Juan Gris

Juan Gris
tip toed into two bright shadows
when he made a
left turn on third street
looking for a healthy lung.
with a deep breath
by night
he began to dance the Charleston
after his paints had dried
and the French lessons ended,
but a good lung was never found.
his asthma became worse
and in piles of cubes he
arranged his brushes
for a final time.
his wife, son Georges and daughter Antonieta
thanked the Parisian avant-garde
for attending the funeral.

wounded knee

no, i don't like the new way you're
man-handling me
getting pretty sick of bending down
on my wounded knee
so i tried to pull the curtains down
before crawling into that crazy town
oh yeah
blood marked my solitary path on the roughest street
oh yeah
blood marked the soles of my sore feet
and no one that i wanted to meet
oh yeah
oh yeah
i found an empty bottle and it wasn't at all like you
it never tried to tell me what to do
so gonna take a long pull before i go to my next school
and someday i'll get a passing grade
all my dues will have been paid
i'll remember all the memories i've already made
oh yeah
i'll go my own way
looking for an open door
not interested in what you might say
i don't want to understand what it was all for
there might be parts of me still visible on the floor
no, i don't like the new way you're
man-handling me
getting pretty sick of bending down
on my wounded knee
so i tried to pull the curtains down
before crawling into that crazy town
oh yeah
blood marked my solitary path on the roughest street
oh yeah
blood marked the soles of my sore feet
and no one that i wanted to meet
oh yeah
oh yeah
i found an empty bottle and it wasn't at all like you
it never tried to tell me what to do
so gonna take a long pull before i go to my next school
and someday i'll get a passing grade
all my dues will have been paid
i'll remember all the memories i've already made.

Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine

in an open G
the sun beat down on my face
i walked through fertile rice paddies
without any hints of disgrace
the hard drumming
of my heart
a quick beating
a new start
a sharp cry
the sky
in a minor chord
with notes of perfect plum
and some
German hops
found in abundance on bar tops
the ceaseless roar
of a constant world war
put some hurt on me
and no musical balm
could provide complete calm
with the radio turned on
i heard Charley Patton
playing his spoon
inside a burning tent
Clark Kent sitting by his side
getting high in the phone booth
neatly dressed and never uncouth
i tapped my feet while wearing old shoes
beaten down with dirt road blues
on an American night
black and white
rich and poor
wanting everything but settling for just a little more
getting by on the fly
watching the kitchen sink
drain the last of my three a.m. drink
Chicago,
some said, was the only place to go
to feel the ease
but one didn't have to say please
in New Orleans
wearing sharecropper jeans
behind the last alley door
the dance floor
full of soles in 1929
when Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine
seemed a simpler time
to strum a tune
make the rounds
lean back
let the sounds
lick my face like a happy puppy might
yes, it wasn't pure delight
but close enough
to smooth the brittle rough
and one memorable chorus
or spoken line
when Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine
might bring visions of glorious Camelot:
sometimes it's all i've got!

it won't fit me

get me
try chasing a disappearing shadow
swim in the sea
cut someone off at the knee
take a flying holiday
visit Florida, say
fish in a back bay
stay longer than a day
wear a sock hat
grow happy, lazy and fat
it seems everyone is into doing that
write a blog in a mental fog
walk the local park in the dark
hold your own hand
snap an old rubber band
watch it break
a head and shoulder fake
but what is the most
buttered toast
is yesterday when you went away
from the west to the east coast
try telling me life is grand
but withstand
the cartoons coming on at noon
and the weather balloon
like a man and woman together on the moon
hear them swoon
get down
accept being a proper clown
but don't be telling me what to do
go wear your blue suede shoe:
it won't fit me
i'm barefoot in a solitary tree
entertaining company.

her own life

it wasn't a memory i wished to save
the crying lady folded in anguish
praying over an old man's grave
her sullen face and even sadder hat
i took a closer look
and then i sat
by her side there was a pretty basket of just-picked flowers
i watched her countenance for hours
she reminded me of someone i thought i once knew
and while her face looked familiar i didn't quite know who
she was until i heard her speak to the memory in the hole
she had such a gentle soul
soft light brown hair
i wondered how much longer she'd stay there
looking at me before she felt sufficiently free
enough to carry forward with her own life.

