the air was cold

it was the weekend
the sky was clear
the air was cold
i read the news but the stories grew old
although one was wild
it really shocked
it seemed pure hate
about Muslims' no right to immigrate
to America
where the Statue
of Liberty
asks the tired and those wanting to be free
to start a new life
like those before
the Pilgrims and Puritans to this shore
and many others:
the good and bad,
the ugly, too;
i'd like to kick ass with my size 8 shoe.

sanctuary church

The black robed Tsar
in his sleek armored car
on the streets of Philadelphia
media day for the boys
even his favorite pollster made her entrance in military garb
but not before the local DJ's blew large speakers full of bass;
the neighborhood craft breweries heard her sipping her beer;
the American press from both afar and near
watched her lick her lips and lick the head, yum.
she left alternative facts scattered on the main stage
near custom-tailored suits and flags,
plastic trash cans and scattered black rags,
climate-controlled or climate-changed,
even the Comcast Tower
and the Trump Tower
promised more than they would ever deliver.
the newly remodeled Hilton Hotel near the Reading Terminal
buzzed with unruly management and protesters
who all held signs which said RESIST
until their arms grew tired and in a weird twist
began to speak fluent Spanish
when it was announced that
the current Mexican President had just promised bravely to be absent
from any meeting between unequals however neighborly!
the Tyrannosaurus Rex went scowling to his gilded room
with bleeding gums;
he ate large handfuls of Made-in-America Tums.
the most important Border Guard resigned from his post;
the barking dogs of war
ran around with their authoritarian collars pulled too tight;
they began to foam at the mouth
when they looked south.
everyone went home at night,
slipping underneath the middle-class floor.
many were found after an exhaustive search,
having taken refuge in an sanctuary church.

here comes the Donald

duck
here comes the Donald
he's on a hover board flying at high noon
the new sheriff badge pinned to his inflated chest
duck

he came way too soon
The Doomsday Clock was nervously twitching by the door
Princess Grace kept fondling a loaded gun
duck

she ran for the shore
with two deputies and a member of Delta Force
they loaded the ship of state for the Battle of Midway Island
duck

it's heading off course
where the water is ocean blue and the Pacific sun bright
towards the South China Sea and the coral airfields
duck

it's almost midnight
the Parties of God are partying in downtown Tel Aviv
millions of migrants are rushing the crude border wall
duck

there's no chance to leave
there are slippery piss puddles on the barracks' floor
where the Donald is puzzled by the size of his penis

duck

it's time for a great war

it's time for bunker busting bombs

it's time for Allah to return

it's time to read the Torah

duck

duck

Donald

duck

don't be a fool

hey by the way
i really don't give a shit
does it suck
or is it a universal hit
'cause i've walked the streets of Saigon
with a new M16
but i wasn't told
i was expected to be ugly and mean
yes, a real American son of a bitch
among the proud Asian slant-eye
and if i lived who would care
or simply die
as a part of the world goes on spinning
more insipid nonsense
with a stupid President wearing a long red tie
his rich nose stuck up his poor white ass
and he doesn't know why
the Earth is getting so fucking hot
while his buddies sucking oil and sucking gas
keep pissing tall tales on the native prairie grass
and don't even begin to ask
hey by the way
i really don't give a shit
0 for four
or every at bat equals a hit
whatever game tickles your sensibility:
play the New York stock exchange like a miner's tool
or tread on the hallowed halls of academia
but don't be a fool
or a hopeless hillbilly
hey by the way
tomorrow is another day
seems like we could dig in the garden dirt
and it wouldn't really hurt

we played around

there was a blush on your soft cheek
it came on our day down by the creek
you were on the wet grass
our boat was moored
we played around
neither of us got bored
i watched you smile at my dumb joke
you laughed and gave me a gentle poke
i asked you for a dance
we played around
it wasn't just romance
there was a song we both could sing
i couldn't remember everything
but i tried each word
we played around
you were all that i heard
there was a blush on your soft cheek
it came on our day down by the creek
you were on the wet grass
our boat was moored
we played around
neither of us got bored.

