Williams' Mechanical Bulls

I can see our friend
William S.
hunched over the pedestal
talkin' bout
gravity
and love
and always
mechanical bulls

and Brownstone
finding the longest
darkest roads
wishing us luck
in our journeys
throwing his head back
laughing mad
at the night

I can see
Grayson
stumbling down
narrow pub hallways
and back alleys
to take a piss
always showin' us
and tellin' it
like it is

Ed's at the diner
and Fisher's on the road
convulsing in
nameless hotel rooms
somewhere in the west

and the countless faces
and names
that it takes
to start a movement
or a cult
can be found in
all night diners
and stranger bars with
all of Williams'
mechanical bulls

I welcome the hand fans
and thin blankets
I see on the horizon.

I gather the treats
Clean cups for lemonade
And chill watermelons

And long desperately
For the company
To share these indulgences

When I looked up springs skirt
I noticed she was wearing summers panties
But I only personify out of need

Because time feels unknowable
And if that makes no sense
Let me make less

Time ends too soon
And leaves nothing behind

Like a dream had
During a warm afternoon nap

It is the perfect crime

Happy National Library Week, Kids!

I am crouching over the flute
its body lying in my hands
fingers paralyzed, not touching the keys

I am unmotivated
falling short
one note short of the chord
one string short of an instrument
one musician short of a band

Music needs to flow through
the veins of my body
flow straight to the beat of
my heart
so my heart could squeeze
up against the front of my ribcage
pushing me
telling me to play my song

I have to move
move toward that source
move toward that sound
move toward that rythmn
that allow my fingers
to feel the keys
give me motivation
play my song

I'm spinning
moving
falling faster than my hands
alive
the ground begs for me
I'm solid
with thick spit
and my heart heaves
slamming on the front of me
alive
shaking
sight blurred
bleeding
but just enough to love it
alive

She

She chooses wolves
Lines them up like glass
She lets them choose her and chew at her lack
They abuse form and reason, all reckless and rash
She chooses illusion and polishes glass

walls are mans way of saying hey stop lookking at my insides

i got a mixed message from a woman who eats emotional salads with balsamic vinegrete.
oh the colors she vomits when she's speaking to me about the death of passion and the purpose of peace.
just a letter i wrote that said go if you must but you've got my number if your hungry or lost

i was an abstract painting of
Johnson Park

you
wanted a photograph

5:47am

i drive down the highway
contemplating
trying to reach a destination
come to a conclusion

the fog gets denser
down the road
and it's really hard to see
the sunrise
through all those clouds

Split

Today I twist myself until I snap
Split open
My insides raw and loathsome, old dough
I twist, snap, and call it dance

In a city full of beards and shields
I stand
In cellophane dress
Cold

Everything around here yellows and tears
A cancerous pool
Sick fruit and abandon
These fools upon fools

all the ways

from a sunny balcony with a picturesque panoramic view in Russian Hill

from a staple stoop where birds sing their hearts out all day long in Alamo Square

from a fire escape where NYC eludes to be just blocks away in Lower Pac Heights

from the back alley entrance way perfumed with sweet olfactory essences in Lower Haight

from a comfortable greasy spoon cafe that caters to all senses, destroying hangovers, and feeding the soul for under 10 dollars on Divisidaro

from the 12 galaxies of a dark windowless bar that hosts local bands where on any given night you can find a friend and the drinks are always stiff in the Mission

from an occasionally shady bus stop in the jazz district where the trees that line the street are lit up perpetually on holiday, where footsteps sound like saxophones and the history is as thick as the locals are black on Fillmore

from the window across from an ethnic mural on a secret street cornered by the Beat Museum and the first strip club in the area to go topless so many years past, where the ghosts of Kerouac and Cassidy laugh in the seediness of night over slices of pizza in North Beach

from the front room with double doors and lavender bedding in a house, on the outside, identical to every other one on the block, where the fog lingers longer and the breeze is salty in the Richmond

from my seat on the grass behind me a DJ plays while an eclectic group of beings flared out drunk and smiling playing slosh ball (kickball+beer) watching the frothy spray shine in the sunlight as they slip and slide from base to base in Golden Gate Park

from the entrance of the BART amongst the hustle and bustle, towering buildings, abundant beggars, street vendors, mass transit, business suits, and brand name outlets of Downtown

