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 grow 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