Wednesday, May 31, 2006

pissing on an open wound
just scraps from a broken jug
and bottle cap balast

tired, poached like
big game
in lonely, shimmering grasslands

tracked and trampled
left under foot,
dug his heels in

a sudden shift in your frame

There's a certain amount of
belligerence that balances out
what's left of the walking dead. And the
illegitimate sons of dynomite fuelled animalistic
manics shall envelope the world with
a smoke screen of pure
psychosis. So the bottom line is
here's my teeth, break the ice with them

-From Jupiter

like a patron saint of motion
eyes not focused
hair whipped sideways
world a blur of color

trickling into the sea

under grainy light
my footstep echo on
sad, grey pavement
fills the deserted road

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

for the next ones

Try n’stop the girl with the travelin fingers and wind for hair
cause kid, if you only had the right kinda ears to hear the stories this worn ol’ blue bag could tell you

of memories that smell like locks of smoke
scrapped skin, coffee sting and feeling broke
like the way the back of a neck and fingertips spoke

but I’ve figured out the perfect combination of solution creations to keep in motion forever
Never stop.
you wanna know these stories
cause i got a friend who’ll squeeze yer heart n’squirt lemon juice in yer eye, make you beg more certain disaster then tell ya he’s a myth, that we’re all a myth
and another who’ll pull stars from the sky for a glass o’ red wine a fast ride and midnight dance
one’ll rip the road right out from under your wheels, toss ya into the dusty land with bottle of cheap booze, a tire iron and a pin cushion and tell ya he wants new boots by noon
there’s a giant in tight pants who’ll pierce right through ya, with eyes like super nova, burning holes in yer pockets that you won’t wanna mend
I know a girl with a scientific mind and a wild drunk smile who throws tobacco into fires and prays to the universe
and a bartendin buhda with a bass heart playin with the earth tones and talkin to aliens
you wanna know these stories
the sly cat local shaman, island kings, and river kings, and shoreline dancin queens and karaokie angels livin offa dream smoke and whiskey tickles
singing to an old blue moon,
singing to the jumpin mad twitch under yer skin
drivin on forever
no rest only lust and dust

and you wanna know somethin
I got a queen elizabeth rose with crazy dew eyes in my backyard that hasn’t bloomed in years
well, this year it did
and that aint no dirt lie
you wanna know these stories
with your own eyes!
you wanna see these soul guts
it’ll blow your fuckin mind
right out back yer dull skull
that’s how I go without knowin where the next turn’ll take me
kid, I’ve lived through shit that’d break ya
and I got these stories
you wanna know these stories?

you think you got the right kinda ears

Saturday, May 27, 2006

the strobe effect of passing traffic
seems to slow down time
just enough for it to sting

my palms smell of stagnant cigarette butts
my hypocampus is screaming

Friday, May 26, 2006

Was it so long ago
That we met only to dance awkwardly?
Awkward yes,
But not without grace.
And some time after The Borrowed Match Polka
The coffee stopped flowing.
But the sun never stopped shining.
And I never got to tell you
Or blame you
Or thank you
For the seed of doubt
You planted like a flowering weed
In my garden of false content.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

In the craziest schemes
I try to find asylum
Biding my time
Because you can’t wake from daydreams

Lately the universe has been loud
Not the same soft sound were used to
No, it’s like a dinner bell or noisy hunger pang
And everybody tells me they’ve been hearing it
I don’t wanna miss the meal of a lifetime
So I’m just gunna run towards the clatter

Impromptu song for Lil

Won’t you please hold these wild horses
One moment more
I’ve been drinking
And acting like a whore

And won’t you please watch my back side
Don’t let me back slide
Don’t let me ride
That range
It’s dangerous

Yes I’m an awful mess
Causing you sure distress
We wake up sore like wild horses
Held one moment more