I love this city

A Warm Kind of Gray

I feel like something I think
A person who trims orchids might feel like trimming orchids
Where the furniture is a warm gray
And everything is clean

And not
Not right now

Like the way a person who wears bruises well would feel like when receiving them
Where the sky is getting lighter
And the gray is cold

on the sand

Wet salty cool air
Has a way
Of making me assume
All my delusions
Have some founding
Down here in the clouds

I water the fern
And the geckos
And the kitteh
And stumble around
The internet
Getting closer and closer
To the future

Once and for all

I’m throwing out this handset
Once and for all
To a cordless phone
We never owned anyway
Because so many things
And people
Just hang around this place
Collecting dust
And bottles in our only corners

My Angels

when i am low
bottom of the trough
dirt in my lungs
rotting
like neglected fruit

when i am so low
only earthworms and anglers
greet me in the morning
that never really comes anyway
for i sleep through it
because the cold and the pain
rarely permeate my profuse dreaming
so low a smiles a burden

when i am that low
angels come to me
without warning
and wake me
lighting my heart
and lifting me up

they never say or do much
or present themselves as such
they leave as abruptly as they appear
they are discreet
and i have yet to encounter one
wearing white

but they sure do fucking shine!
and it's aways undeniable
that i've been touched,
looked after,
by the renewed hope in my heart
and the tears
washing the dirt from my face

my angels
are cab drivers
of all ethnicities
overflowing with wisdom
and drifters crippled
bearing honesty and kindness
in it's PUREST
my angels are quick and beautiful
and when i am low
they change my life
every time

that peacoat in your closet
always
catches my eye
the one you always wore when i was a child
its 50's style
the way it weighed you down
because it was a size too big
you wore that ugly coat
without confidence or style
its musty smell
combined with old cheap perfume
still embedded in its fibers

the coat always reminds me
of that night dad picked you up from nyc
i was lying across the white seat
in the back of that rusty toyota
"aqualung" blasted in the background
while you and dad sat
silently and cold
your eyes heavy
from the tears
the lies
the guilt
finally revealed
the decision to separate
my eyes wide and intrigued by the city lights
not knowing what was really going on

the peacoat remained in your closet
since that night
you had bought a new coat
one with style
one that fit
one you wore with confidence
and your eyes were radiant
eyes i inherited

22 years later
i wear musty old clothes from thrift stores
longing to be in the city

Act One
scene one:

woke up
thought well fuck,
the night had killed me
I died dreaming
the light and sheets and ceiling
white like heaven would be
and soundless
like purgatory
I roll around a bit
it's comfy
clouds or pillows
engulf me
then I feel you
warm beside me
the fog lifts
with my eyelids


Act One
scene two:

make strong tea
of the Chinese variety
love please
I'll smoke cigarettes
on your porch
while the dark haired woman
on the rooftop
of the building
across the street
tells (yells to) me about
her illness
and her kitten
and it's stitches
you invite her over
she just wants a soda
root beer or ginger ale?
we turn our heads
she disappears

when you stop to think
you should hurry up and start again
make every decision based on the breakfast you ate in 1972
all th elimo drivers in all the world and you had to walk into mine
sunsets are pretty and homelessness abundant
but i'm tired of fake smiles and white zinfindel
give me the rude crude bastard child of rock and roll and crooket teeth with fist marked faces
where cigs are 7 dollars and gas is as expensive as milk
where the lights illuminate something worth looking at and where you can get in a fight at a bar with a stranger cause he spilled your beer on your cleanest pair of dirty pants

listenin to soft guitar driven
art rock
in parking lot desert
reading poems from america
one state at a time
in a suit jacket
before goin into
a bullshit job

thinkin about mans three choices
(staying with the pain
running to some eastern metaphor
riding the mechanical bull)

i feel the muscles in my jaw tighten
with stress and desire

i see
the new punk
standing tough
outside the cinemas
of america
on friday nights
in expensive and pristinely worn
skin tight denim