once Saigon

it was once Saigon
but now it's all gone
the muddy river slept and burned
and what have we learned
painting it black won't get it back
the body bags filled with Asian dirt
who said it wouldn't hurt
watching the helicopters at the embassy
the woman with her startled baby
grabbing the barbed wire wall
dodging shots before the fall
and all the President's men
in their white face
the conference table with expensive pens and fancy lace
and a perfect powder room
where the drunks sang delirious songs of doom
in the stone temple
the gods sat hard and cold
trading fates which could be bought and sold
in the parlors of the press
the readers were forced to guess
what in the streets of an American city
was real and what was witty
and on the television screen
cigarette smoke filled the air
in Vietnam the midnight sparkle
was a phosphorescent flare
and young men lived and died there
while in the Pentagon
it was once Saigon
but now it's all gone
when the flesh gave way to marrow
the cry was 'Broken Arrow'

the rising moon

there must have been a mistake
i didn't think you would climb the trees
but you covered all the higher ground
on bended knees
so, i put you in a temporary deep freeze
because you were too hot
you gave me everything you got
and there was no more room
you played my tide like the rising moon
pulled my plug like a slippery rug
there must have been a surprise
i thought you were grounded but your plane still flies
you did a loop while i ate your soup
you played my spoon like the rising moon
pulled my pork like a bobbing cork
there must have been a mistake
i didn't think you would climb the trees
but you covered all the higher ground
on bended knees
so, i put you in a temporary deep freeze
because you were too hot
you gave me everything you got
and there was no more room
you played my tide like the rising moon.

i didn't know what to say

with a sharp eye
and a soft frown
i walked with my friend
into the nearest town
and she gave me a little smile
so i decided to stay awhile
put my hand on her arm
meant to protect her from
any harm
but she told me
to toe the line
that she felt timid
and liked me just fine
and we had a nice cup of hot tea
at a small cafe
just her and me
and i didn't know what to say
the day became slow
the weatherman said it might snow
but i saw a blue sky and bright sun
she asked for another drink but i was done
we read a paper story and discovered a clue
i read her a poem and she didn't know what to do
so we went to the park bench and took a seat
i offered her a piece of candy to eat
she looked at me and said thank you, please
there was a gentle breeze
and it made her smile
so i decided to stay awhile
put my hand on her arm
meant to protect her from
any harm
and it felt comfortable and sweet
to watch people passing on the street
we waited for nothing at all
and soon we watched darkness fall
with a sharp eye
and a soft frown
i walked with my friend
into the nearest town
where we decided to stay
and i didn't know what to say.

everyman was a friend of mine

once upon a time
everyman was a friend of mine
in black leather pants
and white bow tie
man, he was dressed to fly
singing his lonely lullaby
with an electric guitar in hand
his strap pulled tight across his chest
the ladies didn't have to guess
what he had come here for
they waited by the back stage door
and they didn't want an autograph or a wink
cooked up in an old kitchen sink:
his music was turned down low
it was several hours after the show
and The Man had already come and gone
the party lasted well past dawn
before the police came looking for a score
the floor looked like the second world war
with blood and guts, cocaine and an old billboard
no one could shift from reverse into forward
but everyman was playing slow pin ball
with a red haired lady in his narrow front hall
he had a quick tilt and he had an even slower wilt
and she had to leave before five
she grabbed her purse and barely made it out alive
but everyman was scrubbing his wood floor
with a tattooed blondie who painted his back door
he had a wet sponge and an even drier plunge
and she had to leave before six
she grabbed her purse and left with all her tricks
man, everyman was almost alone
he had a dog who kept chewing his bone
and a cat who tried to talk but could only moan
the sun came up and the lights went out
no one remained to twist and shout
and soon the clock really hit six
everyman grabbed his red joy stick
he took it for a fast ride
man, that man has no pride
he had no one by his side
once upon a time
everyman was a friend of mine
in black leather pants
and white bow tie
man, he was dressed to fly
singing his lonely lullaby
with an electric guitar in hand
his strap pulled tight across his chest
the ladies didn't have to guess
what he had come here for
they waited by the back stage door
and they didn't want an autograph or a wink
cooked up in an old kitchen sink.