Wednesday, May 24, 2006


soft clay whisper
burried under concrete dream city
and I can't hear your story
of a Greek beauty under olive tree
or maybe warriors waiting
with gods and tides ahead

there's no way to wrap
my mouth around your sounds
but maybe history defeats itself
like thoughts lost in wine
every mystery in these moments
and we're just cut die pressed deep
nothing but immortal

bird sleeping nestled
under yellow light

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Light Like Medicine

the girls got a firefly heart
and though fever dream
it’s hard to say
weather that light lights for you

Cause there’s mountain ridges
risin high between
your smoky eyes
and a drifters dream
and like she spoke
those speedway days
full of broken bones
and red wine stains
you were just a candle wick
and she a firefly spark
to shed a little warmth and light
upon a path so dark

Now don’t be fooled
and lose you way
in drifters dreams
and fireflies play
cause whose to know
weather or not
your path rides parallel
with hers
or if it's just
another road to cross
to bring you round to
what you really want

Just know this
darling friend
that a fireflies light
it has no end
so any time
you need a spark
on a lonely road
lost in the dark
grab yourself a firefly
and ask the drifter
for a ride
and you’ll soon see
the road beneath your feet
you’ll know weather
to ride on or not
and you’ll know
exactly where to get off

she’s got a firefly heart
one that burns forever
without stop
so now that you’re on
if you really want off
you're gonna have to
learn how to jump

if we are us

Dawn is the time to see flying saucers
But magic in every instant
And walking everywhere
Life abounds on either side

We are the folks who help caterpillars cross the road
There is no name for our reward
Highway people and gypsy band
Who carry with us affections of many colors
Inventing slowly this new culture
Knowing only that now is forward
And there is no need to ask for directions
And some of us speak of rubber balls
And some of us speak of park benches
And some of us speak of cloud to cloud lightning
This is our way of speaking
Sometimes with barroom breath and poetry
Sometimes only with wide eyes

Our family holds many songs in our many satchels
We sing them by firelight and dashboard
We paint on bedroom doors and card board
Dancing new steps with invented rhythms
Howling and clapping and laughing and smelling
What fate has sewn on the breezes that reach us
In moments the great mystery touches us
And he said “truths like that
You have to let those strange hands touch you”

and now the
hairless ape
lotus flower
the dark is a scent of freedom
or was it just buttermilk
and now the
hairless ape
require climbing
to be

or maybe there will be cities and cars and high courts and schools and prayers and gods and morals and roads and space travel and meaning and dreams

and now the
hairless ape

what drives me wild
the wild dull glow
of women's eyes
in a dim lit room
with the horror movie glow
pourin' outa the screen

the taste of slow motion feedback
as the worlds began spinning in reverse
all the universe unswirled and sucked in

standing on that pinhead spark
that couldn't really be called matter or energy
we knew what it was like
to have NO TIME

he might have been a mystic
and a gardener
she might have been some myth
in some animal world
and maybe with his shaved head
and silent one word enlightenment
he could of painted
her stealing stars
from the night

don't want to walk through it
wanna press myself up against this world
bleed into it, smeared
fingerprints left on the glass


thoughts crowding out sleep
pillows and nightlights
wandering sedatives
lists like
tranquil blowdarts

Monday, May 22, 2006

Hey Mac!
my phone died

fading carolina

tilled earth
shanties with slanted roofs
caving in
old tree knots
and cotton thoughts
like broken down cars
rusting on front lawns

Welcome to the Walking Inn.
Its just crazy enough to work.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

love is

a full belly and a lame limb
in the middle of the ocean

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Last night
Little sister
For no reason at all
I fell in my mind
To the time you were lost
When that
Most painful of thought
Like a cinderblock
From a lofty shelf
I cried
In my bed till I was done
Little sister
I love you
Never leave
My sight again

it's just a job

It’s all cardboard and concrete
Rough jokes and average Joe
But it’s outside a good time
Charms you wouldn’t expect
Sparrows sewing the rafters
Brightly colored cushions
Piled haphazard in the eves

