Best Automatic Poems

(For My Younger Self)



You have forgotten your muse.
You neglected her, in the hustle and bustle
of city life, in trying to carve a niche,
driving yourself too...

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Sometimes life is such a bore we run on automatic;
Then it’s time to tango for a dash of the dramatic.
Or when things are dull and...

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In the late 1970s, I was going home on a Friday evening,
and needed a little more fuel in my truck, 
enough to get back to...

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"Laureate"



Laureate 
speak now lofty phantom
to my mind

guide my hand 
I write I write I write

receptor of communication
things that are not mortal
Luminiferous aether 

sublime 
not normal...

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My finger hovers
Shall I turn you on today
You lie there tempting me
I need to know what buttons to press
But when I press those buttons
You respond...

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It was an autumn day, fresh and crisp,
with a slight breeze blowing that made 
our cheeks rosy.  My Aunt Trix and I were
on the...

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"New Gold Dream"




Fever bites 
manifestation burns
towards you

prowls on soft footed paw
takes its time -
it’s an Outlaw

automatic written

change gears
foot flat and hard 
to the floor

shift up
lanes...

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let me pause 
slow down a minute
and look inward
to adjust my lens

there’s more to life than
operating in react mode

let me pause to ask 
the real...

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I lived in Shenzhen, China, for my 6th and 7th grades - China was AMAZING.

In China, blond hair is unusual, I stood out like neon...

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Garage       
stacked high
scribbled stenos of
an automatic act
of little understanding or thought-------------
{tuhituhi}

visceral finality       
zero...

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"Heart"  

Deep fissures formed
in the cracks of 
the nowhere place
where time leeched
bleeding claret 
through the green 
veined blues

protean bit by bit
the flesh disappears
prematurely 6ft...

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"Heather"

such a tumultuous quiet discourse
crochet hooked and thinking on wheels,
the wrong turns, sometimes thoughts move
to the recalcitrant one, another tumultuous heart,
mixed feelings like heavy storm...

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Sometimes, 
when I am
in neutral
and he is 
in overdrive,
I switch to
automatic....

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I slowly open the old, rusty cemetery gate that groans,
      it squeaks and creaks in the still night,
  ...

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1. To the clear bidding for one, a mug wump it stands
showcasing mouthwatering care but with dirty hands
for trophy, for lust, all in a virulent...

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