sticky fingers

tomorrow i'll be far away
the fates will hound me
out of town
into the city
people will smile and hide
pointing their happy fingers
it'll be said i lied
and as for me
in a private garden
reaching for a pardon
with my sticky fingers
tomorrow i'll be far away
like the ghost of a dog
out of town
into the cat fog
climbing up a bean pole
picking out a soul
with my sticky fingers
taking a quick bite
to satisfy my appetite
before i retire
with my sacred fire
into my new studio.

dressed as a fiasco

i can hardly get up and go
dressed as a fiasco
but i had my piano to play
which helped me to stay.
then, i fell on the lawn,
waited for the dawn,
but it proved tough.
i couldn't get enough
and fled the scene
with a fondness for morphine.
in the sky, the lark
still bravely singing in the dark,
meant me no harm
for i used character, charm
and intelligence
along with an extra few cents
of pocket change
to rearrange
the deck chairs to my advantage.

multiple shooters

multiple shooters
like dead-of-night hooters
stealthy and quiet
on the wings of a riot
holding an AK47
dreaming of a virginal Heaven
inside a shopping mall
watching innocent victims fall
in the new toy aisle.
and when the bloody bodies pile
a sullen smile
breaks underneath a black mask
running for a black SUV
from sea to shining sea.

Braque and his wife, Marcelle

A literary table in a Paris cafe
found Picasso on the sidelines
with surprisingly little to say.
Braque and his wife kept sipping their tea,
explaining the concept of ideal harmony:
"it's like poetry on canvas to form a new art;
a metamorphosis of rhythm which springs from the heart."

nearby hung a painting of two men reading from a letter,
arguing in jest about which one was the better,
but Picasso never wished Braque away;
although, in 1921 it certainly seemed that way.

Braque finished his tea and felt quite alive;
he had to break with Picasso is he were to survive,
and so off he went,
as though he were Heaven sent.

his studio was filled with tactile space
where curtains with irony and white lace
fluttered by the open windows.

mired in a slump

hey, isn't it time for a fast ball?
a heater low and outside
looking for a check swing
no place to hide
a strike anyway you slice it
punched out by the ump
walking to the dugout
mired in a slump
spitting out tobacco
kicking up dirt
tugging at the hemline
ripping off the shirt
water cooler flying
coaches analyze
offering suggestions
teammates sympathize.

into the deep

i followed her tracks into the deep
she took it to a higher gear as it grew steep
i saw her tires spinning on loose rocks as we approached the top
with concentration laser-like she did not stop
and blasting down the backside i barely stayed in touch
did i like the pace? she asked.  not very much.
but i liked watching her legs bulging with desire
mine own felt as though they were on fire
my only wish was to stay upright until the end,
by which time i heard her call me friend.

little by little

when the temperatures soared at the end of July
i sat inside and ate some homemade cherry pie
for the next three hours on my lap i held a book
while people outside made a noise but i wouldn't look
i read two pages and fell asleep by the back screen door
dreaming of bathers lounging on a distant shore:
they were sunning themselves near the water's edge.
i kept tiptoeing to a vanishing point on a steep cliff's ledge
my disembodied head way out to sea
i kept wondering but beyond a shadow of a doubt knew it was really me.
i saw other people reading and enjoying something to eat
when a swimmer with ivory hips came by my feet
she handed me my head and said she cared
she had one soft ice cream cone but we shared
we danced under the milky way when i heard her say
"i love the way you're holding me today
won't you stay near, my dear"
and when i awoke in the warm sand at high tide
little by little it dawned on me that she was still by my side.

in the shower stall

in the shower stall
she took another fall
stuck herself with a sharp pin
felt the warmth deepen underneath her skin.
so very very drunk today
well, at three in the morning
there was hell to pay,
but she gave nothing to her lovers
that she didn't take away.
an old mattress in the backyard
blood stains in her sink
spent time dreaming
never stopping to think.
schoolgirl and a track star
a sensation on the beach
needles and blue bottles
she kept them within reach.
playing with her postcards,
ripe bodies on the bed;
party goers sleeping,
there was nothing to be said.
in the shower stall
she took another fall
stuck herself with a sharp pin
felt the warmth deepen underneath her skin.
so very very drunk today
well, at three in the morning
there was hell to pay,
she gave nothing to her lovers
that she didn't take away.

