A Note For Lucy.

Love. I searched the unburned archives.
I scoured the text. I adorned the pages with hopeful query.
Yet.
Nothing could find you.
I only wanted a poem.
Worthy
of you
I skimmed, scanned, delved, and parsed the greatest minds of time.
They seemed to know nothing of you.
They hadn't heard, seen, imagined, lamented, or had once partaken in
such
beauty
As your like
unprecedented
I like you.
If only I could say so as much and eloquently as the poetic greats
could express pain, loss, and death.
Let's live forever.
We'll call it a draw.

25, unsung, and a freak show.

I hope it does not take you very long.
to get to the bottom of this song.

So push the buttons
watch it go
25, unsung, it's a freak show.

she'll have you believe that it's too late.
she'll have you believe that is can't wait.

i hope...

under your breath the words runs deep
rise and then burn like the hot steam
you try to hold back
what you should not say
you try to hold back
it's not easy

I hope it does not take you very long.
To figure out the meaning of this song
I hope it does not take you very long
to figure out where this verse, it went wrong.

and I don't remember just how we met, but I know know
exactly how it ends.


25, unsung, and a freak show.
25, unsung, and a freak show.
25, unsung, and a freak show.
25, unsung, and a freak show.

So push the buttons
make it go
25, unsung, and a freak show.

Have you believe that it can't wait
tell you hold on, it'll be great.

You want things.

You want things, so perfect.
Untouched yet still undaunted.
A gift wrap, so tidy.
A beauty. Swan in hiding.

You want it.
So special.
Uncomplicated mess though.
On time with, no hassle.
No moat. Just the castle.

You want this. And I know it.

You know it.
And I know it.
I've never had it so good.

You know it.
And I know it.
We've never had it so good.

Let's try this. For old times
laugh like we, want the laugh lines.
So trusting. So moment.
Memories born for growing.

Sometimes, you and me.

Sometimes we say alright
when No is right in front us.
And Yes
Just wants to
fuck the same
You, probably-know
what I'm sayin'
probably happens
every day

we're left waiting here.
waiting just to see
waiting here
waiting just to see

... waiting just to wait more
I feel like I'm a wait whore
... waiting just to wait more
I wonder what the wait is for?

If there's suck a thing as luck
If there's suck a thing as fuck
If there's suck a thing as touch
If there's suck a thing as-too much

I guess it's

You and me.

Sometimes.
We stop on a dime.
The mystery in front of us
just makes us pray for rain

Sometimes
we're full of might
our nose is right in front of us
our eyes can't place the blame

Sometimes
we just hold tight
hoping for another chance
hoping for a way

Sometimes
we save the light
tuck it away inside of us
fold up and hope it gains

Sometimes....

sometimes...

waiting just to wait more
and I wait right here for you
and I wait right here for you
ain't got nothing else to do
ain't found nothing else so true
Is this our only chance?
Is this our only chance?

If there such a thing as luck.
If there's such a thing as touch.
If there such a thing as luck.

It's.

You and me.
You and me.

October 16 Moon

I travel by pannier and crutch on this moonlight night
a crisp tug at the collar is how this night air beckons
almost enough to yank us to our senses
almost enough to yank us from this dream
I travel by a slow and steady stride upon metal wings
they embrace earth and stair with the sure ease of mountain goats
with the cadence of a slave powered vessel -
Row... -
ROw... -
ROW ...
as the hull groans while slowly slicing the water, so groans I
with each move
every pace
ROW [DRUM]
ROW[DRUM]
ROW[DRUM]
I've made it to the kitchen.
The Far East of the house. Searching for fresh water and spices
finding sight of the October 16 moon ascending towards some heavenly throne
and I cross the threshold into the night air
by crutch and pannier
seeking more

My double edged spot.

You love it that I have my spot.
My place to go to. My place
you can send me

Off to the spot.

Go

You love that I recognize
I acknowledge
with participation

Go

off to the spot.

Thing is

I kind of love my spot

more that I love you

so let's not pretend

Go

Steel meet flesh. Flesh meet steel.

Why did you try to break me? When
I was feel-eel-ing so whole.

Whey did you try to make me? Gone
I was feel-eel-ing so pro.

I almost busted open. I almost broke it through. I almost cost a 4 leaf clover to turn over in a stew.

I almost fell apart there. I almost fell for good. I almost tossed into oblivion to find out that you are true.

