sonata, Moonlight

soft
& softer
with the moon
the stars deeply in tune
as tender lovers swoon
& clouds with drifting light
marry everyone in our sight
& gravity momentarily suspends
the music still floating here
far from any anchored pier
this sonota tenderly
wings the heart
& sets it free
to be
me

two halves

it's a lazy summer afternoon
and i'm midway between
two halves of desperately hungry
hoping that i'll get to see you soon
BUT
from my dream to the nearby bar
i won't have to travel very far
to kiss your luscious lips
& watch your moving hips
sense the appetite of my anxious fingertips
touch the sweaty smile of body heat
Yes, it won't be long before we meet

it's a lazy summer afternoon
and i'm midway between
two halves of desperately hungry
hoping that i'll get to see you soon
BUT
when you left me at the corner store
told me you'd be coming back for more
was it a lie you spoke?
some kind of silly joke?
should i just lay here until my body's broke?
i'm the loner crying in the street
Yes, it won't be long before we meet

Pictures at an Exhibition

i saw the pictures at an exhibition: 

no price was charged 

or admission ticket required

no stub 

or membership rules posted! 

i felt a moving mystery. 

it gathered all the straining ear

along a horned path 

with strings 

and played the famous Mussorgsky song in four parts 

an ethereal alien air grew louder 

but then soft; 

a tidal sweeping water spray of sound

& a flair for the flamboyant 

the kettle drum and french horn 

keys with flute attached 

the trombone blast and some elfish piccolos 

a large section of bass 

incessant rock knock and pound 

The Kingdom of finest woven lace weaving notes

of orchestral tempest 

escaping notes 

fleeing from excellent instruments 

& fingers of humankind grandly being toyed.

write & more

if you happen to live long enough
there's a chance of writing some pretty
good stuff
or die unsung
& much too young
without reporting anything of note
are you the goat
with a voice
stuck in your throat
no sound at all
& then the fall
to distant depths unknown
not shown
on any human map?
so, write
& write more, more
to stop a war
inhale a breath
comfort a baby
before death
whatever reason
or without one
proclaim yourself
it can be fun!

Gertrude Stein

her straight dark hair cut short & tight 

leaned closer toward me,

asking for a light. 

she smoked my name,

exhaling from the promising start.

she tapped her ashes directly into my heart. 

we were sitting warm at the best cafe 

on a Paris terrace.

 

we had clear words to say.

we heard a Piaf song flying slowly from the nearby boulevard. 

i scribbled je t'aime on a French notecard!

by the Eiffel Tower,

i sipped a small glass of chilled champagne 

underneath her watchful eyes and 

a soft afternoon rain.

i remembered a fine Cezanne 

yet couldn't explain 

why it was hung inside a fancy wooden frame.

and on the Rue de Fleurus 

drinking white wine, 

we saw approaching Gertrude Stein,

and she would certainly provide the answer.

On The Waterfront

come with me kid & give it to me straight 

Karl Malden said from his dinner plate 

his priest grew angry at the crowd  

stevedores loading down in the pit manly loud 

where Irish whisky killed an honest man 

& Johnny Friendly cried from his witness stand 

"i could have had class!" but, alas. 

Buddy Brando said to brother Steiner in their cab

"i could've been a contender!"

spoke tender Terry Malloy who wouldn't have to surrender 

his conscience for success 

they laid odds he wouldn't get up but he passed that crucial test.

a broken heart

the shortest sound is too long
no voice can help me sing this song
the blackest night i can not bear
i'm looking for you everywhere

my eyes hang heavy i can not sleep
i didn't want to be in this deep
no one near can feel my ache
it's almost more than i can take

i died a thousand times today
yet still my lover shied away
i'm lonely when i'm left alone
not knowing, but i should have known

how can i cure a broken heart
how to rewind it from the start
how can i prove that i love you
if you're not willing to be true?
i'm just another i o u
set drifting dear without a clue.

