here on out

out past the
winter looking trees
and the naked cold gray
and the over the next hill
and the words falling
softly to fill yr footprints

from here on out
there's a moments view
from a perch on high
and flags stretched out
and snapping

from here on out
you've got a world
shaped by notions
and all's well
and after yr troubles
move on past the doorstep
all's well

so from here on out
lets burn all bridges
and speak explicit tones
because all our sins
are fuel
and hanging threads singeing
seem so cruel

all these black and white still shots
of mid twentieth centurt authors
in their late twenties,
always in their late twenties,
always

always reclining in their late twenties
help me confuse em
with each other

interchangeable
in black and white still shots
under that exact haircut

and every one of them
their eyes
seem to wrestle
with the thought
or the dream
of some great american novel











except hemmingway
he is always
a mountain
and a beast
with the little bits of madness
readable in his cheekbones
and unpressed shirt
with his beard and cigarette smoke

and those drunk eyes without peace

the night
as metal
conducts
electric
subtle and desperate

patterns

in stinging light
i struggle
to memorize
random patterns
of freckles
on the back of her arm
cuz later, days down the way
i know
i'll be able to say somethin
that makes the
breaths
skip
in their
rhythmic patterns

sometimes i think the moments aren't real
sometimes i think the moments are metaphores

and here i am with this girl
and the car's all parked cock eyed
and i'm outside it, shifting my feet in the sugar sand
and smoking

and this girls inside
and she's fixing her contact
and the holy pine barrens are sprawling
just sprawling out and on and past
and the monotonous engine noise
but not perfect monotony
more like one plug is missing from the ignition sequence

the whole thing just starts feeling like a metaphore for something else
all together
and suddenly, i'm symbolic of somethin
and the sugar sand and the pines and
the imperfect car engine and all
might mean something
and there's this moral
that i can almost taste

and the girls not really a girl
or at least her contacts not actually a contact
and maybe
we aren't actually stopped
on some dim dirt road

(a memory)

the texture
of first light
infiltrating
the front seat
through the dew and the glass

in highway rest stop morning
like birth and gunpowder

and the tight life through which muscles stretch
in the cool still sleeping air

stepping out onto blacktop
and the sound of traffic rushing

(a sketch)

he was mad in that moment
hands a blaze with motion
thoughts flying as electricity
and i think i saw words
expelled as licks of flame





eyes in love wholly with these strange worlds

remember
stars failing and falling to earth
seem more magical and eternal in that moment
then
rockets reaching heights successful

lets be
the sun glint
off satellites
and make 'em
think we're burning like stars

in the spirt of....

how cards do tell the true divine
like star crossed lovers
intertwined
a choice to make
opens ones mind
to take a hand
or wade out the time
between these lives

i want your face in front of mine
i want your tingle in my spine
i want to be blown
spoken of in rhyme
i'm not one to deny
the truth in what i feel tonight

darling i could hold your hand for ages
on this you could place wager
and come out one top for sure dear
there is no other truth there
cause you're beautiful just the way yer
floating about our space here
i want you the only way you are
the way you are alive

now the flip-side to the card
is wondrous by far
a sweet soul to sit by
and contemplate the time with
a poet undercover
a complicated lover

now i dont mind the faction
of beauties interactin
or a star-crossed lovers sanction
from over-load satifaction
take a real piece of the pie
you know you know you will find a
bite most delightin

drop the beats now
this is
EXCITIN!!!

and the nights done
here come the mornin
7:29am
and i'm thinkin
bout every face i've ever loved

and you're amongst them
forever end

flip the cards kid
i'm done waitin

mike rice covers willie nelson

i love ya, girl, but i hate catching up in crowded bars.

"let's get shit-faced tonite," she says
still hungover from the previous night
i hesitate
but she twists my arm
and we end up at a crowded bar
trying to catch up
reflect on old times
but i can hardly hear her
through the crowd
i'm on pint 3
while she's on her first
pint still 1/2 full
for the past hour or so
beer now warm
the formation of condensation
on the glass
blurs the objects
seen through it
blurs the purpose
of why we are here

tuesday nite 10:10pm

i take in the atmosphere

as i surround myself by old and new faces
all sipping caffeine
i ponder: what exactly is an alto-shaam
as mac pours me more coffee
from the waiter's station
while others contemplate the blackhole
i scribble abstract images on my placemat
the publisher calls 'therapy' not 'art'
as poetry publications are passed around
amongst the music cds
anticipating feb 2
and next tuesday nite
as i make the long trek home

Black Planet

I had a vision of you
strung out and chewing pills
like a drunken dream
wandering hospital hallways
like a christ angel
fallen from the kingdom
wings clipped and burned off
in the atmosphere
of child earth
lost all memory
of the war in heaven
hair & eyes gone black
singed from the
flames of Black Planet
named black for the
color of Man's soul
named black is the
child planet earth

Saw the moon

As god's searchlight

reaching down from

kingdom heaven

but blocked by

black cloudy skies

here on Earth

and maybe

that's just why

I feel more lonely now

than in all my life

'cause the batteries

are runnin' out

on god's searchlight

I dream of prairie wind
of long dark roads
and great big sky
I dream of honest work
and art and music
I dream of the sun
kissing you in the afternoon
I dream of coming home
and collapsing
into my most comfortable chair
I dream of thunderstorms
of cigarettes and rocking chairs
Barn swallows Deep woods
and silos
I dream of walking home
and seeing you there
eyes shining
like polished brass
and skin glistening
I dream of the scent
of dried flowers
you're great big smile
and all our love

if you're gone
you're gone
and that's ok
just go
but
if you're here
be here
my heart strings
they only have
so many threads
and I'm afraid
I heard something
SNAP

I want to wake up

stinking of your laundry

and feeling hot breath

against the back of my neck

'cause you're the only one

that's ever made me feel

like Casanova

Velvet and Velcro
You and I
And amazing how we stick

Your friends out there
Might be “kinda like me”
But they ain’t me

And the history book
They’ll talk about us

And they’ll say
…
I don’t know what they’ll say
But I’ll be ‘bout
You an me
And It’ll be amazing
Nigh! UNNNBELIVABLE!

the ring my grandmother gave me
was silver and simple
but sometimes, when i turned my finger
a certain way
the ring shined
and reflected light into my eyes
and i didn't see its value
until it fell off my finger
and was nowhere to be found