be with you and talk

it was so cold on the
steep mountainside
i couldn't keep warm
when i remembered how often i lied
how when the going got tough
and you told me i wasn't loving you enough
i packed my bags and began a lonely walk
when all i had to do was be with you
and talk
something deep down inside
made me want to get up and hide
and now i look around and can't find you anywhere
i was just going to tell you that i really care
these tears on my face and my broken heart
is it possible we could have a new start?
can't there be
a single possibility?
can't there be
a fleeting chance
that our love was more than happenstance?
it was so cold
when i realized i didn't have you to hold
when the day turned to night
and i watched you turn out the light
that there would be no more tomorrow
my broken heart is heavy with sorrow
it was so cold on the
steep mountainside
i couldn't keep warm
when i remembered how often i lied
how when the going got tough
and you told me i wasn't loving you enough
i packed my bags and began a lonely walk
when all i had to do was be with you
and talk.

midnight i heard you say goodbye

midnight i heard you say goodbye
the black cats began to holler and cry
and i watched you fading away
but what exactly could i hope to say?
you made up your mind a couple of hours ago
i watched you writing the famous words "Look out below!"
baby, your pen is mightier than a sword
i never once heard you say you were bored
baby, hey, who the hell will take my place?
what Mr. Dick Detective will take over this case?
you know we could have been more European
we might have been more explicit about what we were seeing
and i might have been a better poet
if there were problems i'd immediately know it
baby, your pen is mightier than a sword
i never once heard you say you were bored
baby, hey, who the hell will take over my place?
what Mr. Dick Detective will take over this case?
you know we could have been more incredible
we might have shared experiences which were more than edible
and i might have been a better lover
if i had more courage to remove my cover
midnight i heard you say goodbye
the black cats began to holler and cry
and i watched you fading away
but what exactly could i hope to say?
you made up your mind a couple of hours ago
i watched you writing the famous words "Look out below!"
baby, your pen is mightier than a sword
i never once heard you say you were bored
baby, hey, who the hell will take my place?
what Mr. Dick Detective will take over this case?

Pablo

Olga was the dancer

with a sore foot;

the painter wanted her Russian smile

but that wasn't the only thing he took.

there was a male child

which they shared

and a blond mistress

for which he cared

when his penis was in her mouth;

he acted as the Spanish bull

and gave her penetration

when he'd push and pull

on the summer shores of the Med

or coastal France.

Olga watched the flowers grow

but could no longer dance.

there were many friends and drinks

and fancy costumed balls;

they dressed up as a couple many times

but he kept building walls

between them

with shades of blue and red and black

on stretched canvas where his prized reputation

mostly hung intact.

meditation rock

a snow

and a snow woman

two dogs chased two deer and crossed a small creek

in hot pursuit of an instinct

on a cold January afternoon

before the football game and craft beer

a depression settled in the neighborhood

a sharp rifle crack came from the nearby firing range

a chain saw bit into frozen wood fibers

as dreams of warmth flew into the logger's head 

the gazebo was covered in fog

but a screen door was swung open to reveal the small inner bench

foot prints meandered over a forest lane

their sound muffled as hours passed and a bird hopped

the air cold as the arctic ice

one rabbit

a distant owl made an owl hoot

a camouflaged hunter's tent without the hunter

remained erect without prescription pills or prayer

i sat on the meditation rock with my hat for a cushion
Spring was not too far in the distance.

drinking my beer

now i mention you
because you're not here
i'm sitting in my brown chair drinking my beer
i can imagine you're getting dressed
or blowing smoke up your nose
there once was a time when i guessed
but now it doesn't bother me
regardless of how it goes
and you're probably combing your expensive hair
but i'm not there
to hand you a favorite shirt
i can't play your monopoly game
after i've been hurt
and now i see you pouring a glass of fine wine
with gentle music in the room soothing your soul
but i have a heart and now there's a deep hole
and you're walking away with the todays' New York Times
and i see your soft back
from the other side of the railroad track
with a steaming locomotive pulling you up to a tall mountain
but i've cleaned the dirty water and turned on the fountain
and all the fish are hungry
some are gold with big teeth and some are yellow and blue
now i mention you
because you're not here
i'm sitting in my brown chair drinking my beer
i can imagine you're getting dressed
or blowing smoke up your nose
there once was a time when i guessed
but now it doesn't bother me
regardless of how it goes.

heading for outer space

yes baby
i'm clapping my hands
i see you're walking on the sands
of time
star dust on your face
heading for outer space
heading for me
yes baby
i'm walking your way
i see i'm doing it day after day
star dust on my face
heading for outer space
heading for you
it's what we were meant to do.

