Horseshoe Bowl

After driving the Subaru Outback from the east coast
to Breckenridge, CO, I've been staying at a friend's home.

My last two days have been largely skiing days.
The peaks 7 through 10 have been providing plenty of'
challenge, in addition to the brisk winds and cold
temperatures. The snow has been great, though.

I've met interesting characters on the chair lift rides, and picked
up a few fallen skiers, along with their equipment.

The terrain is high, with the tallest peak topping out at
just under 13,000 feet and I've been to the top on a clear
day so am able to state with conviction that the view is
amazing and unforgettable.

The snow in Horseshoe Bowl has been the best I've skied,
so far.

driving in my car

driving in my car
nobody knows who we are
passing streets with no name
accelerating
then turning around again
watching all the people riding their bikes
mostly satisfied,
but with personal dislikes
in the shopping aisle where they've stopped for a little while
indecision
is keeping them from making a selection
this is the intersection
no one can pass through the red light without a pause
Lady Gaga is on one side
on the other Santa Claus
in a watchful mood
his bag is full with bags of food
looking at all the singers with their book
giving him all his jolly look
but nobody knows who we should be
the Sunday dancers praying to be free
all their barricades falling down
Mondays explosion the only sound
many day rats rushing in a blinding maze
in a ceremony guaranteed to amaze
in an old fashioned wedding gown
facing forward not looking down
this party is getting started and you're invited in
as soon as you're ready we're gonna begin
driving in my car
nobody knows who we are
passing streets with no name
accelerating
then turning around again

Xmas eve

It's Christmas evening
and somewhere people are still singing
Silent Night and holding glowing candles.
Thoughts of love and peace and hope for
Man's salvation are strong.
Someone tomorrow will be gifted
Texas' best pecan cake from
Eilenberger's bakery, which is located
in Palestine. How cool is that?
God bless the entire world.

heart tattoo

red canvas sneakers
waiting on my bedroom stair
and a hungry wolf
escaping from the hidden lair
her hair hanging down like Goldilocks
white and tight
knee high bobbie socks
a gentle laugh like a friendly ghost
her baby smile
i love the most
and she wrapped her arms around my waist
asked me for a simple taste
so, i took a little bite
and i found it quite alright
but i didn't know what more to say
i found blood on my teeth today
and on my neck in black and blue
the outlines of a heart tattoo

red canvas sneakers
resting in my limousine
and a hungry wolf
escaping from a romance dream
her breath heated like a winter coal
light and bright
shooting up my soul
a gentle laugh like a friendly ghost
her baby smile
i love the most
and she wrapped her arms around my waist
asked me for a simple taste
so, i took a little bite
and i found it quite alright
i didn't know what else to say
but i found blood on my teeth today
and on my neck in black and blue
the outlines of a heart tattoo

Linda

Linda
you lost your man and now you're feeling sad
going through his clothes, throwing out the bad
looking at pictures all those fond memories kept near
hanging on your bedroom wall but he's no longer here
Linda
friends spend all their waking hours on the phone
and taking you to dinner so you don't have to be alone
you've reassured your sister you've made new plans
cried with your daughter so that she understands
Linda

you're a very strong woman walking on the widow's wall

you've kept your head high, not afraid to fall

saving the pieces of a life with your late best friend

but cooking new ideas so it doesn't have to end

Linda

you've looked around and grabbed that bull by his horns

there can be no meaning for the woman who sits around and mourns

you're not re-inventing while spinning on the floor

but dancing with good memories and demanding from them more

the climb down

i climbed down the rock wall and saw the fire
but i couldn't find the ground
in the darkness i looked
i couldn't hear a sound
i made my escape from the mountainside
tumbling to the nearest shore
a wave covered my eyes
so i couldn't be sure
the posse started chasing after me
in random circles we ran
i saw you throw a kiss
so i came back again
a certain ghost with a brave heart stopped me
asked me who i thought i was
the judge threw me his book
'cause that is what he does
and i couldn't escape the rabbit hole
my head was trapped in his space
i had to get a drink
but couldn't find your place
there was only an empty chair for me
and i had no time to stay
and if i saw you there
i don't know what i'd say
maybe i found a really good story
the book reads like a sad tale
searching for happiness
man finds himself in jail

a broken string

i don't seem to understand anything
and i know i can't fly with a broken string
now or later on a mid-week morning
a knock on the door came without warning
and an early light became a heavenly blue
but i saw no rising sun or you
no champagne bubble inside my cup
i couldn't find myself so had to give it up
there was no heated drive on the boulevard
'cause loving you was really hard
i played my best damn poker card
and every hand and song i tried
and every time i went inside
that light was gone by three in the morning
a knock on the door came without warning
and you had a very lovely face
wrapped all in black and tight with lace
i couldn't maintain your playful pace
i don't seem to understand anything
and i know i can't fly with a broken string
now or when you're shopping in a store
when your bag is full and you still want more
watching men and they're watching you
wondering what you're gonna do
and an early light became a heavenly blue
and an evening light was a prairie moon
and it feels so good but then leaves too soon
like your empty voice in a shopping cart
i'm pushing a piece of my broken heart
i don't seem to understand anything
and i know i can't fly with a broken string

but i love skiing

unclicking, i was free of my skis.
watching the blowing snow cover them,
i leaned to the hardpack
and grabbed'em,
brought them higher,
slipping them together
base to base as i did so.
the bindings met and held, sort of,
as i carefully placed them over my left shoulder
in preparation for the 45 minute hike
to the summit of Imperial Peak, sitting
at about 13,000 feet.
i looked down valley, seeing route 9 leaving
the mining town of Breckenridge, CO,
slipping towards Frisco, past Lake Dillon
and the turn-off to Keystone and A-Basin.
up valley, i knew Blue River was past Peak 10,
near Quandry, that beautiful 14er i climbed.
Baldy was directly across, impassive.
Steep. Cold. Exciting.
the trail higher was a vertical series of ice holes
previous skiiers had smashed into the
mountain, each step above the previous one.
hiking at altitude can cause problems because
of the thin air and it certainly felt thin, if by that is meant
that it's hard to find complete satisfaction with an
inhalation. as I struggled, my body working, i needed,
indeed demanded, fuel, oxygen. breathing came in short
snappy movements as I kept ascending. i would stop
more frequently than anticipated, every few steps.
but it was cold, so moving was essential. i was passed
by other people more accustomed to the climb. i also passed
people who were resting. we were all traveling according
to our own timer, not racing: we were participating.
my skis became heavy. i changed them from shoulder to
shoulder, trying to accomodate their apparent increasing
weight. occasionally, i'd glance at the top, where the
small figures could be seen. it always seemed so far,
as though i hadn't really made much progress.
damn! i wanted to get there. and it was cold
and my skis were so heavy and each shoulder
was sore and i couldn't breathe properly.
but i love skiing.

Dog Company

Dog Company
hidden winter snow
frigid breath and sharp
the frozen throat
the foreign screams
the bugle blasting mortar roar
a jeep exploding in the tense Korean air
a tank a tomb an unnamed narrow ravine
off the map the hard dirt an incendiary dream
charging knives mad thrusts of senseless steel
hot hungry bullets ripping cold flesh desperate
men like flies from the northward river Yalu
hordes of orchestral sound pounding south
into a crazy wall of heavy American jazz
hectic notes irregular strangled syncopation
where rivers of doom splashed and splintered
where crazy men shit pools of blood and membrane
unsure of where to sleep of how to live and breathe
every eye and soul in tune to watch a stranger die
a riot and a roll and a thunder and a cloud
exhausted men collapsing without sound
holding the line
holding hope
Dog Company

rainbow

my cat's name is rainbow.
rainbow is hungry most any hour,
day or night.
she has dreadlocks, uncombed,
and is a dreadful sight.
one significant clump of hair,
matted and piled,
sits high on her back and
makes her look wild.
but she's an old cat
looking for food,
so when i feed rainbow
it improves her mood,
and she arches and purrs.
she lives outside in a little house
where everything is hers.
one eye seems infected.
it's mostly white and sad,
but when i ask how she's doing,
she tells me she's glad.
i feed her the best food:
twice a day i fill the bowl.
i admit watching her eat
is good for my soul.

Kim the younger

Kim the younger
untested untried
they say he went to school in Switzerland
but then maybe they lied.
where's the mother?
where's the caring aunt?
they say he might be the next dictator
but then maybe he can't.
plated armor
artillery shells
they say he could be a mild-mannered man
but then maybe he yells.
nuclear land
irrational fact
they say the North is as hard as a nut
but then maybe they'll crack.

