Sarah Bella
poured her coffee
in the cool, cool evening.
The
old cricket
racket blooming.
Crooked
cup is
black, No Sugar.
Smile
her red lips
on down to her shoes.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
The parking lot
Had
Me wondering why
Brown-skinned
Girls
Always turn away from me.
Radio music
Over the low
Rumble of someone's engine.
Sundays aren't easy.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
Everything alive is behind the Redwood Curtain.
Somewhere west of Holy trinity, Oregon Pass and further still.
River stones into the Pacific, swept.
Parked vans on the 299 indicate a prolonged piss-stop.
An old man has been camping in the same spot for 10 days straight,
waiting on the radio.
You listen in about the 9/11 inside job and then tune the **** out.
There's a banjo being tuned in knee-high agua while the steelies
dive too deep on a meal.
Just beyond Blue Lake,
the skinned knees of Grandmothers and wizard bums
bleed into your morning coffee.
And if you haven't been stung in Fieldbrook
then what good are you?
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Paint chips and coffee grounds keep me awake at night.
The lonely, baggy-eyed stranger with sight wary for headlights.
Great murderer of self and carrier of glad tidings for dogs.
With nose stained color of Earth and eyes stained color of rain.
Only one mother.
Only one father.
One in the same as by all.
Elbows cut deeply by Ida's scratch.
Ego cut deeper than that.
Empty space, gimme, gimme, gimme.
Wilting flowers on family room tables leave everything humble as hell,
while the dog takes everything for granted.
Familiar shapes and sounds threaten humanity while everything else
quietly changes.
One golden band on your middle-finger while ring-finger smiles.
She who understands the bite of rain on spring-stained fields.
The riot of March rain swings through the hills and into the orchard.
Ma and Pa are getting soaked, I bet.
Feet trampin' through mud and straw for many foggy miles.
They let me believe in the wet-winged discovery of truth.
This truth, the low neon light of lowlife bars while red-lipped German
girls beckon from cigarette breaks in the distant corners of the world.
I cried for your brother under a bright red light after the *** and coke had done me in.
When I awoke the next morning, I took a train to the Amersee to make sure that there was a church that I could get drunk inside of.
Please, please, please let there be a girl in the Alps wearing cowboy boots.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
Well now that we're older
things don't seem quite as bad.
It's best to have lost
than to never have had.
Though roses have thorns
and people can change.
Your life can't be trusted
till it's all rearranged.
Well it never seemed wrong
to stay out all night.
And then eat at a diner
at the first sign of light.
But if you burn all your bridges
you got no way to cross.
And that river won't carry
your sorrow and loss.
You're not the people you knew
the bad or the good.
You're not the words that were said
or misunderstood.
If your mirror get's broken
don't let your heart do the same.
Even the coldest of winters
is killed with a flame.
Well I know how you're feelin'
cuz we're in the same boat.
Out on that river
much better to float.
Though the eyes that you loved
have left you or closed.
Well they left you here starin'
with eyes brighter than most.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
They promised rain
for five
days straight.
You were all alone
in that
little home
where no one
really liked
to go.
The fireplace was cold
and the mailbox
couldn't fill your pockets.
You slept on the floor
in a raggedy
nest of blankets
and loved a
paper bag
twice a day.
Old pictures made
you
realize that Mom & Pop
were kids
once
too.
Sometimes
at night when you would
lay awake
you could hear
the trees
and the wind
plotting to **** you.
By morning you
knew
that both you and the kitty
on your doorstep
were hungry.
But only
she deserved to eat.
You drank
coffee at 12:13 PM
with
your breakfast.
Two cans of orange soda
made you start
believing
in
God again.
The deer trespassed
as they pleased.
You realized that you weren't
scared to walk
down the hallway
at night
anymore.
I wish you could have
seen your
face
when it started raining.
But I wish
more than anything
that
you could have
just
seen this coming.
A
promise
is a
promise.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
Oh my word
you have it, you have it.
Take it in your turquoise fingers.
Stuttering through cold Hamburg streets.
Every frigid whisper
kisses
your cheek
for an instant.
This city,
bound with rope,
glimmers off of your breast
at the edge of the water and at the edge of the night.
I could sink
so easily.
But unlike all of those drunken fish
You chose me.
My word on your name.
Negin, Negin, Negin.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
"I'd rather buy a
pack of
crayons
than
a
pack
of cigarettes."
Strange...
The smoke
pouring from her lips
carried
no colors
at all.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
I saw
all of your cassettes
that left
your left hand and
lept
deep into my pocket
where a 5 bill slept
it was quite
warm so in you
crept
and a little bit
of the bits I kept
can be bought
or traded or stolen or
lent
for a limited time only
to those who have wept
in the dark
on strange pathways to stranger yet
steps.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
From softest rose
I steal your hue
to hold you in my mind.
On plane of white
With sullen thought
I'll sneak to hide desire
But here it lies
This naked flower
The one I call Irene.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC