the elephants
of a new era- still
all going home to die
with trunks curled aroun tails

ya see
angels two-steppin on pin heads
never ponder the weight of flesh
and what i wouldn't do
for a sunrise halo
and a flaming sword

years ago

there was a rabid bearded drunk
on a couch passing out pamphlets
and a silent girl hand feeding me fruit

eyes like sink drains
memories, whole seas

but now
afternoon lighting of this place
craving curtains
that aint there

the way shadows crawl inside
eyelids and fingernails
and the sound of the wind

the codein rockabilly and the barroom

sweated out this hawian shirt hangover
sunstruck again in montana
with a madness

another asphalt daydream
poppin the stitches
cranked out rhinocerus by the dozen all afternoon

and then with the frenzied hip movement
and his charicature smile
like bank robber and the drum beat duldrum

damn the electric cello godhead
again with the chocolate ripple tingles
out on a johny rotten tatoo bender

its a toes up undoing
gone with sunburn catastrophe raccoons
undertaking the halo untangling

long road

asphalt bleets starving in the night
would be archangel at the roadside
tolls for the soul in exact change only
out here
all the truckers have halos
all their diesel beasts have horns
only holy tumbleweed have aquired
what these spirits chase
rain drops across windshields and hat brims
the penance of icy fingertips
a cigarette's purgatory
as it freezes in the air
and the rear view window
Budha behind the aviators and jump suit
of every gas jockie

remorse

there will be no forgiveness for myself or the remainder of the Big Five for our transgressions. the gods of this finely ordered universe will have no pity on us. it is one thing for individuals to bask in absurdity on their own, however, it is unforgivable to bring the unwitting with. even satanism and paganism speak to an established system within the confines of a logical cosmos, but we, the Big Five, year after year, have drug countless lost souls into the darkness of Pensylvania's belly to psychologically and spiritually tortured at the hands of all of the demons of madness, and then we've deserted them just after they've been broken by these animistic forces. for you, the most you have to fear is six more weeks of winter, but for myself and the rest of the Big Five, that is only where our troubles begin.

Mondays are great
Full of ideas
and doing nothing

Hoboken

Kicking over open bottles
ready for throat-torn melody
closing doors and listening

Sing for those who drink
their own dreamed prayers
seams fraying, threads untangling

Sing for sawdust on wooden floors
turning red under carelessly
dropped from lips cigarette

Sing for those in full body lust
looking for true moments
tasting frozen seconds like water

If nothing else, sing for me
because my head is spinning
and I"m dying to dance

plate-tectonics

the silhouette of a hill
a river hugging his waist
snow on his shoulders
falling down to her banks

subtle and grand is he
soft and unaware
that the right movements
make great mountains

she is movement
ever flowing
cool and calm
patient at his feet

hills will roll over
and rivers run on
she forever feeds
his roots to grow strong

from gray
rain falls
and washes away
hard remnants
left on shoes
from mud stepped in
while searching for a way
home through the dark

Sainthood

rock-hard jaw
easy eyed smile
a pout
and a contagious laugh
spun off a barstool
into a sly steady strut
in all that worn well leather
hand-me-downs and dreams
with a "fuck it I just live" kind of attitude
arm around the world
a truly beautiful soul
real
in every way

the refuge if the damned "stick out your tongue"

chewing gum uproots from intended final resting place
to join the traveling circus
getting all too often trampled underfoot as it were
i'm better, he agrees, when i work alone
twist offs and sly cork
divides to conquer lifes little issues
and i'm stone or silhouettes when the rain licks the nape of the neck
curious still passing time reminds
that i'm a victim
just trying not to feel the chains
cold steel and all its empty threats
i could chew through this wrist if need be
just need the vessel to carry me to him
he waits on golden bridge to welcome me home
the wharf and linseed oil
some cobble stones on steepest hills
i'm still running but this chewing gum
a bear trap
turn me loose

Westbound on Route 70, 31 December 2005 10pm

"this road reminds me of leaving my mom..."