Oh sure, you are so true now.
Oh sure, you are so brave.
oh sure, you are so true now.
oh sure, no one can say
say a bad word about you
no one can say no wrong
say a bad word about you
because you are too strong

oh sure, you are so true now
oh sure, you are so true
oh sure, you are so perfect in ways
yes yes, you know that's you

Why did you try to break me?
When you are so mighty strong.
Why did you try to break me,
When you are full bore never wrong.
Why did you try to break me?
Why did you try to break me?

I only wanted to go on

only wanted to go on

only wanted, only wanted, only wanted
only wanted, only wanted, only wanted,
only wanted, only wanted, only wanted

to go on

Who am I missing?

You.

Of course.

My dearest not here.

Of course

just you

My dearest not here

Who am missing?

I am missing you.

Only you.

only you

do I miss.

Who am I missing?

You my dearest, my dearest

you

Who am I missing?

You my dearest, I am missing you so much

I can't see

I can't see

I can't see

anybody

else

falling upwards on a summer breeze

They're so sweet
starry night
wondering what
went so right

falling

like a star

for you

Falling
like a star
for you

And I do not know why
there in a dreamy corner
of my mind
you always seem to be

it leaves me feeling
it leaves me free
it leaves me feeling
it leaves me free
just like feeling lost in a dream
where everything
is everything

they're so small
under starry lights
wondering
what went right

falling
falling
like a star
for you

falling
falling
to the stars

falling

I wrote you a poem

I wrote you a poem
it's around here somewhere
just
just give me a second
it's in this mess

dowry breaths

one
two
close
to the truth
a television on an elevator

How much would you give?

Just to see in. Just to be in. Just a love.

My girl
and her eyes
her beutiful lies
there's no doing better

I hope
that she gets
the truth in this
open love letter

So much
much to give
much to live
much to much yeah

Keep on giving, keep on living, keep on something, keep on giving

my girl
and her eyes
her beautiful lies
there's no doing better

and I sing

Eyla - ehla - Ayla
oh
oooooooooo
oh

hey lah
hey lah
hey love
don't go

Dream unSong #37

I dreamt of him last night
he had the crazy hair of George Bluthes' brother (from Arrested Development)
mishapen, wild, unkempt, stringy beyond the pale
he had the eyes of a lonely transient
that once fell in love while passing through a town
love at first sight
while stuck on a train moving too fast to get off
an unrequited snapshot of beauty and misfortune to romanticize
for years,
even later when,
driving
dreams in the spaces - between the stripes - - - - - - - -
of the road

- beautiful
beautiful eyes
his hobo soul'd
lonliness
sadness
selfish selfish
want

Just a few days ago I wondered about how anyone could just walk away
give them up, leave them.
How?
You couldn't tear them from living grasp
Yet.
Some just walk away
They show it in their eyes and carry it in their shoulders
like semitruck headlight nights mapped
from small town to truck stop
running away from and running towards what
What?
What could be the magnet that pulls such loneliness through the world?
Through my dreams?
Such beautiful eyes. Just like I remember them.
Only empty
and sad
and
lost

there are no maps for the trucker routes of our soul
there are no logistics for shipping fill for the lost years
not even in my dreams
dad

Maplewood Bridge is Burning Down

An old friend stopped by today, down on his luck with only hardship to say,

he seemed out of sorts, he seemed clammy

he seemed like a broken man and he said he would beg.

He asked me for drugs, last time he asked me for cash

There aren't any drugs in this house I summarized and he nervously laughed.

he asked for a lighter to spark up his smoke.

the one in the side porch, he tried, but it was broke.

out of fluid, and out of time, out of his mind his nic fit caught up in about 25 minutes of time

He had to leave. To get on with his life.

And by that I think he meant get back to the strife

I offered some food, for his cats, for himself

He pulled away a broken man ,and his undercover escorts pulled away, 5 minutes later as well.

Maplewood bridge is burning down, burning down, burning down

Maplewood bridge is burning down, my fair lady.

my fair lady.

my

unfair

lady

You see recently her tried to give his heart to a girl, who was really a new woman

from a whole different world, and somehow he thinks that is the cause of his pain

and somehow he believes things, the things, that his enemies say

and he talks about the old times, and compares her to the past

that somehow slipped, like a ghost, through the wisconsin glass

destitute and hungry, lonely and despaired, when they become your allies -

your friends become thin air

but only because it's safer for you, only because they care, only because they see the flames

and you're already there

Maplewood bridge is burning down, burning down

Maplewood bridge is burning down

my

fair

....