behind the curtain

and you went into my closet
behind the curtain
looking for something real
a piece of something certain
and what exactly did you find?
there was another piece of broken mind,
dust on the far wall,
an autographed baseball,
images of what i once saw,
and a cold cup of stale coffee
but nothing about me
nothing anyone could really see
and a strange wind blew through your hair
i said you shouldn't be there
and yet you used a bright flashlight
blinding in the night
a spot in the total universe
heading in reverse
analyzing the misery and the exhilaration
not curious about the destination
or the pathway to the nearest star
i sat wondering who you are
when you went into my closet
behind the curtain
looking for something real
a piece of something certain
and you gave as good as you got
just a little and just a lot
you wanted everything that you took
started out calm and then you shook
underneath the undertaker's sheet
growing cold before the heat
i probably shouldn't have spied
you probably shouldn't have lied
but what didn't we know that we should know
a little misfortune during the show
there was never another place to go
and you went into my closet
behind the curtain
looking for something real
a piece of something certain
and what exactly did you find?
another piece of broken mind.

i'm not looking for America

i'm not looking for America
Between The Buttons where it can't be found
i'm tearing off the handcuffs
because i'm refusing to be bound
you won't find me on the motorway or in the center of Main street
there's blood on the water and i'm wearing two red feet
i've decided to pack up everything and simply run away
on the evening of the morning at the break of dawn next day
and head to friendly Nashville where boys make a frightening sound
and the girls get awfully nervous but they keep coming around
and country is their music but it always seems alright
i'll try my hand at poker and no longer feel uptight
when the dealer starts to shuffle with the smile of Brian Jones
sadly framed above his table and a pile of rolling stones
i'll grab my surfing long board and swim to an eastern coast
where people say they're modest but often like to boast
they hear the laughing of young Alice and her disappearing ghost
now i'm singing for my supper and a fast-lane dollar bill
party-goers stay eating until they've had their fill
my sticky fingers hanging from tired acoustic hands
you might believe i'm a wise old guy but i don't really understand
what the famous magician has stuffed inside his sleeve
i'm thinking about now that it's time for me to leave
then i see a sweet young thing and she has her eyes set dead on me
maybe i should act expensive but i can be had for free
when a stampede of wild horses comes charging on the stage
i'm wondering if i can rope them back into their cage
but i'm the one who's lost and found and hearing random noise
lot of people getting ready to show me their favorite toys
a couple of formal puppets dressed up like a fine cartoon
of a newly married bride in white and her love sick man the groom
they're dancing on a fancy floor close by the exit door
where i awake as people ask for just a little more
and i feel now i'm past my prime to act my level best
i want to wear a three piece suit with a fancy cowboy vest
to leave this place a shadow and be an anonymous guest
i'm not looking for America
Between the Buttons where it can't be found
i'm tearing off the handcuffs
because i'm refusing to be bound
you won't find me on the motorway or in the center of Main street
there's blood on the waterway and i'm wearing two red feet
i've decided to pack up everything and simply run away
on the evening of the morning at the break of dawn next day.

Marianne Faithfull

Marianne
be faithful to me
toss your extra money
deeply
into the sea
come with me
in a fur-skin rug
along with the rabbit
and his marching drug
near St. Anne's Court
the thick lines white and short
where the homesick blues
wear like rich kid's shoes

so fare thee well my little dove
a much harder love
is hiding underneath our talk
shall we continue our walk?
it's on a slippery slope
much longer than the longest rope
if you think our relationship has been mended
the time of day has probably ended

oh, what you've been through
not many at all
in fact only a precious few
have survived
when the gardens and all the pretty flowers died
when
nights and darker days
parted ways

i can still hear you speak in broken English
running from your hospital bed
one more breath
is all that's
keeping you from being declared dead

shall we continue our walk?
it's on a slippery slope
much longer than the longest rope
if you think our relationship has been mended
the time of day has probably ended.

the short version

there's a hole in the sky
and i put my finger up there
and it went inside the hole
and at that moment i lost my finger
but found myself
swinging over a fresh water creek
holding onto a braided rope with
everything i had
minus the finger, of course,
and it didn't seem to matter that
the day might be long or short
as long as the water was deep where i fell into it
and that's the short version
of a story about a favorite dog and a man
who walked the woods with an imperfect eye.

