when he can say yes all his life
get everything right
until he is white-haired
gold capped

until yelling a word
keeps his lights on at night

until the only thing
that keeps everyone alive
has killed him

I haven't met
G-d...but

I'm sure he knows

How to tell a man

No

I sit and wonder if it is all
ending and if it is meaningless
and I can't see the reason to even
try and then I hear a voice
echo within me that says
you will see, wait for tomorrow
you will see.

I wrote your name
in it, a cadence,
making my feet tap
and my throat hum.
If I were beside you,
I would lift my head
open my eyes
and see you in bed.
If I were beside you
I would go to sleep
with my toes touching yours
knowing that I'd see you
in the morning,
the sun lighting my face
as I sing the tune of your name
and
You would love me
If I were beside you.

in the desert
a spider traps a mouse
a woman cries
I feel her hot tears
on my head
they drip drip drip
I look out over my balcony
wondering, why?
what is the point?
a man lives alone with his goldfish
he hasn't seen a woman naked in years
he reads a novel and laughs to himself
I hear his laughter
It crowds my mind
I feel its hands and elbows poke my sides
I walk into work
I walk out
somewhere downtown,
a teenager is trying marijuana for the first time
I feel the warmth
the guilt
I feel endless

If I ever get a chance to
have the kind of love that sits
on the opposite sides of a bench
like two book ends and smiles
into life into death into the black
I will hold it to myself so closely
careful not to smother it, and
I will make it a part of my core
and it will never grow old

I take one to keep the blues away;
One so I don't peel my skin like a banana;
One so I can sleep without being chased by death;
One so I don't jump out of the car on the highway;
One so I don't run down the street naked talking about ethical consumption under capitalism;
One so I don't cry about the sad looking potato chip;
One to **** the pain in my heart;
One so I can focus on my school work;
One so I don't tell my teacher he looks like a bridge troll;
And one so I don't fall in love with you.

I don't know the man who waved at me,
but in my head
he's a silver haired Adonis,
Jimmy Stewart in construction garb.

I want to cry on the subway.
I want to dance in the ocean with the waves crashing on the rocks behind me.
I want to see a lemon purple sunset mirrored in my mother's eyes.
I want to eat the whole cake.
I want to read a thousand words and learn every one.
I want to sleep in the desert, in a truck bed, staring at the stars.
I want to buy the shoes.
I want to wear the shoes.
I want to break the heels of the shoes on a long walk up a hill, drunk, shouting into the early morning air.
I want to collapse in bed before the sun hits the skyline and dream I was driving up the coast and my car took off into the air, passing up the birds, the planes, looking over the houses and the people.
I want to actually mean it, whatever it is.
I want to wake up and know that I did it, glorious me, did glorious it.
I want your ****.

and when your babies were born
you named them for the stars
but the backyard was all they ever saw
when your mother got the call
the world was obsessed
but when we change the channel
you'll still feel him inside
you'll still feel him

When I dusted off the counter today
I found something that was lost before

Jesus was there by the sink,
sitting down right next to the toaster
he looked at me and asked for a coaster
he and the cherubs were drinking diet soda,
and watching the ants eat my sugar

I asked him three questions
and hear what they are
why are you sitting by the toaster?
why in the hell would you want my coaster?
and
didn't I ask you to leave last summer?

Jesus said he wanted to live in my heart
first the counter
then my heart
what's next Jehova, my first born child?

yes actually he said, before he snorted and growled
I really do want your first born child
would you like a brochure for heaven?
its pretty wild there, and the bread's all unleavened

No thanks
No thanks

Now I know,
how I can see the sun.
It is not my eyes
that take in the rays,
it is you
buying us Mike and Ike candies in the morning
on the way to school
you saying,
"Now, don't tell your mom!"
all four of us banging our heads
to classic rock.

Now I know,
how I can feel
It is not my skin
that senses the sand on the beach,
it is you
taking me to my first scuba dive
so proud of your daughter
Me, a fish!
The only one who didn't ***** on the boat.

Now I know,
It is not my heart
that feels the morning
after a dark night.

It is you, Dad, it is you.

There are nights,
blue sky coming through the window
the last orange of the sun
no longer aglow
when I seek myself.

She is a daughter.
She is a son.
She is the weird and wary night coming in
                                                              ­        slowly.

softly
like an idly turning spinnerette
she awakes.

There is a morning,
fog traipsing through the mountain
around the trees
and to my door
when I see myself.

Just a light that doesn't fade
Just a warmth on winter days
Just a drink that quenches thirst
Just a dance now on the surf
Just a boy
Just a girl
Just a dress and hair with curls
Just a swim in a deep blue wake
Just a lust for heaven's sake!
Just a taste of cherry cola
Just a touch on sunkissed shoulder
Just a kiss, but where it leads
Just a longing
Just a need
Just me grasping your warm hand
Just forever, in the sand

Lenore, not lost
but only sleeping
sainted, yes
and night comes reaping
radiant with demon's dreaming
tapping, tapping, like before.