and i play a movie over in my head
where
the dead milkmen
walk up

and kick the ever livin shit outta

the whole lot of em

bloody fuckin wenkers

strange
the way dancing
freezes the world as a picture
resting on the mantle
and leaves
you with the girl
swimming
through the baseline

she was tension
pulled tight
like force contained
and the snap
when it comes
will echo
angelic voices
and
steel twisting

metallic dreams
breathe
on me in my sleep
the light they catch and reflect
perfectly sharp
and clean

of convertibles and messiahs
and friday nights
late for curfew
and redemption

of swarths of light
smeared by mass and acceleration
and the uncatchable
wind, all holy

of murdered youth and innocence
by the clean sharp edges
of pleasure

of faith
lost AND found
of rebirths just as painful as the first

these kids playing banjo music
dancing in doorways
right in front
where they throw cold coffee
and snuff out cigarettes

no slow heartbreak waltz
the street is a-glow
and trinkets roll down through
the drainage grates
i'm stumbling blind past taxis
and they don't even reflect
in the headlights

so the air gets kicked up
at their feet, and i'm
walking off a bottle of wine
whistling along, echoes
shaking into the future

DB Cooper
jumpin outta his plane
in the darkness
in the black beneath
in 1971
in the wind
closing his eyes
and clutching his chest

bandits may rob me
but I snatch their eyes

and keep the dust
outta my face,
peek out over
my eyes stinging

DB Cooper
in and above
the skyward forests
or Oregon
says "get away with it"
in the darkness
in the wind

speech leech

I have 4ooo feelings
welling inside me
expressionless
and coughing
just don't see how writing
could do justice
these emotions

words are quick
and easy
we throw them around
recklessly
in attempt to communicate
we complicate

but what of a smile?
simply
solitary
where no arrangement of consonants
and vowels
parts it's lips
obscuring it's honesty
and innocence

I've lost them
those linguistic little instruments
lost the will to manipulate
my spirit
into grammatical framework
to justify my smiles
with reasons why they exist

may have been obvious
in the growing silence
I've been feeling anyway
that it's not how or what we say
it's what is never said
that leaves the deepest impression

samsara

as all this samsara
is beautiful and holy
all our footholds
will be worn down by time,
leaving the world and us
sheer and shimmering, beautiful and holy

sing me a song, beautiful and holy
ooh-ooh, la-la la-la
don't you see i gone too fa
just gonna stay at home with my ma
cain't see for the light coming off that sta
sheer and shimmering, beautiful and holy

as all that is in the universe
and all that isn't in the universe,
time lapping like waves
leaving us battered,
sheer and shimmering,
beautiful and holy

too many days without a decent burrito
and i'm telling you darling i miss your smell.
i keep a lock of hair to remind me
of that time i almost dove out into traffic
in an effort to escape that song.
i'm trimming nails with my teeth and buying two dollar burgers on the beach
waiting for low tide.
just a man with a dream of nudity wealth and love.
brown toned skin from the all week sun and even on its bad days i find it so apealing.

living a rich lifestyle on a shoestring budget trying to remember that i'm only acting like i know what i'm doing.

Child Prophets

ive got my hand in the plate
will you deliver it unto the king?
my tongue is sharp, cutting through the collection
with shattered excerpts of prophecy
we babes are speaking do not turn away
we share a leaking
its dripping into a pool on a tile floor
where you'll all seed deceit
and it will flourish
like an infection

the orgasm of this wicked sowing
will chill you to your home
and the mountains refuse to give you comfort
and the oceans wont swallow you,
no, this station will not serve you
its not crippled its cocked for self destruct
its indifferent to the human plot
look out

shaking hands wet with the washing of hands
kept with the shivers of man in a place where light is in a great demand
ma'am i can't feel your fingers in my grip
the branches are slipping away slipping away
don't let the blockade of complacency stop you on your way
it's made up of wires soldered tight to the board
feeding their greedy little beadies greedy little fingers
great greedy arms of a great greedy bastard
beast is unarmed but LIVES like a weapon
beast is unarmed but lives like a weapon
throw us overboard
we're going to have to be the tribe of exception