A folding dance for a party

We're all dancing around this place
twirl and whirl and love love love curl
build each other up, spin each other around
tear each other down, take each other out
smile at the right times and maybe we can hang with stars
out on the edge there's a place called in the fold
that's where we want to be
together
unless you can't get there
then the rest of us will totally understand
see you next time, see you next time
or not?
it's a playful existence and it's a playful past and it's a play on words
that we think will last
stretched out, reaching, across the floor we cross our paths and cross our t's
and place them on crosses for all to see and turn the page whenever we please

We're all dancing around this place
twirrling and whirling and love love and twists
feed off each other, build each other up
We're all dancing around this place

Shores of the Unproven Coast

The song comes up as a reminder
Saint Paul, and all, and on, the brow, and on, the hill
My Cathedral
Now I attend a local hall with sunken layers and
Room for all
and a priest that stops when he knows he shouldn’t
and some other folks that are regular and know what's good in
the times they make the mass on time and
I guess it gives me piece of mind, friend
heart and soul as
everything
as
much as,
the next, next to,
your bells ring
that calls above,
across, and wide
Calls above
Beyond
Outside

Outside?

People just disappear sometimes.

You may not believe this
but in other places I have readership-
so I didn't think it would bother me
when I long-ago-removed the traffic script (that let me know)
and decided not to let lack or gain of readership influence words

I have to admit, sometimes it gets to me.
Thinking about when I knew. Knew the eyes were watching
Knew the stage was set. It gets to me. because I think you're gone.
Hating to look into the mirror and see the transient natural truth
People just disappear sometimes.

decided not to let
lack or gain
of readership
influence
words?


Yet, here we are
Words and I
wallowing in the web's vast seclusion
I've had the feeling before
the lonliness
of being in a crowded room
I know people just disappear some times
like I know people that know people
and yet it doesn't feel crowded
tonight

I don't want to ask it. I don't want to look into the mirror.
Just in case
it's me that's disappeared

Five minutes in a cramped hole corridor

You know, some-
times I watch them swirl
around,around,around in circles
awaiting descent and I wonder
if they're little pieces of life or death

My little cave questions
wander away almost as quickly
as answer chance awaiting,awaiting, bringing
more questions. they'll melt without blood
Am I following or leading

Puppy Bunny Puppet Dagger Teeth

Hey you.

Lap dog.

Your master said sit.

Really, I wish it weren't so.

Because you want to bite me hard.

And I want to defend myself.

Mutual exhanges can be so healthy.

None the less.

You were told sit.

You listened.

I had nothing to do with that.

Pup.

assassination of painting

I drape your cataclysmic carnival instincts in purple straddled masonic need
A corollary junction bringing supine slither slacked smoke stacks
Joined at the left outer concentric crumbled cortex stoke macks
Take the flavored perchance and you’ll never know mediocrity
That’s what they say anyway a bunch of vine hanging snapdragons
Dangling on the wooden number two pencil damper erased smudge
Maybe it’s not too late to crumple the cackle cackled cacklers font
Or the woven sheets of rainy paper caught in tabled gravity
Either way
You know?

Do you get my drift?

I lost the first couple lines. Even though moments ago they were making
sounds like a skipping record, but the records wasn't skipping.
That's how the song is written.
So
I drink in the vacuous viscous quaffables
and bask in your dialect,
honeyed poison.
naturally divine
openly free for the taking
wrapped up in life's little details and it's just easier to spill it all out
than attempt to unravel the frequencies
A spell of interwoven interlockings
stepped aside from the drift
Do you get my drift?


She looked at me and said "It's over my head"
"You just say that when you don't like my poems."
"No. I just don't get it. It's a bunch of words that don't go together; it doesn't make sense"
"It makes perfect sense"
"Noo.... it's not your fault . . it's . . "
"I'm not saying there's fault. There's isn't fault. You can't be right or wrong."

I attend things. I'm a valet for moments.
parking them away for winding evenings and coutry roads
the winds, the down, the for, the the, victorious night sky
drop a fairy tale with a happy ending for someone
this sidewalk standing and city air breathing karma
has to come home to roost for somebody
Did I just say karma?
I don't even know if I get my drift anymore.

spackled rising moon and snowflaked scenery
just a bunch of words that aren't supposed to go together

Starry night moon

On a clear brisk November eve I called "bring it"
And the night very next from vision right an owl silent winged
Oh fire and healing west wind
what message bring?
Oh self-indulgent spirit
restless evolution rise

All Those Happy People

They smiled
it was a great day
a day for great things
a day for smiling.

