Sunday, April 30, 2006

brass and soul

a bright trip on wire
and on buckets of sand
like being on a new world
iron can bounce, it can be light,
just weaved like a beautiful tapestry

waving civil war style
earth thud off felt tip sidewalk
just weaved like iron
with horizon sinking stitches
you can tell your story with tapestry

you can lie on blankets of iron
you can sigh and take another
drag, with revolution lips
just to explode as the light is...


very very big family

Preparations are
So hard to make
Not in my hands
Thank god

It’s like
The feeling of air cross
Eyes that been cryin’
Stuffed belly whailin’
Ply your grief with lunch meat

Photographs of long ago
Thank god for photographs
Who is my grand pap?
Who is my family?
So big

Very very big
Cousins and cousins
And family
Oh god so very big

Gotta get in good with god
Be seein’ him for days to come
Lady you know your stuff
Hope I don’t burst inta flames
Family so very big

Thank god for cousins
Ones that drink wine
Ones that talk shop and then
Talk of good times then go

Wake me in the mornin’ mom
I mean
Wake me in the mornin’ cuz
We gotta bar to be at

Walkin’ from there
To the funeral home
And thenWalkin’ from there to the ever after

Saturday, April 29, 2006

It ain’t been that long
Since I been this drunk
But I’ve had a forever
Between goodbyes

So I guess tonight’s
As good as any to say
What I been needin’ to say
To the woman, that leader
Who made my dreams a fact

I won’t go into dreams
I can’t go into wishes
But you should know
I love you Nan

We got a baby now
And you got your mind back
Up there or wherever you are
You got your mind back now

And I’m handlin’ this
I got it down
And all your grand kids
They got it down

We’ll be Okay
We got so many
And maybe that
Was your plan

But he’s a mess
I think he’ll be there soon
So you don’t have to wait
No, you don’t have to wait

I got a while before
I can see you again
But not too long
Before I feel you again
When I burry the bread

I got you
And that little girl
Shes’ got you too
I spent all day with her
But you know
Yeah you know
You know it all
You got your mind back

Thursday, April 27, 2006

The Prophet

Dark pits in the room the lamp won't hit
Where he hides lies and hate and all that shit
His minds under the bed in his secret stash
His heart's on his sleeve, and his life's in the trash

Barbed wire tears at his tainted soul
Because he dropped himself in this stagnant hole
Tonight he's drowning in a flood of fear
'Cause he's aging and the war he's waging is near

He made his bed with razors and now he has to lie
He's tossing and his heart he's crossing not to die
His wings and his halo have long been gone
It doesn't matter to him because he knows he's not wrong

Left foot out first on the right side of bed
And he falls fast and quick but he covers his head
And dreams are just dreams if you can't make them real
And a future's the one thing you just can't steal

pilowtalk love story collage from fragments

well baby, honestly,
i'm all smoke and mirrors
with a world
makin promises I can't keep

i squandered my fortune
on pop rocks and pixie sticks
in the moonlight and the lust

so lets drink
and the BIGDREAM
get the road goin
get the soul rollin
get it all on

and yeah baby
i'll just meet you up aways
at that spot they call the future
or down the road at the next one

did anyone ever tell you
about the shape of the earth?
its round
and aren't we lucky
cuz at every moment
there's a new top
to the tumblin, rollin ball
out there in the blackness
and all the rest is below
with its nowhere kids in stairwells
and its perfect dawns breaking
every crazy way

the sidewalk cracks
of an old man's face
this roads to old
or its been rolled around
to many times
in this mind

but every shootin beam
of space travellin
new and fresh
through my eye

so cue the guitar
and a folk lyric
maybe a daydream
about a hip beauty
with hips that walk away
with her

wild eyes jitterin
and the night'll tell you stories
then run away with them
there's a phantom of a scent of memory
in every lick of firelight
and thats this wild eyes jitterin life

so shakes off that moonglow baby
can thos electonic shivers and echoes
cuz there's a barefoot dance step
and we got a future
we can forget about

you wore your short skirt tonight
and the way it moves
makes me think of feathers

whats a little
sand in yer shoes
a hand in yer pants
we can taste the morning
when it sneeks in the window

i'll be the story
of your breath
and you be those memory scents
in all those licks of firelight
cuz baby
we got diamond eyes
cuttin a universe shape
outta the nothin blackness
and we got fingers and feet
and still remember the texture
of a lizard life
in our hypocampus

her gone, gone eyes
bobbin behind
huge swallowin dark night sky

the marks the sun sprinkles
pepperin her shoulders

lips that rolled out words
mimicking the movement of
the first lovers
the first love

i handed her the change
with the weight of
every future ever dreamed in blinking eye visions

and watched
whole universes
pour into
the suction
she left

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

One Mile

Shadows slide up the buildings
Moving with the sun.
Cigarette butt gangs linger by the curbside.
Black Brazilian union on the watchcase entrance.
Pieces of my youth.
Punker kids skate post office sidewalks.
Disheveled bike maids swarm the five and dime.
Everyone lives above a bar or a liquor store.
Traffic shuts down for the railroad bells.
Pieces of my youth.
The night littered with distant sporadic shouting.
Basketball granite echoes beatbox free style.
Skunkweed fumes haunt the high school parking lot.
Patrol car sirens silence church bell serenity.
Pieces of my youth.