Unmeasured Tides

for now its walking in the temple,
the cannonball through the mosque
paradise lost

christened with the toll
cremated at dusk
fire and rust
were his only parting gifts

but you can shake a hand
and feign to comprehend
we're full of failing dams
wither us, we rust
envision us as dust
its welling up inside me now

apply pressure release the puss
boils inside my throat
vomiting water
let the dogs come home and lap it up

i'm shivering shaking
we're a bomb without a casing
exploding little eyes to find the
carcass where she hides in this mosque
i'm quivering quaking
we're a litmus tounge into the acid changing
and when i think i'[ve got your hands
you'll be thinking about how long the fall is taking
we've reached the nexus
but it's just the vestibule
we've abandoned our dear friends
we've reached the next place
the unquestionable
its in our written end

turn off here,
the engine
may be on fire,
or there

may be an
electrical storm,
the sky ripped thru
with jagged fire

or maybe just a
beat up old field,
and we can build
a lean-to out of old
poems, radio
waves and opiates

I mean, the clock's
busted, so maybe we've
been on this road all day.
my eyes are starting
to reflect the pavement
in that way they do
before momentum
simply takes over

"Always remember, your focus determines your reality."

don't get carried away with the labeling people
...seriously

Only My Name as a Title

I put my number in the pocket
of your coat with only
my name as a title.

And tonight was the first night
in a while that I listened to the Keith Jarrett Trio.

Sometimes it's what's not in a poem
that makes it sound so sweet.




*Winner of The NJ Poetry Society Contest*

Spiders

She said "I love spiders" more than she said
"I love you"
But that was okay because
She was my first love and
That was enough

And when I helped her
Bring the Christmas Tree home
From the woods,
She brought the spiders
In with her

Scolding her
Parents for trying to
Keep them out
As they moved from the tree
Onto the railing, the walls, the ceiling

I suppose they’re safer than I am,
Shielding you with their webbing,
Appreciating your
Beauty with a thousand lusting eyes,
Suffocating you from the rest of the world

And from me
With Eight
Million
Caresses.

A Poem About You

You asked me to write a poem about you
But I couldn’t because we were talking about
Me writing a poem about you.

Ten years and two phone numbers later,
The page is empty and the pen is still
As I sit here thinking about you,
Wondering if you’re still waiting for
Me to write a poem about you.

So Much Depends Upon

I
Brush my teeth with cement toothpaste
On a bristle-less toothbrush

I scrape, spit the blood out
Look at myself in disgust
In the mirror spackling with spit
So old it reminds me of
How much inactivity I’m capable of

From the corner office we
See an accident on 18th and Cross St
Where an old man in a grey sweat jacket
Is professionally re-directing traffic
We can’t hear emergency vehicles for miles

As the traffic depends
upon

A grey old
man

Glazed with rain
water

Besides the white
wreckage

I'll Give You My Sun If You Give Me Your Rain

I'll give you my sun if you give me your rain
Drops of tears and smiles could only be so sweet
The black clouds amidst the white day.

Give me your days existing in vane
When life is blacker than it seems
I'll give you my sun if you give me your rain

And accompanied with foolish grin
I’ll lend Maddening laughs far more upbeat
To the black clouds amidst the white day.

My glass is half full, yours half drained
Earthly realities clashing with skyward dreams
I'll give you my sun if you give me your rain.

The typical yin to my typical yang
Only the Gods would kindly beseech
These black clouds amidst my white day.

You're the fishhook to my open eye
A queer union of love and peace
But I'll give you my sun if you give me your rain
The black clouds amidst the white day.

"Before I die I want to swim with sharks"

Of course she meant

Inside one of those diver cages where

Sharks can only glare sideways,

Like a Weight Watcher's consumer

Glaring into a bakery,

With black hollow eyes that

Need their promises to be

Broken

For one single meal.

Can't break your diet though,

Doctor's orders, your

Hearts are in bad enough

Condition, you stop moving and

That's the end. No,

No red meat needed with that

Hanging over your dorsal fins.

Yet they continue to stare,

Hoping to resurrect some

Ancestral Megalodonian strength to

Manhandle the thick bars of the

Cage to get to the soft

Chewy Center.