someone to meet

riding the fair hills

out and in, up and down

counting the long days ahead

heading into town.

behind on my payments

walking the stiff dog;

my mind drifting slowly,

there's an invisible fog.

i follow the main road;

there's nothing much to see.

i can hear the angels singing

but they can't hear me.

it's almost midnight,

my favorite time of day.

sometimes i want to confess everything

but i have nothing more to say.

reading the papers,

looking for a laugh or two;

i'm not a missing person

even though the fateful winds blew.

they blew across wild rivers

with fresh jasmine in the air;

i wanted to capture the moment

but it wouldn't stop there.

the sun started rising;

i felt the warmth of a light touch.

i want to tell her everything i knew

but i didn't know much.

so i turned onto her side road,

running shoes on my feet.

i felt i was in a hurry;

there was someone new to meet.

i'll have what she's having

i'll have what she's having
but in a more leisurely way!
no one is talking because there's not much to say:
there was no strenuous work to do
so we simply decided to play.
tall glasses of sparkling wine:
she's a famous literary friend of mine.
nearby people gathered from far around;
they said they heard the strangest sound,
something they once knew
when their food was served on a special dinner table:
he was happy Harry and she introduced herself as Mabel,
an old cowboy boot and a fashionable ladies' shoe.
their sky stayed bright as the walls turned blue.
i started counting and reached for number two,
held on as tightly as i could,
and thought it might turn crazy but it was mighty good;
applause came quickly and filled the air;
people remained curious standing there
so i casually reached over for my drink.
i found red lipstick on the sink,
tried to remember but couldn't think.
i'll have what she's having
but in a more leisurely way!
no one is talking because there's not much to say:
there was no strenuous work to do
so we simply decided to play.

oh Juliet, oh Juliet

i was moving in a hurry and ran
still cautious of what i didn't understand
out here where the chill wind blows
or was it inside behind stained-glass windows?
a brown haired lady or was she a true blond
i heard her voice float across the pond
she was calling me to her home fire
i kept running but was soon to tire
her book was turned to the first page
she asked me to join her on the stage
oh Romeo, oh Romeo, come show your head
the cat's in the cradle and i'm in your bed
the fox at the picnic would steal the egg
the bear at the doorstep would sit and beg
so i removed my shoes and grabbed a beer
oh Juliet, oh Juliet i am here!

turn the next corner

went to the store for a long drink
stopping along the way to think
well, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be
i felt a tap on my shoulder but it was only me
then a friend waved when she walked on by
i wanted to pour out my heart but only managed to say "Hi"
passing clouds stayed in the sky
the winds came in low
i wanted to follow her but which way would she go?
there was a streetlight and it blinked off and on
i watched her turn the next corner and she was gone
there were leaves in a side yard and the grass turned brown
i once saw her in my dreams wearing a beautiful gown
i don't see why i should even care
the weight of memory is sometimes hard to bear
i took an imaginary sip and put my bottle down
looked in reflecting glass and saw a man wearing a frown
i wanted to pour out my heart but only managed to say "Hi"
he gave me a second look before he walked on by
every time i remember his glance i have thoughts of a friend
she was writing a book and didn't know which way it would end
sometimes a blank page is a story waiting to unfold
there are secrets that even lovers can't be told
went to the store for a long drink
stopping along the way to think
well, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be
i felt a tap on my shoulder but it was only me.

