My teacher pulled me aside. She wore a knit dress--pink, orange, yellow, and brown. Her hair was piled blond on her head with a giant gold pair of tweezers sticking out of it. She leaned down near my face, near my eyelashes, and said (smell of coffee), "Sean, what is the one invention . . . what one thing that we can't even dream of today on this red and golden afternoon of 1972 will people be most happy about having on some damp night in October of your 43rd year? Will we have purple hover cars? Will we be able to feed the world? Will women rule? Will the war be over?"

I blinked my eyes. I thought to myself.

"Well," I said, "everyone will be most happy about being able to have their phones with them at all times. Yes, they will all carry their phones with them at all times."

"Oh."

"Yep."

Tiny Poem

Love Song to My House

What kind of world is this
where bananas wait on my fridge
and the music fits the rain—
Long loops of shadow and
bass, cymbal groove. My life
rests today in this glowing
house. The coffee on the counter
sings its message: Hey! Kid!
Get it while it’s hot!

Ear Junk

My Life Sometimes

Market

Market
Originally uploaded by sbchapm.

This is one of my favorite pictures from Greece.

This Particular Sunday: A Monument

Is being built northeast of town
on a rusted field of birds and grass.
Thickets hum dark past the verge.

A seahorse cloud floats
over a shell of dusty leaves
talking above us.

The monument
to this particular Sunday
grows in the shadows tonight,
a moonplant.

As the orchestras of Italy
practice the first few bars
of the monument
to this particular Sunday,

gaffers tilt the stars.

Site

From the website Overheard in New York I give you this.


It Wasn't Work, It Was an Audition

Guy #1: You look really familiar to me; what do you do?
Guy #2: I'm an actor, poet, musician...
Guy #1: No...Did you ever work at Bloomingdale's?
Guy #2: ...Yes.