Thursday, February 28, 2008

jordans thumb

jordan seemed all slack
as he hitched over the causeway bridge
and the sky washed grey and faded cold
his thumb also
seemed angelicly apathetic
to the problems
of this world
and his underdressed frame
and certainly his feet
cuz it stuck out limp
askin for a ride
with no noticable effort

i swung the car around
picked him up
and his feet
and his slackful thumb
he told me about an eclipse in seattle that he slept through
and dark haired womens couches in manhattan
and how its good to get out of the city
for a little while

Jordan talked about wanderin the spinnin earth
and how women love firemen in the cities of the east
and asked honest questions
about motivation and decision and value
all the while his thumb said nothing
angellically indifferent to the ride i was giving
or the words we were exchanging
or the weight of the day
with problems and fortunes

and now
sometimes i feel better
thinking of jordan making it through the world
and experiencing women and missing eclipses
sometimes i feel better
thinking of his thumb angellicaly unconcerned and coasting
all slack and unaffected in the elements

While they play cards.

i watch
while they play cards
and I feel a few inches taller
with an i-phone in by hand

Monday, February 18, 2008

you follow me around
until i am again familiarized
until i have that sensation
until i recognize.
i give in,
turn around.
you were never there.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Monday, February 11, 2008

someones mother

In my mind, there is an old woman
of English decent
She's prude
washes her hands too much
powders her nose
noontime tea
throws Botche
and yells at the dog
has a sophisticated cigarette
sipping a water and scotch in the evening
She is reserved and shy about falling in love
and exposing herself
She is patient and delicate
She is properly inquisitive
and simply delightful

In her soul
there is a firefly
and a butterfly
and a howling
and an awaking hibernation
and an intense nature stirring
and swimming against the current
and jaws behind cages
there is animal frustration
there is reckless abandonment
and wide eyes blinking
and nomadic starlight
there is a throbbing
there is sex
there is heat lightning
there is music

In her heart
there is bleeding and beating
and balancing between
She is yearning and giving
and wearing it on her sleeve
under lock annd key
and holding your hand
and eye contact
and struggling up stairs
and falling to pieces
and breaking and mending
and smiling at strangers
and forgiveness
and hope

for a man I have much respect

When I think of you
I don't think of the finest wine or Zagets top ten restaurants,
I don't think of the connections you seem to have everywhere,
I don't think of extravagance, or affluence, or wearing the right shoes to impress...

I think of how you look so true back lit by street lamps, everything shines in the damp light. You, clutching a contraband bottle of sparkling water to your chest searching for any open bar on Fillmore to make a last stand, finishing strong then escaping home to turn the music way up and dance with me in your arms...

When I think of you I think in lyrics.

I may not know what it is, but i know what it isn't

it isn't this

and i'm over it

When was the last time
you really let it all out
and said exactly what was on your mind?

When was the last time
you slept next to a friend
without the whole town assuming you fucked them?

When was the last time
you held someones hand
and truly meant it?

When was the last time
you were part of a conversation
that was genuinely engaging?

When was the last time
you got back the same if not more
than you put in?

When was the last time
you fell in love
without reservations?

When was the last time
you looked around
and everything and everyone was beautiful?

When was the last time
you listened to yourself
and actually took your own advice?

When was the last time
you danced alone to the music
in a room full of people?

When was the last time
you did
exactly what you wanted to?

forecast west

I've been back and forth
spent many alone hours
at the mercy of airport music
sleeping sitting up, shades on
getting high off my own adrenaline
and the romance of traveling

After twenty four hours
of transfers and turbulence
jingling the dimes in my pockets
charging my phone in terminal sockets
I'm standing around baggage claim
while they attempt to locate
my lost luggage again

Now, in some rundown neighborhood
in some horror flick of an apartment
where the rent is so low
the walls might as well be
those of a casket
I'm dead waiting

For a few fools mingling about
a mall parking lot
who obviously have
communication problems
they keep ringing
demanding directions from me
to where I am
when some among them
have more of a clue
then I ever will

So now crammed in the back of a Mustang
with three kids who love ICP
and have no idea how to navigate
all on our way to take part in
some backwards backwoods affair
revolving around a rodent
that would rather be sleeping

I flew in for this
I keep telling myself
I flew in for all of you
to see you more time
before I don't fly back again

It's against the rules
to have expectations
you see, I've been awake now
for more than forty eight hours
from the clouds to touchdown
from storm front to coach light
making up for lost time
drinking wine like a fish
thinking of Bacchus
dancing and dosed
realizing this trip is my own

