Joshua's Father

another woman has left my life
she took my boy
while I was riding through deserts and deltas
painting the story with a pen
hidden in my leather
I kept everything on a page back then
I wept at the western sky
hallucinating under still thin clouds
with a man I never thought I'd lose

I found my boy and taught him quickly
early tests and violent evenings
in the room we called a home
I begged my brother for sanctuary
I found a moment I'd hold on to
in these precious years
we were learning each other
and teaching each other
I didn't even see it then
I think maybe he did

another woman left my life
when everything was tying up nicely
when everyone was proud
she walked off the mesa
she dragged me around
and cut the string when the boy finally spoke
we were back out in the cold
we were throwing dice every minute
landed in a box full of roaches
with a lot of literature at the bed side
and I force fed him
everything
the chemical plant had me bleeding
any time I'd open my mouth
but there were basketballs and rayguns
gluing us together
even after midnight
the pipes burst and the room was sour
and our clothing
always musty
but we could laugh
at all six channels
and the sharp young things he'd say

another woman left my life
and I found the wet floor of a bottle
I'd been swimming in for five years
she took my boy with her
and I breathed hard for every inhale
sitting at my window
in a cold and lonely loft
I had an Irish flag outside
to signal him home
but he never came
everything bled back onto paper
everything bled back to the night
and I sat cold and wrong and drunk
my fore head against a window pane
my eyes so closed and tight
my boy was dead last year
and I'd have never known
if I hadn't crossed the railroad tracks
that would wake him every night
when the cars banged past our home
in those early hours
when we had forever
to kick at each other
just to get some rest

I know my boy is out there starving
I know my boy is hard and wise
If he remembers me anymore
if he sees me in his mirrors
maybe I'll have a real moment again
when he finally finds my porch
when he finally calls my name
all the blood I've breathed
all the glass I've put my hands through
will shape into a message
that even I can get back home

Where has he Been

I've danced with the worst of them
I drank fire from the glass
I spoke with mystics and vagabonds
and found futures in their pasts

I sold ketamine cigarettes
to fiends hiding 'neath the crowd
I took the show from the showmen
and gave it back to the loud

I saw Renaissance killers dying
I saw new wave glisteners rise
I saw young rich boys practice politics
and fed them brand new lies

I threw stones at a street messiah
I've worn a razor wire crown
I've poisoned my genetic mother
and took another family dinner down

Another Thanksgiving with Arlo Guthrie

my father sat down on the edge of the bed
I was on the other side
trying to get my tie right
before he noticed I'd forgotten again
we had a "portable stereo"
back when a portable stereo
looked like a cinder block
he pulled a cassette from his jacket
slid it in
and pressed play
back when you'd have to actually press it
and soon we were once again
having our ritual
'Alice's Restaurant' had to play
in our bedroom
(we shared a bedroom in a tenement building)
before dinner with the family
I'm on my ninth try with this neck tie
my father broke out a homemade pipe
gave me a quick trust wink
and filled it from baggie at his side
my silk tie
now full of wrinkles and awkward folds
is being aggressively spun around my neck
quick and angry
stylishly violent
my father's gulping from a glass of bourbon
smiling at his favorite lines
between puffs from his pipe
Arlo's almost done
my tie now looks like a ball of used duct tape
my father exhales his last from the pipe
he looks back at me
and says
"We have matching Irish sweaters in the closet"

Things I Know and Don't

The economy

is a tad-bit dreary

and separated

from our common manifestos:

Call everyone a jerk

and fuck off

to the whole notion

that love is

really all we need

you’ll see when you get there.

Break away.

Travel far beyond

your wildest nightmares.

Dream dreams upon dreams

upon dreams,

of early twilight,

rising in the cold wood

of the oak,

and count all the moments

of freedom

as they drop in.

Watch all the rains

as they leave

me breathless

and you...

well, and you,

surrendered

to that which I will never know.

Say la vi,

I guess.

My Poem About Music

My Poem About Music

my poem about music

goes

music

music

music

simply because

words cannot be

what music does

the delicate state of things

wound up and unwound

till temporary eternity

returns as real eternity

for just a moment

The Closing Hour for Her

her nail polish made her fingertips look like jade
and she painted watercolor landscapes on her window shades
and she only drank tequila in pink lemonade
but she'd make the saddest man fake a smile

she had extra tall veins popping out of her hands
and she only knew two songs from all her favorite bands
and she'd talk about how much she hated their fans
and the worthlessness of what they call 'style'

she rode the bus every morning and the train every night
she said just because she liked the change of the light
when she wakes the train's boring but going home the bus is bright
and it stings her eyes when she sleeps

she kept all her favorite body parts in little mason jars
her toe nails, skin tags, and parts of her scars
she flossed with piano strings and strummed on guitars
and said, "at least this one gently weeps."

she had bull frogs hopping all around the kitchen
and her aunt lived in the attic and she'd run down bitchin'
about the walls that're moldy and her towel that's gone missin'
and the rust at the end of the hose

and the Mustang in the half shed was forty years old
with a cherry red finish and the edges in gold
and the sign on the windshield said, 'gone but not sold'
but she knows that everything goes

Just Now

every step I take
up this staircase
is one more step
I'll have to deal with
when I fall down

a ball
will only roll
in one direction
if your world
is just that slanted

you can't wake yourself up
if it's a nightmare
you can only pray the nightmare
wakes you up

words are empty
words have no weight
the trick is to make sure
your thoughts are heavy

City Boxer

walking bloody
damp and muddy
making change for scars
rigging games
exchanging names
taking bets in bars
slip your tongue
around your lungs
and preach to lesser scum
live the dream
and drown the steam
in sterile shots of rum
tie your laces
work your faces
tell the biggest lie
dance with punches
shake the touches
sell them all they'll buy
smokes for dollars
shots for hollers
bring the donkey down
you can manage
tear the bandage
off the wretched town

Clay and Castles and Temples

In the end
there is only one bond left
connecting us
to the underworld
and back again:

a single thread of yarn
used to hold water together.