Irish eyes

It must be a good thing that Ireland
received multi-billion dollar support
for their banking system, since so many
important people cared so deeply
about it's survival. Now the pressing
question is what are the true costs to
the Irish people for this largeness?
The Germans who hold senior debt
of the major Irish banks are breathing a
huge sigh of relief because they should continue
to receive payments.
The British were worried about their entanglement
with their neighbor's economy and so kicked in
a big hunk of coin, too.
The Euro has been defended once again,
but the majority of people outside the Eurozone
seem unconcerned, unless they're invested
and watching the global markets unravel.
Are you sleepless in Seattle over the debt crisis?

willie

Willie Nelson
man busted for pot
but that's not all he got
man he's a really big time shot
hanging out the yellow bus window
putting on some really big show
listening to the country music radio
driving a Texas Ranger highway road
smoking a tire, smoking a load
playing with a sweet-sounding 6 string guitar
but the cops grabbed him before he went too far
sipping his memories in a rowdy Luckenbach bar

and sweet lucille she gave him a kiss
and he knew exactly what he was gonna miss
and mary jane she gave him a buzz
he knew exactly what it was
and soft sophie she gave him a drink
and he knew exactly what to think

Willie Nelson
always on my mind
and that's not being unkind
man he's a really big time find
singing Spanish Angels for his dinner
like he's a reformed Christian sinner
not quite a loser and not quite a winner
driving a Texas Ranger highway road
smoking a tire, smoking a load
playing with a sweet-sounding 6 string guitar
but the cops grabbed him before he went too far
sipping his memories in a rowdy Luckenbach bar

a simple envelope

i really liked the ring
you put in a simple envelope
but i never wore the string
i'm not that kind of dope

kitchen sink

gone i say
zombie bread in the toaster
petrified and
dried
eviscerated
tiny pieces of leg and wholewheat flour
burnt to a crisp
a black smell hangs as
my fingertips save nothing
in the smoking air of my kitchen sink
gone i say
moaning inside the trash can
the crumpled wrappers of dark chocolate Snickers bars,
and the strangled remains of eye ball potato chips,
the bony arms and hollow face of an energy drink
curiously as i wash the tangled breakfast dishes
they comfort me
prisoners of war
complete in their demise
while nearby
still sharp garbage disposal blades
on a cemetary hill
spinning a frightening noise
try to suck me down
but i'm heading out the door
a bright forehead and fresh black coffee
inside my favorite mug
gone i say

the book club guy

his stuff is pretty shallow but
he reads it with mad intensity and seems to
enjoy the stinging pain he inflicts on us, twisting
scenarios and contorting comprehension into
little particles of vanishing image.
mainly, his characters are dull.
our gathering this afternoon was small and grew
smaller as he read the material, using his arms to
illustrate his hands but never finding a
point while grasping at literary straws.
Linda excused herself for a potty break
and stayed away.
Georgie left to get a cappuccino
at the library coffee bar and seemed in no
hurry to return. Sally slept with eyes open.
Laurie was clearly languishing.
From across the table, Elizabeth gave me a sly wink.
and he kept talking about a serious misunderstanding
which developed between a young man and an older
woman inside an experimental laboratory where
they both worked as temps. his implications were small.
no dancing. no great oration. no jokes. no issues.
i didn't have to pee and wanted no coffee, so
kept my seat, but damn, i thought, why couldn't there be
any excitement? a touch of tension? a grab of hair?
a little league ball field was nearby and i thought about
batting practice and sliding into second under the
fielder's tag to put myself into scoring position.
i imagined my drag bunt down the first base line,
the pitcher unable to get over, the catcher unable to
remove his mask, the first baseman frozen with
indecision and i'm safe, now on first and third, and the dust
is still rising and my team's parents holler and scream.
meanwhile, they kept arguing in the lab, he said. why, again?
something about a forgotten anniversary or a missed appointment.
a librarian appeared with her hair neatly combed to
remind us of closing time. no one looked at their
wrist watch, yet papers were shuffled together and bags
were opened and shut. finally, to our unmasked relief,
the reader knew it was time to end the session, adjusted his
spectacles and folded his blue book.
he needs to find a better voice.

Front street

ice man
coal man
working by the dirty road, man
standing near the locomotive
on the river-side rails
flipping my lonely coin into the free air
i'm not going anywhere
it could be heads
it could be tails
and if all else fails
there's an old outhouse in my small backyard
and a Friday night poker game with unmarked cards
and cold beer, not much
but lots of laughter and such and such
and i'm driving a richer woman's nice car
she's telling me not to go too fast too far
but i'm the best looking guy in this whole damn town
and no matter what she says, i'll get around
ice man
coal man
living on the Front street, man
pulling those big blocks of ice
for their summer time party chill
she tells me i could just melt away
but i know i never will
living on the Front street, man
hauling tons of black coal dust
not for fun
but because i must
she tells me i could just burn away
but i'll be here for at least another day
ice man
coal man
working by the dirty road, man
flipping my lonely coin into the free air
i'm not going anywhere

62

talk about Silvio
mostly Italian
drifts on the garlic air
crossing the Mediterranean
to the little island of Cyprus
but in Seoul the Han River
was crossed more than once
by armies crazy in mad pursuit
of Victoria's Secret
and the latest quarterly report
of positive earnings, i'm told
the outlook was good
the gypsies of Romania
still roaming
having babies at 10
play cards
cheating at seven
hawking illusion on the Pont Neuf
one leg wooden
one crystal eye
a showman and a thief
picking the pocket of any hitchhiker
braving the crowds on St. Marks Square
looking for Napoleon
crying in his royal palace
as the rains came to flood the stone
life was never the same again
for Lewis and Clark on the Missouri
searching for the Pacific sky
reading TIME magazine by the Columbia River
and retiring at 62
before Marilyn Monroe lost her skirt
over the windy grate she smiled
and the Hollywood musical had a rebirth
working the high clouds
above Grindelwald
under the Eiger where lovers marry
with their bright eyes
drinking steamed coffee
planning their next hike
without the United States Supreme Court
dark robes inside an empty office
unable to find a map
Isaac Stern tuned the sweet song
the students played in Tiananmen Square
as Chinese tanks fired their diesel motors
while the moon rose over a simple flower.

separate ways

buy me a car
i'll drive you to Philadelphia

where we'll float
along the Schuylkill
into the hills
high above Manayunk

we'll pitch my tent at Valley Forge
the camp fire will warm us

George Washington slept here
with our nation's flag
sipping coffee near the turnpike
the chocolate donut uneaten in his hand

i'll smoke a pipe in my red robe
you'll answer your cell phone
while the tourist stands on a cannonball
saluting the Revolutionary Army
invading the King of Prussia Mall
pushing their shopping carts
in front of the angry eyes of security

and the car could be any model you choose

a mini or a maxi or a big blue suede Cadillac
with bull horns angled on the front bumper
reminding us of the wide open spaces
long gone

but maybe in our memory

we'll go our own separate ways

i'll pull up my stakes
you'll put on your Indian dress and wear
the feather you found on a nature walk

the Delaware River might be a better place
for me to go, i said

you said i should hurry
the tide was about to change

sitting in the front row

Sun is dumb
rolling in a barnyard
chicken feces and cow dung
scattered in straw
the mud
the broken rows of corn
with footprints searching for a foot
the foot searching for an inch
the inch searching for a worm
the worm tight in his little tunnel
surfing the net with a terabyte
instead of an overbite
i saw the rooster on his fence
sipping a mug of whiskey
mostly empty
reading the Atlantic magazine
a smudge of ruby lipstick on his cheek
watching the gray squirrel
scratching closer to the oiled black sunflower seeds
in an eastern Pennsylvania breeze
overhead in the cold air
the scrawny hawk
with his GPS map
wearing aviator glasses
looking for a hero just for one day
found a dead rabbit on the rural road
but he was hoping for a lover
a large group of cattle
puzzled-looking large brown eyes
shuffled across the wide open field
of fast food fat green grass
and watched the cars
looking for America
the cat
his jacket oh-so-casually
tossed across his right shoulder
gazing curiously
adjusted his iPod to the Bee Gees
the chipmunk
leaving a note before walking off the stage
waved to the singer
sitting in the front row
and sleeping.

anymore

if you don't think you're killing me
why are you crying on my pillow
near the darkened hallway
with your jacket on the floor
and i can't take it anymore
the dog is walking by my feet
another one is dead along the street
near the stop sign where you handed me
a cigarette
already lit
and placed it in my mouth and smiled
but i refuse to be beguiled
there was a large canvas on the wall
full of color
where serious philosophy
dripped like wet paint onto your fancy dress
hiding your caress
and peeled away the shine
you can't call me just anytime
the bar was happy the beer was cold
people laughing young and bold
i ate my salad watched you walk
with a little skip
across the grassy field to the studio door
and i can't take it anymore
i smelled the perfume on your wrist
and told you it was beautiful
i tried to kiss your smile
but you told me it wasn't real
how was i supposed to feel
i heard you went to visit your mother
you're not crazy about doing it
but it's not such an unexpected chore
i just can't take it anymore

commander of the faithful

Mullah Omar
how many young girls
did you satisfy
worshipping inside Kandahar

with your long beard
covertly pressed
and unsheared

against the sad window glass
missing every class

cracking under the afternoon weight
of narrow-minded hate

and how many sensitive folds
did you manage to count

was it a forward-leaning
or a backward mount

holding your penis
like a mathematical genius

looking at the sad night sky
watching the brilliant planet Venus
flying by

rising high over Afghanistan
like a troubled man

waiting for tomorrow
while sipping a perfect glass of sorrow

on your way to the frontier
a burning memory and a tear

a half look back with your single eye
and not a mother fell down to cry

Mullah Omar
if you're really dead
buried in a simple shed
you won't be back to Kandahar

no Juliet

so
you're over there
blowing smoke in the air
and here
i'm thinking tv
flipping a channel
watching a movie
i'd rather be watching you
but i can't take off this damn shoe
can't tie myself into a knot
i guess i forgot
you're trying to run solo
a rich girl playing polo
happier without me
so completely free
i wish it was different
i wish it was clear
you'd need me on Sunday
keeping me near
we'd walk on the evening shore
forever and forever and more and more
i wish it was different
i wish it was clear
you're watching the sun rise
keeping me near
we'd sit on the mountain top
forever and forever and never stop
so
you're over there
blowing smoke into the air
and here
i'm thinking miss you
flipping channels
surfing without you

hey baby, i can't forget
this dance has no Juliet
there's no big pile of money
i can't call you honey
i can't laugh it's not funny
you won't call me Romeo
i guess there's no good place to go
so
you're over there
blowing smoke into the air