Blood Worms

White suburb dungeon
Dead on main street
Local worms in satin switch blade rectories
Cough nails into the depraved collection plate
Salmon junkies catch hooks to the cheek
Night crawlers giggle bullet talk
But when the blood worms come out...
Sliding over parking lots and broken plazas
Night crawlers lie helpless on damp concrete
Waiting for twitch-toothed predators to come sharply
Attack as a wicked reflex
But no matter how they move
Reguardless of their crooked pathways
Protruding razor mouths stop nothing
After the roadside buffet
After the gruesome alley stunt show
They're only bait
We're only bait

Old World Magic

got that feeling
like phonograph needle
finding a vein, feels like that,
plate glass bed sheets,
gypsy woman spinning tales
about what you can't
see in cards and why
we've all got hinges,
everyone rotating
off their axis,
letting dizzy go to your head

so don't treat this
like old world magic
they don't write down
any more,
because you can't hang
from taboos, they'll never
tell you what kind of death
makes the prettiest martyrs,
but some pencil shavings
and a cigarillo, piled up
like sandbags against
the flood is all ready
to leave you ashes

it's like dancing
single note echo
knees getting so low
the squeeze of an elbow
heels on cobblestone
and dreams of Frisco

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

man this shit aint finished yet

don't follow the trail of smoke
the backdrop smiles profound and boring
i'm winged and wounded
and i can't find a place to nest
dropped in on milk and powdered smiles....

life is the unfound poetry

well i sat and comtemplated on death and figured it was enevitable then i said i can slowly die with with poison and though that was a little melodramatic then i said i can kill myself subconsiciously but that is absurd then i said the only way to do it the american way to be a great writer and drink and work myself to death where i will be remembered as a great bar patron and a skilled worker and be a new generation of writer never discovered never known and greatly appreciated well like the Jack London of our time which highly disappointed me in my youth becauseof his views of racism but that was his era being and translucent black man with dark skin is utterly impossible but I have seemed to survive I have lived fst and lived slow tried colleg and found it to a drab place for great minds it is for those who want to please there parents my parents are please that i am not a drug addict or a thug or a homeless rag that soaks up society i love my life in every which way i live i am a romantic i love the classics such as i call them know like famed walter dean myers well know i have to make my own way path the wat of unpriveleged harvard or community college writings as i wish i had who writes drunk and tries to put across meaning for others to understand only the greats i thank liz and smiley for these scatterings of thought i am chose to express but i must take my leave as alwasy and leave you with a much ado and farewell which i have solen to day good bye and hope all who read this appreciate and please comment becasue i watn a muse and the muse we have now are each other

Monday, April 24, 2006

hot poker ending apathy

So often to be looking through windows, or down corridors
Without the power to fight time
Being swallowed slowly by ones own ennui
And lolling roly-poly while the rain titters at the sill
It must be a joke, free will
So slow and apathetic
Only in moments to brief to depend on
Can one search for that white hot brand;
A prod to goad you so desperately need
Like the forgotten fruit a person can
Slouch and lounge in filthy dish ...
And wait to rot!
Oh, but when one finds that switch,
Or it finds them
So much more than a nudge poke and provoke await
And no more looking out windows, and no more walking down corridors
No more to lay about in filth
All sunshine and breeze will gather them up
And lift them too, to the feet of the gods
While so close to the sun all a persons leaden excess
May melt away like globs of fat
And so does the fat melt and drip and sizzle
On the asphalt beneath personality soaring
Whatever paths should choose to take
In days of blue and yellow
And cut grass smells to revel in
Whatever paths
All your steps will be light and sunlight
Your love will bob buoyant in your lemon aid spirit
Like so many toy boats in the cool clean waters of Lake Verve

Sunday, April 23, 2006

(inspired by an improv poem)

i saw a star dancing
and wondered
if it was spinning
whirling mystic
pulsing out
unknowable particle streams
from its poles
in the far black nowheres
of madness distances

or if the whole thing
was a romantic trick
that the ghosts of cloud wisps
play with the streaming
light waves

Saturday, April 22, 2006

blues in dug up asphault

- I like when little things explode big

- some kinds of vowels you can feel in your spleen

- lets stop before the sun gets too low and we're nothing but shadow

- sometimes you find rainbows under water

- what does it take to get up those sleeves?

