For the 3rd year, my favorite Halloween poem

Hollow Cavity

rot of ages could not enlarge,

then and now no heart knew compassion.

I was that murderer, that blank stare,

the beast inhuman villagers burned,

tale parents spun for truant children,

terror at night,

her eyes wide, sightless in the dark.

I the coward's knife from behind

tracing his second smile,

the hard unflinching fingers at her neck,

the menace in the shadows,

unseen, unblinking, unwavering,

waiting for the moment,

that instant of inattention.

Your Kind buried me,

and buries still,

when you find me.

Yet here I wait.

All.

Feast of abundance.

Docile herd

upon which I feed.

I linger in my unmarked grave,

listening beneath your home,

lying aside the path you walk,

crouching outside the chain link fence,

one step from a window,

a face in the dark to view.

Look at me,

You, perched atop society's pedestal.

I am in the crowd

waiting for the world to end.

Halloween Poem 2013

missing now, this night

ghoul in mask or made up,

character, creature, hero or villain

all hailed, all rewarded,

to my house and handed candy,

their scare a lie or wink

on world's stage tonight,

waning fall new in my home,

my handful, then they away

across and down yon dead end street,

his house not dark tonight but

lit like visiting carnival,

and they an ardent, careful flow

one way,

my unworthy thought

of all amiss, I dismiss

then provide more sweets,

watch the little vampire

scurry to the unknown house

an open maw

a hurried end.

where do they go?

Soylent Green

Yeah, it's people

I like to tell people I like soylent green because when I say I like soylent green the people listening can't tell if I like soylent green the substance or Soylent Green the movie.

I'm glad life is so uncertain.

I'm glad our food supply is likewise riddled with uncertainty. That thing you're eating, is it corn-based? Soy? Pork? Chicken? All or none of the above? Does it matter?

The last time you ate a hotdog, did you ask the guy at the store what was in it?

Of course not.

I love soylent green.

Daily Ambivalence - orange juice with pulp

"If I wanted pulp I'd eat an orange."

That's what a guy who doesn't like pulp would say.

I like pulp. It reminds me of the time in Australia when it was the future and I was mad because some post-Apocalyptic thugs dressed in studded leather had killed my wife and so I got in my car and went on a rampage and took my revenge and when I was done I went home and opened up the fridge to get a nice tall glass of . . .

Hold on a minute. That was a movie.

Never mind. I hate pulp in my orange juice.

If I wanted pulp I'd eat an orange.

Orange juice with pulp . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - cactus seat cushions

I don't think the cactus seat cushion market is all that huge.

I mean, what a bummer if you go help a neighbor move and all the guy owns is cactus furniture, right?

You get used to it after a while

You'd have to be stupid to buy cactus furniture.

Only, my brother used to sit on cactus plants all the time when he was little. My mom and dad are from a small town in southern Utah and when we were kids, any visit to Milford meant a Saturday afternoon out in the sagebrush shooting jackrabbits. And my brother would always find a cactus plant and sit on it.

I don't know why he did this. He wasn't  slow, not then, but he sat on a cactus every time even though the end result was tears.

This makes me think that maybe there's a cactus furniture niche market out there somewhere. I mean, I would never buy a cactus love seat. Not for myself. But maybe for my brother. For Christmas. Or his birthday.

Cactus seat cushions . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - walking on salmon

That sounds like a tagline for a motivational speaker new on the circuit and pushing his latest book.

It isn't, but if you are a motivational speaker and looking for a tagline, feel free.

Just run faster than the guy next to you

Back in the late 80s I spent a summer in Alaska living in a tent by night and core-drilling by day. It was a cool experience and I have lots of fun stories.

One day in the helicopter flying to our drilling site we flew over a stream that was so choked with salmon it looked like you could cross the stream walking on their backs.

The helicopter pilot, Ray, wouldn't stop for me to see and so that has remained a question for me.

I weighed a lot less back then so I think I could have done it.

Which in turn makes me wish I could lose a few pounds. But I can't because I like to eat. Especially salmon. Which is ironic, seeing as how I think I could walk on salmon if I didn't like to eat salmon so much.

I think that's one of those what you call catch 22s.

Life if weird.

Walking on salmon . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - bad Chinese food

I've never actually had bad Chinese food so I'm not sure where this DA is going.

There's that one fish called fugu that is poisonous except for certain parts and a Chinese Food chef has to be an expert in order to offer it on the menu.

Once upon a time there was the very first man (or woman)
who ate fugu. This is what they saw. I, uh . . . what?

There aren't very many of these chefs in the entire universe. I've heard the reason for this is because the final test before becoming an expert fugu chef is that you have to eat the first meal you prepare.

Kind of sad. I had a brother who went to school for fugu fish preparation. I forget his name.

Aside from that I don't know anybody who has died from eating ill-prepared fugu, but I really don't have that many friends.

If I went to a Chinese restaurant and ordered the fugu dish and it was poisonous and I died, I suppose that could be characterized as bad Chinese food.

I'm probably just never going to order fugu at a restaurant.

Bad Chinese food . . . eh.

Fun Halloween poem

Dug that hole in my backyard today,

trowel in hand, small black hole

where earlier this year tomatoes grew.

I buried that chicken bone.

Not dry and dead,

greasy dead, remnants of dinner

pieces hidden, clinging to tendon,

knuckle, all dead meat all dead bone

all the same and buried in my backyard,

covered and smothered in soil I'll use

to nourish other food.

Nighttime now,

my body of flesh covered and smothered

by blanket and pillow,

I see, my open eyes tracking shadows,

my mind centered on bones buried,

bones that should rightly move only

as decay and the worm wiggle,

but out there at midnight move of their own,

greased in gardening,

unsmothering, moving slow at first,

no mind to understand,

nevermind soothing then inflicting, infuriating

some semblance of purpose, writhing bone

this night will quest, will grow dry and snap

and reform and snap and a victim die, and another,

all born of consumption,

dry bones slake take,

from my garden first,

marking the end of all and all.

Daily Ambivalence - eating Chinese food and not using chopsticks

Yes, basically just two pointy sticks

Some people think you should never eat Chinese food unless you use chopsticks.

Like me.

I'm not Asian, but I have pretty strong feelings about this.

A number of years ago, before I met my friend Annie, instead of saying "I'm not Asian" I might have said "I'm not Oriental."

I could make a joke here about Annie correcting me on my use of Oriental instead of Asian via karate chop, but that would be making a similar mistake. Not all Asians know karate. Just the last three I picked a fight with.

So back to chopsticks. Let's face it. There really aren't any circumstances under which using chopsticks is more efficient than using a fork or spoon. So why should you eat Chinese food with chopsticks?

Here's a better question. Why do some white board cleaners smell like vomit after you use them?

Food for thought.

Eating Chinese food and not using chopsticks . . . eh.