brass and soul

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

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

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


hesitating

very very big family

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Prophet

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

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

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

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

pilowtalk love story collage from fragments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the marks the sun sprinkles
pepperin her shoulders

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

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

and watched
whole universes
pour into
the suction
she left
behind

One Mile

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

Blood Worms

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

Old World Magic

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

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

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

man this shit aint finished yet

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

life is the unfound poetry

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

hot poker ending apathy

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

(inspired by an improv poem)

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

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

blues in dug up asphault

- I like when little things explode big


- some kinds of vowels you can feel in your spleen


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


- sometimes you find rainbows under water


- what does it take to get up those sleeves?


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


- rocking gently to wind and opium rhythms


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


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

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

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

this sting

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

nights like this sting

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

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