- I'm just left over dry wall dust and coffee grounds

- rocking gently to wind and opium rhythms

- some day we'll all have to pick our hemispheres

-you're a thousand kinds of angles, your own geomerty

sat on a car hood,
breathed in gravel dust
and thought about the
whistle of a down bound train

he was worrying about time
and all the dirt left
without footprints

Friday, April 21, 2006

this sting

nights like this sting
15,000 bees
buzzing around
colonizing brainwaves
pollenating a fresh face
makes hive-like heads swarm
your amber essence
sticking like honey
making memories of you
and my heart is swollen
where you landed

nights like this sting

I’m essentially just a vessel for transporting water and psychoses. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see a shrink about a horse.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

wild eyes jitterin
the night'll tell you stories
then run away with them
there's a figment and a scent of memory
in every lick of firelight
this wild eyes jitterin life

in the moments breathing
grey sky
just before pit pat rhythym
the stratosphere memory
of a slow spoken figment
of a girl
her ghost emotions
halves of cigarretes
knee deep in mornings
like this
somewheres in the sobbing
middle of lost america

there's these broken times for ya,
sidewalk cracks
in the old man's face

Via Random Strings of Code

I spent all night displacing my course,
but you kept pointing to your magnetic north.

Happy Earth Day every body!

Everything Retaliates

You can push yeah
And exert your power yeah
But expect a push back
Expect a kick
Expect an attack

‘Cause everything retaliates in its own way
And tomorrows just the thrust from yesterday

Cause the insurgence comes
When you bomb overseas
And when you warm the earth
Don’t expect no calm breeze
Expect a hurricane
From your CO2’s
Your gas guzzlin’ SUV’s
All that methane
And when you
There won’t be no place to hide
When your McMansion gets carried away
In a big ass landslide

‘Cause everything retaliates in its own way
And tomorrows just the thrust from yesterday

It’s as simple as cause and effect
No health care and the people stay sick
Pollute the planet and its gunna get wrecked
You use it all up then there’s nothin’ left
Dead come back when you go to war
So don’t you say you weren’t warned
And I tell you again like I tell you before

‘Cause everything retaliates in its own way
And tomorrows just the thrust from yesterday

So you go on
And do whatcha do
But when it’s all through
Expect a push back
Expect a kick yeah

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

a memo

People who need to be spoon-fed information should be shot ....executed

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Unavoidable Roads

Only had one ear open
when the cards were talking
cause the firelight and friends
were something i could feel
and move by

to believe in
and take apart in pieces
honey, what was told
was nothing unknown
it’s been creeping through these bones
for some time now

What i can give
is a smile, friend
while knowing all the while
the space between heart beats
and the dirty bottoms of my feet
A road that’s waiting
patiently for me

So if you see
my smile’s fading
instead of lecturing
and criticizing
maybe you could hold me
maybe you could smile for me

Maybe you can smile for me

you've lost your young lover

Few are the times when she would drive by
But pretext is easily created
Now she has no excuse to stop anymore
Drop by and be your paramour
But it was fun was it not?

To have
Such a nubile young girl taken with you
And how well you behaved!
Touch this treasure never would you do
In spite of what you craved

Lets’ never talk of this again

samadhi prayer

/and most days
i don't realize
whose behind the eyes,
oh krisna,
even in the mirror/

the flavor and the scent
of all this dancing brahma
course we got meaty maya
to bury teeth into
course we got krisna
and christ and every
crazy mexican bus boy
course Budha and Hawkins
echo, babling in the void
babbling about the void
babbling out the void

for liz by request

a little place
past the railroad tracks
we vomit life and idiocy
theres a bar well known
a home away from home
where nothing ever promises to cease to be
in a half mooon night
under a clod embrace
i had to fall on a knife
to save some face
and now i'll bleed out in the gutter
while you're finishing a drink or two
but don't you worry
your pretty little head
i've spent a great deal of time amongst the living dead
just stop to smell the roses on your way back home
and i'll stradle life and swallow the broken bone
and now we spray the jungle floor with whiskey piss
until you feel alive once more

Monday, April 17, 2006

tungsten and days
before birth and breath
when the sin and the soot
muddied up the place
and the face

with better eyes I could see the sunrise in you

rocked out, black and spiked kitten
with the aftersex cowlick hair
the impecable heroin sullen cheeks
and the dark rimmed sunken eyes

all the washed out
trash punk poetics
in the Beck video
feel of this place

its maddenin
the moonlit gleam of yr eyes
and the moon too
the moon is maddenin

and you know
once the light gits in
yr eyeball
its you, its yrs, you own it
the very hosana vibrating particles
of this here light bulb
and that there sun
and those god damn stars they got up there
forevers away
are you,
are yrs,
you own em

its maddenin
the moonlit gleam of yr eyes
and the moon too
the moon is maddenin

the hunt

you want an overview
of the things I’ve seen
and heard here tonight
well my friend
there are no words
they all seem
to have escaped
through the gaping hole
left by
my dangling jaw
swinging on
it's broken hinge

Sunday, April 16, 2006


trying to shake off
vision of tsunami
with wave of bourbon
at the back of my throat

guess we're all gonna get
washed out to sea
one day. now's the time
to learn how to gasp,
cause if you got one
last breath, gotta make it deep
stretch those lungs to
the breaking