Honey

Honey drove her new ambulance
all the way to the Friday night dance
on the far North Shore
she met her former lover at an open front door
where they locked wild eyes
under brilliant California skies
i heard they drove down to old Mexico
and watched an early strip show
they rolled in the sand on a resort beach
kept close together but stayed out of public reach
danced themselves into a rage
on a crazy Cancun stage
before heading to bed when their eyes turned red
the lights went low while they planned where to go
their next step was over the sheer canyon wall
in Arizona where a misstep would result in a fall
they went down a narrow path carefully and slow
Honey found a river boat and they began to row
crossing the blue Atlantic in a bit of a panic
they tried to get as far away as they could
into a Mediterranean island wood
garlic and bread,
on red wine and each other they fed
Honey found an ink shop and got her first dragon tattoo
her lover asked for one, too
in Italian they had words stenciled dark and fine:
"I'll be yours and you'll be mine!"
they soon surfaced in London riding a ferris wheel,
drove a 1948 Rolls Royce and made the white-walled tires squeal,
saw Sir Paul McCartney who played his bass guitar
on Saville Row and they didn't travel far
to get to the left bank of Paris where Honey wore a black beret
what more should i say?
Honey drove her new ambulance
to Stockholm from the border of France
and in Sweden they found a place to rest
they put on their Sunday best,
held hands and broke out in song.
it took years to get there but it didn't feel that long.

i'm not going anywhere

i'm not going anywhere
sitting on my stool
watching the clear water
in my backyard pool
reading a letter
she wrote it today
all she put down on paper
was she'd be going away
and i tried eating
even tried a drink or two
thought i'd be planning something
but didn't know what to do
the sun kept shining
everything seemed bright
the colors were spectacular
but i didn't feel right
i just felt lousy
then i heard children sing
i listened to their laughter
but it didn't mean anything
when i stood up
i felt my legs sinking low
thought i'd be walking somewhere
but didn't know where to go
so i held my head high
put her letter away
looked at the blue sky
and saw it turn gray
i never saw it coming
it came and it stayed
it asked me for nothing
and i already paid
sitting in my backyard
birds high in the tree
looking for happiness
and all they see is me.

Alone On The Street

I've been around for a tour of the whole wide world
saw a young girl mainly alone on the street
saw an older man use her for his afternoon treat
heard him moan and heard him groan
saw the young girl running away on bloody feet
i still have my memory from that day
find it hard to know what more to say
Went to a place which money people called home
saw an old woman mainly without any place to stay
passing people dealt her cards but she couldn't get up to play
heard her moan and heard her groan
saw the passing people look before walking away
i still have my memory from that day
find it hard to know what more to say
I went looking for a river flowing gently to the sea
found a little boy building castles in the sand and he looked just like me
in the shadows of the night he kept asking to be free
when the sun was burning red and the moon could no longer fly
he would still be lost in darkness and his mother would still cry
heard him moan and heard him groan
i asked him for another chance but he would no longer try
i still have my memory from that day
find it hard to know what more to say
Went to a battlefield where the hardest men killed the softest dreams
saw skinny lovers inside a tattered uniform
saw the barbed wire fences growing heavy and forlorn
heard them moan and heard them groan
tried to save their hearts but they were already torn
i still have my memory from that day
find it hard to know what more to say.

baby you're all mine

never once saw a new leaf fall
but i heard an old wind blow
looked out my bedroom window
and a woman with big brown eyes
came and took me by surprise
she said it was getting late
and true to form i had to hesitate
the rains came and i felt cold
i started wet and never got warm
all night we watched it storm
in the morning i heard her say
"Tell me baby you're all mine,
that everything is gonna be fine!"
and i heard music at my front door
it sounded good but i wasn't sure
from the back door i felt a shake
i took everything i could take
and ran naked to the street
she followed in the footprints of my feet:
a saxophone player played the blues
he wore a pair of blue suede shoes
he followed me with jaundiced eye
his drummer hit me with a stick
i watched him try a second trick
i dodged that blow and made him miss
the woman gave me a second kiss
"Tell me baby you're all mine,
that everything is gonna be fine!"
and i felt warm and grabbed my clothes
she kissed my head, i kissed her toes
she moved closer to adjust my tie...
it took some time and i wondered why.

