dissolution of entities

You were gone.
The hallway locker
no longer feels your hand
lifting the latch.
There's no fumbling for the key
which never was.
An echo of my footfall,
the familiar air moving across my head
stirs parallel thoughts
of a bedside kiss and the simple flowers
by your garden pond.
We ran exhausted into town - our shadows hungry
on the fertile ground.
You placed your head across my knees,
falling asleep, your hair full
upon my thigh.
This school is empty.
The hard floor suffers another loss
when the waxman spills his bucket,
it's cold slurry hardening a heart,
spreading like a red rash upon my face.
The hallway locker
no longer has your number,
having been changed.
The new bell rings.
The new students suddenly charge
this way with warrior sounds,
their text book traffic jams dissolving
at a new intersection -
elbows tight, wiggling bodies, revving mouths
anxious for their own metal box,
the hallway locker
and
you were gone.

World History: Shahid #4

The tin soldier grew bold,
wearing shoes for a smile.
A girl, Mandy, tugged his pants,
and held his stupid hand for a while.

His black eyes crossed
in empty space and lost
focus for a considerable time
while i'm
the newest statue in this room,
a substitute for a particular lady
who has escaped on her teacher broom.

I read
the history instructions she provided:
A map of our world, their planet,
damn it, damn it, damn it,
not an insignificant map; not poison gas
or a strange path to an essay museum.

The blue podium reeked of tedium
but it held my weight while
the soldier killed me with his jokes.

Their voices filled like balloons
with nothing and That's All Folks!

lip gloss

my favorite shade of lip gloss
is a nervous black
when i step from my landing
then immediately turn back
to the previous stair
wasn't someone there
only a brief moment ago?
you ask me why i hesitate
and smile when i say
it's because i haven't anything
special to wear today
you on the other hand
are perfectly fine
wearing a casual pair
of pants most anytime
without makeup or perfume
i watch you wondering
if i'll be ready soon
but i'm waiting for the rising of the moon
and a shaft of falling light
to touch my knees
to end this freeze
which freezes me as i glance
at distant lovers while they dance
in a riot of silent romance

my favorite shade of lip gloss
is an uncertain blue
as i sit by an intimate moment
thinking of you

Sylvia

Keep your head out of
that gas oven
no matter the time of day.
It couldn't help you choose,
Mrs. Hughes,
between yourself and they.

Those children were sleeping
in an adjacent room
while you fancied some doom.

Your wet towels were a slap
in their face
although stuffed under the doors
in no apparent haste.

As part of the scheming,
you became the turkey dreaming
of her Sunday roast.

Whatever happened to the ghost
writing on her kitchen floor?

Shouldn't she have arisen
and opened the door
for the au pair at nine?

The painters with a key on time
might have been out of breath,
but it was your death.

for whom does it toll

point your pistol at a head
paint it red

watch the pool of contrived thinking spread
over the slippery floor
always, nevermore

said the Raven once before

& tell me what ALL  this is for
if you're not sure
sitting virtually at the wheel of a speeding fully-leather car
passing everything

whoever it is you are

close today to home, but really really far
away in the desert of your dreams
finding it's not always what it seems

dance with me and make me cry
don't ask why

the bed where we find ourselves 

asleep
thick and deliciously deep
our hours & hours & hours are steep
and you're climbing for the sun

reaching for a gun
your armor is now undone

it's not too late for a morning shower
whatever the song being sung

whatever the hour

there's a bell being rung

but for whom does it toll?

COPAKE, New York 1/21/2010

the barn was dark
and cold and old
and drafty with a cement floor
that smelled of manure
the green paint of several years ago
was faded but not gone
this early morning dawn
a dollar late ten thousand shy
a noise like a grown man's sigh
mixed with the 51 cows chewing
in thick exhaled air and mooing
in metal stalls for their early feed
Dean Pierson shot them and watched them bleed
and heard them scream while their eyes
bulged in fright the cries
could be heard long after that last shot
the cold barn felt suddenly hot
and the note that this farmer wrote
was still pinned neatly to an entrance door
securely so he could be sure
it was noticed and found
his rifle rested heavily on the still hard ground
alongside his lifeless Self
the milk buckets useless on a nearby shelf
where old straw, sagging spider webs, and dirt
sat in drifted piles heaped high with hurt.

romeo, romeo

dean's list
schindler's list
grocery list
bucket list
i was dreaming on your bed
while you checked my cell phone text messages
for other women that i said
were gone for good, were past
i'm curious how our relationship can last
if you won't trust me?
of course you found the evidence
which now i realize should have been deleted
the seductive secretary at the Christmas party
and the tango twins that i greeted
at my modeling agency i can explain
& my ex-wife the alcoholic well we're so almost done
since nothing between us was ever much fun
it's not worth mentioning the pain
it would cause her by not responding
her psyche need is so immense
hence
i shouldn't be kicked out of your place
this late at night as
i was dreaming on your bed
when you so impetuously said
Out, Out, Out, Out!
what's this all about?
and must you shout?