Now don't tell me,
all poetry is depressing.

You saw them as well as I

All those happy people

Dislike

I dislike them all.

every. singl.e one.

I'd rather be choked with an intentional typo than talk with them

They ludly spout half baked urban myths and news stories without \

ever

quite

remembering

the details

or the story

wanting to be engaged, but no

that's just validation and I don't have the time to tell you why that can't happen
so continue with your bingo jokes, lawyer suck ups, and popular opinion

maybe you'll end upon that check fraud case after all.

best of luck

just, you know, don't talk to me.

Day Three, Jury Duty

Chapter One. Page One.

I look around the room before I start. I really don't like any of them. The loud group just won't shut up.

I mind my own business and pour myself into the pages.

Several hundred later I am broken from it's spell. Why?

the magic is still there. foolish apprentices.

they'll serve someone half assed. not me


I continue


My book is poems.

eventually the few I decided early on weren't all that bad

Migrate to my table

look at me

study

make eye contact

and tell me their life story

I allow it and return to my book.

Trigger the horse you rode in on

Triggers,
they drag us through the mud
submerse our judgement in weakness
tango with our senses

I used to have a trigger finger
and
a trigger to remember
and
a memory to forget
and
more time
and
triggers

Now that horse doesn't come around much.

sometimes
it's best to look
a gift horse in the mouth

Their website really pisses me off

I hate it when I accidently click on that link
it takes me to that stupid fucking site
You know the one.
Well all do it.
It's in the browser "favorites" list
next to a website that's actually liked

I wish I could delete it
from the favorites
I didn't put it there

I wonder how much traffic they get from me in any given month?
30 unique accidental views?
50 unique accidental views?


They probably think I care.

That's fucked up.

Their website really pisses me off.

A Preference for Cards

You know, not so long ago,things would get busy around this blog; real busy. Now It won't be long and all the posts with visible comments won't be on the front page.

Lost gospel. Caveman drawings. Scrolls.

Perhaps the past is always more popular than the present. The olden days are swiss bank accounts for nostalgia.

Write a poem
people read
some comment.
Sometimes clever
and others insightful.
Sometimes a poem
would bomb,
but we'd all move on.

Now I type out into ether
and
occasionally
I wonder where they all went.

A popular poet amongst poets cannot last.

Sooner or later
someone's despair
drips
onto
someone's melancholy

and the next thing you know they've all fallen like dominos.

That's why I prefer cards.

Christ, I hate cards.

Deconstructionist Blues

I am almost finished with a Klosterman book. I found myself laughing from the first paragraph.

Yet, it's like I'm reading it as two different people.


One whom loves fun. One whom must deconstruct.

The humorous theories amuse, but I find myself deconstructing the work.
More the theory than the actual deconstruction K man is applying, though sometimes that too.

I stop myself. It's vacation.

Is there such a thing as surface value intellectualism?

I'll take a side and more of that tea please.

The spoon people sidle
the ocean simply is
all this and more
freshness warrantied
clamor for the goal
fight. tough. squishy.
salty lips and reddened eyes
curly hair and straight tails.
Long tales and short days.
relax. the surface is calm

How Do You See Memories?

Today I got the call. An uncle of mine is going to die. I've known for awhile, but it seems he's fading fast.

I have a lifetime of memories of this man. A man who lived like a movie character.
This is a guy who had a t.v. watch in the 70's and could tell you the time at locations all around the world in one breath. An early adopter of technology that had laserdisk players, satellites, and gadgets long before most people have even dreamed such things existed. Also, he taped together several rulers with duct tape so he didn't have to get out of bed to change settings.

Yet, he was not an educated man nor a rich man. He was a carpenter of immense skill and work ethic.

Are my last, and possibly most poignant, memories of John Connor to be him wasting away in a hospital?

I know this isn't about what I want.

A Beacon

A beacon.
Did someone say Bacon?
I could go for something salty.
A reminder over the lips and across the tongue
taking back all the words that travelled the other way
that's why it's salty you know
a tear in the fabric of tears and what shines through?
Taste
Light
A beacon

Yeah, I could go for some bacon.