You can see evolution in its most

Sincerest form as you witness the

Same frenzy a little kid has

Ripping a cereal box

Apart to get to the prize inside.

Before I die, I want to swim with sharks.

Ripe

she's crying on your shoulder
begging the ceiling to make it stop
and you're the one who has to answer
you have to stop the world
from the everyday things she does
days keep coming
deadlines get closer
problems get bigger
this
woman
is no special case
but for now she's all
the room and the town
and even the air
and why is she with him or her
or him or them
or me or him
or him or him or him...
nobody's free once she's graced them
with an empty brooding smile
and me here with her head
on my shoulder,
I'm the newest toy

My New Year Revolution (resolution)

if your life isn't a movie



make it feel like one

Neilson likes to pick locks
but he doesn't like getting in
behind doors
he likes tumblers
and moving them
and he can draw them
from memory

mechanical, like
clockwork
Copernican universe
movements,
planets in orbit,
epicycles in fine detail

Neilson and the universe,
all musicboxes moving
tumblers and gears,
all heretics,
all for the sights of beauty
in
pure movement

weak seams

an observation of your mind unraveling
contemplating taking over the morning
what is this disco
galactic limo
booze and bumps
dip and thoughts of breakfast
before the sun rises

picking up lucky pennies by the dozen
we're a rock show
from the east coast
and sometimes
finding ourselves caught in a net
of disillusionment
out of the corner of my eye
I see the machine of your mind
spin and snap, threatening

there I catch myself wondering
why do we humans
continue to exceed sin
to replace lost innocence?

who in their adult life
full of deadlines, dating, and procreating
finds the time
of their own free will
to roll around in the grass
and laugh?

when did the simple things stop cutting it
and when did misery become so attractive?

you break
I watch it happen

flying from the sun
sequestered in the great belly of an east bound bird
are one hundred hungry mouths
on one hundred hungry heads
discussing their hungry lives
feeding their hungry minds
in between time heading into darkness
all facing away from the sun in earnest

cigarettes on the west
burn faster
due to the airs
lack of moisture

that couch felt better on my back
but i'd take sharing cross-words
and the softness of your skin
on a lumpy pull out mattress
over a good nights' sleep
anytime

when I think about those
veins of roads out there
and all that metal
screaming like blood
down and through 'em
with all those lost wanderin kids
hollerin' at the night
just waiting
for the night to holler back

when I think about all those
anywheres in USA
all those street lights comin' on
and all those teenagers turnin' on
behind mini malls
and gas stations
sneakin' cigarettes
and sippin' whiskey

when I think about all those
highways in darkness
or in afternoons
rain blurred tail lights
and foggy mountain roads

when I think about all those
stretches of suburbia
and long
farm scattered
country lanes

when I think about all those
veins of roads out there
with those wanderin' wonderin' kids
takin' metal and screamin'
down and through 'em in the night

I just can't wait to get out there

when I think about you, baby

synapses fire off in my brain

chemicals combine and react

but I just wanna know, darlin'

when ya think about me

do your synapses fire back?

Your House

your mother never looking
up from her book
your aunt laughing
lighting cigarettes
repeating our words
with a chuckle
your sister and I
avoiding eachother
exchanging only a few
awkward glances
your father
cursing us all
with his head
deep inside the refrigerator
all those stories
and couches
squeezed into just
one little room
and you
doing your best to smile
and always having fun
but that's all
I really know
'bout your house

My Dead Friend

I see you in dreams sometimes
riding in the backseat of a car
like we're going on some trip
maybe to the beach
or a cabin we rented with our friends
and you crawl on into the front seat
slide into my arms
and I kiss your head
'cause I know you're not really there
and as the first tears
make rivers of my cheeks
you slip into the backseat
'cause you know
that nothing is allright

At The Bottom of Pandora's Box

somewhere
planes are touching down
bringing bodies home
somewhere
children are crying
somewhere
a man stands outside
squeezing on his hands
and trying to find words
somewhere
a woman is crying
and somewhere
lies a mother dead
somewhere
there may be angels singin'
and devils laughin'
or nothing at all
somewhere
something is born
somewhere
people are praying
somewhere
a small child
is sleeping on his father's chest
somewhere
a man just threw his dinner
across the floor
somewhere
there is happiness
everywhere
there is hope

