding hail from on high
judgment of storm cloud
snorted up the tornado’s proboscis
as it snuffles forest and dirt
sowing its eradicating path
plucking clean the branches of the tree
for only one reason
all adages, all clichés
must be laid waste
and here, pelting earth
a dozen miles from their birth
the nuts fall
far from the tree

The Leper Shall Inherit the Sea

April 10, 2018

A perfect picture of humanity:
an oceanside swimming pool, full
the sea, empty
and if you know this scene comes from a commercial
one for a prescription skin cream
then your understanding will be as clear
as humankind’s collective hide

Rat Tangle

April 4, 2018

Narcissism dipped in the screen
handheld moonbeam to the eyes
a vision of you
directed back at you
merrily mirrored into the stream
self-selected data flow
info squeeze to appease
all your bias belong to them
pickled, packed, catalogued
inquire to the choir
the song sang sung to familiar tune
black orbs vacant
in the shining rectangle of light
oily reflections on the meniscus of the dream
sponge to the spill
more of you absorbing darkly inward
re-enforcement chain
concatenated spiral burrows
feeding on you, feeding you
paper vultures on thermals glide
unconcerned whether dead or alive
robots click, people click
through, through, through
numbers are numbers
days of you spent knowing you
staring back luminescent snarl
in the blinding rat tangle of blight


March 30, 2018

Wind in the fronds
like breakers at the beach
vast devastating emptiness
of the ocean
from shore, deception
under waves teems too much
as beneath the rustling palm crowns
so too
apparent desolation
sound of traffic, of trains
and footsteps, obscured
by persistent static hiss
where even birds not dare
on such gales
yet we make our paths below
and later below
and still later below
sky, waves, graves