Kooky King Kong kapellmeister

just jabbering gibberish (A - K)

Again, another awkward ambitious

arduous attempt at alphabetically

arranging atrociously ambiguously

absolutely asinine avoidable alliteration.

Because...? Basically bonafide belching,

bobbing, bumbling, bohemian beastie boy,

bereft bummer, bleeds blasé blues, begetting

bloviated boilerplate bildungsroman,

boasting bougainvillea background.

Civil, clever clover chomping, cheap

chipper cool cutthroat clueless clodhopper,

chafed centenary, codifies communication

cryptically, challenging capable, certifiably

cheerful college coed.

Divine dapper daredevil, deft, destitute,

doddering, dorky dude, dummkopf Dagwood

descendent, dagnabbit, demands daring

dedicated doodling, dubious, dynamite,

deaf dwarf, diehard doppelganger, Doctor

Demento double, declaring depraved

daffy dis(pense)able dufus Donald Duck

derailed democracy devastatingly defunct.

Eccentric, edified English exile,

effervescent, elementary, echinoderm

eating egghead, Earthling, excretes,

etches, ejaculates, effortless exceptional

emphatic effluvium enraging eminent,

eschatologically entranced, elongated

elasmobranchii, emerald eyed Ebenezer,

effectively experiments, emulates epochal

eczema epidemic, elevating, escalating,

exaggerating enmity, enduring exhausting

emphysema.

Freed fentanyl fueled, fickle figurative

flippant fiddler, fiendishly filmy, fishy,

fluke, flamboyantly frivolous, fictitious,

felonious, fallacious, fabulously fatalistic,

flabbergasted, fettered, flustered, facile,

faceless, feckless, financially forked,

foregone, forlorn futile fulsome, freckled

feverish, foo fighting, faulty, freezing,

fleeting famously failing forecaster, flubs

"FAKE" fundamental fibber fiat, fabricating

fiery fissile fractured fios faculties.

Gamesomeness goads gawky, gingerly,

goofily graceful, grandiloquent gent, gallant,

genteel, geico, guppy gecko, gabbling gaffes,

gagging, gamboling, gestating, gesticulating,

garlic, gnashing, gobbling, gyrating,

gruesomely grinning, grappling, gnomadic

giggly, grubby, gastrointestinally grumpy

gewgaw gazing gesticulating guy,

geographically generically germane,

gungho, grave gremlin, grumbling, guiding,

guaranteeing, guerilla gripped gatling guns

ginning gumpshun.

Hello! Herewith halfway harmless hazmat,

haphazard haggard, hectored, hastily,

hurriedly, harriedly hammered, handsomely

hackneyed, heathen, hellbent hillbilly, hirsute,

hidden hippie, huffy humanoid, hexed, heady,

Hellenistic, holistic, hermetic, hedonistic

heterosexual Homo sapiens historical heirloom,

homeless, hopeful, holy, hee haw heretical hobo.

Indefatigable, iconographic, iconic, idealistic,

idyllic, inimitable, idiosyncratic, ineffable,

irreverently issuing idiotic, indifferent, inert,

ineffectual, ingeniously iniquitous, immaterial,

insignificant, indubitable, inexplicable, ignoble

itches, ineffectually illustriously illuminating

immovable infused ichthyosaurus implanted

inside igneous intrusions immensely

imperturbable improbable.

Jovial jabbering jinxed January jokester

just jimmying jabberwocky

justifying jangling jarring juvenile jibberish

jubilantly jousting jittering

jazzy jawbreaking jumble

justifying, jostling, Jesus;

junior jowly janissary joyful Jekyll

joined jumbo Jewess jolly Jane;

jammed jello junket jiggled

jeopardized jingled jugs.

Kooky knucklehead klutz

knowingly kneaded, kicked, killed

knobby kneed kleptomanic.