my first rodeo

i went to my first rodeo
where i saw tough cowgirls riding the big red bulls
near the meandering river down in old San Antonio
where often there are no official rules
and it was a hot and dusty day
i kept drinking cold Mexican beer
i heard a celebration of curious holiday noise
filled with apparently good cheer
loud parades of merry makers some riding wild horses
some riding each other
they knew i was an outsider from a cold northern shore
but i didn't have to travel undercover
they kept showing me ever more
and there appeared an old man wearing gold trimmed black pants
who carried a big busty 12 string guitar
i watched him work his way around the crowded tables
of a fancy hotel bar
he wore a giant's hat which covered his eyes and his head
when he sang his songs it was hard to hear exactly what it was he said
i felt like he was writing sad words on his black satin shirt
but no one listening rose to ask him why it seemed he was so full of hurt
he moved away with a slow shuffle and an audible sigh
he could have asked for some money but he didn't even try
i saw him kick the dirt from his boots as he hit the front door
the lazy lovers and the tourists didn't see him cry
and an elderly couple kept dancing on the ballroom floor
the music might have stopped but their hearts kept beating in tune
i just about decided to stick around for the sight of a big time Texas moon
when the old man starting singing in a nearby street
i saw people stop and gather around with their ten dollar drinks in hand
they lost interest when they heard him hum about the strong and the weak
and soon they wandered off to listen to a popular local band
i watched him pack his sorrows and stroll to the famous plaza of the Alamo
and i would soon follow but wasn't sure how best to go.

what i wanted to say

i'm anxious
and she's waiting
we once were so far apart
but now we're dating
on a warm summer day
if i knew how to pull it all together
i 'd say exactly what i had to say
i can remember her from a better yesterday
she came in on the four thirty five
more than twenty one and completely alive
and after many hours of our give and take
well, for Heaven's sake
she told me she had to go
and what i really want to know
is
where's the road to the distant shore
because i can't take this anymore
i'm anxious
and she's waiting
we once we so far apart
but now we're dating
on a warm summer day
if i knew how to pull it all together
i'd say exactly what i had to say.

come on dark

sitting down
i have nothing to do
my dreams won't come now
i'm sad and i'm blue

no one's here
you've left and gone away
you once were so near
why couldn't you stay?

come on dark
wrap black arms around me
pull out my sad heart
become destiny

slow down time
my days are growing old
if you can't be mine
my fingers turn cold

sitting down
i have nothing to do
my dreams won't come now
i'm sad and i'm blue

music ends
a quiet descended
i've lost many friends
and now we've ended

sitting down
i have nothing to do
my dreams won't come now
i'm sad and i'm blue

so play me the sax

so play me the sax,
jacks
and all the little jills
handing out their thrills
their horny sounds
keep coming around
from deeper underground
and that echo rang in my head
all i could ever hope for i said
when i was carried to my bed
and the next day came to soon
i thought i could see the harvest moon
but it was only a fleeting glance
i got up to square dance
and a fat girl got up to sing
i gave her a wink she gave me everything
she had but it was too much
i reached and she was out of touch
like a radio station out of tune
and the next day came to soon
it seemed my fever was one hundred two
on election day i didn't know what to do
so i spent the night in a safari tent
had myself registered as an independent
and read the news until i felt the saddest blues
pull me into an alcoholic funk
and woke up in the gutter but i swear i'm not a drunk
the bad guys are getting all the good press
and they'll win every game they play unless
somebody stops the fast ball on the way down
town
or the foul line gets redefined as fair
i once thought i could help but i'm no longer there
now the crowd isn't one i'd be too happy to meet
they're running their mouths on the steep banks of Wall Street
and the bell is ringing like a strange fool
without thinking about being really cool
i tried my hand at being a beat writer
i covered sports and loved a certain Philadelphia fighter
who wore black shorts and had crooked teeth
with a mean streak and no steady religious belief
his gym was a dark hole and he gave me a dark soul
so play me the sax,
jacks
and all the little jills
handing out their thrills
their horny sounds
keep coming around
from deeper underground
and that echo rang in my head
all i could ever hope for i said
when i was carried to my bed
and the next day came to soon
i thought i could see the harvest moon
but it was only a fleeting glance
i got up to square dance
and a fat girl got up to sing
i gave her a wink she gave me everything.