In between heavy lifting
Trapped in the box maze
Surrounded by loose screws
Butterfly in a warehouse

fell on retro
glass carved upwards
i'm affraid of no man
tongue in cheek
refuse to speak with anyone who knows the secret
come and sit on the side of the road
in the fresh cut grass
heavy hay fever reason
listen close as the madness destroys the technology within your island
telephone call blister cough
bleeding in and out of a rerun
held a hand with a handful to boot and tell you what is the number of
grinding hips
you shouldn't inch toward the possum
she's more than you're hiding
underneath all that make up i broke you

my lover is faster than premature promnight ejaculation

vinyl sweat
four on the floor
a nick
a ding
and a poor patch job
with the two biggest barrels you could find in a gas crisis
half hung pipe and make shift saddle exploding beneath you
the freedom is bounding at 105 to make sure we've still got it
a union of animal lust in pale moon frost with the breeze in your teeth
take me to oceans and homes i've not shown you
and i'll sleep in your warmth with a smile
east bound and down in the glue factory
devour your prey and we'll feast upon the scraps that remain

double helix subversive romantic dollar bill pusher with a soft spot for crazy

come dance beside this ragged fellow
broken bottles in a dirty bar room
kiss me when i ask for more than loveing eyes to roll around with
tell me that its nothing
but the shovel can perform its duties in the right kind of hands
and i'll miss you when its too damn late to call for help
these dirty sheets have come to call and i'm too sober to just tumble into somthing in the four letter word thesaurus
fuck kill love babe kidd face mask neck back pain lust loss love

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

the troubles

quiet are your eyes of late
that spark of light
lust originates
your tempered flow
is dammed and stolen
waters reverted
back whipped
skin broken
tipping back
a liquored notion
a whirlwind tunnel of emotion
baby doll,
your hands are tied
and cutting in
the rough rope sting
your bleeding wrists
fail to dry
and at your feet
the ground splits wide
threatening to break your stride
but even through
the red witch banter
your smiles wide
and filled with laughter
for it takes a lot more
than an egoistic plot
to tare this giant down a notch

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

There will never be enough
Poems about the moon
Like a lover the sky holds all night long

long night in the window

When sun sets on suburbia
A goldfish glow fills the bed window
And slowly night finds me in
Calm and calmer in a night new
When the big wish wash moon
Fills fawn eyes wide and wider
With the light and the power
It uses to pull mind tides
It’s long and prolonged
And a blue black pin cushion
Sharp star pins circle slowly
Transfixed and I can feel them moving
But fade and elapse to burst glittering dawn
Still hold the attention of the fawn
Long blinking in wonder
Why is it so hard
To fall asleep sober

words from the tornado that spans seven earth moons

tragic indiference sparkling multiplicity and tomorrow blue eyed plastic flower disco with a little lady from frisco, she don't always like the ladies if you know where the subway train cars have carpet baby

Monday, May 15, 2006

my goal certainly is not a percentage of hydrocarbons

50 hours

stories don't change in America
the west is
still golden sunrise future

the same reflection
in the mirror of
blue pacific eyes

Sunday, May 14, 2006

tiger lily,
you throw me sideways
like a rubber ball
on stony pavement
your kiss
a mid-summer shiver
your dew drop eyes
keep me warm through winter
and oh dear maiden
what a tangled thread
you leave me in

tiger lily,
I’m rollin over
your lush bed
this lowly servant
and in enchantment
I’m cursed to wander
through falling leaves
and snowy winds
till spring rains
bring back to me
your flowering face

in the night

she was black trashbag plastic shine
i was hood ornament metal gleam

and nothing else

match head love

hey girl
i want a one night stand
the way lit match heads kiss
and then that sulfurus flare up
eats us both whole
and if its just right
we'll wake up
feeling like charred wood

yer witchdoctors and wordplay
and where were we
and when did the earth stand still
but all we see
is the whirling
neon dream machine
that dazzles us
until we dance