in prayer

the first thing in the morning or was it late at night?
i opened a familiar door to my lost and found:
a red napkin with a woman's name fluttered to the ground
and the overhead light was dim.
i reached out for what i thought was a lollipop,
but instead grabbed a holiday magazine
inside of which was a black and white television, a TV tray,
and chubby checker all twisted up on a 60's dance floor.
at first, he looked like an old friend of mine.
i took a duffel bag, a two-person tent,
and dance lessons the very next day.
i wanted only a few more months to stay
in one place.
overnight i saw a face!
it looked like a little boy
and he ran into the thick woods
chasing a deer.
i could tell it was a doe
but what would happen soon i couldn't yet know.
the boy wore white sneakers and carried a map
which from my far distance seemed to be new.
thinking ahead,
i went to buy my ticket and the agent asked my name.
he also asked if i knew the magic word?
by his chair i saw a black cat on the floor who purred,
dreaming of fat mice and an oriental fish hat.
the rest of my dream was more of the same.
i opened a familiar door to my lost and found:
a red napkin with a woman's name fluttered to the ground
and the overhead light was dim.
wholeheartedly,
i paid a visit to my brother and his wife;
i ate on a brick patio and wore my pocket knife:
its' blade was folded in prayer.

Neptune's Inferno

Neptune's Inferno

proximate to the Admiralty Islands

the waters run deep 

the ships sunk

sailors drunk

on a weekend pass or out of fright

and the tattoo inks bleed on a young man's arm

scratching a short story between the lonely bicep and wide-eyed homesickness.

his Mother calls

Dad rises from his seat and sets the course of a radio dial

Rita Hayworth

Veronica Lake

something to be fighting for

in the South Pacific of the second world war

northwest of Guadalcanal

IronBottom Sound

the Japanese navy 

Rabaul

Bougainville

cursing Marines and young medical personnel busy on the beach

dreams of home cooking 

the smell of real gravy

night engagements between destroyers and those being destroyed

oil-slick foamy seas and USN guns firing smoky blasts.

Mother reads the morning paper and cries

Dad just shakes his head and adjusts his brown tie:

they look at each other and wonder why?

in the South Pacific of 1942

the ocean was blue.

i wanna make love to you

i wanna make love to you
before the backyard brawl
i want you in my hip pocket
down at the old pool hall:
i got me a new woman
she's my new number eight
when i call her to my room
she better not be late.
she comes in early,
never mind knocking on the door.
i ain't too proud to be asking,
she likes it down on the floor.
i wanna make love to you
before the backyard brawl
i want you in my hip pocket
down at the old pool hall:
i got me a new woman
she's my new number nine
when i'm too tight to be gentle
she says she likes it just fine.
she comes in early,
never mind knocking on the door.
i ain't too proud to be asking
she likes it down on the floor.
i got me a new woman
she's my new number ten
when i tell her i'm too tired
she wants to do it again.
i wanna make love to you
before the backyard brawl
i want you in my hip pocket
down at the old pool hall.

solace in her lap

one laundered sports bra draped over the leather chair,
a damp towel on the linoleum floor,
a gas fire lighting tempered glass,
jazz standards like a fine mist spraying the locked front door,
massaging my neck with slower notes...
a complete memory that simply won't sit still,
tumbling over and over again down an untamed hill.
i heard the 'Midnight Train to Georgia'
in an old El Paso bar;
i kept reaching for her shoulder
but her chair moved just too far.
there were avenues filled with watchers
when the marchers played their game;
i saw the bands approaching,
all the music seemed the same.
a deer skull nailed to a tree trunk
fell at night and broke in two
on a sharp stone in a wind storm.
i knew immediately what to do.
from a tall bridge in New Mexico
over a rift which tore a hole
down below i saw the children
and each one held a soul
and i jumped into their laughter
found the humor and took a nap
saw a woman like my mother
and found solace in her lap.            