While rummaging, mining,

and distilling me gray matter,

stoking mentality activates

oft time surprising me,

where unexpected novel

cognizance never abates,

I experienced becoming

linkedin with cosmic fates,

sans collective unconscious

soul asylum of the universe,

and chanced to espy,

(albeit only a trimmed

infinitesimal microscopic speck),

the spirit of William Butler Yeats

considered one of the foremost figures

of 20th-century literature,

where elan suddenly accelerates

though immediately abruptly stops

dead still in figurative tracks

utter disbelief accompanied

by shell shocked shyness accentuates

to remain stock still

suddenly feeling inadequate, inferior,

insignificant, immovable, immutable...

self doubt actuates

internal tussle, while

wise counsel within adjudicates

unable to convincingly

brush off devil's advocates,

which in no way, shape or form

successfully bolsters cockamamie idea,

floats and navigates fan to see, alternates

with bold prospect an emotional

paralysis immediately aggravates

anxiety as cowardice accumulates,

nonetheless pesky needling aggregates

maximizing far fetched optical illusion,

despite what must be hallucination,

this laughable wordsmith appreciates,

though many wildest dreams of mine defy

explanation, a feeble attempt articulates,

how dreamlike hypnotic stance captivates,

thru cosmic haze

quantum matter assimilates

aura, charisma, enigma

rippling ethereal turin shroud

sensing, nursing, imbibing...

indecisiveness capitulates

wavering seduced mooring

temptation assertively celebrates

nonpareil genius among pantheon,

whose Eire rush grandeur circulates

thru time and space infiltrates

stimulating within mine off kilter crown,

where reverence circulates,

for long deceased Irish poet laureate,

his unseen presence amalgamates

vibrant tendrils of late

August author's grandeur effectively percolates

within and illuminates me with inspiration.

I once dated a man who was obsessed with the song Ave Maria. It should have been the first and last red flag. But true to form I churned the image of him into art. Something deeper than he was. Which is where my story begins. And dies. Just does my hope for love, everlasting. I think, sometimes, that I have given up, or perhaps I never started. Not really. Pipe dreams and unrealistic fantasies borne from fiction and make-believe—but only it was my imagination, she said. High for just a scream. I sit here now, sound— bottle: half empty; memoir: unwritten. What a failed fatale I have been unto myself yet alone to others. Echo alone, alone. Gone, gone she blows lost drawn by the wind, dust begotten is the now. Mist under sun. Breeze-sneezed. Scattered and strewn. And missed.

I heard you were lost

Pressed against California costs

Learning what my brother did at twenty-six,

Out in Houston, Texas

where my essence

Is.

Paranoid

So I mold this clay chest,

push ups

and

bar hangs

Stars

fade

and

I play

Words

From the ancients.

All at once:

I was a Mustang

swerving

off the road,

..… a comet …..

only seen through your

peripherals

The whining voice at the brink of exhaustion.

I carve impatience from my baggy

E y e s

Laugh

again and again

Yet I feel that ache

Thumping like sickly love,

mistrust cycling ventricles:

It's never that simple.

Doctors say I'm stressed

Something chasing my bloodline

Exposed veins shine like sacrificial cliffs

Golden rocks with newly blazed moss:

I am bleeding and burning,

Loving

You

sprinting paycheck

after paycheck.

You

Fall

So

Beautifully

From your family tree

Tumbling rapidly in fields of yesterday:

Green eyes undulating like rolling wet film

Flames like sea walls

d i v i d e d

Slowly lashing as i walk impatient

Talk until my lips shut.

December 2012

At the church

Last walk of my light

Vigils lit with tender glows

As if that night we were invited;

A family torn to three

Granted one last chance at humanity.

Without

a

L

I

F

E

L

I

N

E

I find my honest self….

blood scurrying past my face

slowing enveloped

in your sins

Wonder what you were like at 23,

What you fought for before you

Vanished.

I seek life in every breath

Take steps to my origins

Wish to extinguish

Your

Image

.

. . .

.

.

En mis sueños te veo pa

Alli estoy enfrente de la tele

y tú con el cuchillo en la mano

¡Y la sangre!

El día que nunca se va de mi memoria

me despierto con tu cara

En el espejo,

Mideo ardiendo a traves

De mis ojos.

Escucho tu voz pa

Hablando de Morelia,

Y tu infancia.

Mi hermano mayor es tu reflejo

Y yo

Una sombra de tu personaje.

No sé si te volveré a ver

pero sé que nunca olvidaré

los años que tuvimos.

for better or worse.

A pain no one

Understands

Like an itch

You can’t scratch

A problem no one

Wants to face

Yet I must deal with it

On a day to day

Minute by minute

Unrelenting basis

It’s my own fault

Good decision

Bad decision

That’s inconsequential

As the years pile on

The self inflicted

Soul crushing pain

Only I can feel

I have become

Devoid of hope

One would think

There is no

Foreseeable solution

Other than escape

But I’m no coward

And as Camus said

“…in the end

one needs more courage

to live than to

kill himself.”

Within the lucidity

Of my existence

The only logical choice

In an absurd life

Is to suffer

The consequences

Of my choices

It's ok...