The Night with Sex and Cigarettes

formaldehyde
I promise I'll preserve you
long after all that I love
is gone
swim in me
air born Christmas
raped in the night
by swear word benediction
velvet whisper
under your skirt
'unclench your thighs'
that street light that blinds us
even through the window
the ash in the red sea sheets
the hollow slam
of head board to drywall
and that stinging wail
of your last bath in me
formaldehyde

Thump

there's vomit in here somewhere
I can smell it
which of these staggering
overzealous
warlocks
is our culprit
I get it, hallway
'beat the pussy up
beat the pussy up'
I get it
so quit it
with the floor shaking bass
already
Cuervo's had enough
and I think he wants out
so ease up
before some other
self righteous monster
comes looking for me

even a hobo
will stop
to notice
the beauty
of a motor oil rainbow

jesus
or Jesus
or hey suess
josh
or Joshua
or FINK

Where does the sky go
when I can't see it
Where do your smiles go
when my money isn't mine
I found a sweet little dungeon
It held in all my screams
Nothing fucks you up
like a perfect moment
Nothing makes you feel unwanted
like true love

come on

Hey baby
Whats’ say
You and I
Go disprove electromagnetism
By showin’
That two people
CAN
Really
Really
Touch

a broken bottle of wine and snow scattered inside a monte carlo

snowstorms
will always ignite the child within
no matter how old
the thrill of dodging snowballs
and swinging on snow covered swings
in full force
the warm glances of those close
the red wine running through veins
and sadly, how quickly the moment ends
like childhood
and the snow
which melted the next day
and all that is left
are the wet clothes
the sting of cold hands and feet
and the remnants of red wine stained on lips

count em'

These words
Dime a dozen
Good
Cause that’s all I got left

tacky charmer

He heaved
Into the room
With buckets full of cheesy charisma
And mopped the floor with all of us

His weedy smile
Somehow charming
That seedy style
Somehow beguiling

And then when he left

Though his saunter was ungainly

His feet
Never touched
The floor

dispatches

i listen for you tapping
i listen for the rhythm
and i shuffle my feet
i listen for your fingers
against the floor
light thumps
or barely brushing
and the rhythm

I'm just swayin here
from a branch
growin offa tree
or
if gravity works
the other way
it might be hangin
offa me

fact

life is an existential crises

hosana

saint peter
had told me
but she
moved
all rosary
heavenly holy
through the air
filled with
shafts of stale light
and the vibratin
dusts
so infinite

the world is an old church

of poets and mechanics

these women with their academic tone
and publishing credentials
and every syllable purposefully humbled
dress all deliberate and proper
tell that same story about
their oldest son and one bad decision
talk about their second trip to Greece
and the lovely hotel with the view
that their dead husband hated

but never fought a war
and made it feel like heaven
all dusty and silent and well lit
never slept on a floor all creaking
with the heavy breaths of inaudible poetry

my mechanic has tattoos that smear and bleed into one another all indistinguishable/owns four shirts all oil stained and torn like truths/named his daughter dharma/tells detailed stories of freight trains and hobo rolls that may not have existed but feel like concrete

as he perches on the hood of the '72 duster because he always seems ready to move

advice in stereo

The advice is to stare
5 feet in front of you
the street on one side
and a sidewalk on the other.
Stare 5 feet in front of you
and don't look down
at right where you are.
The sharks on either side
are dangerous but when you
fall off it doesn't take much
to get back on. This game
goes a lot further than the curb.

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
sometimes

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
and
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

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.

I'm posting this from my Iphone... And it...is....amazin

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

why?

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

antronix

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

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

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

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

Harvest

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
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

hourglasseye

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

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
uncontrollably,
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.

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
something
to keep you from dieing
and feeling alone

you just wanted to feel
worthy
of breathing
all that precious air

so I became
obsolete
you didn't need me
not anymore

once you found
a few friends.

A Ghost in a Ghost Town

I thought about it again
tonight
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

O.K.
fine
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

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