i could love you even more: revisiting a dream

from the armchair to the sofa to the floor,
the bed to the balcony,
the kitchen and the shower
where we lathered gleefully for an hour
with oil rubs and soft voices:
we gave ourselves multiple choices,
always reaching for the more adventurous dream
behind the discreetly simple privacy screen.
in another room you appeared to me as a secret
in a bright orange wrap, no less,
while holding a volume of true desire.
i felt your fire!
i came almost last
but you loved me
as though i were the summer breeze
and you the shore.
i took you again by the hallway door,
telling you i could love you even more.
it was true.
you stood naked and i was disrobed
when a song like a disco theme
or was it a beautiful philodendron
moved our feet together,
in  spite of the humid weather.
and i knew the name of the band
when i kissed your hand.
you listened like a mountain in the morning light
while i climbed to the summit
and kissed those lips which i so adore,
telling you i could love you even more.

twenty pound bag of ice

i
saw you working in the yard
with a box of flowers by your side
and nailed to a tree the polished skull of a random deer
that had recently died.
his antlers painted white, his nose was gone
it was rumored that years before he had been a happy fawn
but now he stared so vacantly
while there was nothing more for him to see.
he looked forward only to a lovely rest
you provided company and welcomed your new guest
gave him drink and offered him a simple bed.
when you spoke it was obvious he didn't hear a word you said.
he was a wilderness head with complacent eyes
he wouldn't speak any future lies
even if he imagined he could.
so i grabbed an axe and started to chop wood
hoping you'd see me for another hour or so
but with your company about to arrive i knew i had to go.
i drove away in a heated car and blew my windows down,
looked into my mirror and saw a frustrated mans' frown
but what i didn't know and couldn't remember twice
is that i'd stop to buy you a twenty pound bag of ice.

i can make it!!

i won't make it until tomorrow
i can't go on no more
my knees are weak, my heads a mess
i'm crawling on the floor
just thinking is often painful
it hurts to lend a hand
my body is in limbo
on some distant Never Land
you said you'd always love me
i meant the world and more
then why am i so lonely
and crawling on the floor?
is this what's meant by sadness?
where music fails to sound?
if color has no meaning
why does it hang around?
to touch your face was heaven
to hear your voice was joy
now everything is changing
i've transformed into a boy
and in my childish fever
i cry a wailing whine
my loss feels overwhelming
and nothing sure seems mine:
a box of coal for Christmas
a cold slap on the face
a friendly touch one moment
then gone without a trace.

you turned out the light

i wore my white shirt
had the new blue tie pulled tight
came to your front door
and asked you for the entire night
and i saw you hesitate
how far would this go?
is he a serious suitor
or is this all part of a carnival show?
and there was late traffic
everyone had a Friday head in the air
but i kept running after you
i didn't want a casual affair
the street noise was too abrupt
i already saw your fleeting smile
if you wanted me to
i'd walk another hundred mile
and i'd bring flowers
and a heart designed solely for you
i'd want to know exactly
what more or else i could do?
and then the rains fell
and we stood there with eyes searching for more
i wore my white shirt and new blue tie
meeting at your front door
asking you for the entire night
and when we went inside
you slowly turned out the light.

i gave you more

and i placed my finger on your lips

watched you adjust your hips

there was a cloud passing overhead

you whispered and i heard what you said

"take me to another shore"

i hadn't heard that one before

my hands picked you up from the floor

you had a terrible appetite

come to me hungry every single night

knock on my door or ring my favorite bell

do what you want 'cause i'll never tell

just as sweet as a smoking gun

i'm not finished with you until i'm done

the clock is ticking it's almost four

you whispered "take me to another shore"
and baby, yes, i gave you more.

to sleep in your arms

when i came to sleep in your arms
your door was closed but your heart was still open
i went to find the key
it could have been in an adjacent room
instead of across a raging sea
where i found myself tied to the turning mast
and my ears were full of woe
i heard you give your sage advice
but wasn't sure which way to go
honey i was your mariner
and i braved the steel-eyed storm
i led the way across a battlefield
and saw the sad forlorn
i hiked to the nearby mountain top and grabbed a lightening strike,
mixed it into a rainbow that i thought that you might like
i stood in the middle of the highway
and braved a thousand stares
and made a fancy salad with crumbly cheese and pears
i traveled to the ends of the Earth and listened to the tides
tried to find the answer but all it does is hides
and all along the twisty path i kept looking high and low
i heard you give your sage advice
but wasn't sure which way to go.