Heroin

Heroin
i heard the word again
from the son of a man
unable to make a stand
who threw down the gauntlet he was dealt
so slowly over time he knelt
& found himself a little bag
his life became such a drag
like a discarded cigarette
still smoking by the curb and yet
he lost that vital choice
to claim an authentic voice
before his bag got bigger
and bigger and bigger
while the son lost the dad
but no longer felt sad
just uncomprehending
and that's the lonely ending
Heroin

Pearl

Why did you die
after Woodstock
Oh, cry baby cry
take another piece of my heart
& pull it apart
'cause there's nothing more to lose
these damn summertime blues
so down on me
Pearl set yourself free
you mama of the microphone
with a voice like gravel and groan
get it while you can
& ball and chain
these memories remain
but they'll never be the same
no no no no no no no
sometimes i just got to know
work me, Lord.

white

i'm sorry if this is not
lava quick and hot
a monster to the core
but nevermore
as Poe tried to say
the other day
i wanted to woo
your skin slowly and new
from the left ear
where i whisper
to your smallest toe
touching as i go
inside to hide
if your nails are red
i'll squeeze instead
and if they're green
i'll know what you mean
and if they're blue
i'll know what to do
and if they're teal
i'll know how to feel
and if they're black
i won't be back
but if they're white
i'll have a bite
i'll want to smell your breath
before my death
be more than a ghost
like many or most.

Chemical Ali: morte/01/25/2010

Chemical Ali was not there
in the rarified air
at the summit of Alpe d'Huez
where a sign in French says
"Allez Armstrong"
go hard and long
he was often hung in the press
accused of doping i should guess
but never strung on the gallows as Ali
is soon to be
yet he seriously kicked ass
and would certainly out-class
most sports writers
playing pencil lovers dull as fighters
Chemical Ali will soon be dead
for what he did, not what he said
the ghastly gassing of the Kurds
an act of evil beyond mere words
innocent children and mothers
fathers sisters brothers
uncles aunts old middle young
poisonous clouds all far flung
by Iraqi Migs and French Mirages
no racing bicycle in those garages
thousands dead and homes razed
survivors stumbling in a toxic daze
while Saddam smoked his Cuban cigar
sipped bourbon inside his palace bar
holding perfect Kosta Boda crystal
and his famous Glock 18C pistol
Chemical Ali was not there

single time in Austin

it's single time in Austin
but i'm on a trip to Idaho
far from the hill country cowboy
who wanted to god damn know
"why won't you saddle up & ride me
the length of the mighty Rio Grande
far down the coast to Mexico
with a whiskey in your hand?"

it's singing time in old LaGrange
inside that outlaw bar
i should be wrapping up the final set
and warming up my car
but Texas boots are kicking
hard on this dance room floor
and tough men say they love me
so i'm gonna give them more
here's a western slice of Heaven
far from the city crowd
where the cold beer has been flowing
and the boys are Lone Star loud
no bull but lots of pick-ups
and bar-be-que and girls
in wrangler jeans and looking good
with straight hair or with curls

it's single time in Austin
but i'm on a trip to Idaho
far from that hill country cowboy
who wanted to god damn know
"why won't you saddle up and ride me
the length of the mighty Rio Grande
far down the coast to Mexico
with a whiskey in your hand?"

yellow jackets and a smile

i rode past a scattered pile of small stones
matted fur and bones
at the corner where a church
sits atop a holy perch
watching me pedal past
it can't last
i followed you up the silly hill
in an easy gear and still
i felt at ease
no pressure to please
i rode the path of least resistance
looking into the distance
and heard the sound of a guitar
in the passing of a car
single file
for a little while
i was a complete bicycle
a happy boy on his little tricycle
with a happy mom and dad
happy together and glad
on a Saturday afternoon
it ended much too soon
the day and the soft shifting of gears
no fears
just a simple wave to the departing tandem
which we came across at random
yellow jackets and a smile
mile after mile after mile

whatever happened to the dawn?