Superman's ghost

the total eclipse
as i walked home with a friend
discussing the virtues of obsession
was a tea party surprise.

it rushed towards us like an
earthquake wave in six dimensions;
like a confusing New York Times
headline in bold neon letters
being broadcast from the rooftop of
a Manhattan high rise on halloween night,
showering pale orange confetti slowly falling
onto the masked gobblins scurrrying far below,
past radiation detectors and their own
fading high school memories of acne and
heartache.

the cute little girl from
Delaware who dressed as a witch,
once upon a time,
maybe with Alice in Wonderland,
maybe with Sarah in la la land,
said never to masturbate
in public with your pants pulled down,
especially with a smile on your face
in the magazine aisle.
she dabbled in the craft of the coven,
while i dabbled in finger paints,
pushing Cindy away from my private
colors and giving young Billy a hard time
for baking a famous cherry pie.

Cindy became a poet, writing about
buttered popcorn and old movies.
Billy became a well-oiled stripper working under the hot
lights on the bronze pole at Club Avalon in Hollywood.

Sarah became a reality television star.
the people who watched her show said
she was better than Superman, yes sir!
i knew Chris Reeves and he was a friend of mine.
he had a terrible fall from his horse and became
paralyzed; yet in blue tights, he looked great!
The military would not want him to appear
in any recruitment office wearing his cape,
hands on hips, shaking bootie.
But he's dead now, so that won't happen.

Sarah is no Chris Reeves, although she probably
wears a mask while her sled dog husband
shouts Mush Mush Mush as she autographs
another book at a convention for the hearing impaired.

coasting down the street

you like to fire the wind into my face
expecting me to drop everything
and give chase
with my pants down on the ground
where i least expected to be found
but i'm on strike
i'm climbing the Alp d'Huez on my new bike
leaving you behind
it's an uphill grind
i can't tell you what i'll find
there are screaming crowds along my ascent
i never once wonder where you went
there's plenty of air in each tire
i'm pulling away, getting higher & higher
i love you too much to stop
maybe you'll be waiting at the top
maybe i won't see you on the victory stand
with a cold water bottle in your hand
so don't be angry
because you love me
and i won't get down on one knee
i'm a solitary rider with papers on my seat
forming words which i can never repeat
like a helpless whisper coasting down the street

something

i'll give you something to chew on,
a piece of fat or bone or this:

when young,
i pulled the wing from the body of
a Monarch butterfly and felt nothing.
i caught a yellow and black bumblebee
with my bare hand
and it stung me, but i didn't cry.
I tossed 6 colorful baby chicks from a 2nd floor
porch on Easter Sunday and
they fell to their death on the black pavement.
i didn't know why they died.
my mother chased me into a small
bathroom and i slammed the wood door
firmly shut
before she could grab me.
i watched her axe blade tear the door apart,
but had no where to run.
my father kicked me when he was angry
and he was always angry.
i got a surprise of Pennsylvania anthracite
coal for Xmas. It was
hard and dusty in a shoe box.
i have a knife tip scar on my right forearm,
but i didn't bleed.
i was a soldier in a war in South Vietnam,
but i didn't get an official purple heart.
i already had one.
Now,
tell me something.

Patagonia

watching Bert & Ernie
on a pillow
on the floor
while south of Argentina
there are mountains to explore.
the Gauchos love this land:
Pampas and Patagonia chill
where dams designed to rise
against the people's will
are sharpened like a spear
and hurled with blind intent.
yet the unspoiled land relies
on more than man has sent-
there are greater issues near.
the horizon distant and grand
studies the heart of kindness,
struggling to understand
the encroachment like a rerun
of a film noir horror show.
at some moment in the future
there may be no wild places left to go.

What offends you?

I am not offended by cartoons.

I am not bothered by mushroom clouds
drawn to replace turbans
atop the head of bearded strangers.

BUT:

I am offended by the beheading of civilians.

I am offended by bombing attacks
against public buildings.

I am offended by suicide murderers.

I am offended by the slaughter of children.

I am offended by the killings of Catholic priests,
the burning of Christian churches,
the imposition of sharia law on non-Muslims,
the murder of film directors in Holland,
the rioting and looting in Paris,
the stoning of innocent women,
the calls for jihad from the mouth of the unknowing,
ignorance, ungratefulness, and misogyny.

I hope this doesn't offend anyone.

a ride

now leave me alone
i'll dig up my bone
don't even pretend
you're still my friend
don't telephone
don't tell anyone
we drove from home
a mere week ago
i missed you so
gave you a lift
and what a gift
you gave me a ride
invited me inside
of course i wanted more
so i opened the door
and climbed all those stairs
to be with a friend who cares
and what a view
when i finally had you
wearing those high heeled shoes
it's hard for me to choose
5 foot seven and hips of heaven
or bourbon whiskey and the open sea
leave me alone
i'll play with my bone
don't even pretend
you're still my friend

don't vote for Jack

hello,
my name is wayne
la pee air.
i'm the gay haired blonde
skin headed tattoo drunk
neo hot shit lobbyist
wunderkind breast man
who called last night.
my voice was full of deep sexual
undertones and soft moans of
sitcom repetitions under the
cobwebbed rising of a panting moon
in an x rated television sky.
my buddies and i need your political support.
it's guaranteed hard-on erection viagra-colored
4 hour rock solid penetration ice age
global warming is a hoax
permanent orgasm urgent that
you vote for tommy dickwad
for state senator.
everybody agrees.
you think so, too.
tommy wants to ensure that all men,
even those with severe mental retardation
and a propensity to drink lots of Jack Daniels
are allowed to own modern assault weapons,
taking them to the church of their choice
(for communion, if necessary).
hello,
my name is wayne.

don't vote for Jack.
he's on the road again.

Janice

i've never taken a second glance
never thought about a quick romance
and yet this girl on my lonely street
always asks me for something to eat
all i could offer her was my silver spoon
tempting beneath the summer moon
but all she ever wanted to do
was chase away the color blue

i saw her running down the railroad track
a screaming monkey riding on her back
and climbing up the Hemlock tree
reciting soulful poetry
she'd wave her arms looking back at me
never seeing the stop sign on the hill
she'd pass the hat but not the chill
wanted me to love her but i never will

her eyes were Heaven but they looked like Hell
she might have been lovely but you couldn't tell
a broken beauty inside a graveyard dream
she'd toss and turn in her silent scream
hungry for a lover who would never cry

i watched her fall and i watched her die

her eyes were Heaven but they looked like Hell
she might have been lovely but you couldn't tell

base camp

sitting on this steep rock pile
below the south face of Everest
after i climbed a tough last mile
and thought i'd stop for a little while
ah, base camp with toilets and trash
hung over, ready to crash
so close to China and
Burma and Tibet
i really should be going and yet
it's icy cold and i'm incomplete
out of luck and with sore feet
checking out the sherpas
but it's a girl i'd like to meet

hikers are singing some tune
below the south face of Everest
inside a tent of the blue dog moon
i should get started again real soon
but never thought it would go this way
you phone, i've got nothing to say
Buddhist flags are flying today
thought i'd stop for a little while
after i climbed a tough last mile
it's icy cold and i'm incomplete
out of luck and with sore feet
checking out the sherpas
but it's a girl i'd like to meet

Where was Einstein?

When Daniel Ellsberg
went looking for his bus,
he saw the war,
felt the sun turn cold 

and ugly 

with political lies
falling from a deceitful sky
like incendiary bombs over North Vietnam,
spilling onto the streets in front of the White House.

near central Saigon on Tu Do street,
a flow of blood dripped constantly from the sharp teeth
of slippery men wearing their helicopter smiles,
trafficking dope 

from a railroad town in Laos
down the trail 

under a heart of darkness:
their American machine guns shooting up
the hard thin arms of Oriental hunger.

On a plutonium pathway the buffalo grass turned shit brown
with the CIA and Agent Orange
locked in a fatal embrace 

from the Plain of Jars
to the Central Highlands,

to the DMZ,
picking pure white daisy petals
while counting down from twelve 

to four and finally closer to zero:
under a cloudy mushroom afternoon,
Nixon was inaugurated to deliver
PEACE 

while fighting for his golden Crown
in the slaughter hallways of Pennsylvania Avenue.

Where was Einstein?
when Daniel Ellsberg
said there were no winnable options
for a WAR 

in jungle thick with sudden death
and monsoon confusion?

