Wheat of Panic

If ever there were a way to yield to it I would-
I would grow mellow and sure with it- I would-
solemn as these long days breed stillness, I would force
levers in cars, sidecars, elevator cars, I would, I would
I would, gluten, the wheat of panic, alone. All of it, I would.
Take me, I will let you. And I would. Lift your arms
in the air and wave your joyful hands above your head.
I would.

T

Top 10

1) Charlie Parker all week on W.K.C.R.
2) Ponyo!
3) The Street of Crocodiles
4) Walking in Saturday mist
5) Watching a haircut
6) Silent walk to the F-Train
7) The music we listen to, and why
8) Really trying to understand
9) A few nice people
10) Hours away

Good Morning Friday

It's Friday
so my pants are on fire!
People are licking ice cream
from hats! The sidewalk
is sticky with golden apple juice!
What's going on!?
Dogs bark funk
and cats make pancakes!
Screw cat pancakes!
Bring the funk to my table!
Crazy Friday!
The cabbies are all whispering
sweet ideas into your ears!
The sun won't stop bouncing
like a big dumb beach ball!
All the crazy kids are hopping
on peach Jell-O!
Huh?
The sky looks
all blue and powdery!
The flowers are making
just the right noise
as I walk past them right to you!

A Celebration

A celebration or a forecast
of more than a drubbing. The day
is set, and still we fan out
as we approach what seems to be a still area.
The petunias all have sticky picks
and tar labor, for real. Some of the roses
still smell good though, even as
we walk through the garden at night.
We smile knowing their fragrance is
slap happy and musical. I want to
be in a musical with you, a triple threat
of down home country loving and absolute mystery.
That sort of thing, and more birds.
Please, more birds. I want the sky to be full of them.
I want them to be above us, all spangled
and glorious and then, I want sleep,
a sleep so subtle and precise
that it makes us brand new. Please?

Three from Coney Island

Wednesday

When I put on your shoes
I feel crabby, not sad.
My feet go numb in your shoes.
I turn into crabby man in your shoes,
do the dishes & poke around my books.
I sit on the bench and stir cinnamon into
play jam. The real jam has plums in the fridge.
Bread from the bible with peanut butter on it.
Eat fake flax crisps and mushy corn
on a pillow of horse hair. Where are your shoes?
Frosted tips for show. Run into thought
like a trip wire and the concussion after. Wednesday.

Race for Greg Hamilton 5K is Today!

Hi. Greg is a dear friend of mine. Today we run in Prospect Park in an effort to help him mount the spiralling costs of his cancer treatment. Won't you join us or make a donation?

Love,
Todd

*****************************************

From the JackRabbitsports.com:

Over 600 people have already registered for the race! Please help us avoid a big rush on race day by registering online! Go to Active.com to register now.

Greg Hamilton was diagnosed with testicular cancer in June of 2009. The cancer spread, so he is currently undergoing chemotherapy, and if that is not successful he intends to undergo major surgery to remove the cancer from every part of his body. Before the diagnosis he was training for his first ultramarathon, a 50-miler. His dream of joining the FDNY has been put on hold while he focuses all his energy on getting better.

Greg is 22 years old, and has worked at JackRabbit since he arrived in NYC almost two years ago. As an assistant manager in the Union Square store and now in the Brooklyn store, Greg has helped thousands of people start running, get faster, and reach their goals. This is our opportunity to give back for all the support he's given us over the years. Please join us in running the Help Greg Fight Cancer 5K on Tuesday, August 25th and help Greg focus on fighting the disease and not worrying about his expenses.

Registration is open and available through Active.com You can also register at any of our store locations and race day registration will be provided. The $20 registration fee does not include a T-shirt so that more of the proceeds can be directed to helping Greg. Registration options also allow you to make an additional donation.

Race Start will be at the Bartel Prichard lot near the movie theatre. By subway take the F train to the 15th St/Prospect Park stop. The closest bahrooms are at the 9th St Bandshell, which is about 400 yards from race start. ALL JackRabbit stores will close at 5:00pm on race day!

Volunteers are always welcome. If you would like to help out on race day please let us know at programs@jackrabbitsports.com

Good Night

Okay! Sweet night to you
and dreams to you and good things to you
and love to you and arms extended to you
waving you on bidding you forward
happily entranced by your sturdy motion
and sleep to you and good deeds to you
and the fancy throb of a good night's work to you
and words to you and letters with stamps on them for you
all of it pulling you forward peacefully.