Fort Dix on the Jersey side
of the Delaware
i never imagined i'd be wandering there
in the summer of 69
but it was all mine
even if it wasn't yet
that i heard of Tet
when Marines shot their way into
the Citadel
which eventually fell
a flag rose with new blood
on an old pipe
and stars and stripes
and young men's gripes
and dust and smoke
so thick you'd choke
these cats came from Hue
with nothing to say
but were screaming inside their head
inside the body bags counting their dead
Tennessee smiles
thousands of miles
from the green hills of a country life
with a davy crockett folding knife
and a curly haired young lover with a name
like Susie or Sally or Mame
it could never be the same
for the Georgia boy looking for his hunting dog
after the war in his personal fog
without eyes to see
his family
the training they gave
never mentioned a grave
never talked about screaming at night
or the unsettled light of a hot firefight
there's no firefly on a cool summer lawn
whatever happened to the dawn?
or the boy from Alabama or PA
who lived to lock and load another day
along the watchtower
where the rice paddy and the flower
heard the helicopter shoot the moon
will it finally be over soon,
whatever happened to the dawn?

rush, oh rush

Rush Limbaugh is no fish taco
with a secret sauce and an aroma
to die for
he's a radio whore
nothing more
another fat bastard with a tiny heart
sitting in a sea of ice with a voice
like a flirt
he's a menacing hurt
famously curt
Rush Limbaugh is a scared bully
with a secret life and a mandate
to attack Feinstein
give him a dime
anytime
and watch that sucker dance
ants in his pants
and peanuts for manly balls
he's all jaws
and hot air for some empty heads
who listen still sleeping
in their morning beds

American History II

Teaching US history to a group
of students in 10th grade
and in spite of my best efforts
more than one began to fade
while I talked about Uncle HO
his famous trail and the Viet Cong
I wanted to chastise some kids
because it just felt wrong
to not give me the attention
I felt the war needed
so went on about Kennedy and Diem
until it was completed
the war, you know, without Japanese
or French mostly American boys
who would have rather been in the World
experiencing more pleasant joys
than pounding the bush and soaking monsoon rain
in an Asian jungle or strange ville
where Westmoreland saw his tunnel light
from a star-studded hill
while napalm burned flesh & scorched
jungle trees creating an American scar
which could be seen from C130s
dropping Agent Orange from afar
Yes it is an old war as wars tend to go
and lasted too long with many brave deaths
but i looked at my audience and heard
the many exasperated breaths
of bored distracted teenagers
this Vietnam War isn't a story
that they can appreciate for
the sacrifice and simple glory
once shown by a grandfather
an uncle or aunt
i mentioned the campus protests
but tried not to rant
about the Government or
the Tonkin Gulf Resolution or lying
my message was mostly that fine young
American youth were fighting and dying
in a strange world far away
and should be remembered and honored by high schoolers
even today.

Haiti

i'm not sure why Haiti
seems to receive all the bad news
but at Port-au-Prince a horizontal fault
ripped churches and tossed pews
collapsed hospital walls
trapping people inside
many screams could be heard
many people have died
10 miles west and 5 deep
magnitude 7.0 preliminary
the poorest country in the sea
needing more cemetery.

Fox hires what?

Palin hired by Fox News
owned by Rupert
not by Jews
Going Rogue going swell
one rich lady
far from Hell
with stylist clothes and smiles
no Levi creep
Anchorage trials
a pretty face and sane
without a doubt
or a brain

hanging with your picture

i am hanging with your picture
to make things appear clearer
but it's been another cloudy day
and all the girls have gone away
is it too late at night to get a fast bite
just checking out the drive in
my fast car burning out it's engine
smoking past your outstretched arms
woman working all her charms
i am hanging with your picture
to make things appear clearer
but i just want to ride my bike
so don't ask me what it is i like
is it too late at night to get a fast bite
when it's always in your eyes
blueness like the clearest skies
my motor running like a power jet
roaring across your radar net
i am hanging with your picture
to make things appear clearer
but standing tall on my tallest ladder
reaching for something to make it still matter
is it too late at night to get a fast bite
have your kisses turned to ashes
a flirtatious wave of your eye lashes
down this path that now i'm walking
i hear it said all you do is talking
i am hanging with your picture