I'm looking around and I
don't see no higher ground,
it's all pushing ebb and flow
and when the ocean comes storming
your gates, get ready to splinter
into the shards that's gonna make
up the brave new coastline
till the next siesmic shuffle

let my eyes slip closed
and saw quick flash
of a balcony from the road
and one hand resting
on ink black railing,
the other pulling fire
from two barely parted lips
and i was on the road
but not really looking at the road at all,
driving by feel
caught up in
sunlight burning up
the streets in waves

that's what the buckets are for

hipster whirlpool
disco necksnap

somewhere off the lit up
roads and wind blasting through

light off/on car door
or over painted mask hanging
off by a thread

I saw two kids locked
in death match light sabre
battle thumping to German
robot dance
could be chemical induced...
no, that's all the feeling from the floor
the blow up machine
like cigarettes and fire crackers
launched onto open roads
and ready to shower down
tiny fires,
that's what's underneath pavement
and smoke escaping to the sky

Saturday, April 15, 2006

a relic of the warrior age gone demon dream

a relic of the warrior age
gone black in a demon dream
a thousand pointed footprints left circling the scene
the long ago came creeping in behind the misspent lives
and as daggers brandished tell tall tales
theres a fabric torn to skew the scale

in borrowed skin and misery
the homes you've grown to dispise
the filth and frost of loves embrace
the perfect piece of saving grace

your never further than few feet from
the whiskey lipstink of the ill fated bum
and the promises you've broken out number those you've kept
so the blackness in your heart is enveloped in regret

cherished moments before the last deadly inhale

like this
i see us dance
and i see you dance
in your beautiful bow and boots
while April’s in full blow rocker swing
and i don’t find a problem there

then a little old school
like a shock to the spine
the face, a refreshing cock-tail of time
and memories of the starting smoke
and the ending smoke
in this holy tavern

but like a god
the giant came
and spoke and drank for moments only
demanding slot changes
from a white nosed promotional dreamer
with a dancing song in his comic mind

where you'll find me?
out back, in a low lit ally
making love
to an opiate dream
with the uprising shadow
of Billy Bragg himself

All Night!

poly bond nativity catacomb blister brick hallways
college character critical of leprechaunic brazierre banter
shake your money maker
all night in atlantic city

Friday, April 14, 2006

correspondence between hatter and hare


you love....and ditty bop....i'm well again and sorry for my callousness...hearts forget to fly sometimes and i was surly cause lost was i ...but now i'm fine and let’s make with the wine and music friend and laugh and maybe we'll dust'll be more fun that way!

i'm going to take a blood test then to want some breakfast? can come...i'm getting in the shower... hope you are naked and well....

(here's where i stick out my tongue and go bllhhpppppppppppppppppp)


My sweetest Hare,

I love when you use your tongue but sugar britches I am miles away and captive in the institution, alas dear I have much to say to you, so long as this latest report is correct and you are indeed in better spirits.
Further more and also I was wondering if not our correspondence may allow some information on how you would be getting to the Saint, that most holy of venues, to see my current slumber partner. I think I may drive myself maddly if you were in need of transport.


Sincerely for the most part,


It’s click! squish... click! squish...
As the left shoe fills with blood
And I like how warm and wet
It makes my sock

Animist Manifesto

Like so many around me
I’ve been mixing religion and politics
Quite the juxtaposition
Because I keep court with toadstools
And vote for turtles
And march with insects
And lobby stream beds
And it’s my position
And my conviction
That this incantation
Is just what is needed

This world on the back of a turtle
Spirituals sung with banjo accompaniment
Down all those mountain trails


Darling Darling Darling Darling Darling
Now I have looked at this world
Through the prism distorted
And followed those fool rainbows to their ends
I found not my orchid
And long now for our back yard
With it’s picket fence and pyramid
But wonder
If there is not so much time between us
Like burnt sugar
No longer sweet but bitter ash
But it is not fire between us just cold time
And the monster I’ve become
From chasing rainbows
And if you look back at me through the prism
To see all the faces I have now
Since last we held
Would you call each one
Darling Darling Darling Darling Darling!

This nights bride

Oh, night air it calls to me
Like orchids to the one they need,
and should I listen to it’s plea,
Surely then I would let it feed
Upon the dreams my heart does bleed.

So in that black I would glide,
and let the wind take my hair,
as though my hair were my pride
And find the proper place for alter.
So I may be this night’s bride.