Introductory honey for the world's strongest bear?

1) Introductory honey for the world's strongest bear?
2) Whenever you clap I start dancing because you are so good at clapping.
3) I don't feel damp.
4) Black t-shirts with salt rings around the neck and torso.
5) My bike feels hot.
6) It's Monday, which provides vague certainties.
7) You could put little notes in books that people would find much later.
8) You can summon things up by holding your hand up.
9) I can see a really hot blur.
10) Tapping my foot on a block of lead.

Hearing the Problems of Other People

Hearing the problems of other people
and not just pretending to talk on the telephone
but actually having earbuds in and be listening in
on the problems of other people. Then you can do
something or make something happen like a change.
You can walk around saying "something is about to happen"
and still make a good dinner companion.
We are always just wrapping something up
or unwrapping something or moving along
and forgetting something or encouraging people
around us with positive thoughts about their
well-being or groove set. Let it be driven and spastic
or not at all. Should you need my help,
well, you know, I'm here. I can see Governor's Island
from the balcony. People are on boats waving to other
people on boats. We could be part of so much.
Something has to happen next, so get ready.

Welcome Back

It is possible to gingerly traverse the heat
with a lemonade on 7th avenue handed
to you by a woman who speaks Danish
better than you ever will.
It is easy to rest in the grass under
a cherry tree, lifting belly and filling
the lungs with sweet air between kisses.
There really is such a thing as lightness
and ease, you've just got to work at it.
Joy can perk the brain into now, if you let it.
Please note: The wispy first steps of morning
make the sidewalk feel soft and goofy.
Welcome back, we've been waiting for you.

Bukka White - Jelly Roll Blues

Yes.

Furry Lewis - When I lay my burden down

Yes.

Mississippi John Hurt - You got to walk that lonesome valley

Yes.

Playing with the Pros

Walter Benjamin on Charles Baudelaire

"The special beauty of so many of the openings of Baudelaire's poems lies in this: a rising up from the abyss." -Walter Benjaimin from the essay "Central Park" in Selected Writings, Vol. 4 1938-1940

Yes! Here's to rising up from the abyss!
That's what I'm all about today.

Thanks for stopping by.

Let's Have Dinner

1) Going to the beach is like being able to do
anything without having anything to do.

2) Swimming around you and the pebble jellies.

3) Every time I came up for air you were smiling.

4) Sand and sunscreen on your wheat-free Newman O's.

5) The sun was a spicy medicine we both took home with us.

6) Dashing to the 2:11 in flip-flops with red skin and beach heads.

7) When I licked your lips I could taste the sea.

8) It's okay to be here.

9) It's a good thing to be dozing next to you on a train, all sure and solid
and full of purpose.

10) Our ease is delightful and your company a gift.

11) Let's have dinner.

Long Beach

A few weeks ago the ocean
seemed lit from within as though
a bonfire raged somewhere deep
but it was the sun clowning around with the water.
Now I see green swimming in miso.
From Long Beach with love: my swim style
is all dolphin mystery around you
through waves I would never let hurt you.
Sand on your skin around the downy
hair on your lower back. Such a slow sun,
such a slick hand, and a gift to know you.
My talent pillow has air support. A white rock
with an inlaid T is something rather than nothing.
What drowsy passengers ride the train. I became
one of the relaxed guys just spending a day at the beach
with his love, and afterwards hustling to catch the 2:11
in flip-flops slapping hot asphalt
in my life a glance: sweet, that's the glow
we learned forgot and learned again.

My Own Best Advice (Again)

Oh

Oh you with my heart
attached to your arm do not
lift the weight of air in your
tattered flare. Your gorgeous
ropes have tethered to the pump
and the gauges are all broken
and freckled with moot. Oh
all you with my heart once given
the tempest of this resists
what can not be given back
I am still there with you
this organ of my blood
simple and slow it seems
to move from one to another
taking what passes for now
is done what's done.