And I guess it could be the weather
or the hum you all create
the one that dreams of crescendo
the one that lusts in the direction of wander
that makes me smile wider
because I know where I belong
I know where I really am


can't deny the obvious child
dancing barefoot in the living room
holding every hand from coast to coast
loving everyone with all of herself

well she may be just a sunspot
accelerating particles to higher energies
interfering in the plasma of our souls
causing magnetic sub-storms to explode

she can't deny the obvious
although many a time she's tried
you see the thing is simple love
she feels you all all day and night

she can hear every whisper
the ones you whisper to yourselves
she's hears you screaming
begging, she feels your misery child
she knows you lie to yourselves

and theres no cure for the obvious child
just hit repeat and play again
theres nothing more to know nothing left to discover
put yourself out into it
over and over and over

don't deny the obvious child
you know where you want to be
can't keep trying to deny the obvious child
only hope for eyes that see
and songs that sing along my friend
and friends that do the same
feet that dance you through the night,
and out way past 6am

only hope for souls that want to know you
only hope for arms that want to hold you
hold you up and hug you back
arms that aren't afraid of the obvious child
for we are only children anyway
afraid of each other
afraid of the obvious
denying each other
denying the obvious

just hit repeat play again
sit and listen it's obvious child
dance if it takes you there
we are all just obvious children
obvious children anyway

Sunday, February 10, 2008


I lit a garbage cigarette
with a right angle match
and the evening was just begining

you should be able to think better
under that heated blanket

Thursday, February 07, 2008

the old thirst

It’s not fair that I would have such an itch
To swim in February
And I need the water
Like I needed the drink
A warm ache

And when I close my eyes
I see summer
A sun dappled low tide
And my legs
As I’ve seen them a thousand times before
In the drink
I need the drink

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

beyond the black hole

wondering in this familiar bar
how can this be enough for them all
do they ever dream of something more
than what they've grown to know

or am i just some crazy chick
blown off into the wind
to travel miles of literature
against the spineless sinister

are we lost in angels territory
are you touched do you have ears
do you hear the restless sound awakening
children can you feel the whoosh of wings breathing

on weathered toes i perch above the crowd
i'm no more human than the rest
only more vividly driven
driven day by day back to the west

so i can aim to sew these pockets deep
accommodate a few of you at least
show you all the living dream i've been lost in
keep you vivid, keep you wondering

contemplating the progression of purple water through photos of a dog

Okay Jack! I'm missing you
and your forever loyal Gretchen
I miss the birds on your front lawn
pecking at the ground
I miss painting
water dripping
throughout your house
cigarettes and wine
thoughts exchanged
on your side porch
And when you'd come home from work Jack
pull in the driveway
lock up the gate
When you'd walk through the door
loyal Gretchen shakes her tail for you Jack
while awkwardly I fall in love
and I know there's no explaination needed
for it's not a love of lust
it's more like knowing in those moments
that remembering them will feel just
as intense and comfortable
as our time spent was, your influence
purple water on the brush

Okay Jack
I'm missing you
and your iron-on
Cheshire grin
I miss your honesty
your philosophies
your poetry
your art
I miss talking about everything
listening, taking all of it in
I miss our humble hillside friendship
I miss you Jack
I miss Gretchen

learning love

He kisses her goodbye
She lies topless in his bed
He rushes out the door
It rains outside again
She sleeps a little more
puts on a shirt, smokes a cigarette

She wants to wait for his return
She wants to fly so far away
so he has no chance to break her heart
She's manic in that way
She finds it hard to be
a butterfly these days

All she knows
are gypsies shoes
how to tumble with the wind
and moving when the music moves you
to look beyond the skin

She knows about the weather
especially the rain
She feels you standing next to her
both happiness and pain

So gypsy babe
grabs up her boots
ties them patiently
throws her bag over her left shoulder
and walks out the door into the day

Because after all
is said and done
She knows her heart
She knows her head
and that there are no mistakes made
only friends to teach and learn with

today I tied a red piece of flowery fabric around my neck
it made me, at one point, feel like a kitten
...I wanted to play with everything

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

The Andromeda Strain

get these old fingers
rotting their cold colors off into my room
get them out of my eyes
this observation leaves a colloidial guilt in my mouth
weighed heavy with the silver payment i recieved on my tounge
for delivering my saviour to his golgotha

oh dont bother to hang me now
me and my judas hands are payin visit
to pretty pontius' house
and my eyes, they are filling with water
and we're all going to wash with this waste

plastic shutters
plastic bus is
plastic plastics
and plastic fusses
give me the lakes of glass
so i can dance with the crass
oh andromeda
give me crystal blood
and ill turn in anyone you call heretic

brass skin-drops

i fear i'm drifting apart from my part
don't let me get too far from my hands
oh can you cast in your hands
i'm getting too close to the place
i was murdered
i shouldnt speak it
this spectre with this secret
a stolen whisper
i found it on the tounge of girl that i want dead
its all i can think of some days
she's taking my skin in sections
how much is enough
to cover it up
her secret
its in her war
iits in her lips
its in her dissolution