They say it's lonely at the top

But never speak of the bottom

I just want to rest

Somewhere in between

Somewhere that's forgotten

The Last Late Night Dance

I WISH I COULD HEAR WHAT YOU'RE SAYING
I WISH WE NEVER FOUND THIS CLUB
WHAT?
RIGHT
HE LOOKS GREAT TONIGHT
I WISH YOU'D REALIZE WHY
I'M STANDING HERE
I WISH YOU'D REALIZE
EACH OF THESE DRINKS
IS HALF MY PAY CHECK
WHAT?
YEAH..YEAH...
THIS IS GREAT
I LOVE THIS SONG
NO, THESE UNENDING STROBE LIGHTS
AND LASERS
ARE NOT GIVING ME A HEADACHE
maybe eye cancer
WHAT?
YEAH I CAN GET THE DRINKS
CAN I JUST WATCH YOU JUMP FOR AWHILE?
YOUR STUPID SMILE IS GREAT
YOUR DUMB ASS LAUGH IS THE MISSING PIECE
OF ME
WHAT?
NOT AT ALL
THIS IS GREAT

if you get sick
in a bar
on ladies night
remember
none of these guys
are really doctors

I Wasn't there

I was just thinking about you
while you were thinking about me
I know you were
I wouldn't have thought of you
otherwise
you must have just realized
exactly what this is
and you must feel stupid
you must feel betrayed
I can't pull that off of you
I can't ease this moment
I was drunk then
I was dreaming
and I thought you were
some one else

Sun-kissed bliss

When the World Around you has Changed (aka...Leaving Newmarket)

I guess you cant stay in one place forever,

because the world around you has changed,

but you,

you haven’t,

and the still waters that run deep

through this town seem distanced

now that you are not

supposed to be here.

There are tears

joined with heavy places

that come at me

like a mountain top

comes down the mountain,

and though it spins me out

I feel awake, knowing

the weight I will leave soon

to rest with this forgotten place

will go lumbering off to live

another of its many lives,

overlapping, as change

outlasts us all.

I am left with nothing

but a solitary goodbye.

No words exchanged,

only sedimentary salutes

as silence hovers over dirt.

No understanding glances,

just the quite footsteps

as I walk away,

shedding my skin

like a snake

who has caught fire

in the underbrush

and is fighting

for everything in his life.

The World Happens

I saw a man with a steel pole pulling his teeth out

--one by one with his fingers.

I saw a vegetable, dressed up like Francesco Guillamotti,

--curving around in a Lexus automobile.

I saw a skylight pointed straight at the sun

--to blind the children with time honored shame.

I saw a rickety old wooden man, pushed to hard

--to smell all the roses he saw, break into tears.

I saw a dovetail, homeless, because he wanted to be

--for god sakes.

I saw ten roller derbies, five Japans and two Germanys

--throw rocks to spike blessings with spite.

I saw a teeny-tiny hand emerge, and hold onto the light

--for a year before it was ripped proudly away by others.

I saw a swan in the economy and wished him well, but

--I had no yogurt covered raisin to offer, so I sat silently,

--hands folded and empty, with blue dragons in the rain.

In Laundry Mats the Dog Years Go Flying By

Back when it was still legal
Dinosaurs ate each other for food
And orange prescription bottles
They could keep their marijuana in.

The Sea It Wishes

and the fishes
they don’t want to work on land

but we tumble hard to imagine

that without these tragedies and passions
we would all surely throw ourselves
right off a cliff

just to joust ourselves

and have a little fun
with bone crunching gravity

----------------------------------

salt away your tears
in its blind rage

and let loose
your fundamental tensions
with the world
until
your mind fumbles

right into a beautiful pattern of colors

like a school of fish
swimming in the
bright
cold
sunshine

If We Ever Meet Again (for amms)

(Optimism)

If we ever meet again
we could both watch the sea
turn a bright red,

then purple
as the seagulls flew past

to a better world, where white
was as close to gray
as there was

and the spray of salt water
warmed the bones
like steam.

Or maybe the trees
would all grow peaches

and a thousand of them
could be heard

hitting the earth
at all times,

splattering against the world
like pink plastic paint
spilled from a 4th story window.

--------------------------------

(Reality)

It is possible too
that they are right,
and nobody will come

running up to us
from the center
of the circus tent

to sweep us off our feet.

------------------------

(Joy)

I think
that should we ever
really meet again

it will be the earth
who bows down
and sighs
with deep relief.

20 Prayers

If you only have twenty
prayers left,
then go ahead
and do thirty

plus the sacrifice
of an orange
peeled and presented
on a plate of used
titanium steel alloy

from the after market blowout
of 2017

when I was juxtaposed
to the idea of dancing.

I hurt when I am hurt
mostly because love
does not stand curiously by
awaiting our arrival
like a limo service guy
with his airport sign,

your family name
etched upon its surfaces.

The momentum from others' lives,
which we absorb
like darts

through our feet
to the cross roads
of our daily lives
leaves a small portion still
where Elvis screams

from a roof top
and sings,

ooh, laala lala
─ain’t this some world,
──────────────we be livin in
─oooh laala lalala
──────────────ain’t this some world.