Sure, the wind
has caught you from me
dances with you
rare Lenore.

Send this shadow
with it's rapping
send it
flying, from my door.

They will make love tonight
and I will watch
the stucco
form shapes
my dreary art
correcting itself
over and over again.

I did the company mail again today
it was all the same as yesterday
everybody doesn't want to die again
they just want to waste more time again
why do you live
to open more mail?
to send more out?
your dollars are never enough
but you keep trying to make them
why do you try at love
when it makes your tear ducts sore?

I did the company mail again
I guess I didn't use the right stamps
'cause I'm still so ******* sick
and it was all the same as yesterday
everybody doesn't want to die again
and everybody is still dead

She, with green eyes
on a wet night
walking home
told the man
she could see
yellow flowers
in the back seat

I saw an empty light
a pure golden flame
pouring through

now, an empty room

to nights

when an empty black wraith
in a hall
deeper
more ancient
a soul set to grey

over there

over there
a yellow flower
mother!
a car

her last moment
her only death

a planet
a prayer

Do you see them?

a yellow flower

I carved out a smile for you
it was blue
but it's line curved up
toward my eyes
wrinkling my brow
a snake's tongue curled behind my teeth
waiting to dart at a moment's notice
and tell you how you turned
a butterfly
to a worm

I stepped into your apartment
I saw you reading
  sipping coffee
I saw you go to the fridge
and muse at its emptiness
I slept with you at night
we dreamed together
        you didn't see me
but I was there
       when I went to leave in the morning
you looked up
         quizzically

Here I sit with music
It is not mine
but I own it
As I own my body,
my mind and my soul
I have been hoping for a night like this with
no distractions.
The sun hangs low in the sky, and I am in need but not wanting.

It's always night, isn't it?

How hushed voices seem closer
How a light breeze sweeps over your face,
bringing back a thought you never could shake.
How a song takes you back to 17,
a boy and girl,
a light kiss,
the ocean.

It's always night, isn't it?
How you feel the moment when summer turns to fall
How alone feels tangible and cherry sweet, or so so metallic
How a bird wakes you from dreaming,
and he is no longer there.

The years have reached out

You gasp,

and lean

and rock

and tear

and

It's always night isn't it?

How you yearn for the part of you that cannot be stolen from time.

Again, like before
a lost walk in a manic rain
and the cold back seat;
Black, purple,
and some, older,
green and pink
my legs and arms, bruised.

It took a drunken sunless summer,
only one week of copper leaves for the fall
and this desert,
a month of a metal door handle turning, turning
Until, with a gasp, the dead black of December.

Here in the new year, a fat feast for death to add to my years,
a night dive into stone.

The last time I saw you,
you were a phantom
smeared gray.
I thought I'd change your color,
                 and was ruined the next day.

Its about noon on Wednesday
UCLA had a shooting

Fox news reports
that the kids are still
trapped in the classrooms
waiting

Now that it is contained,
the excitement has died down
from our side,

but the kids there will always be

The guy in the science building that heard the doorknob wiggle as bullets wailed in the distance.
The girl that peed herself because she was afraid she wouldn't make it to her sister's Quincinera.
The teacher who never thought he'd see the day.

We're left with our hands up,

'Is this it?'

Is this what we're left with?

A man, full in his head,
bored at his hands

and a gun?

'Is this it?'

and two sets of parents, who won't see their children grow to be the ones who walked at graduation.

'Is this it?'

Hardly a day passes by
that I don't see
your mad purple eyes.
Northern girl,
you wandered into me.

I saw your stars,
angry with silver
fall into the earth's atmosphere
with fire,
and it felt like a kiss.

You are not here now,
and the years pass slow
a long dark highway.

Without you,
sparks never reach full flame
I hear echoes of our orange laughter
lost in a hallway with doors that lead to static grey.

Not a woman,
on a dust dry morning
death put it's flag in me
bones crossed
a line, thin
you tread
as I sat up
in a ghost white sheet.
Not a woman,
moon-mad and haggard
full to the top with drugs
a lizard stuck in it's half-sloughed skin.
Not a woman,
on a dust dry morning.