Listening to Slayer, at work

Two Late at Night

Stars

You only know what happens
once you write it down you reduce it
you succeed in getting them
to shut up there is no question
of stars having mouths because
history is always present all around us
you lay down on the grass and it is wet
this is the sky and it is dark
so you don't go beyond this
you don't sit thinking what's next
in your corduroy car jacket
and simple pants your life is
so constant you can barely breathe
making each mistake one at a time
so the corrections can come in
the same order you made them in
someone is kind enough to point
them out for you making you dissolve
for your own well-being
the difficulties are pointed out
in a calm voice not your own but you are
there and the counting of your errors
is significant and monumental
each one weighing more than the next
the shifting of your ways has begun
even as you try to stand upright you are being
eaten alive by something forced to tilt
when all you wanted was this
sky and these stars with mouths.

Coney Island Baby

Bob Dylan - Girl from the North Country

Morning Poem

You might not even see what's there:
the tree with the cardinal the red brick building
some soothing hand along your neck
but that was someone else someone
built into the landscape with snacks
and a blanket that you don't use
because all it takes to show love
is a hand -- that spark is a bloom
a wedge that lifts the scene upward
which is really where you need to be
right now so go there and tell
them all I sent you on a mission
to correct what's been done.

For Example

You must watch the faces of the actors
when the film is stopped and see how they linger there
to spend a week of your life alone in a Block Island hotel
with a camera taking pictures every minute
fact : your face changes once or twice a day
you have many interests that represent long-term
gain you recline into a chair before moving
the clothes onto the floor with your medicine
like for instance you look into the mirror while
she starts a fire with your clothes
uses a vicks inhaler to liven up her senses
you can't abandon the medium of the word and rely
on massages to relieve neurotic tension
it is important to paint the human body
so it is not distorted or grotesque
that could freak a nervous person out
they want something recognizable and comforting
in old age we are aware of repetition
a reliable rhythm is waiting for you
like despair is a beat of a drum or joy
is a loop that has been severed from your hand
a finger that taps a twitch until it stops
and you pick it up and put it in a bag of ice
and bring it to the hospital or the police station
the greatness of the act depends on the place
from which it is accomplished so in public
you betray your authentic ideal for the sake
of the common good or for the sake of communication
you become part of the living political machine
how does a message like this make you feel?

Jeni Olin

I Could Vanish

I could vanish actually
load a truck get into the
woods with books and some pens
my poems would be politically charged
there would be animals I'd name
there wouldn't a be a past
to preserve late at night trembling
into the new now but mostly just
sitting there with things crackling
all around me I'd be free from
the home delivery of the New York Times but
I'd be blasted from the roots
no one to play chess with I'd be
torn asunder by grief but still
making a mad dash to compassion
and sophistication in 2009
it's still there, the will, the drive,
I'm waiting & I've not loaded that truck yet
I need a kiss goodbye. Hello?

Monday Top 10

1) Jacques Lacan.
2) Lunch at S'nice with Katie and Shaun.
3) Johnny Cash.
4) Ice cold watermelon.
5) Another summer in Brooklyn.
6) Enjoy Your Symptom by Slovoj Zizek.
7) Drunken Boat on i-tunes!
8) Dinner with Jeni Olin.
9) No panic, yet.
10) Bessie Smith.

Sunday Top 10

1) Morning ragas on WKCR.
2) Ramblin' Jack Elliott
3) Rogan Jeans.
4) A new Uni-Ball Pen.
5) Fucking Gorilla Coffee, man.
6) Morning alone.
7) Reaching for someone and not finding anyone there.
8) Sundays are my Mondays.
9) Marquis de Sade.
10) Clean apartment.

I think myself thinking the thing

I think myself thinking the thing
in white, baby blue or orange.
A serene style of living escapes me
repeatedly but I keep trying.
I try to be austere but it just comes
across as loving the look of things submerged.
A feeling that I should be making decisions
which leads to the illusion of the decay
of my work. I want you to count all the words
I say in a day. Hanging on every word
or hanging. Numbers as shapes or colors.
The rent check is purple. A bee smashed
on the bedspread-that's just a mess.
A better way to illustrate the good life
is with a hammer. Oh opal sky
and elegant plastic dust on all the tree branches
Oh people of this city I am unstoppable
and I will wave to you from across the street
with these super things in mind: delicacy
is vain, super friends can make out your body,
good things come for people who wait
while using their time constructively.
Was this poem helpful to you?