Ghost scabs

what is on the table was in my hands before
what is in my hands has been in my eyes for quite some time
what my eyes behold is on the table stricken from my hand
senses decieve and im giving in, i secede
i look down to a wondering warm belly
to the shock of a has-been shot
my wounds burn with scabs forming like cement
i shudder thinking of the spill
who gave away my position?
the train car remains attached but the door is locked
no one will be leaving us and we've all got serious injuries
i see pale skin everywhere
we're all becoming ghosts
or hosts


im courting with a hooker
aint that a shame?
shes givinn me the things i need to get past makin the cut
i got the number that i need to get it through
i got the number i need to get down from here

ive been payin my way in small stolen change
im a desperate man
ive got a desperate plan
warning you
you got to give me that liquid in your veins
i know its laced with hallucinations
its got all your nightmares written down
and categorized according to what level
itll leave you in hell

when i feel im getting free
ill be on the floor
writhing on my stomach
like a forming moon
when i feel im turning
ill be in your arms
with no where to hide
just leave me in the sun
i'll flush my skin down the rocks
and you'll see what i mean
when i say i fear i've caught the stalks

i dont need these legs
they're made for runnin
im not a coward anymore
as long as i keep cutting
the stalks from growing into the face of the moon
we will have harvest


hearts at rest
feet facing west
dont cramp up with fear
i need to confess
a gas applause spread the plague
gyrating seeding the wheat spin scythe
we're in the way with our eyes
if i had it my way
we'd be offering sacrifice

dont look at my rings
their origin of alchemy is larceny
they're tied to me by inevitability
yours look just the same to me
your tied to the wing

we're all going down it's the same, same to me
i've been given poison
i'm a desperate man
under a magnifying hourglasseye

i can hear
all of you


it's not easy

paul wrote songs in his sleep

been walking a lot
just working it out
familiarizing myself
with myself

been peelin back layers
with some rough sandpaper
shreddin innocence
like a snake skin

been staring at the ceiling
memorizing each detail and thinking
about hands held sincerely
and heroin in the veins of january

been flickin the whip at my boot heels
been sleepin on a bed of nails
been holding back from something
been running running running

and "why deny the obvious child"

i say "I know what I know....We come and we go..."

the day after the day after

here i am
sitting on the bar
legs dangling off
sippin mimosas
the saintly bartender stirred up
with the champagne we brought

everything is green
your hand is on my stomach
and if it hadn't been suggested
that I sit and breathe a minute
I'd be all over you

this wasn't what i expected
not any bit of it
but i guess i could take refuge
in my own words
expect nothing
you'll be more surprised
and less disappointed

I met Sara Garmin at the Philadelphi Library

Her hair was blacker in the dream
but she had the same bangs
and was all innocense
and had the same storys
about travel.

I think she really did know
that when you go on route
nine north, you'll always
get to a diner. She did
know where the perfect
corner was to get coffee
and a cheesesteak
on either side of the street.

I still don't believe her
when she says to stay
on the turnpike
and follow it home.

Monday, February 04, 2008

Lust lookin' for Romance

I went searching for a song
on my FM radio last night
over highways and over hills
searching for that perfect note

I went searching for a song
Coulda been jazz...
just searching for that beat
to come drifting up off the road

I went searching for a song
I went looking for a dance
I went searching on the road
just Lust looking for Romance

I realize now
that I was just
to keep you from dieing
and feeling alone

you just wanted to feel
of breathing
all that precious air

so I became
you didn't need me
not anymore

once you found
a few friends.

A Ghost in a Ghost Town

I thought about it again
that rush of red
pouring over my hands
and I tried
to put pressure on the wound
on that
self inflicted gashed throat

and I fantasized
about not waking up
not waking ever again
and I sighed
in relief
at the dark

but I opened my eyes
and I was still here
even though you
you were still gone

and my stomach still boiled
and my hands still shook
and I gave up right there

I gave up on suicide
on love. on you.

I'm not gonna tell you
that I've given up on love
but I wish you knew

And I'm not gonna tell you
'bout all those little pieces
that've sunken to my gut,
made my stomach bitter

I'm not gonna tell you
'bout how I can't eat
and have no use for sleep

I'm not gonna tell you
that I miss you
But I wish you knew

I wish you knew...

I wanted to feel loved
not tolerated

I wanted you to miss me

I wanted to be invited
even if I turned it down

I just wanted to know
that you wished I was there

you win
I'm broken
I'll let go
You run away

Go find it
Whatever you're looking for
And I'll continue my search
For what I thought I had found

Sunday, February 03, 2008

hey wicker sunrise and snowshine

all these years i've been sittin here
wondering why
you never talk to me

then i realized
stumbling around
in early hours frigid
and frozen, raw
and rodents
and myths
singing weather predictions
for the next six weeks
and coming down easy

that really

i've nothing to say to you anyway