And I will stop,
take in a long breath
now I am full
tomorrow's sky is young
every single thing
from this one moment
where I see
a small flower
grow
from the sidewalk
it is so hardy
and so am I
the years
with their machines of pain
can bowl me over
large waves
sweeping me under
but I will grow
a flower through concrete
yellow
bright
tall and strong like my mother

and I will be satisfied
with the whisper after the rain

would you look at that?

not even a petal missing

summer is over

i watched it turn

while the quiet grace in my eyes went hard

why do i always
go here

when there
is so soft and curved
a pillow to lay the palm of a hand

the wet fog rolling in on a cool morning
pools behind my eyes
the cement beneath my feet
tenses for fall

and I wait

Water running over my feet,
I knew that there was
something better
than ******* on cool mornings.
Without you,
tense in my mouth,
the sun plays
differently on soft hands
and eyes become gentle
in the rain.
Oh, that I were less storm than sea.
That I were the amber glow
of your eyes
patient in a torrential
                                     reverie.

I am depraved.
He doesn't love me.
I talk like an apple tree that only produces pears.
Sorry, but hopeful.

Petit Oiseau, you told a joke,
You laughed and laughed
And the branch it broke
You fell from the nest
And bumped your head
And a funny frog thought you were dead!
He croaked a low mourning dirge all night,
until you woke
the next morn' at 3,
And Mama Oiseau
put you back in the tree!
Next time you laugh,
make sure you're steady
and that the branch you're on is ready!
You'll live to live to laugh another day
Petit Oiseau don't fall today!

You are a grey guitar
wailing
a sandstorm
adding the grit to my teeth
a white pearl necklace
falling over a lady's bare chest
A lonely birthday
where no one calls but the deskman

I asked you
                  so I knew.

I turned you
from a cherry sweet Sunday
                                                 to this.
Look!
What have you done to my pleasant canyon dream?
I woke, and snoozed the alarm four times this morning.
Each time,
last night was still there
boring into me
a metal casket
                         creaking open and then
                                  finally
                  ­                            CRASH
                               ­                             closing shut.

So the nature
the dirt of the past
is crushed under
the wave of the future
old relics of freedom
stuck in the sands of time
and an army rises
from the ashes of coffee
and newspaper stories
heroes and nightmares
metallic eyes
arms tied to strings
pulled by those
forever gluttons
in power since
the beginning
however silent
they pull
on their little
dancers
and we forget
our saviors
in this ocean
this new sea
of indifference.

With some help from my cigars, little dancers dressed in swirling black smoke, I'll keep the words from leaving my mouth. I'll say something about my day instead. It's okay, I'll just pretend. With the shadow from the sun visor covering my eyes as they well, I'll tell you about my lunch plans. Small talk, right? I can be good at this, with you. My ears, little zombies searching for a pulse, I'll ask you how your day went. I'll pounce on a laugh, I'll bite at a smile. This is all I have. It's okay, I'll just pretend.

I sit here again
with a beer and a cigarette
communing with a lost soul
my own?
    someone else's?
I read scripture and the
words dance around me
a thousand flights of fancy
on the page
my incense burning
this pure incense burning
this pure understanding
of the cruel nature
of humanity
of friends, heroes, lovers
I write it all down
try to solve it
it stands before me
a picture of my steps
to this point
I have reached the point
of unabashed unregulated
distorted reality
my daily life
the breathing
the eating
the sleeping
it doesn't seem any more real
than this life I live
in my head
or somewhere in my heart
and I long to touch the
part of me that is real
but I am so disconnected

flowers in the winter still grow towards the sun
and such is my soul
leaning leaning
toward the everlasting source
                                                     reality fails me
and lights go dim
and I cause the moon to glow for a light
somewhere in this dark night
                                                  and I can't stop believing in a God that doesn't exist
                      but which pushes further down this tunnel into the hell
of my eternity
and I can't
find simplicity
can't find purity
it's all convoluted
I hate the game
   shifting pulling
begging for release
and somehow I am
an ember in a fire
bent on burning out
forever
and I have a soul
I have a heart
someone acknowledge me in this newspaper grey world
I am flat lining
where will I go after
this life has sloughed off my skin
I know I am endless
and I am bound for a world
where opinion doesn't taint reason
                            and somehow
                            I will be there
                            where the sky meets space
                            I will be there
                                                   somehow.

I grieve you
the way I grieve my last cigarette
knowing I'll have another
and another
and another
but I grieve him
the way I grieve the very last
knowing I'll spend eternity
searching for
just
one
drag

you were young once
bright eyed
you put the raspberries on each finger and then ate them off
one by one
then, older
you took a bus home from school
kept to yourself
playing 80’s and 90’s hits you would later work out with
as “Shout” Turned to “Oblivion”
you would fall to the floor
and pant
get up
walk to the kitchen
look for something, anything
One
Small
Raspberry

swimming in the pond of your eye...from lily to lily...wet as a frog...snatching a fly from the air...Aha!...a laugh escapes your long lip....Aha!...if your sky....if...with it's yellow angels...weeps again....night is a black bird...flying...just at your neck....a vision in your mind's eye...me...a violet sky...Aha!