she told me about
all the stars and cards
cracked turtle shells
brittle bird bones
and then how my birthday means nothing

we build myth
straight up
5000 stories from the ground
and you thought the moon was something
just wait

in the pollen laden car window
the whole reflectin' world
fumblin' with keys
i see behind me
the charged colors and particles
of radioactive future atmospheres

the new beauty of all our ashes

To make room for future wounds

Three thousand kinks, cracks, and bumps
Three thousand things to trip on
Many kinds of scrapes, lumps, and bruises
Daily gathered then forgotten
Like photo graphs and ticket stubs
Before you pick them up again
Somehow worse to remember then
A slice today so bloody brilliant red
Is easier then to add
When realized it is just another
Seen through awful shiners
A cough and wheeze and raspy voice
Complains of turning bitter
But knows the blacks and blues
They fade
And colds - in time - get better

On Foggy nights when the moon is ripe
My eyes turn grey and wash
World goes watercolor cool
Walking alone along the shore

Saturday, May 13, 2006

hey, how was that shaman?
with gold tangled thread,
a precient dirt road -
come on and tell us some future already
and whose headlights were we
caught in as the trees
scared up the moon

jupiter loves white sands and black nights

side ways
they always find an answer in the unfinished buisness
no more lovers quarell in the moon lit summer sickness
just a traveling slander in a boxcar named desire
with the roots rusted thick and thankless hobo ex bank robbers
holding court with judas
petting the spirit of death
eating kibbles and bits and peanut butter sandwhiches with the crusts cut off

Friday, May 12, 2006

her a drum

I stretched my skin thin
Round my bones
To make for him a drum once
That holy man

And in the soft grass
Where he laid me to play me
Paddle out our cadence
Mystery things grew

He drummed up for me
The pyramids and druids
Strange machines of ink and paper
Message songs from stars

I’ll see you soon holy man
And when I do then
I’ll stretch my skin thin
And be your drum again

Standing Still for a Change

We loaded up all of our necessary belongings into the back of your mindset
Carted the last peices left behind on my conscience
I never knew why you had that cellophane grin wrapped around your twisted grinder
I'm out the back door and your quick to follow
Put me down or burn me down, I'll be fine tomorrow
Somewhere in this box is a private revelation
A perfect little spectacle hidden in what we can only hope is an answer
If you track me down, I'm running....Maybe limping
But I'm going places and nothing you can poison me with can hold me back
I'm a full out, all-in, primary example of when crowds attack
And I'm standing up and finally standing still for once
So look at me, family, have one last fucking look
As I stand here now with an old rusty blade to my fore arm
Not for suicide 'cause where's the fun in that?
But to get the last image of my people I've always wanted
Shock and fear, but not for your lives or mine
Just for a laugh

haiku (or close enough)

two lights across rippled water
condensation resting on cold iron
night-time finding it's space

Thursday, May 11, 2006

thinking about your boots

pin-stripes and street lights
holey hats and unkempt hairdos
a man walks into a bar
and he
really WALKS into that bar
and the whole world knows it
not like now
like way back then
in a western setting
hand on his hip and gun
and you can feel the floorboards tremble
over the thought of each step

i think dancing
is the opposite of war


somehow you still got
that essence of long ago
told stories, the kind
we sang before ever
writing them down,
there's a pure world you
see dressed in rags,
where wild parsley crushes
concrete, bodhisatvas sit in
sandwhich shops tracing
paths with coffee fingers,
and sorrow is scattered by wine

lets get us some crayons
and draw up some reflections,
try to fool ourselves,
stopwatch eyes across
desert waves, and
you said light just doesn't
refract the way it used to,
and reached out, going to grab
at burnt, patchwork shadows

the blind card dealer
shows me the wrong day's morning,
the smoke is painted on
thick, and I see you
thinking about wings,
powder blew,
the total moment,
just like an old song