Elvis Presley of Tupelo breed

quality assured
100% guaranteed
Elvis Presley of Tupelo breed
rocking and rolling on the biggest stage
Heartbreak Hotel the latest rage
black hat in hand and white on his head
gyrating hips don't miss what was said:
the cowboys are riding a pedigree horse
rodeo girls dancing far off the course
a whirlwind romp in pastures of hope
sweet treats were tied with Mississippi rope
the new sounds bounced off a canyon wall
like hard rock candy and i caught them all;
on the fake leather seat of daddy's car
the young ladies won't tell you who they are;
when the curfew comes they've been there too,
waiting to wear the big blue suede shoe.
hey, hey, it's the fourth of July
was it a piece of American pie?
quality assured
100% guaranteed
Elvis Presley of Tupelo breed
rocking and rolling on the biggest stage
Heartbreak Hotel the latest rage
black hat in hand and white on his head
gyrating hips don't miss what was said.

reaching the Red Sea

in Kashmir

a thoughtful Indian held a rock

while i slept on my sofa

playing with a Pakistani woman

in my dreams

it often seems

there is a 

dawn before the sun

and the sound ringing in my ear

is a car explosion

and the people

climb the steeple

for the view of Normandy Beach

while i adjust my tie with her help

and heat water for tea

before watching the Rose Bowl

on tv

her and me

finally reaching the Red Sea

after hours of travel from Mozambique

where we swam from the shore

looking like tourists

at midnight

it seemed right

to see musicians playing electrified violins

underneath a brilliant African sky

where warlords and underdogs

ate everything they could dig their teeth into

and they drank

while we sank

like hard noodles into their fragrant broth.

goodbye to the last piece of shore, Martin Luther

goodbye
to the last piece of shore;
there was a knocking on the door!
an angry monk saw a black sky;
he tried to paint it blue
with a single drop of wet German glue;
he wore a mine owner's shoe
that left no temporary prints;
instead he left 95 shocking hints.
soon a lady sipping her cheap wine
read his hand-written note
and quickly boarded her Mediterranean-bound boat
i watched her wave from the upper-most deck
while smoking a fat cigar
i sat idle in my idling car
we were heading in different directions
and didn't seem to mind:
life is sometimes too unkind.
there was a song inside my head
i heard her humming that same tune in bed
one night as i massaged her back
she said her name was Jill when i said Jack;
she has a prominent mole
and i have a long nose
which usually follows her wherever she goes
but when she went to Istanbul
i went to Wittenberg
to write down everything i heard
about death and rebirth and reformation
from the citizenry
who mostly drank warm beer while eating stale bread
i gave them the final words the woman said
before she closed the submarine's hatch
for the final dive to the bottom of the sea
without me:
bubbles rose from my toes
when i saw her eyes shine
as she caught the last glimpse of mine
rise and shine.

i saw myself without a heart

sinking on a sofa
or in a ship at sea
lifting my head above the crowd
to see what i might see
and what a sight i saw
unsure of what it was
i kicked and prodded up and down
and wondered what it does:
a frozen stand of trees
unchanged by each hour
i saw myself without a heart
looking for a flower.

hey pop; really, i wouldn't want to swap

hey pop;
really, i wouldn't want to swap
you had a hard time on the far side of the tracks
when the coal was black you piled it on your back
and when the ice was cold you went door to door and sold
and saw the good boys who had the better toys
and all those young girls with their fancy blond curls
telling stories from the river that always made you shiver
and there seemed no way out
no one would ever hear your shout
but in time there opened a dangerous door
everyone called it the Second World War
and you took it
and took the hit
with brass knuckles in your hand, a handsome face
drinking on a ladder to reach the old rat race
Naval pants and combat with a gun
not much you ever left undone
you carried the ball but finally let it drop
ran full speed and couldn't quite make it to the top
hey pop;
you took a good run and made one hell of a charge
ran a long way past that small town river barge
best-looking man (you said!) with an Earl Flynn grin
cutting the cards four ways to win
buying a new car to show everyone who you are
as you drove down every fast lane
turning from a side street onto Main
you never looked back at the coal and ice
felt the wind in your hair and thought it damn nice
hey pop;
where are you now and whatever else comes can anybody say?
i saw you disappearing softly but i can't go that way:
so toss me another pitch and make it straight
i'm heading for home and don't want to be late.