whiskey bride

She grabbed the whiskey bottle by the neck
With a red-nailed fist
& poured herself a stiff one
While the piano player kissed
The beer she set aside
He took it all in stride
Had played this scene before
as she strummed her plaintive voice
above the bar room floor
her breath like soft Jack Daniels
with sunshine in her eyes
she sang such lusty stories
& swore they were not lies
She left a hungry trail around his neck
with a red-tipped tongue
& whispered into his ear
for the song he hadn't sung
a simple prelude to another piece
the quick embrace that wouldn't cease
His fingers on the ivory keys
his focal point surrendering
her fingers on his mouth & face
both lips just now remembering

come & be my whiskey bride
forever time we'll set aside
come & tell me what to be
for you and then for me

without a full moon

take this sword in your gut
dog man
i fire you to hell
with the Hades group
of idiots ringing my bell
it's 8:20 on a Sunday late
with rain like a torrent
overwhelming my front yard grate
and you won't care
as long as the cable TV
is working and the air
is suffused with scents of eclair
why have my bracelets gone to rust
and bones to ashes
my heart a victim of your wars
and scarred with gashes
all the while you busy yourself
with makeup off the shelf
and on your face
i yearn to know the watchman's name
and guess the nature of his game
know intent
and kiss true love with true devotion
stop the tide & pause the motion
of the spinning stone
still left unturned
great forests burned
great oceans warmed
beyond their natural call
and so you fall
& i, dog man, bark
without my lover
or a full moon, in the dark

a busy intersection

i don't want to love you
more than you love me
but rather keep it balanced
centered, evenly
between two strands of interest
human or divine
dressed like nun or harlot
regardless, call it mine

i don't want to leave you
cold & flat & sore
but rather make it handsome,
always wanting more
in spite of time demanding
new movement at a pace
that blurs the definition
& the lines upon my face

i don't want to lose you
more than you lose me
on the shoulder of a highway
near the sounding of a sea
past a busy intersection
by the bus stop, carelessly
i don't want to lose you
more than you lose me

field of flowers

i smell you in this field of flowers
as our moment passed which seemed like hours
when I took you tight to make you mine
skin on skin in, out of time
behind the door which had no key
best left unlocked for you & me
beneath the sun beyond the wall
with fingertips i took my fall
i called your name you knew me well
left me dreaming cast a spell
i couldn't run, or get away
tried to talk, no words to say
that childhood crush is coming down
i just can't use it on this ground
i just can't notice how i feel
i can't be honest, can't reveal

i smell you in this field of flowers

Edwardine, forgive me:)

She dressed like a Vassar student
from 1932 with formal tucks, a pearl necklace, and silver hair
held high like her esteem.
She would not play the fool,
nor did she like to be entertained with anything
less than the most erudite spoken language
of Shakespeare and Charles Dickens.
She force fed as though we were fledgling baby birds
and she the raptor with wild owl beak and a penetrating
gaze into your forming character.
She would ply that mold by God because
that is what an English teacher did, so suffer little children
and welcome high school Class of 1966, into her domain.
You will never remain the same!

long last night

i stayed up long last night
thinking of how you make me feel
and there's more to what fuels my interest
than your obvious sex appeal

it's your eyes, mouth, your auburn hair
& how you listen to the words we share
your mind, smile, and creativity
combined with your touch enrapture me

i wish i could encapsulate
that one single exciting trait
so i stayed up long last night
thinking of why it feels so right

and then i remembered beneath the tree
i was struck by your sincerity
as you spoke about your life and more
& trusted me unlike anyone before

with an easy voice and a gentle strength
i could measure you but whatever length
if my nights are short or the days are long
i'll always have you in this song

crazy girl

she had her own mind
but was never unkind
rolled herself in a bed of newly cut clover
close to the edge but never went over

she was a crazy girl
with a smile like a bumblebee
her stinger dug deep into me
i wanted her most intense pain
and she gave it over and over again
told me it was genuine love
& that's what i was thinking of

she had her own voice
but gave me a choice
tied me up in a bed of freshly laundered clothes
somewhere in space where no one goes

she had her own dress
but showed me much less
wrapped herself in the style of perfect hollywood
under the stars whenever she could

she was a crazy girl
with a smile like a bumblebee
her stinger dug deep into me
i wanted her most intense pain
and she gave it over and over again
told me it was genuine love
& that's what i was thinking of

TS, phone home

i slept in the Victoria Hotel
down in old Mexico
and walked on handmade tiles
colored in deep indigo.

Eliot wasn't on my floor
nor was he in the bar
listening to the young gringo
strumming on an old guitar.

i heard he was still swimming
in a pool without a sound
with a handful of wasteland dust
i remember he had found.

he was wearing a huge sombrero
pulled tightly against his cheek
with a slip knot fully made
still showing the receipt.

my margarita had no salt
but i drank it all the same
to not offend the bartender
who called me by my name.

a Spanish lady with the melons
she was proposing to sell
approached the nervous tourist
ringing the front desk bell.

i came to walk the canyon
so deep it smelled of death
where spirits wear an empty mask
and take away your breath.

a train would leave the station
soon maybe the next day
and though tempted by those melons
i knew i shouldn't stay.