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

brilliant orange streak
sending stone flying
making glass out of the air,
makes for a different
color world, casts
wild phosphorus light
and everything singes
at the edges

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

she tells me she likes
the way
a pina colada looks
is it the way
the glass reflects her image
through the liquor

you’re on the road to me
and i hope your heart will see
that breaking
is making love
to the back of my
hand and
an exquisite band
cause I sing
my song is loud
i sing
and let the notes ring out

a falling star
a missing string
a vibration static ring
just a ride to ride
and to live baby

we never patched the holes
to stop the rain from pouring in

what you can't bottle

why do we do it?
grab at a live wire,
get ready to spill
all those sweet sounding
notes into the deadened night -
dragging quite a burden
for a few manic moments,
the space between beats
where we might all get lost
grabbing around in
the dark for what feels like
waves rippling through water

I know you've got
the heart of a poet!
I love your pretty words
and wild sylables
that jump from throat to throat-
there is no world if you don't
describe it, flesh it out and
these creation songs

I take it on faith that
meaning is seperate,
and poetry is using
the wind right,
and you're just as much
a force of nature

Sunday, May 07, 2006

rock bottom full

every strand of my hair
smells like a smashed can of beer
going down ground level 4am

Saturday, May 06, 2006

you don't even know i see you

sometimes, when you gaze off
fingering the air with your eyes
listening intently, laughing
I like to catch you there
in a paused frame
to rewind and play later
when it’s just me

throw back that mercury

big sister...
sometimes you’re a mess
and i pick it up
tangled hair
and weak knees
truly silly
without strings
of study
but you’re always beautiful
whether working
hard edges and all
or falling off
the stool at a bar
drink in hand
demanding more
cause all that science shit
you babble and slur a bit
even though, i have no idea
what it is
you’re talking about
you’re still beautiful
so sometimes i bend
for one dearest of friends
i dip i smile i please
in hope you continue to soar
wide with you wings
and strong in your soul
cause you do the same
for me i know
cause you’re beautiful
all the way through

so what i’m really sayin is,
girl, i’ll be your stick in the water
if you’ll be my catus fly larva

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Angels Sing

angels sing
to keep dust of their wings
and if you listen hard enough
in silence
sometimes, you can hear them falling

keep that vibratious tickle at the back of your throat
and the kick-drum thump of your heart
trip over a bass wobble,
fall soul first into a guitar and get tangled in the strings
roll out onto dancing keys, tinkering
live a crescendo
SNAP and explode

and the heavens will feel you
and the angels will hear you
and sing along
and no one falls
an eternity never lets go
and your blood turns into scales
and notes
and clefts
all flowing in perfect time

an eternity never lets go
music never lets go
and no one falls
live a crescendo
SNAP and explode

sangria and piranha wounds

broke that jug
smashed it out real good
and once, years ago
I dreamed I’d write this one
though I didn’t know it then
or you
I sure do
know it now
the lucidity behind those words
these words
the night, well
without control
finds me ringing on the floor
stained and drained
and a little less

so I broke that jug
smashed it out real good
cause there’s so many
lines to read between
in just about everyone you meet
and I wanna keep my insanity
so baby lets just be clean
with a carefree island dream
a lost bottle and a plane
crashed in Jersey
maybe intentionally

nonambulatory english

there it was, between them, burning hot like a television in a house fire
so seemingly unrelated but still caught in the madness
it was tangible; they could peck at it
they could dabble in it
with no form or structure, they could not give it a name
giving it a skeleton would change it's frame
thusly putting them into the picture...
they would not be defined by their creation
so the bones lay fragmented on a bench and on a beach
so even still it has claimed a name
of which we simply do not speak

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

if we had stayed

Little sister ill-advised but still to follow me into mud
And if we had never found our way from that bog
Perhaps though long dead, still we would laugh
Alarming hikers as a phantom hare and hatter
Our ghosts having their tea parties in the cabbage