A thousand western schemes floated beguilingly,
mingled with autumn flower petals 

on the Perfume River,
past the starving bones of an angry Imperial ghost,
to their lonely grave 

in the South China Sea.

Cincinnatti

you don't know where you are going
you're not happy with where you've been
you spent your lifetime flirting
with a tonic and a gin

and when you chased me down that alley
with an angry bottle in your hand
past the mother with her daughter
as her son played in the band

i could read that whiskey label
when it flew over my head
i had dreams of Cincinnati
and i knew then i was dead

hear me playing your piano
fingers touching all the keys
but you've stolen all my rainbows
and i'm asking for them, please

hear me playing your piano
fingers free as winter air
but you've stolen all my memories
i can't find them anywhere

you don't know where you are going
you're not happy with where you've been
you spent your lifetime flirting
with a tonic and a gin

and when you pulled a gun and shot me
with a painted target on my back
past the midnight stand on Main Street
as the road sign flashed to black

i could feel that bullet flying
when it flew over my head
i had dreams of Cincinnati
and i knew then i was dead

catch the sparrow

how can you catch the sparrow?

the bone separating from the heart
of the marrow,

and can you hold an angel in your arms
when she's afraid to surrender all her charms?

where does the day go when it's gone?
are we just waiting for another perfect dawn?

are you there to remind me of who i am,
so i can come back and love you all over again?

simple sunshine and a gentle shower
a kiss a lifetime a day an hour
i knew i loved you on the avenue
in a dream i felt it all come true

two together souls and a hungry kiss
a memory saved for a future reminisce
i knew i loved you on the avenue
in a dream i felt it all come true

how can you catch the sparrow?

the bone separating from the heart
of the marrow,

and can you hold an angel in your arms
when she's afraid to surrender all her charms?

where does the day go when it's gone?
are we just waiting for another perfect dawn?

are you there to remind me of who i am,
so i can come back and love you all over again?

a happy toy (acoustic)

i was just a little boy
underneath my Christmas tree
wanting to be carefree
looking for a happy toy

yes, a little bouncing boy
holding in his anxious hand
a sack of coal, a bag of sand
still searching for a happy toy

looking for a warm embrace
from a stone cold dad
and wanting to feel glad
needing to see a smiling face

looking for a woman's touch
from a hard mom's hand
and i can't understand
why i ask too much

i was just a little boy
in pj's and bunny shoes
already singing the blues
instead of sounds of joy

a silly wondering tyke
with blonde hair over my eyes
looking for an early prize
never finding the bike

i was just a little boy
underneath my Christmas tree
wanting to be carefree
looking for a happy toy

yes, a little bouncing boy
holding in his anxious hand
a sack of coal, a bag of sand
still searching for a happy toy

a pumpkin head

a cool ocean of air roughs up my hair 

i'm coasting down the steep driveway

i make an abrupt left turn and i'm saying hi to Frank as he checks his mailbox and throws away a bill or two and suddenly i think of Chris when i pass the place she once called home 

there are hints of ice on my face 

i feel the temperature drop from our Martian heat of mid-summer which melted skin and sagged spirits there are deep brown leaves and random tiny sticks 

a frosty litter drifting and shriveled like dehydrated dreams from once upon a time 

discarded by mother and tossed and turned cracking with the weight of their dying and being crushed underfoot 

underneath my tires a rubber blur to their sad unapologetic eyes the hard macadam hums 

i see the corn fields freshly cut and a few bright yellow ears yet remain survivors of an obliteration campaign on this Saturday afternoon bicycle ride on an early October afternoon of late autumn 

i feel the frozen locker of winter down the aisle 

i see it's face in this harvest 

am i ready for the change? 

an cloud of minor thought escapes from my nostrils as I exhale,  condensing as trailing crystals a premonition of February perhaps and the snow 

i pedal i pout i ponder i pursue 

i am riding directly across the great western prairie under an American sun on a college football day 

past blue houses with argumentative gasoline mowers cutting grass and weeds and into time which will not return however much their is hope  

i wave my hand, no one seems to notice 

no atomic bomb blast blowing hot annihilation winds has brought this farmland to an early end no plague nothing unclean no evil minion no desperation no panicked scream 

these corn stalks were man-cut brought down to Earth with a single-minded purpose 

i watched a Ford convertible drive out of Rheems with three riders inside bundled in their winter wear with hats and neck scarves tuning their radio to tune out their thoughts they seemed very serious about musical enjoyment as the car's heater warmed up, bobbing and bouncing and solemnly nodding they drove toward a small star sitting high over the distant horizon radiating indifference

i could not maintain their pace, but i could smell the exhaust from their chrome pipe as the car disappeared from my view 

as this was the month of Halloween and transformation,  i considered a neck pumpkin (my grandmother Esther had a recipe for a pie and it always went well) as i weaved in and out near a pumpkin patch with orangeade filling my mouth 

i wiped my chin, then saw an open backyard pool it had two chairs close to the diving board where a poetry reading was taking place:  they were empty, but i saw a beard floating on the turquoise waters 

it pointed to the east toward Mount Joy, a neighboring town,  so i went in that direction 

a flower fell on the road i stopped to pick it up 

the street sign said Whitman Drive but it was a dead end, and suddenly the traffic came close and a red stop sign at a difficult intersection became my warning to slow down i looked right and left and straight ahead and considered turning around, but decided to rest under the shade of a nearby tree, up a slight rise,

where i could sing a song of myself 

the shade was of a soft grey 

the leaves of grass

i decided to wait for a friend and no one passing by seemed to care that i was wearing a pumpkin head.

A regular guy

Steven was a regular teacher 

just a regular guy 

with no thought of moon walking into moving traffic 

his contract schedule obliged him to cover for my break.

he came into my classroom with his quiet shuffle 

(damn, wasn't he the band director?) 

and sat his thin ass on the thin chair spinning it to an exact spot 

a spot he wanted 

and faced the wall of windows without looking outside 

without seeing the dancing cars 

or the blue sky 

unfolding flowers 

and cumulus clouds tapping their happy feet northeasterly 

to party the night away on the Lower East Side 

with Patsy and the Nighthawks. 

 he placed his grey laptop on his lap 

his hair was thin and short and dark 

his eyes dark 

his mood dark dark, too, his shoes tied with dark laces 

his suit dark his skeleton dark 

inside crawling across the dark mental desert searching for some holy waters. 

he told me he would babysit my kids for 45 minutes. 

 fine. okay. 

who wouldn't want a chance to play? 

but before I walked away toward the noise of the cafeteria, 

Trent said goodbye Angie said goodbye Nick said see ya 

Trent said alternative ed sucks 

Trent also said it's a good thing Mr. Hollman isn't teaching again this year 

Trent said shit 

Trent said when he was no longer on probation, 

he'd be drinking beer on the weekend, 

licking foam from the lips of girls he'd like to fuck, 

being a good student of animal behavior Trent liked to smoke pot 

and he bragged he could roll his own with one hand, 

his fingers being limber and full of fun. 

 after I walked out, Steven wrote a message 

on yellow lined paper-notes to himself-which he later used to compile an incident report 

he slid it into the high school Principal's inbox 

his report complained about Trent and his casual display of disrespect, 

Trent's use of profanity 

nor did Steven appreciate the veiled threat, as he understood the comment, 

towards another conformist regular teacher, 

another regular guy, 

another paid bully operating as a part of the great American educational bully machine 

Steven was sending his paper missle strike at Trent's walled compound, 

using a joy stick to bring pain. 

later, I was called into the Principal's office. 

what the hell was going on? 

I told the Principal that Steven was exaggerating!

that everything he said was more than what he heard 

So screw yourself Steven 

You're just a regular guy, 

A regular guy

still squeaking from that cold morning shower, 

with your shaved American smile, 

no perfect tooth misaligned 

I want to puke on your shoes, 

remove the fancy laces, 

& shine a light on the darkness in your eyes.

hey Mikey

hey Mikey
i went around you on a double yellow line
my life flashing before my eyes
i hit the high white powder just fine
much to my surprise
there was nothing much else for me to do
just resting by the pool soaking up rays
wondering about you
how are you passing your days?
hey Mikey
it's not at all how you thought it would be
changing gears on the steepest uphill
instead of two riders it's usually just me
looking for someone to share the thrill
the bend keeps everything secret until the turn
there could be a storm or another blue sky
how will I ever learn
to catch the flow of tears you cry?
hey Mikey

my new six shooter

trying to drink the water
on this crazy cowboy ride
pulled my new six shooter
with you sitting by my side

trying to sip the sunshine
from a beachfront party bowl
went to find my savior
who was hiding with my soul

where we're going is a mystery
and how we get there is a mess
so don't ask me any questions
'cause all i'll do is guess

trying to find the tunnel
on a back yard midnight walk
watched the time and wondered
if you'll listen while i talk

trying to hear the singer
on a crowded downtown show
went to find the answer
there was nowhere else to go

trying to learn the address
of a weekend fashion rave
went dressed as a vampire
there was no one there to save

trying to read by starlight
with the curtain rising near
flipped the page and wondered
why no memories are here

trying to drink the water
on this crazy cowboy ride
pulled my new six shooter
with you sitting by my side

where we're going is a mystery
and how we get there is a mess
so don't ask me any questions
'cause all i'll do is guess

don't want to read

i found you crying in my backyard
stood you up and rolled you hard
i dealt you like an unmarked card

winning at every game i played
never wishing that you had stayed
i found it easy to get laid

you found it lonesome in the night
saying nothing ever felt quite right
well, what ever happened to your appetite?