A Sunday Wake

Awake, a wake
awaken

At first the heat
we're baking
and next the clouds
we're forming

a wake, awake
awaken

The rain, rains down, the ground takes it
The casket, goes down, the ground takes it
A wake on Sunday makes them.

Awake on Monday
a funeral.
As two Sundays
in a row

Awake, on Tuesday
a new dawn.

a wake, awake
awaken

Awaken, the world
moves on

shedding skin

You have no idea how much I want to shed my skin
like a snake born again unto the sunshine
as a lizzard scraping against a rock
while basking in mid day's glorious appeal
it just itches so very much and sheds into a fine white powder
that little by little crumbles and the only thing that remains
is me

It feels so good when you scratch the dry spot
really more than you'll ever know.

It's the little things

She may hate the way she loves him
And you may love the way she hates him
And he may see the way to keep things
all the same

You may star in a production
or be a stand and extra on the set when
it all comes to a stop and happens
all the same

Now don't you take the way you're treated
if you would rather not be needed
then there's plenty to believe in
all the same

It's a sample of some livin
that see and can't forgive when
they haven't even met a person
all the same

I guess the choices that we choose when
it's much easier than losing
rarely turn out to be correct
all the same

Victory at the cost of virtue
is another way to hury you
when they they'd rather see truth
all the same

So track it down. Hold it out. Drink along.
all the same

So track it back. Hold it strong. Drink along.
all the same

Song for the Hypothetically Impaired

Hello, have you missed me?
Am I coming in quite clear?

Do you wonder where I've been . . .
Since I've gone away my friend
I try to think about you everyday

Hello? Can you hear me?
Have I missed you once again?

I think about you day and night
I think about you with full might
I think about you and then you disappear

Do you know?
Do you know?

What this song is about?

yeah I'm alright
yeah words for everyone to hear
yeah how are you?
yeah?
yeah.

inkspot illusion

Where did we leave off? That's where I'd like to pick it all up and carry it forward. If only the things I use to pick things up weren't already doing something. If only.

Right?

That time by the tracks

Technologic Analog Dreams

It’s like the in the movies
It’s like the songs of yesterday
There’s a case of Old Milwaukee
On the shelf outside the door
There’s the taste of smoke on palette
On the way to find ourselves
If you’re going to get up
Grab me a beer when you go out

It’s like in the old movies
It’s like the songs of long before
There’s arming waving in the ballroom
All the feet moving across the floor
There’s the feeling that we’re wasting
All the things we’ve never had
If you’re going to move over
Grab me now and take me with you

It’s like the songs in the old movies
It’s like the songs that make us want more
There’s a patch sewn on the sweatshirt
Its torn sleeves hang on the door
There’s the taste of smoke on palette
Yes you know something has burned
If you’re going to have another
Grab me a light Grab me a pour

It’s like in the old movies
It’s like the songs of long days passed
There’s a grain of salt on the counter
All the shakers are ignored
There’s the taste of sugar on the palette
Yes you know someone has missed
If you’re going to walk away
Grab me a tear and pull it out

Just like old movies
Just like old movies

I remember
I know you remember too
I won’t call it forever
Though all my time is for you
Yes, all my time is for you.

Just like the old movies.

prime the pump

Is this blood? Did you get blood on my new words

Let’s take it and place it above the altar.
We’ll dance and we’ll drink and we’ll play on the strings.

Let’s take it and place it over the stars.
We’ll harken the angels to grace us with song.

Let’s take it and place it in a locket.
We’ll hang it on the mantel and watch the fire reflect.

Is this blood or is this love? I carry it, either way, for only you.
In my veins and in my ways and in the thoughts that fill spaces of my days.

Is this blood? Did you get blood on my new words?
Then I am alive.

The Dream Dragon of Archon

Her arms shackled to the stone floor
and her wings constricted by leather bindings
the heat of her breath a lovers caress
or a candle to close to the curtain
How many before and how many again
a riddle of scales a riddle of time
the puzzle unlocked with only a glance
a slumber of ages awoken

What does this all mean? I can't stand games and puzzles,
let alone this dank pit of a cave
How long have we been travelling anyway?

"Patience"

Why?