How did i get here?

once a boy
in a far away land
traveled across a lonesome ocean
which he never did understand
and at age sixteen
he lit out for the territory ahead
no thoughts of mortality stirring his head
he looked instead for a perfect love
in the distant sky,
wanted a safe place to rest
where he might never die;
and he toiled and then he bled.
he went looking for a cure but it was all inside his head.
he found one answer that he hoped to trust:
why turn to stone before returning to dust?
and he found a long lost memory;
he hoped it would give him some security.
a woman alone on her trail also on the run
and they drank to health and loved
wrapped together as if they were only one.
but then aging is perplexing;
it infects our very air
it puzzles every one of us
who are lucky enough to get there
and so the kissing mouth went brittle dry.
the man, like the boy, never did understand why
and suddenly the sun forgot to rise
Pascal's Wager proved to be another surprise
as well as those Dear Uncle Sam's and all the applause
written in small print at the bottom of each clause:
love goes where it wants and carries us along,
even the adventuresome boy and his song.

Walt and the leaves of grass

why not?  the bike ride was about to begin.
Mr. Pump House went straight for the port-a-potty
and, once inside, peed on his feet.
like a rain forest the interior was hot and dark,
overly damp,
and smelled of cheap perfume.
but he shook his feet individually, impatiently, and left,
leaving the toilet's black plastic lid erect and untouched.
he was briefly curious of the Grateful Dead poster
he glimpsed hanging on the urinal wall.
he went to a companion on the outside and complained
about the foul air inside.
the companion was a Grateful Dead fan, but didn't hear
of the poster so entered an adjacent port-a-potty.
this adjacent port-a-potty had no posters.
it had no paper, either, and the work sheet indicated
it wasn't due for a cleaning for 5 more days.
the group ride was scheduled to begin soon and Mr. Pump House
was determined to be among the first to leave the staging
area, with or without the company of his companion.
but just then,
Walt Whitman rode past the start line on his new Trek,
not having to pee or anything else.
Walt thus became the first person to randomly begin the
Preservation Trust 51 miler, as the official team sponsor
was having their promotional picture taken by a paid photographer
and other riders simply deferred to this group being the
opening act.
in fact, a sizable queue had formed, waiting for some official signal to begin.
so Pump House was thinking the ride hadn't started, either.
and good Walt never stopped, floating over the cow patties
and past the hanging wash, taking quick corners on
the inside with a significant lean, all the while imagining himself an insightful poet.
unfortunately, no one was nearby to see him ride 

over the famous leaves of grass

scattered wildly on the open road.

he dreamed of individual freedoms while
speeding on his Trek which had the new electronic shifter system
and he didn't really need to know much to make it work,

so he pedaled furiously with his Oakley sunglasses catching the buzzing bugs.
when the ride officially began, next to the big green John Deere
tractor and the circus tent, it was like a gold-rush
and a folk-rock festival rolled into one and it smoked.
but no one could catch Walt, who was writing a novel in his head
as he rode while screaming at the top of his lungs.

he was making up songs,
and no one seemed to notice he wasn't wearing a helmet.

his beard was bigger than an Amish buggy.

the Strait of Messina

her slender fingers were digging into my head
her eyes were closed
we had no thoughts of the nearby bed
several times i heard her softly say
this was nice
and it was nice!
"I wish you were mine."
well maybe i wouldn't want to be hers:
limos, diamonds, mansions, and furs?
i've been to Passport Cafe parties before
they've emptied my pocket of coins
in search of perfect passing loins
and still she tried to get closer to me
and spilled her coffee
i had been rubbing her arm
she said with no hint of alarm
but i wanted her breasts
she showed me where the spill was
between her legs
and i wanted to suck her pants dry
why?
i support life, i suppose
and to water my rose.
Plus, i wouldn't let her down
but she wouldn't let me up.
so i went to get her another cup.
her one glass of white wine became two
me, beer!!
and we both became in good cheer
i have a theory for you,
my dear,
we are who we are
sitting on the sofa by the fire
discussing travel and books,
culinary notions,
the Strait of Messina and ancient potions:
running barefoot in our dreams on the sand
waking up after the storm on dry land
hardly worth mentioning
we are both looking for a place
and i hope we find it
a copy of Bohemia was on the table
her head was on my shoulder.
no limo, diamond, mansion, or fur
i simply wanted her
because of who she is.
n'est pas?
how's my French?