a souvenir of 1969

Tu Do Street
hot and dry and teeming with bikes
and anxious smiles
far from the unwashed feet of black sandals
carrying just-baked white loaves of
warm bread along
with a small bottle of fish sauce
tucked into a secret universe,
a baby bag of white rice,
and a can of coke-a-cola expertly flattened into red,
white, and aluminum thinness
to become a wall or a roof
or a souvenir
from a time when Catholics
and Buddhists,
and Atheists and Christians and
young boys and girls,
old women with black teeth,
and old men with thin arms,
sank together into the mud of a dried river bed
looking for bones and shells,
but finding a naked sword
to hold up high.

what i always said

so thanks for the time alone
when the seeds were perfectly sown
and i left my birthday bed
which is what i always said
would come to pass
and there is no use wondering why
all my friends urged me to continue to try
looking for the springs and streams
wondering what living and loving really means
and i'm running out of spending money
so thanks for the time alone, honey
and all those episodes of Lost In Space
disappearing into the five and dime without a trace
and the uneaten plates of white Princess bread
which is what i always said
would come to pass
and there is no use wondering why
i read your Dear John letter and began to cry
turned to the second page you signed "With Regard"
tried to recover but it became real hard
like an iron heart that sank to the bottom of the sea
i looked in a mirror and saw no one there but me
so thanks for the time alone
when the seeds were perfectly sown
and i left my birthday bed
which is what i always said
would come to pass
and there is no use wondering why
all my extra time is spent dreaming of a star-filled sky
looking for the springs and streams
wondering what living and loving really means
and i'm running out of spending money
so thanks for the time alone, honey
yes, it's sweet but not the treat
that can be shared
and when i knew you no longer cared
i got up and left my birthday bed
which is what i always said
would come to pass.

a special red

she was wearing pink
and her mouth was running full
over the nearest hill
came a damn fool
he asked for a quick bite to eat
his wine a special red
the lady said she was hungry
she asked to be fed
and with a fork and a silver spoon
questions on his tongue
the fool said he'd like to sing
but the songs remained unsung
throughout the first night
and into their memory book
the fool gave her what he could
she gave him more than she took
and it made him think
she was wearing pink
then she wore nothing at all
it led to his downfall
he asked for another mountain to climb
she gave him the kitchen floor
his wine a special red
they sat playing by her back door
questions on his tongue
the fool said he'd like to sing
but the songs remained unsung.

The Sacred Heart by Dali (1929)

Salvador Dali
came into perfect view
flirting with you
and painting me
walked toward a Spanish horizon
approached the southern sea
where he found a vast stash of cash
and his model sailboat
stopped suddenly
and asked politely for his winter coat
but it turned out to be too small
or maybe he had recently grown too tall
so he went around the Barcelona block
where he found a melting alarm clock
and a bleeding red eye
it didn't particularly appeal to him but i
rescued him from the intense cold
he started to grow sensitive and acted old
shouted to a nearby friend
played with perspective
and ticking time which he would twist and bend
into a happy birthday cake
well, for Heaven's sake
some things are not what they appear to be
and he kept painting me
because i was not averse to reciting verse
or running after a disappearing leaf
his social scene was like a moving film
of pleasurable mischief
and 1931 records of New Orleans jazz
but that's not all that he has
there seemed no time to spare
i asked him for a secret but he wouldn't share
and when he did i simply had too much wine
to remember if it was dark or light
i subsequently made him my mistress
but somehow that didn't feel right
he was a famous artist and i an unemployed tailor
dressed in my best uniform like a crucified sailor
escaping an abusive dad
it wasn't my only destiny but it was all i had
so i worked very hard and grew a faint smile
Dali was intrigued and asked me to stay awhile
and during the course of our future cruises
i noticed he had blasphemous wins but occasionally loses
he was prepared to be known
as someone who had grown
with talent like The Sacred Heart
i once caused a scandal when i deserted him
before his printmaking had a decent chance to start
life kept intruding
it finally pulled us apart
when he used India ink to spit on his mother
whom he had really adored
i tried to curry favor with my brother
as we sat together on a comfortable perch
Dali got up from his bench and attacked the church
he never called me again even when i heard times seemed good
so our story ended with a rough outline as it ultimately should.

a dance of two

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

stray cat blues #2

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

Babe Ruth

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