another shot of Gin

i know where the easy cliff ends and the hard stairs begin
it wasn't so long ago i took a stand
and took it on the chin
i wasn't afraid to lose
but i didn't expect to win
i sat down and poured myself another shot of London Gin
when i saw you come in
and then there rose a sun; it burned inside my heart
made a complete circle before it flew apart
one season came and soon became four
i heard all the stories of what came before
a Jack and a Jill and the Kingdoms of yore
the crown with thorns and the sharp thorns of a red flower
i saw a man consumed with thoughts of pure power
trying to kill the passing of an hour
he wrote a book with words he went to the central bank to borrow
a five year plan was to publish it today or sometime tomorrow
but i tried to play the game without having to slide
every time they gave an explanation i knew they lied
four thousand children on the streets bowed down and cried
the wailing of a father and the tears of a mother
a wheelchair once carried the weight of my brother
its' tires traveled a hundred miles before a quick U-turn
all is quiet on the western front but what did any of us learn?
i know where the easy cliff ends and the hard stairs begin
it wasn't so long ago i took a stand
and took it on the chin
i wasn't afraid to lose
but i didn't expect to win
i sat down and poured myself another shot of London Gin
when i saw you come in.

i questioned myself and i questioned you

the moon was an exploding bomb

deep in the distance a puzzling light
i looked left and i looked right
there was nothing special i wanted to do
i questioned myself and i questioned you

i hid behind a cellar door

asked a whispering ghost why he was so quiet
heard a news story about the Attica riot
saw a young boy he was crying in bed
read the latest warning but ignored what it said

the black swords flew out of the east

the swans flew out to the nearest river
a scarecrow stood naked and started to shiver
an angry young girl walked up to a tall ladder
she hit it with hatred until it started to shatter

the porch swing was like a white rope

on the way south it hung from a church steeple
black souls on ice kept looking for people
a shout in the throat kept getting swallowed
it wasn't history but everything that followed

and the good book on the sidewalk

each page and every chapter in fine print
hands waving to provide every eye a helpful hint
my own way home with a compass and a smile
and the park bench where i wanted to sit for a little while

the moon was an exploding bomb

deep in the distance a puzzling light
i looked left and i looked right
there was nothing special i wanted to do
i questioned myself and i questioned you.

Guinness isn't just a beer

there was a time in California
when i thought i had an extended reach
so i went walking with a musical woman
to the crazy Pacific beach
and we built a fire
and read Russian poetry
while watching the fiery sun
lower itself into the still-glowing sea
i asked her to sing
the Beach Boys who came first to mind
but she sang Dead Man's Curve
and I didn't want to seem unkind
so i had another drink
while she played her B Flat clarinet
like a famous French little bird
who escaped her net
and she started to dance
wet sand between her toes
i considered heading to San Francisco
to see the variety shows
but the wild surf made a steady roar
Big Sur darkness held me to the floor
and she asked for a foot massage
said both her feet were damp
so i lit a Coleman lantern
and settled into camp
i found another Guinness
but it wasn't just a beer;
she handed me oil and spices
and said "Any time now, dear."

Red Mountain

i saw her on Red Mountain
but no one knew her name
how far she had wandered
or from where she came
no one would ever say
but i'll never forget that day
i know she treated me like a stranger
and at first i didn't walk so fine
there was a strong wind blowing
which knocked me off my line
and i started out fawning
and she might have been yawning
but we watched the stars overhead
they kept spinning in their night sky bed
and heard a wolf pack prowling
and a dark bear somewhere growling
and she put her hand on my chest
she felt my heart and i guessed
but i believed everything i felt
kept playing all the cards i was dealt
well, i awoke on a stone cold mesa
and down in the valley far below
the wagon trains kept moving
i didn't know which way they'd go
looked around to see Red Mountain
and it seemed mighty proud and brave
there was one lonely feature
a small tombstone on a freshly dug grave
i saw her on Red Mountain
but no one knew her name
how far she had wandered
or from where she came
no one will ever say
but i'll never forget that day.