Oh! To give myself so absolutely,
and ask from the night deliverance.
Why else would night coax with fragrance?
If not to save me and bravely
show me again how to dance?!


so now you've found your arms
in a drawer whose newfound vacancy is shortlived
as you replace the steel with your sensibilty
aw, but what did you really think?
whose arms were at your side?

it's just a picture to hiss and spit at
it's just a picture to kiss and take back
it's just a recommendation

and now it found your white russian plans
tucked in a beach between the water and the sand
a stolen napkin written: "snow is only a summer away"
a stolen breath that might turn the beast away
a kamikaze with second thoughts

it's just a picture to hiss and spit at
it's just a classic alpha fever grab-ass

Thursday, April 13, 2006

a stallions shadow on a newly erected wall
a dirt lot with the glass shinning in pieces
where the fence is falling apart
a quick kiss goodbye
a light wave
a train
and racing minds
napping in the scenery


i think i see godslayers on the horizon!

i say,
build the new church
exhale all that tar and fog
be white tile and porcelain again shining
cry acid tears
always hold things till yer knuckles go white

the lonely ocean
this beer soaked through moon

in this fading light
my knuckles are whole martian landscapes
and you are the pale red ghost
of every girl
batting eyes my way

we can sit here moonlit
all night evoking
forbidden forgotten saints
with our nicotine exhales

from the mouths of babes and madmen
splinters and splintered light
the rumbles of old worlds turning over
the fog and the floating dancing dust

simply to smell aromas
and admire them as more then stimulus
the gift to the modern man
a curse of complexity

the shape of shadows
forged by mass and stars

volcanoes killing butterflies
butterflies killing volcanoes
all this walking english
pop culture leaving casualties
casualties leaving pop culture
all this walking english

who's the butterfly
and who's the volcano?

Elvis Prestley's Hips
i want something to force my eyes wide open
haven't feltlike a twelve year old girl
finding sexuality
for so long

these "indy rock"
cliche chord combinations
winding in my brain
with a sex drive
lend a hard edge
and not enough

chrome and bone

the grill of my car-
-golgatha whisper

cultural knowledge fetish

indy rocker mumbles zarathustra
actor playin a marine reads Camus'
the stranger

cinematic genius
in the flash cut
to Josh Hartnet's and Lucy Lu's
interlaced fingers
amongst all those white bed sheets

cuz i may not
how many rings you were wearing

but so much
in the aquaintance
of my thumb pad
and yer pinky knuckle

the neon ghost prowls the synapse mind
down this tic tic road
and then the tin can billboard taste

we ate notebook pages
of LSD wisdom
down there in the swamps
and somewhere in a
forgotten micro brew moment
Bansho came out of the void
and said,
"put it all down"

empty hands and all the way

blanket statements
burn to fast

i want
nails that are dirty
with dust
that i marvel at

eyes growing wide
like a drug reaction
and the primitive thump
drumming up in the ear
skin tightens
and heat

dark coffee
and the rattle of change
and I'll be your breath of
air, or light
for nervous fuse,
packets of powder
resting and watching,
we know time
is just a product
of spilt dark coffee
and we're just a spark

Wine In Your Eyes (i'm tring to write a song)

she wanted nothing more to feel you
sittin by her side
holding on to her hand
keepin her up all night
she was lying when she told you
not to fall in love
cause all she ever wanted
was for you to fall in love
like her

now she’s in love with the wine in your eyes
and she knows it’s forever gonna make her cry
but she just needs you to see her
really see her
do you see me
do you really

so she sits by herself
with that wine on her mind
just thinking about all the lost time
and it’s not only a waste
of simple fate
that when she’s awake
it’s to much to take
so she throws it down
cause you're not around
to see her

and she’s in love with the wine in your eyes
she’s knows it’s forever gonna make her cry
but she just needs you to see her
really see her
do you see me
do you really

now she's decided to say
what she really wants to say
cause if you can never again
see her in that way
well she’s gonna make it right
for the next love that finds her eyes
so she can drink that wine
and really learn to fly
with her heart

cause she’s in love with the wine in your eyes
and although it should’ve never made her cry
she let you run out of her life
and she wont ever know if you see her
just see me
please see me
can you really
see me

silly full bellied moon...
are you drunk again?
cause you're lightin up the sky
like you never lived
and i’m proud of you
for you at least
are on your feet
making the rounds
and smilein down
on all your silly children
and their dreams

Wednesday, April 12, 2006


laying in the little pools collected at the bottom of the tub
wondering if I bleed too much
cause every time I get in,
really get myself wet and burning
it’s too much
and my head spins
and I falter and sway
and my words are far off dancing foolish children
while the basin and the spigot are drawing closer
and before I fall, I’m wondering if I’ve spoken too much
without breathing in-between words
maybe that’s why I can’t get clean without bleeding
maybe I’m to lose my head
maybe my face likes it’s porcelain friend
maybe I’ll get up
and vomit
and realize
that I left my towel on the livingroom couch
and in a haze,
I open the door and walk out
and clean
with a little stream of blood
trickling down my cheek