shirelles
monday night
alone in a big house
light the candles
another one of my rituals
born one hour,
dead the next
to make room
for other
prayers
postures
pen tips
but the way candles
flicker in the sweet
soul
is not another ritual
warm life
to the tune of golden
notes
swimming through
once bleak
     once empty
once impure
       air
and suddenly, I am baptized
more than I ever was
in that sterile, dead
chlorine
    more than spent hymns
in drafty cathedrals
       so, the sound lives.


my bed would tilt
           at twelve years old
I'd wake
               startled of the
                       psychic death
spread like bodies after
            a paid for war
I'd scream like the cats
              fighting by the window
at my aunts house
               I would huddle with
my childhood
                     hiding from the puberty
that stalked me
like a jungle cat
               the mind reeled with
my spent pulse and
                 at night
                        under shamed
                   covers
                                 bitten fingertips
the white light
           on the street
                              looking on

For I will consider a town called Riverside.
For its only river, the dry Santa Ana, it's shore peppered with the homeless, garbage, an old shoe, a cart stolen from the grocery.
For its downtown with dried gum spots all along the sidewalk, its dive bars with regulars pouring in at 3pm and pouring cheap beer into their gullets until morning.
For its overpriced theatre, a gentrified landmark, driving the sun-hot strays to the park.
For the park, and a lake, dotted with boats in the summer, driven by tired feet, hands hiding beer in gas station soda cups.
For the mountain, with the old ladies, counting every step, looking up to the cross and over the edge onto a thick brown smog.
For the steepled churches on every corner, waking us every Sunday to pray to a hotly scarce God.
For I will consider a town called Riverside.

Roam, rambling in the rain
starved for love.
Write a letter to your pain
detailing every ache,
and shred it in the moonlight.
Wander down your lover's neck
to the small of their back
and set up camp there
toasting marshmallows in their
embrace.
Run wild, angrily screaming
scaring the bats of your past
out of their caves.
Listening to the part of you
that hasn't been loved.

The sun sizzled on a hot pavement
the flies buzzed and landed on us
we swatted them away
we were the dead
we walked out into the day laughing,
like children
and went into the night wanting,
like men
I am haunted by the summer
my alligator skin goes out crawling
and my milk white eyes
pour over your devil red body
and I am suddenly a wasteland
from my shoulders to my soft core

Silly bunny burger boss,
hops through the flowers and the frost.
Sniffs a carrot,
maybe two,
Then makes up a gift for you!
A little song,
That goes like this,
"I am the bunny burger boss,
now, from me,
here is a kiss!
I do not always sing a song,
but now, I ask, you sing along!
I am the bunny burger boss
my heart is large and full!
My tail is small,
a ball of fluff!
On days like this, so cool,
I hop hop hop
up to your feet,
and sing and dance for you!"
Now and then
this burger boss
though gay and bright, it's true,
get's lonely and sits off on a stump
thinking of what to do.
On days like this
When bunny's sad
he hears a hum
from forest near
and turns and sees
a lark is perched
on a branch out in the clear
he hears the tune
a bunny song, it's true
about a bunny burger boss
who has a song for you!
So when you are so sad and low
and life's got you feeling blue,
Think of bunny burger boss
and the song he shares with you!

I needed the sound of the music
and the breeze that hit the trees I touched
and the grass
and the dancing
and the soul I don't believe in
to open up
and let tomorrow in
even when today is a century
even when yesterday
creaks open and grabs me
holds me locked tight

every song on the radio
some chance
some synchronicity
some ecstasy

I open my eyes underwater
I am safe and supported
I give a deep sigh of relief
for the thousand loves I have lost in my dreams
for the death that sees me in my reflection at the bottom of a glass

Weary, wanting women
I have been one
Soft
I have been that, too.

And when a violet sunset comes through the trees tonight,
I am still so very soft.

Some things I don't know:
I don't know the curve of your lips
the arch of your brow is strange to me
I don't know where the tip of your head ends,
and the night sky begins
The color of your hair could be dark blonde or light brown
Day is slowly turning to night and there are some things I don't know.
Some things I know:
I know you sing like a folk singer I forgot the name of
with a soft low vibrato
I know you love the Beatles
and you remind me of Norwegian Wood
I know your *** is number five and climbing
Day is slowly turning to night and there are some things I know.

--for daniel

sometimes the sky is black as hell
and there is nowhere to go to escape from its infinite void
and sometimes the rain drips down
from its steady black gaze and all is
wet and dank and the ground is
cement keeping feet
hostage and
a deep red pain
steals from you the light that once lived in your soul
and throws the light in the sky
so it will no longer be dark
and sometimes a star is born
but sometimes
                           its not.