if you found me crying in the street
would you help me get back on my feet?
would i remind you of an incomplete?

and when winds blow silent on the shore
and you don't trust me anymore
i'll be slipping out the door

i won't stick around
won't get hammered into the ground
won't listen, won't hear a sound

i don't want to have the fire inside my head
don't want to read what can't be said
don't want you sleeping on my bed

Freddy

find me somebody to love

Pompeii

Pompeii

a quick and senseless lay
a romp in the harvest hay
or in a Chevrolet in the wood
or a hungry Ford under the heated hood
that big V8 and a throttle gone wild
a roaring marvelous masculine poster child

pompeii

what do you say?
flat panel TVs
lap tops and blackberries
Valentino suits and a gold Rolex
striped shirts, ties, and a German Shepard called Rex
all spinning inside the diamond-studded feminist necklace bubble
guaranteed plutonium gender trouble
ovary sweet perfume decorates the sexy powder room
a fatter bride and an even more inflated groom
environmentalism can not be found inside their Prada bag
scanned at the evening checkout desk with a Chinese tag
school reform ain't no god damn norm
and keeping climate change in check
ain't an idea worth sticking out one's only employable neck
ken and barbie oiling on the beach off their diet
playing the corporation game and keeping quiet

Pompeii

barren ground today
but, more to say?
well,
Asians and Indians and Russians and Brazilians are scaling the wall
with ropes and crampons so they won't fall
dealing currency with a global slant.

America seems to be saying i'd like to but can't-
too many issues, political ties
too much self-interest, lobbyist lies
too many hamburgers and pizzas to go
with double cheese toppings on buttery dough
where's the record keeper who's keeping the score?

if praying would help i'd be down on the floor

Pompeii

maybe when

i'm still sitting in this chair
far from where you are
and silently overhead
the most beautiful shooting star

it's tears falling from the sky
join me as i cry
in my new darkness all alone
i'm seeing battlefield and bone
dialing numbers on my phone

my friends are knocking on the door
but it's not opening any more
the keys have fallen on the floor
and yet i'll call you once again
or maybe twice or maybe ten
and hope you tell me maybe when

i'm still sitting in this chair
far from where you were
and suddenly someone said
it's seems as though you're missing her

my tears falling like a stream
join me as i dream
in my new darkness all alone
i'm seeing battlefield and bone
dialing numbers on my phone

why can't you answer when i call
or have you found another ball
to kick for pleasure down the hall
and yet i'll call you once again
or maybe twice or maybe ten
and hope you tell me maybe when

authentic Blake

authentic Blake
THE William Blake
dead or alive
real or fake
in an oven he baked a cake
in an imperfect world
he sharpened and hurled
an endless rain of words and hence
songs of innocence:
and if you pity me
all you see
i will love you
sleep with you
authenticate and rebel
against dogmatic visions of Hell
i will etch you near it
in wholeness and Spirit
leave you dense
with special songs of experience
and through the eyes of me
capture all infinity!
there were angels in his tree
watching expectantly
the madness on his brow
and tiger on a jungle prowl
stalking Heaven's golden Gates
attacked convention and dictates
authentic Blake
THE William Blake

in Juarez

Pancho Villa spreading fear raided north from Mexico he crossed the Rio Grande river near the Texas border town of sleepy old El Paso Bob Dylan meanwhile fingering his early morning mug of hot cocoa and nursing a just born baby slo gin fizz thought Pancho was loco watching from his desolate square in Juarez dodging bullets & writing songs because too few people were visiting there attending church or righting wrongs he heard the horses with sweat on their brow speaking Spanish with envy in their voice they wanted to be unhitched and they wanted to be given freedom of choice and then it was Easter time too the dust of one thousand assassins settled in to chasing children and hunting for sharing a sin and grinning a grin it seemed they were from another world instead they didn't believe in Jesus Christ or the game of baseball and they hit young Robert Allen Zimmerman in his head just as he was about to call Pancho Villa on the phone and say there shouldn't be any more crazy killings today but the Women's Temperance Union heard the ringing of the march starting from their headquarters in town they began to sing: "the Cadillac bar is no place for a beer it's the devil's plaything we've come to fear put down your glass and begin to think if it gets too heavy we'll start to sink." well, everybody heard the protest and began to swoon as their parade route was full of fallen people and unbelieving spectators and a Catholic saint hanging with his parachute from the nearest steeple but no one was looking for a happy hour answer Pancho Villa was riding into the state & on his knee was a pretty Dallas cowboy dancer and the crowd didn't seem to mind that he was running late the band began to play a famous Sodi Miranda song about Cassanova and how he came to know that romance never stays around for very long it always thinks it's time to go and then they saw Robert Allen Zimmerman fall just as he was about to call Pancho Villa on the phone and say there shouldn't be any more crazy killings today and someone said he was going back to New York City 'cause he'd had enough.

a bridge to the other side

everything
is a bridge to the other side
like a weighted wheel spinning in a field
of dreams
unable to decide

unable to make one final gesture
while the momentum still grows
digging a deeper furrow in the knowledge
that everybody knows

i'm already gardening with your tools
planting with your seeds
watching the lamps being lit
to illuminate my deeds

everything
is a bridge to the other side
like a sure swimmer splashing in the sea
of life
unable to decide

unable to make one final gesture
which would strengthen a cause
moving in ocean currents in the morning
unable to pause

i'm already flirting with your eyes
unbuttoning your clothes
watching wind for direction
to see how it blows

nothing could be found in Poe

"use your guns to kill them!" he screams, wearing headphones and listening to Bob Marley and reading Jack Kerouac, he drones on and on about Stella, who was thought to be hiding behind a permanent lie and on and on about horseback riding and honoring life and affirming all the while he knew why nothing could be found in Poe, who lived before he could die climbing a stairway to the sounding sea the raven watched and said 'I'm just reciting the mysterious words he gives to me!" in his exile he can hear the elephant crashing through the jungle with his trunk hanging in an ivory splendor and hanging from the mouth of an angry drunk, ignorance, and hanging from the dark tree in Mississippi or was it Alabama i can hear the cries of a young voter registration worker before they are muffled by the satisfied sounds of a white motor gaining distance from the scene of the crime with soulless cigarette smokers sitting in the back seat swaying softly inside their custom-made Ku Klux Klan southern shit sack muttering "use your guns to kill them!" then watching Martin Luther King and listening to Lena Horne and Billie Holiday proving to skeptics that they could sing and reading Maya Angelou he tapped his toe and went on and on about Arizona and that dumb Governor who should know MEXICO MEXICO owned the territory before the Mayflower made landfall before the current Phoenix carnival before the white man before New York island before Burroughs and Ginsberg and the Grateful Dead and Leary died trying to say what needed to be said before Ronald Reagan was shot on the Washington sidewalk and Bobby slumped bleeding on the floor of the Ambassador after his talk before John Lennon died bleeding in front of Yoko in front of the Dakota Hotel before Mormons traveled westerly warning of certain Hell Fire and the video game that he was playing uninterrupted never heard a word of what he was saying because there were too many distractions too many enemies he was slaying and it all became a blur or a bust or the memory of a bomb falling thru the afternoon air over Hiroshima.

the coed

i was running to another lemonade stand
paying the price of solitude
for a simple piece of ice
which was melting in my hand

the naked lady scolding me was a farmer's wife
so good to him he loved her
and carved her initials into a redwood
with his famous butcher knife

and his red heart circled an artery
while a hawk soared on the thermals overhead
looking for a sudden break in the clouds
and a better glimpse of me

i was running to another John Muir trail
refusing to read a morning paper
for an early avalanche of news
which was published in a jail

the southern poet chasing me with his mouth
kept his vision inside his sword
and wore his Confederate uniform
atop his war horse marching south

over graveyards into a liberal black and white
where a bearded professor lectures overhead
looking for his faculty chair
and a lazy coed for the night

i was running to another music concert hall
paying the asking price of admission
listening for an echo of a voice
but i never heard your call

