Melting Time

Seconds, minutes, hours, days melt away
Not as Dali's lethargic clocks
But as ice on sizzling sidewalk
Gone in an instant

What day?
What month?

Nice to be back home
in La Bahia

Tunnel of Love

How about some nice pictures for a change?

Eyeful of Iris

Irises are a-bloomin' all over the ranch, in every size and color.

Flowers are so erotic. And why shouldn't they be? They're the sex organs of a plant, after all.







I laugh at Big Dog (and my nephew, the Pupster, and our old friend RB, and....half a dozen other guys...) and their love of trains. "It's so Freudian! Guys are attracted to phallic shapes! And don't you just love to watch those trains go through tunnels? Ha ha ha!" But women are drawn to the vulval, like these gorgeous flowers. Whether you realize it or not, we're all gay.

Santa Monica Freeway, Eastbound, Sunday 6:21pm

bejeweled city of excess
land of straight, rigid streets
and snaky freeways lit up
hot angry red lines glaring
"let's move it!"
hot expectant white lines fuming
"get going, asshole!"

and there, through the smog
rises the craziest moon, as big as jupiter
cresting over mountain shadow
so giant it makes you want to howl
aahhhwooooo! aahhhwoooo!
makes you want to jump out,
scramble between the cars on all hairy fours
instead we all crawl just a bit slower
for a better look