saw you today

saw you today
watched how you smile when you're at play
noticed the way you put up your hair
before you come down the stair
heard you sing your song
you asked me to sing along
i felt you had the better voice
but you had a different choice
and complimented me
while we were standing by the moving sea
but sorry darling my eyes were entirely on you
i can't help myself it's always been true:
there was a time when you came and i went
but i always felt you were Heaven sent
and i looked you steady in the eyes
and then to my big surprise
you gave me a favorable look in return
so when will i ever learn
there must be a way to keep the air in your tires
to stoke the embers and light your fires
why does the day seem so long when you're away?
saw you today
watched how you smile when you're at play.

when she called my name

when she called my name
and i heard her small talk
when she asked me if i'd enjoy a long walk
her hand is in mine
and all the words rhyme
she was happy to be
it was just her and me
and the moonlight each night
she still held onto me tight
stars in her eyes and the sun on my head
every song sung and every book read
remembering everything that she said
these thoughts remain inside my heart
now it might be time to make a new start
when the music changes tune
i would be happy to see the new moon
when she called my name
it was familiar and yet never the same
and i heard her small talk
when she asked me if i'd enjoy a long walk
and i'd grab my coat and shoes
chasing away any temporary blues
her stocking cap pulled on tight
walking across our private prairie at night
when she called my name
and i heard her small talk
when she asked me if i'd enjoy a long walk
her hand is in mine
and all the words rhyme.

she'd be there by the dawn

she came in from San Francisco
mostly heading east
looking for a new place to go
her travelings had to cease
and the next bus stop was frozen
her hands were turning blue
she looked at me in desperation and asked "What should i do?"
but i didn't know which way was Memphis
and my voice was turning hoarse
so i pointed her to a statue of a poet
who told her to change course
her smile became wild and simple
i recited my favorite verse
and when she heard me mouth the words
she never once heard worse
so we headed to the nearest saloon
where pretty girls sat sipping wine
i poured her two full glasses of Chardonnay
and she soon was feeling fine
a speaker paused to give a speech
she wanted to hear each word
i told her he was just blowing smoke
but she loved what she just heard
there was dandruff on his shoulders
flesh heaving through his shirt
there was something we could agree upon
he was a smiling genius flirt
so insecurely at my table
i grabbed a bottle of sweet vermouth
paying closer attention to the gentleman
and found him long in tooth
but she said he was a famous painter
and suddenly she was gone
down her long road to Memphis
and she'd be there by the dawn.
so i took a clue from her absence
took the next swift boat to France
where i found a romantic studio
and taught myself to dance
Susie was in the Russian ballet
her hands where turning blue
she picked me up and tossed me
and asked me "Just who are you?"
i said i give a great speech
in both fair weather and in foul
i was wondering how far it was to Memphis
and if i could get there soon somehow.

the blue house

so when i came home
my house was blue
i looked everywhere
i missed not seeing you.
the last time i saw you
you where waving goodbye
and i couldn't help but
start wondering why.
so i took the long drive
it was already getting late
what i didn't know
that was our final date.
yet you were amazing
as we read and we spoke
then you were gone
and i awoke.
but in my dream
soft and strong
i saw you walking
i wanted to tag along.
you told me
you were in no rush
and when i held you
i noticed you blush;
everyone would notice
if we walked or ran.
you would be my lady
and i would be your man.
and then the sun rose
my alarm bells started to ring
and i looked everywhere
but couldn't see a thing.

to love forever

no more digging in the dirt
no more walking around with the hurt
i got tired staying down on my knees
how many times was i supposed to say "Please?"

i had a dad who was an old street fighter
he'd hit me and kick me every other day
i saw his fist begin to roll even tighter
i'd run and try to get away
he'd grab me and say i was really gonna pay.

i joined the Army to see what all the fighting was about
shot my way into the center of town
saw people pointing but couldn't hear them shout
they kept looking up while i kept looking down
i knew i wanted something that couldn't be easily found.

no more digging in the dirt
no more walking around with the hurt
i got tired staying down on my knees
how many times was i supposed to say "Please?"

i had a woman tell me i was a special man
she kissed me and she loved me every other day
it took awhile before i could fully understand
if i lost her i would have nothing more to say
i'm not religious but i'm staying on my knees to pray.