Crack addicts in shell stations.
An army of automobiles all turning right
So an empty city can watch the "small" ball drop.
Walking in to an ice age of eyes
Like a movie about a bad party
Or a bad dream
Gaudy white christmas tree and ecstacy
All that's missing is shrimp cocktail and party hats...
nope, got them too

"reminds me of leaving my mom..."

More crack addicts from shell stations hitching rides to Cinnaminson
To meet italian boyfriends with dope
More shrimp cocktail, noise makers
Old men lighting off rockets in the middle of a downtown city block
Just to watch the "small" ball drop
Just because they survived another Three Hundred Sixty Five

"Reminds me of leaving my mom..."

Off The Top of My Head

I stood on the shore and listened to the water splash gently against the broken pieces of concrete that had been placed there by hands that were not my own.

I looked out across a vast landscape of liquid and clouds and thought of all the things that didn't belong to me.

Things that were borrowed or bought, second hand, in an attempt to find an era; a place in time that was not now.

I looked down, through the brackish water and saw pebbles brought down stream with the current.

Where the river meets the bay, that's where you can find me. Locked away in a lonesome floating cottage, child and pen in hand.

Humming a tune that has been stolen from another place in time, a house borrowed, second hand, from an era that is not mine.

beautiful pieces

cancerous crustations
that require a special comb
glass bottles and the feeling you've offended some one new today
all this sinks so vaguely reminiscent of a time i all but lost
i want to find it in you
then i'll feel again some comfort
just move the first two past the third and the last four i can handle with a bit of this and that, but don't forget the other thing and toronto smells like hockey

string bean casserole
i'll never even paint your picket fence
1954 and the bomb shelter instead of the swimming pool

Easter

thinned by starvation
eyes hollowed
he can taste his ancestors on his teeth
not knowing this is a different world from theirs
from the background
enormous stone heads
haunt the present
his tanned arms
bring down the last tree
the world goes flat

Maladies Of A Mechanical Bull

around the kidneys
side splitting pains
trying to catch a breath
under the weight of your own chest
coughing and seizing
black and blue and burn
head thrown back
like the logic left at home
hold tight to that hat girl
do what you came here for
empty that glass
pull up your feet
ride
and remember to stretch
next time

bottle in brown paper
bag, one more smoke
and I can burn a
hole through this five
dollar bill because
the green is starting
to seem dull under
these lights

just a place to kick the
dust off my boots and
someone's
pockets i can warm my
hands in, to keep the frost from
biting with it's powder
white teeth

ugly is in the bones

we've got beauty in a bottle for 13.95
apply directly to the skin and hope you come out alive
(you see) we needed a way to dispose of some semi-toxic nuclear waste so we squeezed it into bottles of your precious anti-wrinkle paste

now isn't technology remarkable isn't our company great
isn't technology remarkably raising the cancer rate

so run to your local drug store
you'l find us in aisles 3 or 4
then run to your doctor screaming "how it burns" and "i need more"

now isn't technology remarkable isn't our company great
isn't technology remarkably raising the cancer rate

so if vanitys your weakness then your on our mailing list
we'll send you loads of free samples
just simply scratch and sniff

now isn't technology remarkable isn't our comapny great
there isn't a wallet or bank account that we wouldn't think to rape

What do you think.......

"It's all about getting yourself off."

Beautiful Fingers

with her face to the falling rain
to grasp hold of the fleeting truth in his voice
this longing
no words
just play
beautiful fingers
play where your heart belongs
sing to your soul
don’t let the past cloud your skies
don’t let it fall on you
fall with the rain
beautiful fingers
cause you can only get so wet
before you freeze to death
and these hands hold warmth still
he’s so good
and she’s too drunk
beautiful fingers
wrapped around wine
she screams
"I’m trying real hard
not to fall in love with you"
without a lie in her breath
she breaths
and coughs
and falls to her knees
beautiful fingers
are all she sees