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

blogger question

"Oscillate my metallic sonatas with your plan for the Panama canal"

you don't gotta tell me
what's 12th from the left
darlin I got my own
number line


break two perfect

I've got iron curse
around my neck
digging into soft
spongey vertebre
holding me together
and I can feel it shooting
into my brain
with a pull
like the devils leash

going far towards
out of sight illusion
like it should be there
so I can pretend
there are giants and
hungry ideas of

just like in the dark
or in cold sweat dreams
leaving you sticking to
your bed, dripping chasing
drops, fear of
those eyes turning away,
knees giving me all away,
I'm soaked from my toes up
and there's no steady ground
so give me your blind spot
to kiss your neck
where your words are
vibrations for me
to dance to

Monday, April 10, 2006

path monster

My friend and I we went to walk along the favored path
A windy dark with a chill would not deter us from our stroll
Welcoming the eerie evening noises as we began our trail
Enjoying the atmosphere of our giddy fear
We thought we saw a bums’ bed while beneath the bridge
Furthermore the foggy patches along the tangled branches of leafless trees
Sent me giggling with the creeps
I have such fervor for these sensations
Eliciting alarms
Enlivening all the fight or flight reactions
Snapping in my animal brain

faced with certain
operational difficulties
there's a right way
and definitely,

a wrong way
to hotwire a toaster oven
to burn up croissants

scorch your breakfast,
scorch the earth,
I'll take a bad singe
over good behavior
any day

a river dream

like the river running
and passing through the forest
with the ferine trees dipping down their roots
dropping seedlets, inspiring hope
in buds blooming

like that river and it’s passing
ever flowing in spirited enjoyment
and tumbling to remind itself
of rest, of steady course and calm

and the river always pushing forward
serving to exhilarate
the weak and dry throated
a refreshing slip in an impelling dream
clear and true

unless otherwise,

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Just Don't Say it Again

I was star struck to see you at my party until I finally saw you drink
And oh so disappointed to hear the things you think
We were playing card games made for doing shots and the slapstick backdrop was our soundrtack
I stood up, stumbled backward, and told the ceiling I felt sick
My eyes rolled back and i told my left eyebrow i was gonna go lay down
You took advantage of half empties on the coffee table
Some Misguided rugby shirt collapsed into the pool in the backyard
No one noticed but everyone was aware
And that's when it hit me
That awful thing you'd said the night before
That disgusting little sentiment you casually threw my way
So I struggled to my feet and burped up the beer suds in my throat
I staggered into your vision
I grabbed you by the collar brutishly
Swung my head recklessly and groaned, "Just don't say it again...I love you, too."

Walking English

When i run for an extended period, and my legs have about given up on me
when my saliva has turned to corn syrup under my toungue
when i finally have to face the negative affects of cigarettes
and finally feel the pump in my chest struggling to sustain my life...
that's when you might catch me.

ecological conference

They’ve all got neat salt n pepper beards
Lookin’ like intellectual woodsmen
Talkin’ bout’ conservation
And specific conductance

Out there in that wilderness symposium
Adventure scientists and their grad students
Grey-green and tan with lots a pockets
That’s how they dress

They buy their boots outta catalogs
Givin’ lectures in a cabin
Pointin’ at a power point with a laser pen
Screwin’ up the rustic ambiance

But for my part, I
Can’t tell if I’m one of them


This morning I drove early
Sneaking between
Moon and sun
my mind wandered back
To another dawn after drink and dance
That thanksgiving morning pink and purple
When for me it all began


little grey bone chunks in my soup
gonna travel to the next stop and vomit into a hobos mouth all the nutrition i've stolen in the hours prior to my arrival
now is that any way to treat a veteran of two foreign wars
don't touch the pineapple with that filthy tongue
reflections of a mud man doin time in alibaster bungalo with pastel purple sun rise tangled round the nickle plated eyesocket

the weather’s twisting my bones about
with strange cracks and crunches
as I’m shaking my nerve endings at the sky

my cats eyes are two full moons
rather stern with bloody threat
telling me it’s time to sleep
making me wimper and yawn

bring back the music

I want to write about dancing
but my fingers have no rhythm
where a soul should be singing
is but damp sheets of peppered notes falling
these rusty strings need changing
devoid of valve oil for this brass heart
and I can’t quite tune in
to a song I no longer hear

Saturday, April 08, 2006


i was given something that gave me life
i breathed a breath that tasted sweeter than all fruits
i smelled like a fragrance like no other
my heart broke result to the wave it left in my blood
tidals waves crashed my soul
i was shipwrecked left with a momnet of paradise
my advice to those in endure this run away
stay far away as you can
my knees are week i can no longet stand
i even declined the name man

new days

It started like a warm summer day until,your nose tuched the morning air
Thoughts of beginnings raced through my head
things like acorns,leafs,and new branches
this was an ending to begin and a beginning to an end
i intende dto start and started to intend
life simply i analyzed to certain terms
some things brought difficulty
but nature rose sun shiuned moon gleamed night bloomed
earth was showing mad love
mind metamorphed spirit rose
rising to astral plane i went through portals
sled through demensions
thoughts now destined as i perched on mountains high above
exploring possiblities unknown
i realized above my temple jewels never seen glimmering like aligned planetary positions
now being under transformation soul cleansed
to clarity demons physical not sparing through devils
i pierce with stares spoke a constant double edge prophecy
relived revieled revelations eye awakened to apply realization

dedicated to liz

Friday, April 07, 2006

the answer to life the universe and everything


"What I'm really good At"

I can run pretty
I've been known to outsmoke
the best of'em.
I watch and notice people
pretty well.
I'm a pretty good writer
(so my friends say)
I can hold my own
when fucking.
and I can masterbate
while driving.
My mom says I'm
a people person,
but what I'm really good at
is grabbing the exact amount
of 3rd class bundled mail
to deliver to the right
amount of houses
down one side
of the street and up
the other.