A Johnny Cash guitar

i'm thinking
while i'm looking at your machines
outside of my window
there's a forest fire of dreams
and i'm walking onto the stage
waiting while you hand me
a jacket full of rage

and you put it on my shoulders
while you pulled me down and said
go west on sixty-fourth street
before the flowers are all dead

i'm thinking
while i'm singing inside the shower
my holding cards are no good
it'll be midnight in an hour
and i'm walking onto the stage
reading while you hand me
some other person's page

and you rub it on my fingers
while you pulled me down and said
the magic is believing
before the flowers are all dead

i'm thinking
while i'm waiting for your answer
inside a cracker jack box
a dreamer and a dancer
and i'm sitting in the club car
drinking while you hand me
a Johnny Cash guitar

and i strum it in the evening
while you pulled me down and said
go west on sixty-fourth street
before the flowers are all dead

to be alone

to be alone
on an afternoon
in the snow of winter
or the bloom of June

no shining moon
no starry night
no sweet love song
or heart's delight

no friendly smile
no silly joke
no fond daydream
from which i woke

they never pass
without a thought
of you my lady
for whom i sought

no Fleetwood Mac
no Tulsa whore
could ever satisfy
how i adore

no mountainside
no hill top view
has ever been able
to equal you

to be alone
in the Albert Hall
where all the people stare
in holes so small

to be alone
on a Prudence path
where all the people cry
while i had to laugh

i've never been
without a thought
of you my lady
for whom i sought

no mountainside
no hill top view
has ever been able
to equal you

i'd love to be with you

the BOSS

the trees are sagging under a clear cut weight
dying inside your paper plate
eating with a plastic fork and spoon
American cheese from the neon moon
there's a convoy headed for the Jersey shore
to find the BOSS but his band's no more

the ocean whales are singing nature's song
while being harpooned and it won't be long
floods and famine and mouths to feed
genetically modified cropland seed
in a Richter Scale for the highest score
the human army marching off to war

the BOMB droning high overhead
is warning everyone will soon be dead
all religion and GOD and sainted souls
in overpopulated city holes
their sprawl is coming to the Arctic ice
with Cinderella and her carriage mice

the schools are filling with study halls
and ringing bells and shopping malls
the strong perfume and a touch of class
smiling at the world through graveyard glass
the ARK is sailing down a coastal road
on a cresting wave with it's empty load

at midnight the African lions sleep
dreams they have can make mothers weep
and poets and lovers on the ballroom floor
pimping WALL STREET for the business whore
there's a convoy headed for the Jersey shore
to find the BOSS but his band's no more

the weeping gypsies on a desert ride
in their caravan with a note inside
addressed to famous men who've lied
it lists the names of all who died
there's a convoy headed for the Jersey shore
to find the BOSS but his band's no more

dust in my face

and then the sign read
so is this the way?
but how could i say
while my heart still bled?

i saw a dead mouse
on the dusty stone
turning to white bone
outside his house

underneath the blue
and the overhead sun
walking i can't run
i turned to you

our gravel stair
downhill all morning
without warning
we began to share

your coffee eye
stirring your smile
rests for a little while
before your goodbye

separate at noon
the dust in my face
slowing the pace
but i'm leaving too soon

one turns left one right
no answers being found
down on shifting ground
up late all night

the sign read
a table for one or two?
but are you who
i thought you said?

thousand mile stare

he made it out alive
escaping from the war
she found him sitting angry
on the lonely bathroom floor

cold coffee in one hand
wearing military underwear
rubbing his misunderstanding eyes
with a thousand mile stare

the tattoo of an eagle
with sharp claws on his throat
said LOVE MY MOTHER and SEMPER FI
and that was all he wrote

he couldn't be bothered
and didn't want a retail job
when all he really wanted
was another hot grenade to lob

when he was a young man
escaping from his school
she found him smoking trouble
and he laughing thought it cool

hard liquor in one hand
wearing military underwear
rubbing his misunderstanding eyes
with a thousand mile stare

he made it out alive
escaping from the war
she found him sitting angry
on the lonely bathroom floor

this invitation

i sipped my favorite booze
underneath the distant stars
saw Venus and Mars
floating in the evening sky
i looked around at strangers
and drank a lot
i wanted to cry
i heard the guitar play
and watched the fingers pick
the sad lament for a long lost love
and feeling stomach sick
felt the glass was heavy in my hand
it didn't understand
that laughter from the table next to mine
came from whiskey and not from wine
there was no one special here
and no one near
sitting by my captain's chair
whispered words failed to share
falling empty through the air
i danced alone
underneath the yellow lights
saw castles and knights
floating on an evening pole
i looked around at strangers
and drank a lot
i played a role
i heard the singers singing
and ate my piece of bread
listening to the party talk
but hearing nothing that was said
goodbye i whispered to the night
a napkin waving out of sight
my payment made was bar tab full
watching men still playing pool
who thought their shots were so damn cool
i drove away and found the clue
reading between fine lines i knew
this invitation was meant for you.

My Lai

a Vietnam fog stirred early in the mid-March sky
silencing the young babies and their frightened mothers
the sound of rifle fire made it hard to hear them cry
their bunker was not dug too deeply into the weeping dirt
as the young men of Charlie company searched for easy targets
intending to inflict maximum hurt
on the hamlet of My Lai or Pinkville
as it became widely known
among soldiers shouting KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL
littered with the dead and splintered bone
March 16, 1968
five hundred and more civilians not coming back
to their woven, comforting sleeping mat
snuffed and wasted and zapped
bloodied in black
they were no longer breathing the machine gun smoke of their burning home
war is always more than what it seems
and makes man less
than what he dreams
the water buffalo was not planning an ambush
he was not wild
his big black eyes were no longer seeing a happy child,
or anyone
he fell on the rich green shoots of rice unharvested under an afternoon sun,
more a pet than an enemy undone

you chained me

when you chained me
you entertained me
it was a quarter to four
and i kept hoping for more
as i was lifted from the bedroom floor
never stop
never pause
the pain i'm giving to the cause
keeps the romantic smile on your face
black leather and hard lace
it's never out of place
your knife was rubbing on my throat
bleeding on my red rubber coat
i didn't think it was very nice
when you used me as a sacrifice
there was a menace in your eye
i finally thought that i would die
never stop
never pause
the pain i'm giving to the cause
keeps the romantic smile on your face
black leather and hard lace
it's never out of place
you whip was hurting on my back
but i wanted to experience your attack
i didn't think it was very bad
so i asked you for all you had
there was a menace in your eye
i finally thought that i would die
when you chained me
you entertained me
it was a quarter to four
and i kept hoping for more
i didn't know i had your appetite
but it felt so good when wrapped so tight
i didn't know i'd feel so damn proud
when you slapped me and i laughed out loud
when you chained me
you entertained me

Stella's chocolate cake

old grandmother made a killer chocolate cake with cocoa powder for Christ's sake! cocoa powder? she used vinegar for the baking soda that came all the way from South Dakota and flour and white sugar to mix with one cup of salad oil and vanilla for taste hand whipped without haste 2 cups of cold water into the dry mix then fold gently into the pan use the spoon for discreet licks while cooking at 350 for 30-35 then top with peanut butter icing but not too thickly applied totally yummy in your tummy

silver spoon

i heard her coming up the narrow stairs
on a Saturday morning and i thought "who cares?"
with her rainbow hair and a grocery bag
inside of which was my discount tag

i have album covers thrown across the floor
telling me i'm not young no more
and thinning hair and a nervous cough
a love for poker and charity golf

collecting smoke &
collecting dues
i'm sitting broke
with a glass of booze
i'm paying rent &
sipping wine
in a tenement
with a FOR SALE sign
eating bread crumbs on the floor
wondering what i came here for
never ending tales of woe
i have no other place to go

ungrateful kids and a teen mother yells
above the sound of the near church bells
a pile of clothes and dirty dishes
are all that's left of my brightest wishes

i play my friendships with a tambourine
an echo bouncing like a summer dream
on the crack sidewalk a silver spoon
and the fading image of my dying moon

collecting smoke &
collecting dues
i'm sitting broke
with a glass of booze
i'm paying rent &
sipping wine
in a tenement
with a FOR SALE sign
eating bread crumbs on the floor
wondering what i came here for
never ending tales of woe
i have no other place to go

digesting the meal

the grilled chicken salad was the perfect meal
and you were the perfect guest
as i watched you easily eat
with a fork and a knife
it appeared to me that you enjoyed
our time together
my iced root beer wasn't able to
provide any profound statements,
although i sipped with eagerness
the grilled hamburger i ate resulted in an
onion burp far removed from our table
but i covered my mouth and apologized
to no one in particular
it's true that a nuclear Iran will pose
regional balance-of-power issues
what is not certain is if the Israeli
Air Force will send 100 (+/-) fighter jets
on a preemptive attack against these nuclear
facilities, creating awful uncertainty
but it seems certain that Muslim terrorism is
a growing worry worldwide
what is not understood is how to address this
extremism
there are historical facts about Islamic
expansionism we can know them
I have not read the Koran; have you?
perhaps I will become a suicide bomber,
but i'm not now wearing an explosive vest or belt
These are desperate times
i trust you didn't have too much trouble
digesting the meal

you're just my lover

you're just my lover
i hold you on a wire
pulling higher

like a little bug
on a little rug

never satisfied
i like to roll you on the floor
always wanting more

like starting a fire
burning with desire

i guess it's different
why i love you
as i take my place above you

like a little bug
on a little rug

i'm touching your smile
staying for awhile

but you don't own me
i'm setting you free

you're not the only
sweet lover for me

you can't mess around
bringing me down

i've cried so often
without making a sound

like a little bug
on a little rug

you're just my lover
i hold you on a wire
pulling higher

never satisfied
i like to roll you on the floor
always wanting more

Amish buggies

i rode my bicycle this morning.
Hunter and i participated in a fund-raiser
for the Lancaster Bike Club, along
with 3,000 other enthusiasts of
all ages, mostly middle-aged to
older. I did see the young kids
riding their fat tire bicycles and
their smiles of pride were wide open
and genuine.
Because the 62 mile route (it was
a metric century) was designed to
follow rural roads, there was an
enormous amount of horse poop
on the asphalt. Why? We were
riding in Amish country, on a Sunday
morning, when that community was
traveling to Services and we saw
dozens of buggies, all horse drawn,
with young Amish children watching the
lycra-clad English riding alongside
and passing their transport. It's cool,
too, to go over the covered bridges.
Our course took us through 7 such bridges,
several re-built from prior flood damage.
Thankfully, the heavy rains didn't materialize
until after Hunter & I were safely inside
my van, considering a mocha frappe at the
nearby McDonald's. Our road time was
3 1/2 hours. We had fun.