wounds which may never heal

passion in abundance
but lacking in common sense.
it'll be me.
the blood spilled by my feet was my type
my pain vivid, intense,
unnecessary, perhaps
unwanted, i knew
undeserved, i felt,
and at such a time
that the shock was stunning, awesome,
simple and complete.
how can one love without undefended vulnerability?
someone must have once made the comment
that perhaps the pain of loss
exceeds the rapture of togetherness.
maybe i said it.
from the parking lot,
i once remarked
"See you around!"
she replied,
"We must communicate!"
how easy it should have been in retrospect to keep
emotions in check,
entanglements at arms length,
maintaining that critical distance,
the detachment,
a cool reserve,
a preserving space,
while still having her
in an impersonal fashion.
oh, nostalgia!
i so wanted to trust someone,
to have help with every door,
to allow,
to risk everything for.
look, i heard
you and i wanted
a meaningful connection,
an honest embrace,
a fundamental relationship
without pretense or phoniness
no holding in reserve
and i gave you my word:
no secret part of myself
would be hidden
and i willingly gave to you
and flew
at every altitude
free-falling
walking on air
and always there
feeling that special breeze
which can only appear with abandonment
a ghost and a solid thing once and for all
steady
continual
and most certainly
vital and alive.
we saw things most clearly.
now am i the fool?
i am on the verge of closing myself down and
tending to wounds which may
never heal.
where now is the knock-out rose?
only the arborist knows.
the hand-formed candle resting on my glass coffee table
is in danger of losing its' dancing flame.
the fireplace has grown cold.
oh, perhaps the gas cylinder is empty again?
the nearby wall of glass no longer holds a view
of the near shore.
what is all this for?
the shore itself has disappeared.
that's what i feared.
the creek no longer flows.
someone else one said
"And so it goes."
even the simple flowers have lost their bloom.
you've already left the room.
any color appears drained from my face.
you've left without a trace.
or is this an illusion?

brown eyes blue

on my fall from the highest star
i passed a friend who had her brown eyes focused
on the far side of the street
it was a Tuesday when we had first arranged to meet
and we sat down together
didn't give a damn about the weather
we climbed a hill and rolled underneath the full harvest moon
she took my hand and promised i'd get it back sometime before June
but it never came and she went
when daybreak finally arrived i was spent
there wasn't a single penny on the floor
i saw her just before she shut the door
Fleetwood Mac was playing on the radio
i didn't really know why she felt she had to go
alarmed by another landslide
i wanted to get away but my hands felt tied
if you see my friend she might have her brown eyes blue
her painted nails stick out from the front of her shoe
she'll be carrying a smile which lights the new dawn
and when the time comes i'll hope to carry on.

it was a Tuesday

there was a partially eaten hamburger
a warm Guinness
a bright Chardonnay.
it was a Tuesday.
the sun was shining
outside the window.
the lunch crowd was in
drinking fresh tonic and gin
water with ice and sliced lemon
and i could touch your hand.
sitting knee to knee
you leaned over and spoke to me.
tears on the plate.
the waitress asked how was everything?
balsamic vinegar on the floor.
walking to the side door
we were still tasting the atmosphere;
i watched you,
that's something i need to do,
all the way to the parking area
where we saw our cars.
you went one way.
it was a Tuesday.
and i followed until i ran out of gas.
there you were with extra fuel
in a hand-held can.
"so let's get this show on the road again."

no one behind the wheel

driving alone
no one behind the wheel
starting from a beach front hotel
a strange woman i didn't know well
her red stop signs and red street lights
tall towers and tender sights
her doggie style wild cat fights
but no accidents
no one behind the wheel
a letter said she was too tired
without laughing i said she was hired
her red stop signs and red street lights
tall towers and tender sights
her doggie style wild cat fights
driving alone
no one behind the wheel
a woman with her dark back seat
asking if i'd like something to eat
driving alone
no one behind the wheel
her hand on my keys all night through
couldn't get lost so what should i do
driving alone
no one behind the wheel.

an eagle with a woman's breasts

one more drink:
will it be bourbon or wine?
well, the grey-haired woman
thought everything was fine,
but then her tires went flat.
can you imagine that?
her corns began to burn,
her demeanor caught cold!
is she a bust on a funeral pyre
or simply grown too old?
the following Sunday
more lessons came my way;
i sat calmly reading the papers
to pass another day.
a long bull's penis
was in the morning news.
it was tipped with a ribbon
of more reds than blues.
three years went by
while i stayed firmly on that chair;
she said she looked around
but couldn't find me anywhere.
hell, then the window opened;
an eagle with a woman's breasts
offered me a challenge
and i passed her tests.
when i rose from my seat
to stretch my bones,
she grabbed my arm
and we erupted in moans.
we didn't have far to go;
we wanted to feed the birds,
and our bag of seeds
did more for them than words.