"tsk, my young apprentice"

He had almost forgotten his Master's words
when a chill passed over his skin
his spine more aware and signaled his hair
and he stood as a statue within shallow breath

Something about the room had changed
subtle yet real in the moment his memories came
now his mind's eye searched and tried to compile
the moment of now and the moment of trial

smoke and mirrors . . .
smoke and mirrors . . .
smoke and mirrors . . .
the thought rained through his mind and coursed through his blood
He lept behind a stalagmite and not a second too soon
one moment more and he would have been cooked in his boots

"WAIT" he yelled from behind the stones
as another flash of fire licked at the moss and granite
"I've come to save you!"

"Save me?" she hissed
he peeked around the rock only to see red glowing eyes in the shadows
"Save me?"
Then she laughed, but not a wicked laugh, a sweet enchanting laugh.
"What are you laughing at . . . ?" came the reply tinged with hurt feelings
Another burst of flames licked at his cape as he ducked behind the rocks
"I'm companion of the Wizard Atraighties"
A hiss and a silence followed.
Then there was only the darkess

To Kill A Messenger

Scene One, Act One:
A cry went up...
A head came down
And rolled across the floor
The mercy of the once renowned
And silver for the shores
A man born to shackle stone
A grimace and a whore
They lacked the space to call it home
A splinter from the floor

All steam and blood and Benjamin
All steam and blood and curse

Take a bath above the trap
Rinse twice and fill their purse
Deed and weeds all will be lost
Upon these streets of gold
Streets of gold they love to say
A trick of light I aught to know

Your burdens in your skin and bones
Your shiny shoes now worn with holes

A wisp of smoke on dusty streets
As acrid death and nostrils meet

You can always tell them anywhere
You can pick them from a crowd
They carry their conscience in their shoulders
And they step each step hard down

No these are not good days my friend

As they say sadness accrues
I guess that makes this place big bank

And makes us bolts and screws

Scene Two, Act One:
I’ll take delight from their deaths
I'll give them bad as good it gets
I had to work for all I have
And for all my time I gave
Now they whisper slight of hands
And eyes speak of new hate
It’s not a simple scene as told
And the turn to violence far too bold
So come to my door as torched flame
Knock will be answered surprise thy name
In the courtyard the trap now set
And the men with axes whet
Soon will be blood on old soil
Shutter to think earth may boil
A tragic lesson far and wide
Revolutions heart had died

--
Scene Three, Act One:
Ahhhh cry went up to the heavens
On dusty knees with wide eyes reddened
Lonely old bucket and rake as witness
And the Lord asking forth forgiveness

Keres Promise Kept

Arm aching...
Arm aching...?
Who writes "arm aching" on a bathroom wall?
The insane and the vain and that bitter hooker wanting a call.
She’s plumb nuts and on her cuts were smaller cuts and enough
Lithium and all the umms that start with “i” and end with her fall
There’s a saying in the place she’s from not that she would ever grab
She’s lived her life as a family call girl and takes Scotch and Valium to forget
In the meantime she writes about the love that she will never have
Alone and cold and on the floor
like millions of those that drank too much
The cool tiles of the bathroom helped her focus
on dreamy last prayers and engraven font notch
First she carved into the wall and then filled the scribe with ink
And then she turned the blade on herself and dropped the needle in the sink
Arm aching, Arm aching
The Angels sang and trumpets soared with choir
Arm aching, Arm aching
were mumbled words as her veins filled with fire
Arm aching, Arm aching...
The last thing she said before she turned to fall
Arm aching... Arm aching...
spoon

Saved by Pussy

He said little as they paddled their way along the sunken streets...

It had been days since they had seen life. Aside from the plants, that is. The ones left behind in the quick escape attempts. He always expected a post apocalyptic experience to be more shoulder pads, mo-hawks, and battles for gasoline.

Funny. . .

He could have all the petroleum in the world now and he wouldn’t care.

She noticed it first.

Out of a flooded alley it swam towards the canoe like they were expected for tea.

At first, they wanted to call it simply “cat”, but the collar read Adam.

In a way, that’s when they started their new life.


On it’s collar was a small container, shaped like a scroll
And when opened and pulled out 5 inches of paper did unroll
On it was a rhyme,labeled McGill's Meow, in simple words in plain old type
And this is what is said, as I recall, call it a warning if you like

He sneaks around at night, this cat, and eats all he can find
Perched atop the fridge he’ll eat potato chips without mind
He’ll eat any crumbs found upon floors
and lick empty dog bowls wishing for more
He’d steal the roll off of my plate
if for supper I arrived even a moment too late.