It'll be... alright.

Flicker out, fading light

Dawn approaching; dying night

Apparitions here; deathly sight

Soldiers gone; pale as white

Nazi games; Jewish plight

Fuck around; firefight

Red hot flame; hose delight

Dancing dames; fuck on-sight

Vietnam; nations' fright

Took too long; apolog-ite

I'm sorry; that's just not right

Absurdist dreams; reality bites

Comedy's dead; still, keep it light...

It's ok; It'll be... alright

My mother always had her birthday-

the one thing my father remembered, due to his children's tentative reminders.

Her stocking was always half full, and most years she was the one to fill it.

She only did it halfway, herself, too, feeling undeserving, thanking Santa for the sake of our happiness.

Belittled by a man with a wandering eye, a cabinet filled with vases that hadn't housed flowers in twenty years.

I remedy it now. I give her an oversized stocking overflowing with love and gratitude,

flowers on every holiday, treats just because.

Some women fear their daughters will make fun of their own mother at their fathers behest,

but I am nothing like my father. I am my mother's mirror image- one that will never insult, or spout insecurity.

The monstera plant you gave me last spring sits in the kitchen window, its leaves pressed against the glass like palms seeking warmth. One leaf has developed brown spots, crisp at the edges where it forgot to unfurl completely. The others reach in their characteristic splits and perforations—nature's design to let wind pass through, to prevent the broad leaves from tearing in tropical storms. Even in failure, there is adaptation.

I've watched you study this plant, your fingers tracing the aerial roots that snake down toward the soil, searching. "Is it dying?" you asked last week, pointing to that imperfect leaf. The question carried more weight than its four words should bear. These days, you ask many questions like this—about the shrinking monarch migration, about the empty lots where meadows used to be, about the summers that burn hotter each year.

The truth is, I don't always know how to answer. The leaf is damaged but the plant grows on, putting out new shoots with a persistence that seems both foolish and brave. This morning, I noticed a tiny leaf emerging, tightly coiled like a fist. It will take weeks to open fully, to reveal whether it will be whole or split, perfect or flawed.

When you were small, you used to imagine yourself as a plant—usually a dandelion, stubborn and bright, breaking through sidewalk cracks. Now at thirteen, you see yourself more like this monstera: reaching for light while anchored in shadow, carrying the marks of hard seasons while pushing toward growth.

What I want to tell you is this: Yes, there is damage. Yes, there are leaves we cannot save. But look at how the plant keeps unfurling new possibilities, how it finds ways to continue even when the path forward isn't clear. Look at how it adapts—not by becoming harder or more defensive, but by creating spaces for the wind to pass through, by learning to bend without breaking.

The brown-spotted leaf will eventually fall away. But today, right now, a new leaf is uncurling in the morning light, carrying all the complexity of our moment—the inheritance of damage and the insistence of hope, the hard truth of loss and the harder truth of continuation. We cannot know what shape it will take. We can only tend it as it grows.

caliginous clouds of Melanoplus spretus blocked out the light not two hundred years ago

Yet that same creature has now disappeared forever, possibly caused by crushed eggs from irrigation

The world is worse now, caddisflies haunt the extinct species list on Wikipedia

Because their homes are dying, drying,

the separation between rivers and rivals, spawning and spiraling,

between what humanity owns and what we have stolen

has disappeared completely.

The electric light overhead hums in agreement that this

cursed world is wrong, humanity had wronged ecology

And yet the sound of those katydids will never be recovered, Katy-did, Katy-did

Survival of the fittest means surviving the surround sound landscape of automobiles and

I am not one of the believers in outdoor cats not causing the apocalypse

Creatures’ worlds are ending, mine just happens to not be; though I will wish sometimes that

I may go extinct instead, since my long-staring soul cannot handle so much splintering of ecosystems that were once whole

Once whole, once hole, one hole, if there’s a hole I would like to fall into it please

And maybe forget to return to reality.

Mirror holds

stranger's eyes —

both blink first

Time dissolves

in glass pools:

hours drown watching

Face wears

different masks:

all tell truth

Past lives

behind pupils —

future stares back

Wrinkles map

roads untaken:

skin keeps score

Years stack

in corners:

eyes grow heavy

Mirror whispers

ancient names:

memory drowns now

Glass ripples

with questions:

answers sink deep

Self splinters

into decades:

which one's real?

Reflection holds

longer talks

than reality allows

Morning finds

night's ghosts

still searching glass