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Walking in a field

I was walking in the field in my backyard
with my friend Evan.
And if there's anything he knows it's
a shitload about birds.
And he explains only the interesting
things about the birds
Like the mourning dove and how
the sound it makes
is actually coming from its wings,
not its throat.
Or the Grackly whom can make
two different sounds
at the same time.
Who gets all excited before singing
puffing out its wings
and breast spazing uncontrollably.
We talked of Wallace Stevens
his 13 ways to describe
a blackbird
and than we finally decided
that every bird has a poem to it
especially the robin
who jumps around
making it sound
like rain
tricking worms
to the surface only to face
their fate being pulled
from the ground that
keeps them alive.


you complained that
your hair was starting
to get brown
within the blond

but the brown is what
turns yellow
to gold.


The weathers starting to get warm
and my bedroom window is open.
I can hear the cars going back and forth
outside more clearly
and in the mourning, the trucks
from the engine factory next door
wake me up.
The tree outside my window
is starting to get those little flowers
a breeze crosses my room
all day and night

And None of these things may matter to you
or too you or too you or too you
but I'm sure you have your own window
and can feel that same breeze
that i fell and can enjoy it
just as much as I do.

Sweet and shark nights

"I go in bed,
bed goes in room,
girls in room
our girl..."

I needed 70cents to get home
I can pay $2 for the parking garage
but that damn parkway will charge me
70cents to drive
70cents I don't have

"Wanna go shoot some rats"
"You like jazz music baby"

If i had any sense we would
have watched 'sweet and lowdown'
instead of 'jaws' the night before
my first favorite movie instead
of my very close second. My attention
would have been caught completly and
i wouldn't have tried so hard only to fail.

"I think we're gonna need a bigger bed"

Another Creepy Point for the Creepy List

I was sitting on a bench
outside a supermarket.
Nice day out.
A mom and two kids
walked into the pizza parlor
next door and the daughter
gave me such a smile
that its starting to make
this poem really creepy
to think that i would even
notice something like that.

What Did Monroe Really Think

You had one of those posters of Marilyn Monroe
on your wall, not the one over a grate the wind blowing
up her skirt, the ends of her dress distracting us
from the look of pleasure on her face.
But one where she's lying down on a silk bed,
a little skin showing, eyes half shut, a slight smile
creeping up her lips, a look of complete satisfaction
of things happened or things to come.

waiting for it all to come crumbling down

the rapid fire earth-shake-dance
the shape of plume of
dawn colored city exhale

and how it obscures the big colapse
(from a point almost flying)
brings it's own little nuclear winter
home, as the ocean reacts

those eyes are all scavangers
and now it's a clear shot
to the far off horizon

wonder where those ghosts
gonna haunt now

wanna see the future
but it makes no cents
or at least
I got no cents
for that flashing plastic
crystal ball and quarter fortune
on holy ground -
the technilogical marvel of
a transistor trick
with all the worlds
locked up, all yours,
visions and the goddamned
taste of time

you're beautiful
reflecting moonlight
smoldering like greek fire
bright like fusion
shimmering at all points
sipping sorrowful wine
you whisper about
evaporating pools
the color of the same moonlight
and you,
you're shining
that's how I see you
and your magic forms

Monday, May 01, 2006

leaving one hell of a winter in anticipation of another, singing with overheating engines in-between

I think we’re all
a little trouble
and this
blooming into may
flowers again

finding in
cool breeze
whether fallin
of or
in love

and living hard
learning to
waking the dead
and working towards
a life
live again

and thoughts
always moving
in-between heads
and beds
in again

where crazy rain
still with
ties to
winters pain
from screaming over
bar roar
and smoking
with the cold

just do
remember friend
that all
wet cement
so quick
you step
strong enough
to imprint
on the rest of
us one
outa dust
can last forever
and again

so newborn
learn to
live strong
walk on
walk on again

and bloom friends