my coach was full of writers
down on their luck & drunk
on mescal which they all consumed
until their voices shrunk.

we stopped above the canyon walls
& began the long decent
into darkness at highest noon
i wondered what it meant

i heard the hidden waterfall
down in these depths of doom
and supped on poetry endless
beneath a Copper moon.

the slightest trace

corpus callosum
amygdala
basal ganglia
i am looking for you everywhere
but can't find you anywhere.

are you a sore on my ass
a bent blade of grass
a lady with exceptional class
or nearly nothing at all?

thinking, but i can't recall
from where are you watching me
and why aren't you here?

i want you near, dearly

tell me if you're close by
with a simple sigh so that i
can finally be at ease
would you, please?

i sat by the pond & watched the fish
poked at my food, didn't finish the dish

lost the appetite i tried to keep

wanted you

took a quick peek
but saw nothing interesting, went away
and determined finally to stay
away, 

but your pull, your eyes
eventually even i realize
there's magnetism and magic
in desire 

along with the tragic

Oh yes, i'd like to see your face
the faintest hint, the slightest trace.

the 3rd i

it was a time before television
or radio was perfected
when poetry was important
the words and phrases dissected
and contemplated,
simply stated
like the dandelion seed
without a philosophical creed
released into the air
and blown everywhere
into currents swiftly rode
nothing showed
no signs or spiritual pointers
no businessman loiters
on this trail,
without fail
the wooden bridge spans
this clear creek where we hold hands
and kiss; a heavenly angel
with wings beating our hearts.
is this how it starts
i wonder, torn asunder with wildness
and scents of bliss
it's you i miss.

a song for you

is love something you can measure
based upon ones' sense of pleasure;
a cup into which you can put so much
and feel it like a special touch;

a mood reserved for just the young?

you'll know it when you hear it sung.

a melody of such exquisite grace
enchants, enfolds, & pulls your face
into a smile of cat-like purr
when you simply think upon him or her.

Thriller

Michael we need who you were
when you'd dance with flying fur
and the crazy music hit our beat
moon walking dancing on your feet
toe tapping snapping drums a'cracking
jumping up & spun around
never ever come back down
hipping hop the world of rock
beat it thriller ticking tock

smooth criminal in white ties
billie jean falls down & cries

your table is ready, Sir

i've waited all eternity
to sit & talk & sip my tea
at this special table
God reserved for me

it just happens to be there
when I reach out from this chair
& position myself
the world is everywhere

in colors & landscape & sky
& water which is really why
i should be happy
i thought with a sigh

yet,

from asia to the ivory coast
shadows & hunger like a ghost
escape from our notice
when we need it most

from the highest point to the low
the most insignificant know
overlooked is the fate
they suffer & grow

the gardens they plant with some pain
for nourishment not for acclaim
not glamor nor fame
they're just hoping to remain
to survive another day
on minimal pay.

little bastard

her mother was not married
she barely knew her dad
short memories of his furtive face
were the only ones she had
10 years she said she suffered
lived with her mom away
heard bastard spoken to her face
behind her back all day
by raucous kids who felt secure
they'd taunt and chase her hope
& catch it in a bloody dish
then swing it from their rope.
she married a street fighter
from a nearby river town
who proved to be full jealous
kept her locked inside his crown
she couldn't smile to strangers
or dance with men unknown
for years his anger strangled
her love which should have grown
kids called her little bastard
cruel hurt that word dug deep
lodged in her heart forever
so sad to hear her weep.

night watchman

i saw you watching me
but your touch was far
as you smoked a lusty cigarette
full of nicotine and tar
your hair soft on your shoulder
with your face around two lips
so full of promise as I drank
my beer in hungry sips
a man sang Frank Sinatra
with a microphone in hand
while couples danced a lover’s beat
on our patio of sand
underneath tiny Christmas lights
wrapped tight around your waist
i found myself in puzzled knots
and wondered how you’d taste
with smoke still on your Texas tongue
and rapture in your eyes
i heard the night voice whispering
there was longing in these skies.

talk to him!

why don't you talk to him?
i can't

i mean, really there is nothing to say
i have to go my own way

and besides
what life would it be
for him or me?

two souls in thin air!
what would keep them there?

why don't you talk to him?
i can't

closeness

a long time coming
but what's the rush
this pleasure center
is not meant to gush
like an out-of-control firefight
on an insane battlefield
it's not a contest meant
to win or yield
not an Einstein's
relative theory
where going too fast
will make you weary
but rather stay
& take your pleasure
in deep relaxation
at your own pace, leisure
that's how satisfactions' hold should measure