F*** March Madness

Collegiate basketball is like intermediate Algebra: tedious and boring
To solve it, take the square root of way too many teams and conferences, factor in mediocre players, and add a single-game elimination tournament that results in more flukes than fishing.

I’ll pass like John Stockton’s assists
I’d rather crash the boards with fury like Ron Artest’s fists
I’d rather be like Scottie so beam me up to the sky
and I'd damn sure rather fly with Larry Bird and glide like Clyde did back in ’85.

But…
In all fairness, His Airness played college and so did Isaiah and Magic
except that was decades before when pros barely made any dough,
Now money flows and overshadows text books as degrees get replaced by agent fees
but let’s see: most college players don’t even get a diploma, don’t pay attention in school and have tutors do all of their homework.
It’s madness.
It’s also madness when a bar shows Clemson instead of Lakers-Heat,
undergraduates instead of Shaq v. Kobe part III
Look, there’s drama in the LBC and if you’re watching something other than NBA on TNT you neeed to step away and think about what you’ve done
You missed how the Phoenix Suns fast-break offense is run
You missed Ray Allen pop threes like a gun.

I am not Jason Kidding you about watching paint pull-ups by Payton circa ‘96 instead of sleeping through Georgetown and Creighton circa now.
Now there’s young blood like LeBron, Wade, Melo and Ming
with Vince Carter and T-Mac running the wing
And tension can boil when Parker swings backdoor passes
for Tim Dunc-ons defenders, separating pros from pretenders.
The Knicks are a joke but they can Marbury Gonzaga
Don’t say they can’t just because Stephon has court vision like Horace Grant
While the Knicks lose the Mavs light a fuse
Dirk Nowitzki can stroke three’s like B.B. King strokes the blues
The playoffs are long and it’s first to win four
the games are attrition like Clausewitzian war
Bombs fly from all over the floor
best out of seven, who wants it more?
I say forget college, Dick Vitale, get off the T.V.
I want to hear Kenny the Jet, Ernie, and Charles Barkley
So fuck March Madness
And fuck Rutgers for never giving me a reason to think differently.

messy desk

old targum, rubber band
parking ticket printer’s jammed
with paper old and new
piece of gum too hard to chew
white-out, marker, pencil, pen
tooth-brush, pennies at least ten
note cards, post-its, medicine,
tea cup, stapler, incense stick,
speakers, laptop, old tooth pick,
Tylenol for when I’m sick
vitamins and iodine
medicine called minocycline
candy, candles, loose leaf sheets
matches and cd’s with beats
blue book from an old exam
loose-leaf where I made a plan
glasses, roach clips, cell phone statements
guitar picks -- it must be blatant
that I needs to clean this mess
and organize my desk.

soul earthquakes

fate. passion. destiny. love.
life.
all big words, like giant balloons in the sky
and they too are full of air
lots
of empty fucking flying air molecules,
they cause reactions that can be electric
instant, like wire connections with your swiss bank
chocolate
empty, soul, foot, pain
everyone has a pulse, check yours
especially after a poetry mars bar warms you up
pulse
big words can’t measure it
big headlines can sensationalize but not cement it
soul
earthquakes
try to destroy the scale, but every time it measures them anyway,
somewhere richter is smiling.
forever
i need more than eternal love to make poetry with a pulse inside itself
i need substance.