Merhaba

a twenty three cent soldier
spoke his foreign tongue in Korea
with the taste of morning honey
still bright upon his goat cheese smile
so many miles from his native land
where olives calmly grew on ancient trees
and women sat talking on the second floor of the mosque
after working to make gozlemes in an oil-burning
cook pot for the men wearing knitted caps
and woolen jackets smelling of cheap cigarettes.
he saw the dead American bodies twisted in the broken mud
and thought of his mother sitting in another room
not too far from the Black Sea
in a country where Asia and Europe meet
where tradition and change have been at war
for longer than the fight he now found himself bought into
and he thought he might like to pray
but he didn't have the time.
for him, it was too expensive.

the Earth was rebuilt

on my land voyage to the center of a mature forest
where i once upon a time lost my beating heart
there was a feeling somewhere on the side of the road
and i stopped at the closet service plaza
where i reasoned to find it.
you might not know where to look
but i saw the sign warning of high wind gusts
and knew it was nearby and since
it was growing dark and i was tired
i scaled the adobe walls of the restored Alamo
and saw Colonel Travis who held aloft the lone star flag
and it reminded me of the wound i previously felt.
when Jim Bowie drank mission water from his old canteen,
a determined Mexican army grabbed his sharp long knife
which they used repeatedly to stab my back.
i subsequently awoke along the Rio Grande river with a
mountain lioness by my side, a beautiful feline,
and she wore a soft gray cap and gave me a new heart.
i placed the happy heart inside a bear-proof container before
the next days' hike around Emory Peak and knew
that i'd eventually return for a cup of hot coffee and my evening meal.
at night the stars above Texas are as thrilling as the brilliant stars
above the lakes of New Mexico and the sky was brutally dark.
under sunny skies green birds would sing "Oh, Susanna" and the land west of the Pecos
was mostly dry even though people still cried with the remembrance
of a lost band of fallen heroes or having eaten too many refried beans.
sitting in my captain chair i sipped white wine with the lioness who read me an article
from the New York Times and pointed her paw to the metal box where
my heart was still securely stored.
when my glass was finally emptied, i walked to a nearby ghost town,
and followed directions to the historic cemetery where the dead stayed dead
even underneath a blood red moon in the month of October.
i had carried my healthy heart in a camouflaged day pack along with a
tattered army blanket i brought back from the long-ago Vietnam War.
i went missing for a total of seven days and when i returned
the Earth was completely rebuilt, my heart was once again inside my chest,
and the lioness snuggled up against my side in a leaky tent.
i was still horny for life and so was she.

a big bear came and shook his head

seventy four black bears were sitting on the outside deck
twenty four were hiding behind the club house door
each one was patting a fat and happy belly
empty jars of ripe strawberry jelly
each one licked clean and sloppily spilled
appetites brought in were eagerly filled
when they stood up and walked away
the neighbors agreed to have a say
no more trash gets tossed around
no more garbage on the ground
two sly fox heard what they said
seventeen more were still in bed
they all had thoughts of stealing jam
a rental car and slice of ham
but a big bear came and shook his head
every fox turned a crimson red
the animals held a quick pow wow
they agreed to share the peoples' chow
but people cared about the wild
they told adults and every child
pack it in and pack it out
love the Earth and leave no doubt.
they left no food for the lazy bones
the forest heard and filled with groans
ninety eight black bears ate a perfectly normal meal
not a drop of fast food did they find to steal;
nineteen red fox admired the clean streets;
they looked high and low but found no sweet treats!

champagne corks

an illusion
a fantasy friend
all the way to the bitter end
we talk at night by candlelight
when i open my door
once i found a foreign war
a song played
i found you hiding in the rubber tree shade
and it was cool
we swam in the pool
life has never been the same
no longer the routine game
a helicopter ride went nowhere
the spinning rotors kept us suspended in air
you smiled and poured the wine
i walked the straight & narrow line
feeling completely alone
chilled to the bone
i was just a foreign guy
under a distant Asian sky
the popping sound
was more than champagne corks.