johnnie's blow

hey Joe,
i've got a pocket full of johnnie's blow
he tried to fill me with his candied red
i found him shot and bloodied on his bed
once a shit from 43rd
everyone knew he was a little turd
and that's the latest from what i heard

hey Jane,
i've got a plantation full of sugar cane
it'll rot your teeth and blow your brain
your head will split and nothing will remain
once and done and overall
they're looking for johnnie to take the fall
and that's the latest i can recall

hey Jack,
i've got a warehouse full of whitie's crack
it's pure and simple and smells like gold
one pinch and you're hooked and then you're sold
try a sample in the park
almost nothing you can't do after dark
and when you do it'll leave it's mark

hey Joe,
i've got a pocket full of johnnie's blow
he tried to fill me with his candied red
i found him shot and bloodied on his bed
once a shit from 43rd
everyone knew he was a little turd
and that's the latest from what i heard

it just felt right

her fresh hair
would i dare?
play the strings of her heart
listening to the tune
i watched a quiet moon
floating in the night sky
not for me to sit wondering why
it just felt right
she picked up my smile and took a bite
but i headed home
it wasn't very far
there was my old piano and a new guitar
on the kitchen table a piece of flat bread toast
i thought of beginning life out on the west coast
she wouldn't travel in a car
and sometimes that's just how things are
i had her in my head
it must have been something that she once said
i thought of myself going to bed
and she would be between my sheets
lithe and trim
it was a game i couldn't win
i remembered back to when we met
she was young and i wild
a military man and a flower child
we got a good seat at the local bar
and sometimes that's just how things are
i watched a quiet moon
floating in the night sky
not for me to sit wondering why
it just felt right
she picked up my smile and took a bite.

all i want to do is say hello

i've found a climbing stair
it's leading me straight to nowhere
but i keep on walking
convinced that i'll find you there
and it might be dark
you might be playing games in the park
swinging on a set with your legs kicking the air
shaking your head no
when all i want to do i say hello
take you to the nearest motion picture show
down the road past the local rodeo
where a lucky cowboy gets to take a dangerous ride
won't you walk with me close by my side?
i've found a climbing stair
it's leading me straight to nowhere
but i keep on walking
convinced that i'll find you there
and it might be wrong
this might not be your favorite song
but it's all i have and i've sung it everywhere
shaking your head no
when all i want to do is say hello
take you to the nearest motion picture show
down the road past the local rodeo
where a lucky cowboy gets to take a dangerous ride
won't you walk with me close by my side?
i've found a climbing stair
it's leading me straight to nowhere
but i keep on walking
i keep on walking
walking and talking
and it might be dark
you might be playing games in the park
swinging on a set with your legs kicking the air
shaking your head no
when all i want to do is say hello

instead of television

the first time that i saw her
she came to me when i moved away
i was very shy and worked very hard
and didn't know what more to say
there were easily restraints
i never asked her what she knew
when she finally told me the truth
i didn't know what else to do
she had the strangest eyes
occasionally wore a bright red rose
i had no idea what it meant
and it was impossible to suppose:
a kid sister or a saint?
the barbed wire twisting in her hair
at times intimidating
other times completely fair.
black and cream
like a monumental dream
but at the same time
i was hers and she was mine
instead of an individual dance
we moved into a mutual trance
i loved to tease
she loved to perplex
instead of television
we both loved sex.

accelerating to highway speed

fine
sitting on my sofa with rich dark coffee and thoughts
spilling
over the hardwood floor
like spent shells ejected from the slide of a small handgun
still smoking
like cold raindrops hitting on a hot summer tar road.
i watched her get naked in front of a tall mirror
turning the tap for more warm water than cold as she stepped
into the hard white porcelain tub;
a thick rubber mat kept her from slipping if soap bubbles
would form underfoot like memories
dangerous in the dim light of the steam-filled room.
i knew she would shampoo her short hair.
later
when it was dry it smelled like an early spring morning.
disturbing
current events are uniformly awful and my current book is filled with stories
of a mad Moses and an unhappy Abraham picking sand fleas one after another
from their crazy beards, looking always for a safe place to toss them and finding
nothing but candle grease, cheap wine, and refugee camps filled with
cotton canvas tents
and aging black-eyed children who
once upon a time would have been in a school.
i showed her my book and it was written in Chinese or Japanese, I can't
remember which, and we spent a long time trying to translate it,
alternating places on the sofa, finding extra time to feed the starving chickadees and
adding wood chips to the nesting site for the colorful wood ducks when we
occasionally walked outside for a breath of fresh air.
contemplating
chasing a great romance on a well-tuned Harley Iron 883 and
never missing a shift while cruising the grand boulevards in search of
the love of my life and feeling the wind in my face and big breasts, sturdy thighs,
and chocolate brown eyes and a voluptuous body wrapping her arms
around my waist and even deeper into the garden shed,
all the while i'm accelerating to reach highway speed.