Though there’s one place he doesn’t know of it’s a pantry I've stocked for years
Canned meats, jellies and jams, and all things that keep folk grinning ear to ear
During the day when he is fat and sleeping with sunbeams on parlor floor
I sneak into third floor pantry, have a snack, and write some more
You see, I write though that's not my only kind secret
I know a few and wouldn't you . . . .

WAIT! Did he say food "stocked for years"?
Let me see that collar . . .

It has an address.

Tale of the Flea

They should make people take a test before they let them buy pets
Like old Mcgill on the hill he’s as crazy as a person gets
He frees every pet that he buys and he buys and he buys without guide
No one is sure how many he gets, how many he’s had,
how many he lets, No one is sure if the rumors are true
He lives at towns edge in an old paint chipped victorian house
At the end of Ames Lane in the woods like a grouse
In town they say he’s crazy as noon tea
and spends his time writing a near fantasy
A story for each pet that he’s freed
and in them each one becomes history
Now come closer and sit at my table,
I’ll share anything that I’m able
Though forgive my whispers,
there are many misters
and madames that don’t get it .
This is just one story of such a pet
Though short and small as curious can be
It’s of a flea, and his name was Ned
He was the grand master of the flea circus
An astonishing chap of no circumstance
Until McGill owned the Ringling Jamboree
You see Ned always had a glorious flea dream
And told Mcgill, or so it would seem
For one windy day
McGill placed Ned on a leaf
and the wind lifted that Ned away
Now listen it’s just like I said,
that crazy man he freed every pet
And every pet has a story he keeps
and sometimes they grow to the streets
Through his house walls and out to the lawn
and over the fence and still growing on
Now this pet became quite the to-do
little Ned flea saved the Queen from a Coup
The leaf landed on her step with a touch
She stopped, bent, and she peered
seeing . . .what?
Ned performing songs
and tricks of the circus
while chamber whispers grew
and trusted shadows leered
Upon his leaf with flames and whips
Ned The Gigantic and Revered
And in her heart for the first time in ages
the queen cheered She rejoiced
they say she she even cried
while the lady in waiting
she sighed
And the poisoned dart
landed . . .
just high and wide

Knot of Isis

3.. 2.. 1..
is how we count down the fun days
1.. 2.. 3..
is the cadence of doom
3.. 2.. 1..
is how we start the fast race
1.. 2.. 3..
is don't make me count to ten
3.. 2.. 1..
is a New Year and champage
1.. 2.. 3..
is a drummer's fresh start
3.. 2.. 1..
is a candle to blow out
1.. 2.. 3..
is the strikes and you're out
3.. 2.. 1..
liftoff

temptation and the new top

A cool breeze licked the back of her neck
I licked her everywhere else
a hot tongue trace and the breeze in place
I couldn't help myself
A night like tonight and a dream like this one
though everything felt so surreal
A cool breeze licked the back of her neck
though cool is not what she did feel
flushed, and hushed, and rushed, so much
on nerves she did quite enjoy
her parents walked in and noticed the sin
I was her girl not her boy.

hurts like new shoes

It was either a pill or a piece of candy…
I didn't care. I ate it it and gawked at the forming clouds.
and immersed mself in the moving music
L7 and The Verve
So many stages.
I was hot in those boots.
I was lost in the moment.
It was Lallapalooza and the Smashing Pumpkins were giving
then they were giving the stage up to the Beastie Boys.
The dust danced between clouds of grass smoke
our parched mouths dreaming of afternoon mist tents
while mouthing our best Pauls Boutique
"Expanding the horizons
and expanding the parameters"
Everyone politely declined to notice the heat and smoke
as they smoked and heated for notice
the evening rolled into the night
uncomfort turned to anticipation
anticipation turned to excitement
we pushed
we pushed
towards the front
huddle and become
Lallapalooza was meant for us
our new generation
We were going to change the world
and the world was listening
to our music
at last.

"Todd, Todd are you listening?"

"Yes, Sorry, Gentlemen as I was saying. We can easily make your manufacturing goals with all the appropriate quality controls by fiscal Quarter Three."

This is Art?

This is art.
Well if it were, then I wouldn't be doing it
rules to live by
if I can do it
it's not art

So I tear out my sleeve and wear it on my heart
pinned with days and emoticons not yet created
the glue on laminated surface of my rock button

Hit the button

Rock!