Her legs folded on the bench
and had my full attention. She
wrote in a book or was maybe
drawing a picture, I'm not sure which.

I sat and waited for class
to begin, wondering what I was doing
there, wondering if the only reason
these kids even showed up to listen
to me talk was because they paid for it.

And than is that even worse than a
poetry reading, where most ignore
everyone else, waiting, some more
patient than others, for their
turn, their time to be heard
on that stage with the
lights blinding the audience from you
with the only notion of people
being that monotone applause between thoughts.


Yeah, we got that wild life
With uncombed hair
And switchback values
Mirrored in the untamed ways
The wind blows
Tall grass sways
Or flocks move

Our women
Like desert blooms
Wild flower butterflies
You don’t know where they come from
Where they go when they have gone
It’s the fickle wild splendor that turns you on

And these men
Well, these men are mountain lions
Not afraid to drink that bourbon
These men are wolves
Not ashamed to sing to the moon
They got that fearsome native attitude

So together we should rage
Against those who would straighten rivers
Calling landscape real estate
Contest the fools that sterilize
And try to cultivate
Terrain we know should be free
Like us

‘Cause there’s no adventure to be found
In manicured lawn, suburban homes
Give me that rock and roll geology!
Give me that untamed sunset!
And I’ll give you
My feral child smile
With a radical battle hymn

When they look at us
All they’ll see is wildlife

Thursday, April 06, 2006

find your way

more than often, floorboards
with their flaws
creaking under all those feet

but sometimes stairs
with depth and danger
where an eye-opening fall awaits

so be mindful of your step, dear

it’s that time
where i stub my toe and cry
with shreds of you
running up my spine
and i know he’s sick with morphine drip
but that doesn’t give you the right to snap my neck
the way you do

i wrote haikus cuz i'm a fucking pretencious shit

dance neon vision
tuesday noontime welcomes you
flavor of rose bud

crazy haired monk
can't see the universe in stone
because he ain't real

haiku ramblin words
fire trivial synapses
fill eastern pages

for lips in barrooms
he goes searching nightly here
all he finds is gin


i heard
you hung all those stars up there
a thousand, thousand years ago

For the record

I believe in minotaurs
and big government machines
and mom's home cooking

other then that, I got my doubts



Hey Orion,
you still stalking myths
across the horizon?
Waiting for the dark cold
of winter
to catch sight of some breath
coming off stars at
15,000,000 degrees K?

Keep them arrows trained
because that sky is moving fast
away, all that fly'n prey
are just stories you can
sink your teeth into
that we wrote large
to tame the stars

Walking home I could see
that hunter chasing fusion fire
through the night
but man those city light
kept moving in and
soon the sky was all
washed out,
just another way
we kill our own legends
with street lights
and blinding neon beer mugs,
to forget there were things
bigger than strip malls.
Once when we hunted gods,
when trees meant
more than future patios,
and we had to create
the hard way

these embers of the sky
fall and smolder
in the air before my face
so much like heaven tears
or dead dreamings
or acid trip sparklets

the truth we wake to
with the blankets hiding fears

and dandelion pieces
dancing off aways
then farther

and what is this strangeness

I never remembered seeing
anything really really real

just the way pond water reflects
shimmering images between ripples

The "Information" Highway

Dont know who to thank for this....


There it is again. Some clueless fool talking about the "Information Superhighway". They don't know didley about the Net. It's nothing like a superhighway. That's a rotten metaphor. Suppose the metaphor ran in the other direction. Suppose the highways ran more like the net...

A highway hundreds of lanes wide. Most with pitfalls for potholes. Privately operated bridges and overpasses. No highway patrol. A couple of rent-a-cops on bicycles with broken whistles. 500 member vigilante posses with nuclear weapons. A minimum of 237 on ramps at every intersection.

No signs. Wanna get to Ensenada? Holler out the window at a passing truck to ask directions.

Ad hoc traffic laws. Some lanes would vote to make using a single-occupant-vehicle a capital offense on Monday through Friday between 7:00 and 9:00. Other lanes would just shoot you without a trial for talking on a car phone.

AOL would be a giant diesel-smoking bus with hundreds of ebola victims on board throwing dead wombats and rotten cabbage at the other cars, most of which have been assembled at home from kits. Some of which are built around 2.5 horsepower lawn mower engines with a top speed of nine miles an hour. Others burn nitroglycerin and idle at 120.