the mission

does anybody really care to know
why the sun sets
and young babies cry?
people die while happy lovers sigh
where the wild winds blow inside my private studio
wanna try to wonder why
the smiling girls are wearing curls
dressing all their little toys
like little drummer boys
and calling them on Friday night
for a teasing nibble and a bite
does anybody really care to know
why the sun sets
and young heroes cry?
there's a cruel thunder in the sky
and an angry warship on the sea
heading for a battle with it's big guns
aiming straight for me
does anybody really care to know
if the Captain is a cameraman
with a popular Hollywood TV show
downloading a pixel picture of me
filing it inside his memory
he's on a mission
he's a member of the CIA
undercover with a shutter
with a silver party tray
playing his dirty dancing game
playing the flirt
playing me for the fool because it doesn't hurt
does anybody really care to know
why the sun sets
and young babies cry?
they both know they're gonna die.

burning on the floor

when i stood to leave and said you were beauty
as you rose and thought to ready bed
i didn't do it as my duty
could you hear anything that i said?
when you didn't seem to notice how i cried
as you firmly closed the door
i smiled even though a part of me inside
felt like burning on the floor
i walked into a strange and ghostly land
into the sundown like an angry spear
trying to maintain a sure and steady hand
even though you were not near
what is it? i wondered that you failed to know
i loved you such a short time ago

black leather gloves

black skirt and black high heels
a hard rock sidewalk
with angry tire squeals
muffling the way you talk
crossing the busy street
wearing black leather gloves
for the hungry men you meet

the memory of broken loves
with you hustling late at night
past papers tossed by heedless wind
and hopes of sweet delight
your hair unwashed, unpinned
a fancy collar by your ears
you walk with secret fears.

you take all the chances
there's no one by your side
no one to give you romances
everyone you trusted has lied
you've thrown yourself away
there's no tear falling just for you
no one can touch you without pay
will any dream come true?

by three in the morning you're tired
nursing a new black eye
but it's not like you were hired
to be baking grandma's apple pie
it's a rough world and you're the man
in a city full of rock n'roll
playing songs from Roy Orbison's band
finding your head and losing your soul

today i heard you'll find yourself
asking hustlers for a clue
as though it could be found on a closet shelf
worn like a favorite shoe

your coffee, sir

run along sonny
take your skeleton
and your rope
don't pay any attention
when they call you a dope
inspecting the sewers
the piping underground
dressed in your finest tie
you won't make a sound
run along sonny
take your Indian land
your expansion dreams
don't mess with reality
for it's not what it seems
climbing the ladder on main street
polite in the line
drinking your premium coffee
working overtime
run along sonny
with a new vehicle smell
your loyal friend
with her road map displaying
GPS to the end
and when you're exhausted
and feel like a goon
you can't think of dying
it's simply too soon
run along sonny
take an apple pie chart
an upstart leg
a seat on the sidewalk
learning to beg
take five with an option
for selling the firm
get pregnant in shadows
and carry full term
taking tests for advancement
swatting the flies
cleaning furniture cushions
polishing your lies
run along sonny
a neat hole in your head
an uphill grind
it's Uncle Sam welcoming you
to full peace of mind

you're away so far

drinking alone with my evening beer
sitting at this bar
thinking about why you're not here
why you're away so far
and i'm considering how i feel about you
tonight i just don't think i'm right
because i miss you and i never want to
feel this way again
without you i'm so crazy and then
i'm tripping down a city sidewalk
looking at a star
thinking about why we never talk
why you're away so far
and i'm considering how i feel about you
tonight i just don't think i'm right
because i miss you and i never want to
feel this way again
without you i'm so crazy and then
i'm reading about a love gone wrong
wondering how you are
singing the saddest words of my song
why you're away so far

Edna (1892-1950)

In Paris, a simple bridge over the river Seine
could not be rebuilt:
George Dillon brought his younger arms,
surrendered to lavish red-haired charms
and the scandalous Fatal Interview
about the sexuality of two
was promptly published on the following Saturday.
It offered a literary way
to understand the sad demise
of one famous Poetess sonnet-wise,
who became drug addicted and Steepletop lost
at an undeniably human cost.
With lips like a valentine heart
and sweet songs from her apple cart
would she love me, if I said
I could raise her from the dead
and read Aeneid or Baudelaire
in French or Spanish, if she'd care.
We could go walking in the nude
and while not perfect or purposely rude,
I'd kiss her inside her candle's glow
and play music on the keys of her piano.
She could recite her poem Renascence
with that unforgettable voice which forever haunts.

Paris dress

Heaven in a city of France
when i watched the happy people dance
i heard the hustling street performers sing
underneath a statue of an angel's wing
between puffs on an elegant cigarette
where i saw a woman i wouldn't soon forget
she was walking high and all alone
lips full of an exciting unknown
her shoulders back and hair pulled tight
i imagined she'd dance with me tonight
inside her low cut Paris dress
what treasures hid i could only guess
but she didn't pay me any mind
crossing the Champs Elysees where fashion dined
trailing expensive perfume in the air
snaking through traffic without a care
not hurried and with her casual sway
i sat enthralled what could i say?
she disappeared inside her foreign tongue
but God, she was lovely and very young

i just can't believe

there's a hole in my heart
where your sharp arrows flew
i just can't imagine
that you ever knew
that you would ever try
to be cruel so i would cry
and i just can't believe
that you would ever leave
baby, oh baby
there's a hole in my head
that your last words blew through
i just can't imagine
that you ever knew
that you would ever run
i'm feeling so totally undone
i just can't believe
that you would ever leave
baby, oh baby
there's a song in my bed
where your spirit used to sing
i just can't imagine
what loneliness will bring
what the sound of my life will be
without you lying next to me
baby, oh baby
i never wanted to travel to the moon without your shadow
i never wanted anyone without your sense of style
i never wanted to laugh without your laughter
never wanted to live without your smile
baby, oh baby
there's a weight on my chest
that my sadness has put there
i just can't imagine
that you haven't a care

Giverny, eventually

Montmartre 

on a steep historic butte 

with fresh strawberry tart 

unwrapped nudes,

excited affairs of the heart 

underneath a fine Parisian sky 

watched i 

seated outside my busy sidewalk cafe 

wondering what people say 

by the walls of the ancient Sorbonne 

in their studious Latin tongue. 

nearby, the spry 

Agile Rabbit 

sitting on his vineyard hill drinking cheap local swill 

with a painterly friend of mine 

asked Joyce if he really had a choice 

or was it just a rumor about the invisibility cloak? 

Perhaps another drunken joke 

about a man stuck inside his wall:

a shadow of a ghost before his eventual downfall? 

there's more that i should say: 

i recently talked with Claude Monet 

about his first impressionist flowers brush-stroked every single hour until 24 had been made 

he said he was adequately paid. 

i sipped my warm cafe au lait wishing this Paris memory would stay and stay!

 

but a wind and hard rain came up abruptly and took all the dryness away. 

Montmartre 

on a cobbled July afternoon 

in the shade 

stirring with an unfashionable plastic spoon 

i the tourist began to consume 

a Lebanese grape and a sweet pepper with a stem shaped like the quarter moon.

The Sun Also Rises

no one saw Hemingway shit into his green slop bucket 

so fuck it 

he's long dead now 

but i walked on a tour to his former studio 

and people in the know 

think it's cool he was an expat who came from money 

Hadley was his first special honey 

he wrote in a sharp narrative style making himself famous 

winning awards from the House of Lords on a hill near Paris 

i didn't give a damn that he grew depressed 

who could have guessed 

he'd loudly kill himself?

he still quietly lives on many a library shelf: 

the old street is narrow where he walked, drank, talked 

the Paris traffic passed by in its' familiar hurry: 

it did not appear aimless as it sped over ancient cobbles with edges smoothed by dreams 

which often bleed with age.

The Alps and Paris

i'm leaving for Murren, Switzerland
July 10th from Philadelphia airport
via Zurich and Luzerne. The Eiger
Guest House will be my home away from
home for 6 days of hiking and enjoying
the beautiful mountain scenery. I hope
to get on the high route, walk the
wildflower meadows, and see the Eiger
and the Jungfrau up close. Once
that part of my European journey is over,
I'll travel to Paris for a 5 night stay
in the Latin Quarter, where I have an
apartment rented, close to the Seine and
Notre Dame. I will be busy exploring.
Stay well.
Until the 25th of July, then.

traces

i think i'm going to town
and you may not be there
but i'll still have a quick look around

i'll look for the way you walk
and the style of your hair
i'll listen for your easy manner of talk

i'll stop in the grocery store
buying only what i need
sliding my feet on the linoleum floor

i'll look at all the faces
i'll focus on their eyes
& look for hopeful traces

patti smith is coming

patti smith are you for real 

or a photographic myth floating on the fog 

when the light is dim 

are you waiting at the exit or just coming in? 

patti smith where has Bob gone for his photographic kiss 

in New York City when the time is strange are you keeping it simple or forcing a change? 

patti smith becoming the night 

are you dreaming on the stage? 

what are you saying? as you escape your cage?

with your arms stabbing the air

your body swaying 

johnny's no longer praying 

'cause he's bleeding on the floor 

he ain't dancing anymore 

little joey has his little gun 

he's shooting up for a bunch of fun

patti smith, where you going with that song in your mouth?

are you packing heading south? 

down to the bad into the dark 

under the brooding trees in the county park 

over by the river and through the wood 

a rocking chair might do you good 

patti smith are you for real 

or a photographic myth floating on the fog 

when the light is dim 

are you waiting at the exit or just coming in?

