Sunday, February 22, 2015

crawl into a hole
make sure it is welcoming
warmed from all past sins

Monday, February 16, 2015

Credit the calvary, which
shows up in time for the
free-wheeling disasters
you know, in the dream,
where you
scream from a tree limb
or piss yourself
just before you wake
from a nightmare divine
just before the gulf crests
do you see what I mean
this fantastic discussion
this lip smacking urge
to smother concussion
credit what shores
up the kindle that don’t
load the bonfire, the wars
the celebrity grunt
the audience looks forward
players need scores
light the match when the
laptop is open and fired
for once let me load
let me goad let me pounce
you know that I dream
and I dream often this sound
of the calvary arriving
loaded and wanton
built in, remembered
poets forgotten
credit the calvary, which
shows up in time
in the knick of free wheeling
forgettable rhyme
my kindle is fired it’s
not letting me load
I look forward to reading
when the laptop’s not broken
thanks for sharing now
I’ll flip the laptop open
be warned
what once was romance
is now specious built in
I miss that the fellow
the enemy within
is cheating the romance of evil, of sin
that’s the sorrow of
those who despair on the chin
bad music, bad poems,

bad stories a sin
bad poetry you say
well, I’m in. I am in.

Friday, February 6, 2015

talk a glass eye to sleep
leave the ventriloquist alone
on an empty stage
say the prayers to home
you left long ago
origami for beginners on radio
foot on the gas
for a travelin’ show
who is the dog
barking at your door
journey proud you are
you are asking for more
on the road to practical magic
Flash Harry is
fascinated by body alone
there’s a Guinness left
on a lonely bar
and none for the tasking
innocents slaughtered
not that it matters
what my name is
I live in the tortured
you can’t just dream
you must break the law
shatter what seems
unable to thaw
home and the heart is
my council my foe
I am outside myself
the garden gnome
has nobody else
I am lonely and indiscreet
the landmine it seems
is at my feet
do I fit the shield over my face
or leave it undone
like a royal disgrace
I know things for which
I shall be made to recuse
I know things always
my head means to lose
am I mad
am I sane
whatever the bother
I am yours
I am mine
I am the revolver

Wednesday, January 28, 2015


Friday, January 23, 2015

Kind of blue

Late at night in a field of bad dreams
I breathe like a stallion
an old one it seems
I thrash in my stall
I shoulder that awl
Late at night in a field of bad dreams
scream like a lone one
grasp the last song line
and murder the rows
with my awl of demean
Late at night in a field of bad dreams
I am kinda blue
and you know what that means
late at night in a crazy ass stream
I swim to you
and you know that that means

Sunday, January 4, 2015


every movement
has been too much
has gone too far
or not far enough
bad or good we
still need to find
the in-between
bad or good we
still have to break
the soulless mean
every movement
needs a coffee klatch
a roomful of ideas
a woman’s touch
every movement
must wear an anarchist’s watch
a handless timepiece
an armless wrestle
a march through Gotham
the lengths we will go to
we have been skating across
a lake still frozen
time to be warmer
time for unbroken
every movement
has been too much
has gone too far
or not far enough
bad or good we
still need to find
what we have lost most
bad or good
we have to lose
the meaningless boast
bad or good we
have to find the
the meaningful touch
defrost and arm
regroup the charm
retreat and go begging

offensive is everything

Friday, November 14, 2014

For Isabel tonight

there you are
in the moments
we refuse to avoid
there you are
at the start of
the foment, the noise
explaining to me
the need for a roar
there you are
when I call blindly
from a cell in my heart
there you are
in the darkness
there you are at the start
creep up on me
I don’t mind
we had that kind
of friendship
the ghosts still in transit
are jealous of us
there you are
in the night of
my simmering question
no answers you say
only direction
there you are
when I flounder
in boots still too tight
through dark underbrush
there you are in the light

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Sir Shadow

Sir shadow, you drunk
Sir Shadow, you mean
and crazy man
Sir Shadow, you hopeless shoe lacer
you angry defacer
Sir Shadow of mine
you black valentine
swing from the wing with a ghosty divine
Sir Shadow, you hopeless
reminder of loss
comic trickster of heaven
Byzantium’s loss is
a place where nothing of import
gives into dull hymns
or nudged the sweet need of sorts
Sir Shadow, it’s now
in the cinnamon dark

when I drink to the owl
to the falcon, the lark
and the music still hovers
like a family of sorts
Sir Shadow, the sum of 
my disparate parts
gets childy and needy and
begs for the stars
the  way to lace upward
the wayfaring boot
send me on to the place
and dig me my root