you are a God

and tonight
you are a God
or a Roman Catholic priest
with a small dog on your lap

instead of an innocent child waiting for a father-figure.
you dream of riding a white horse in
the woodlands of upstate New York,
having fled the midtown scene
because you were down on your cultural luck.
you are NOT a naked Allen Ginsberg
descending an ornate stairway with Peter
to greet an irate Gordon Liddy,
who would soon leave empty-handed,
laughing all the way to the bank.
in the morning, you are noticed:
wearing a new psychedelic beret
with slender, sparkling strings of golden beads
dangling from your neck,

smiling like a Cherokee with wise eyes and an insomniac heart,

resembling the most dangerous man in America
surfing chaos
marveling at grains of sand on a fantastic beach,

running for governor of California,
singing autographs for the unclothed members of a lost Berkeley tribe
and praying with your alter ego friend, Jim,
who said his real name is Timothy Leary.
he would soon donate his brain to medical science,
which he did.

you moved quietly to the Taos Pueblo,

married Juanita, a native Indian woman

and tonight

you are a God.

i can't walk no more

i lost both legs in a war
now i can't walk no more
and i want to know what for
all the sweating and the blood
the rain forest jungle and the mud
earthquakes and the rising flood
how could i ever know
which way the wind would blow
before the new day began
first i walked and then i ran
through crowds of people pointing everywhere
some of them cheating (and) some playing fair
hard strangers in uniform marching down my street
they're searching but still can't find my feet
no welcoming hand for me to greet
only an eerie noise erupting from fancy toys
and lonely women with their blue-collar boys
and a loud call from the dark city tower
i hear it most every passing hour
a silent lovely flower
hoping for a drink
it almost has no more time left to think
i lost both legs in a war
now i can't walk no more
and i want to know what for
all the sweating and the blood
the rain forest jungle and the mud
earthquakes and the rising flood
how could i ever know
which way the wind would blow
before the new day began
first i walked and then i ran.

a final caress

and a young girl removed her wedding dress
she folded the memory
gave it a final caress
the lamp light growing dim
she wasn't thinking of him
inside the room and by the four poster bed
she read a book instead
tossed her head and gave a laugh
smiling as she slowly slipped
into a warm bath
and the soap bubbles blew
like noses with a head cold
what would she do
when the water turned cold
well, her skin softened
her story got told
and she slept like a beauty
she felt it was her duty
to have her own life
it didn't matter much if she was a wife
she had a direction on her own road
so i was later told
down on one strong knee
she buried the anticipation key.

Lord Byron

i wore black
(and) that's a Johnny Cash fact
but he's not coming back
even though he once read the Farmer's Almanac
on a cold summer night
when the entire world felt warm
and he heard thunder
and soon a terrible storm
carried him to the highest point
millions of people saw him coming and passed a joint
i saw his smile fading to the bone
watched him in the far corner all alone
fooling with a six string guitar
gas in his waiting car
a road map on the seat
while he listened to the radio playing
the Folsom Prison Blues
he grabbed a pair of running shoes
and went looking for some heat
a setting sun and a crescent moon
i kept humming his latest tune
and The Price Was Right
was keeping me up all night
Captain Kangaroo wouldn't tell me what to do
before the show came to a shocking end
when Mayor Phineas T. Bluster called me his best friend
he brought a lot of love to my afternoon parlor room tea
and a hot cup of coffee
under the spreading Chestnut tree
he played the matador and i the crazy bull
we'd both keep eating until we were full
the evening news said we had no choice but to choose
between Lord Byron and Disney dog Pluto
and so
everything seemed designed to clarify or confuse
and we didn't know what else to use
to open our bottle of fine California wine
we bought in a store down in old San Antonio
which is where we were told to go
to hear the man in black
who was hiding in a Lone Star sack
no longer on his feet
he sang flat on his back
the Folsom Prison Blues
he grabbed a pair of running shoes
and went looking for some heat
i saw him disappearing down Alamo Street
but i heard him singing yesterday
and that's something that i'm proud to say.