The View From My Face

The view from my face
is mustardy and gummed.
There are pretend animals
waiting to be petted by artificial hands.
People drive golf carts to the grocery
store and are all chummy with the butcher
bringing them cookies and gear
to climb onto the roof and dance
to hot mixes. Some of the crayons
got busted when I tried to write
your name I was pressing so hard
I wanted to make it permanent.
I don't trust you. In fact there
are many entries that say just that.
The stuffed monkey, the dog, the soft
padding around the desk so you don't
tip me over on my side. It's all being taped
into books and the books are being
tossed overboard one by one. Then
you can move on and wonder what happened.
You'll figure it out just in time.

What Morning Does

What morning does is bring the edges
back over the bed where your arm is resting
on a stain half the sheets are gone, most
of the towels, and the frame around the door
is cracked from air thrusting. The building lists
to one side so all the tables are on discs.
In flat black light it's stable to listen to radio
to mother the plastic sound of a DJ's blank
mix in a room no bigger than your skull.
What DJ? What mix? What room? It seems
the mystery of clouds and the night have been lost
on me. Settled into the skin of a sleepless
man. Drinking the shavings in a sippy cup
by the bridge in a faintly tongue-in-cheek tux.
Nice bangs if you can get them and you got them
by saying so, or so you said. Go to sleep just for a bit where
the work is pleasant, the people unforgiving and distant,
followed by the realization that you are sloppy and you are second
or third, certainly no celebrity built of mixed messages and broad cues
you are just some dude in Brooklyn raking the carpet of hair.
It could matter less and in fact it does. You'll never
read this far anyway but if you do you'll know why
I keep it to myself.

Scavenge

She reminded me
as I ate the eel roll
that it is known to scavenge
food from the bottom of the sea
where cast off skin goes to
curdle flakes of inner organs
orange feet stomp into underwater
caves lilted in seawater the hoops
have tangled hair in them on the tiles
when she leaves and on the soap
a curl too. It is mysterious looking
into the gaps between things words
for instance or the notes between a cello
suite vast loops in the courtyard
and other places we nearly met
but probably did not or passed
by the store you had just entered
these random things are noble tracings of fate
or something with lines spelling words like "wait"
and "it'll happen." Blackberries
shared over an aluminum table late
at night things like that one by one
licking juice from fingers snapping to attention
when the phone rings a text appears
like white snow in a globe
the city looks sleepy and silent.
Reach out and there is a hand from Baltic to Borough Hall
and you can go there anytime because we are in the world
together, come what may.

Coming in from the dark

Happy Tuesday

There might be some places you are thinking
about visiting like Cobble Hill or my kitchen
or the space between the sofa and the wall.
I encourage you to listen as I press these ideas into your palm
written in plain, legible script. The children are out for the summer
wrists are popping out of the dirt and the beaches are making tatters
of linen shirts. I could go there. Is this a slow day or is it
just me walking from the front to the back and sighing?
My methods of accelerating the passage of time until I see
you again have failed so each minute is counted down in actual
seconds with some of them even going back and forth until
the moment passes perfectly. It's excruciating!
Quaintly jittery like a balloon if a ballon could think
in a dog's mouth or a soft pony making a budget
with a shovel stuck in its back.
Won't you please, and I do mean please come into the room
and shake me awake with your liquid hips and light touch?

Sweeten Your Day

Of that mouth eating animals
on the bicoastal highway
starving a fever or feasting on
a mountain lion. Switching gears
and heading into the hills remembering
no names but the ones
written on your blue arm
in black ink. Sunglasses in the woods
the threat of attack from an animal
don't get eaten don't shave off that
mustache don't be out all night.
How you move your hips is what counts most.
In one scene: oh I didn't know I was doing
that in such a way as to provoke a response.
That sort of thing with flavor. With lip
gloss and with a microphone. You can make
an announcement by a locker or a stool.
Deep knee bends and grass stains. The Tide
commercial from 1999. The basket of fruit
with fruit flies and the smell of old men.
I am always looking for you or out for you.
My history on the web is under "history."
My pasword is an abbreviation of the rub out
landing squarely on the dock and dipping there
towards that mouth eating animals all like dripping.
Consolidated Edison is insane.

Frisky