No license plates. World War II bomber nose art instead. Terrifying paintings of huge teeth or vampire eagles. Bumper mounted machine guns. Flip somebody the finger on this highway and get a white phosphorus grenade up your tailpipe. Flatbed trucks cruise around with anti-aircraft missile batteries for shooting down traffic helicpters. Little kids on tricycles with squirt guns filled with hydrochloric acid who switch lanes without warning.

AND NO OFFRAMPS... None, you must self-dentonate.

Now that's the way to run an Interstate Highway system

With Appologies to Bob

looks like the vandals
returned all the handles

"Thank you for your time
...and here's to life."

run-on sentences

these lips are chapped with conversation
and a mild concussion
but your wild rhythmic techno beats
like warm rainwater
in coal black strange weather night life
and glad I am in
of the passion there

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Yeah I'm really good with guns and projectile weapons.
Seriously, it takes a lot to get those merit badges.

Field notes for April 5th

I spotted that serpent
Walking in a minor wood
Why I would recoil instinctive
From a black and yellow ribbon
And he from me
I may know

So I kneel
In leaf and needle
On root and soil
And ask sincerely
To return an apple


I know the story
The book that says you’re to blame
But don’t believe it
The fall from glory
The exile
The shame

It was not me who took your bate
Your trick, your treat, the pomegranate
The meadow, the forest,
Are all a garden
And I’m constantly finding myself in Eden

But among me
There are those too blind
To see a snake is not a fiend
Just another
Brother in the garden

there's no road leads
off that holy cliff
so I'm ready to plow through
all that beautifyl
and let the earth
come to me in true

with a lesson
in dropping
I'll teach relativity
a thing or two
about pulling in worlds
because gravity is
just a type of love
and I've had dreams
about falling like

i could if i would

i can't say that i wanna keep you
like a playpen around some kid
but i do know that if
you need ears and hands
well, i've got a few of those i'm not really usein right now
so grab um up
while the pickins good
cause they're sellin out like hot cultured pop
and there's always a bottom to that box

you're so fucking beautiful
i can't even see

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

you should hold onto your sanity
cause it’s flying out that open window
I’d close it but I was hoping mine might fly back in
not to mention I'm enjoying the breeze

They say here there be pirates
adventure beneath the stars
gold buried in haste

there's a world to circumnavigate
and the edges of the map
start getting blurred

i was thinkin

u wanna die like fiction?
u wanna wonder what angels can do?
u wanna role the dice on this one?

i'll just grab demon tails
and suck hard
through this open mouth
and throw stones at glass houses
and run
in the dark
with scissors

and see you sooner or later
on some other side
where flavor might not happen
no more

if they ever come to talk shit, i'll just say...

my boys all got
you don't stand a chance

worried about him

the moon's
been on its back lately
itself away
to skin and bones
or crater and smirk
i hope it didn't
hear me talking about it
that night
down in Florida

Nicole (and an afterthought on poetry)

her hair was giant
swallowed whole barroom city night
in the way it draped
past eyes
and down weeping willow over
the mystic gin and tonic
lime floating
amongst the ice of it all
and there with the music
and stirring straw
and holy head of hair
she took a sip
without raising
the glass
from the bar

(and i'll sketch out these mythic taverns
with all the color of the lost souls
they got
in these bad break need a tune up
tumble over each other
...and no justice will be done
just a faint scent
in the air of the brain
that might help
with memory)

Crossing The Chesapeake Bay

grand serpent of engineering
ripping across the bay breeze and chop
carrying adventure down your spine
and no shoreline to be seen for miles and miles
and more
then all is gone
and under you travel
with aquatic tons overhead
like space warp striplights for a moment
then sunlight again
could we be lost at bay?
you giant serpent of engineering
with your three-toed pillers supporting
and long winding ways
tail lazily laying atop Virginia marsh
your mind focused on advancing beaches can't see

Mothers always turn on the lights
when they find their babies sitting in the dark

for what
if only a dream
if only to remember
a grasp so firm
a friendly hand on your shoulder
to touch
and be touched
with true feeling


in a moment i won’t be able to feel any of this
the cold
or the full blown orchestra in the pit of my stomach
chewing, in all it’s splendor
the sour, the sweet
and the sweeter
phantom pains
and the pleasure of pursing my lips around a lit cigarette
and suck

Monday, April 03, 2006

another dusk at the cove

I made ten thousand wishes
all the while blowing angels from their beds
Narrow trails and substantial scrub making life exciting again
All the while black soldiers storm my sweater from above
When the trail opens to the shore, glory
Mud flats like rippled leather shine in the twilight
Dune grass golden and blowing calmly
Enjoying sundown while still knowing
I am a pepper in ticks crawling

something about canvas

The Greeks didn't write obituaries.
They only asked one question when a man died.....

Did he have passion.