a dance of two

i took her inside
the room opened into a storm
and the storm became a trumpet in my hand
in my heart, through me
i blew the horn and heard a sound
trees in the squall; heart into another world
and do all the rules still apply?
never, no rules now or ever
bouncing across the floor, into the light are
fields of yellow, flashing, yelling, no more
emphatically on the bedroom floor
never to arise, to say again once more
the heart of darkness came into view
blackness, glow through me, never to stop
like lyrics which when younger i always knew
shout forth, no thought, words flew.

stray cat blues #2

she was sweet as sugar
as she danced across the stage
she had twelve curtain calls
then climbed back in her cage
i was all-natural honey number three
who stung her all night long for free
i was a pistol-shooting son of a gun
but she told me i wasn't the only one
who told her that
then she gave me a slap!
i kept falling into her trap
kissing her and acting sincere
she gave me the sweetest reason to be near
well, that's no way to win my heart
i kept hoping for another start
when she finally called my name
well, it might be too late to catch the early train
but it's not too late to ring the bell
to play the game of show and tell
she was sweet as sugar
as she danced across the stage
she had twelve curtain calls
then climbed back in her cage
she knelt down to eat her meal
man, that's how i wanted to feel
i told her i was a pistol-shooting son of a gun
but she told me i wasn't the only one
who told her that
she gave me a slap!
i kept falling into her trap.

Babe Ruth

in the end
i did four
pencil sketches of a friend
and a fifth
we drank empty the very next day
before we went sailing
into San Francisco bay
where we met a company
who had just left on a tour of the coast
but that wasn't the least or the most
that we smoked or drank
on the wooden boat before it sank
in a sudden blast
which torn down our single mast
it felt like we ran aground
and wouldn't too easily be found
on the crossing ferry
nearing the busy Sausalito shore
so i tried my free hand
at house-boat-keeping but the decor
kept looking like a combination of dimly lit sun and windy sea
and didn't resemble the tranquility
that i sought
so i did two major paintings
and after two days they remained un-bought
i traveled down to Oakland
where the hungry dealer
agreed to introduce me to people who partied in the air
but when i met them there
they asked me what i admire
and i told them i like nature,
want her proportions to be free,
that they shouldn't resemble me
but their laughter died when i bent to tie my shoe
they left for the zoo
and that's the honest history
of a recent sailing trip
with one notable difference from the truth:
my name has never been Babe Ruth
and i don't know why
but i once saw the blue sky
and the sexy beach
shimmering within reach
when i looked out from the heaving deck
and
a piece of wood floating on the desert sand
with a fateful message fixed by my own hand
and a lady giving me a clue
not of when exactly but who
in the way she expressed herself i felt there was a chance
before the foghorns sounded we'd have the next dance
and would sleep
wrapped together in each other's arms
reciting poetry in our dreams
at least that's what it seems
like
when i ride my bike.

Miss Couldn't Miss

man, we popped him upside the head
left him in the center of the street
stone-cold on the verge of being extremely dead
and the last thing that he said
when we tossed him into his bed
was
he wanted another round of big boy meal
so how did that feel?
we sent out a quick appeal
went looking for a last kiss
we found our famous Miss Couldn't Miss
and she took aim where it wouldn't hurt
grabbed her hem and showed him the inside of her uptown skirt
she was never one to pass up a chance to flirt
man, she gave him a headlong fake
stuffed her oven and got ready to bake
readied her garden with a long leaf rake
slapped down her ten dollar stare
pulled a pin and let loose all her hair
pulled weeds from the fertility bed
man, we popped him upside the head
left him in the center of the street
stone-cold on the verge of being extremely dead
and the last thing that he said
when we tossed him into his bed
was
he wanted a chance to sing his own song
he was sure he could keep it from going wrong
not too short and not too long
well, we took him at his word
and the next thing that we heard
was the sound of a duet and so how'd that feel?
we sent out a quick appeal
went looking for a last kiss
we found our famous Miss Couldn't Miss
and she took aim where it wouldn't hurt
she was never one to pass up a chance to flirt
she gave it her all
and pretty soon we all began to fall
and we stayed down
hitting all the back roads in town
slipping away and never again were found.

we left everything else up to fate

i spent the night in bed
underneath her sheet
she was the finest woman that any man
could ever hope to meet
she grabbed my heart and tried to massage
my back and tickle my feet
so i took her for a slow dance and a fast-food bite
to eat
she looked fine to me and that's what i cared about
it didn't matter to me that other men saw her
and i'd sometimes hear them shout
i'd grab her on my way to the kitchen for a morning piece of pie
she'd give me a bite
and i'd give her the eye
sometimes i'd turn on the daylight
and other times it was enough to imagine her smile
we'd sit by the dinner table for a little while
i'd sing her a love song and she'd sing me a lullaby
we'd laugh like kids and then we'd cry
thinking of all our days already gone by
and it seemed sad but we were glad
counting all the blessings that our lives had
i no longer wanted to think about the mean or the bad
she no longer wanted to go home alone to an un-watered flower
so we decided to turn a lonely minute into a beautiful country hour
and all we had to do
was promise to stay true
determined to travel the same road with our heads held high
it was her and i
and we left everything else up to fate
we didn't want to be late
we ate everything on our plate!

1925

in Juan-les-Pins,
the spearhead of the avant-garde
got very little attention
when the new painter arrived at seven
with images for sale.
their words were clear
and their poetic surfaces nicely polished,
but they did not follow the painter inside
for a studio visit
where he made a feast
and drank deeply, almost alone.
and so, shortly,
more paintings came in a constant supply
and eclipsed their best writing
by a large distance
even though they spent the summer
working on an obligatory tan.

deeper into things

there is no one here and the lights are turned low
possibly i wanted to go
deeper into things that i didn't know
and the trip was anything but sweet
i didn't see anyone whispering on the street
in this new game of quid pro quo
trying to get a hot ticket to the one-way show
but the room is dark and the buzz is crowd noise
tickling all the little circus boys
all prim and proper in their schoolyard poise
and the trip was anything but sweet
i didn't see anyone whispering on the street
in this new game of quid pro quo
well, there was a price to pay and i had cash
with a constant supply of day-old trash
the object was for love to be brash
and the trip was anything but sweet
i didn't see anyone whispering on the street
in this new game of quid pro quo
trying to get a hot ticket to the one-way show.