441

along the river road
an old shoe and a broken commode
scattered bits of window glass
and an old outhouse
a dead squirrel, then a flattened mouse
more unidentifiable fur
of a him or a her
riding in the heat of summer
with a fried brain
in need of relief and rain
i was going east on four forty one
riding away from the sun
towards Marietta and the turn
beyond the fruit stand where i learn
my legs are really tired and the heat
is killing me and i feel beat
no car or truck or motorcycle
hits me on my carbon bicycle
as they go whizzing by at speed
after the corn field where i peed
i remounted and felt wonderful
i still had one cold water bottle full
and the memory of a special girl
and i mean that sincerely
i was thinking very clearly

since November

when i see you hiding in the bath
a secret wrapped around your head
floating above the water
thinking of what i just said
thinking of bed

well, now it's time to remember
that i've had you since November
and you've been with me since yesterday
but
that's more than i should say
won't you come again before you go away

here is my ring and a solemn vow
when a window is closed i'll reopen it somehow
when a kiss is as hard as nails
good loving fails

when i see you sitting in my chair
i'm still looking for you everywhere
and you thought it was a prankster joke
but i never spoke
and you took me at my word
although you never heard

when i see you hiding in the bath
in the afternoon before two
hair wrapped in bubble shampoo
thinking of what i just said
thinking of bed

well, now it's time to remember
that i've had you since November
and you've been with me since yesterday
but
that's more than i should say
won't you come again before you go away

here is my ring and a solemn vow
when a window is closed i'll reopen it somehow
when a kiss is as hard as nails
good loving fails

it's you i'm thinking of

now sitting on the couch
after a few beers
thinking about you only
brings me full of tears
walking in the sun alone
away from home
under the shady tree
no one but me
and i can't remember did i phone
i don't know why
there's no reply
i can't be singing
if there's no ringing
sometimes i just stare into space
i'm looking for you but can't find your face
i'm not afraid of any man
i just can't seem to understand
now sitting on the shore
after a long sleep
thinking about you only
makes me want to weep
walking in the rain alone
away from home
under the angry sky
i wonder why
it's you i'm thinking of
love
it's you i'm thinking of

whatever follows the dawn?

Sun King is so chill
but the fool on the hill
is still no easy pill to swallow
somewhere a heart is hollow
somewhere near the end
i'll have no more silly notes to send
but if i could only choose
i'd wear a pair of new blue suede shoes
i'd sweep you onto the nearest dance floor
ask you for a little squeeze and so much more
but you're not asking for anything
and pretty soon winter will pass into spring
and maybe you've never spoken that word
or possibly you haven't heard
all the winds of time are forward-blowing
all the maidens in love are happy knowing
dreams come true in paper back romance
i'm in a complete trace
but you're in a foreign land
hearing the lonely heart's club band
seeing everything while i'm not there
you're always telling me that life's not fair
now tell me how everything seems
you've exhausted all your womanly schemes
how will you feel when you hear my tires squeal
and the ride you wanted to take is gone
how will you carry on
whatever follows the dawn?

George and his brother

"This was not what I intended,"
George spat the words at Henry
as he shoved the chair aside,
"I could have been a contender,
but now I'm a bum, a bum, you hear
and without any Hollywood connections
and I'm not talking about Mr. Brando."
But Henry had already stormed from the room,
the door swinging in and out on fine hinges
and George's dog watching from the porch
seemed to follow with her retriever's eyes
the motion of the door, but couldn't ask
why the brothers argued, only knew
she wanted another bone to chew. There was none.
Henry had the keys to the Chevy parked in the
drive and inserted them into the slot, rotated
his slender wrist with a casual twist, and upon hearing
the motor come to life, he began to back away
from the small cabin, seeing his brother holding
the door, stopping its' movement, and yelling
words which were not meant to be generous.
Henry saw the mouth move, but could no longer hear
the individual words. He felt their sharpness.
He had already reversed the truck to where it nudged
the old oak tree, scraped a small section of bark,
and was ready to drive to town,
to escape George for an afternoon,
to relax with strangers on the tourist section of the
local beach, maybe to have a cold beer under an umbrella,
with a pile of steamed oysters for comfort and because they
tasted so damn good, were fresh from the beds.
Once more he looked over to his brother, and he threw his
left fist into the air, out of the open window, and
raising his clenched hand, he extended his middle finger.
It was stiffly erect, sending the message to George.
Henry shifted the transmission into drive and pulled out,
over gravel and unmowed grass, turned onto the public road,
and with a puff of dark gray exhaust,and the high whine
from it's aging engine, rounded the bend in his truck,
without caring for his brother or the dog.
He never glanced back. "Contender, my ass," he thought.

i've always been cold

if you could see me surfing
myself across the endless mountains
washing my sins in uptown English fountains
hitting the highway at a hundred miles an hour
passing French ladies each holding a single flower
border guards uniformly check out my business
looking into my private life
ask about my finances and my second wife
i'm sitting in the middle of an ocean bridge
west of Montreal on an island in the sand
falling suspended from another person's hand
it's not impossible or even fairly certain
since i'm hiding behind an anticipated curtain
all my lovers are hiding in the audience
i'm sitting in the middle of this crazy intense
bending at the shifting in the wildly blowing time
shouting so you'll tell me what is yours and what is mine?
i'm breaking out while you're apparently breaking in
soaking in the sunset while you're soaking in the gin
there are too many people pointing fingers in this town
holding themselves upright while still holding me down
and always in the new night i'm feeling packaged and sold
you're trying to convince me that i've always been cold
i've come to you drenched in my silly regret
and wonder if this is as good as i'll get
and yet and yet and additionally yet
i never wanted to disappoint
i didn't feel any special need to anoint
i just wanted to get my head out of this joint
watching you watching me
washing out to an endless sea

walking the shadow

yea i walked the shadow of
a narrow valley road
i carried a soldier's load
past mothers who had died
unmoving, while no one cried
i saw bodies tossed and crumpled
their rural lives humbled
into a tangled mess of clothes
a single wilted rose
next to the sleeping face
of a child of Oriental race
i went by walls of bullet-marked stone
standing alone
roofs splintered and a few falling
i heard native voices calling
and pleading and begging and quiet
the air once suspenseful full of riot
finally with wild despair
i saw their eyes looking anxiously everywhere
there was no where to hide
no way to know who had lied
no where to be safely buried
no longer any reason to be hurried
the dust blew fitfully into the afternoon
and i saw in the red dirt a broken spoon
a pair of sad sandals and a good luck charm
resting near a completely severed arm
i saw the uneaten bowl of white rice
balanced on top of an American doll twice as nice
as the young girl split open on her side
unmoving, while no one cried

i've never kissed you

baby how much i missed you
and i've never even kissed you
i never had the chance to spend the night
satisfying a lover's appetite
no, i never had the sense
to climb down from my lonely fence
i never had the heart
to ask you right from the start
would you have me in the morning
take me without any warning
would you be the gentle to my breeze
would you be the welcome to my please
the smile i'd walk a mile to see
be the arms my charms would love to have wrapped around me
baby how much i missed you
and i've never even kissed you
never felt the smoothness of your fingertips
moving with desire across my hungry lips
no, i never had the sense
to climb down from my lonely fence
i never had the heart
to ask you right from the start

driving down the road

i was driving down the road
with Carol and my heavy load
singing her crazy song
about war and everything going wrong
on highway 81
we were young and on the run
in the mountains of eastern Tennessee
a girl in love with her journey and me
heading west from the nearest sea
we didn't have a radio
the sun would show us where to go
across Virginia and across our mind
we didn't know what we would find
she had a picture of her rich old man
sitting in his back yard garbage can
he was smiling with a whisky sour
she laughed at him just about every hour
i had a poem from an old girl friend
waving goodbye at the very end
i laughed at her just about every hour
never had the sense to take a quick cold shower
i got the keys to a real hot deal
but i'm still looking for my next meal
and Carol is looking for her mister right
i'm no longer keeping her up at night
but we saw America and had our share
and i remember and can tell you where
we lay down by the flower meadow and saw the stars
on Saturday night after they closed the bars
i know where we climbed the toughest hills
and the view from the top which gave us chills
we saw the western ocean and slept on the silent sand
and if you didn't you would never understand
now i'm driving down the highway
and no one is looking my way
i am my own bypass in danger of running out of gas
but my eyes are still straight ahead
thinking of Carol and what might have been instead.