when you’re all alone with the mountains
in the light autumn breezes
does your mind drift back to me?
if so or if no
sway now
back and forth between
where you are
and where you’re from
you and me
reflected in pools of sand
your cheeks
my nose
our fingers meet
shattered distances at last
tension crescendos
and we shattered
into petals of memories
falling
falling
drifting
drifting
farther
farther
in the light autumn breezes
all alone with the mountains
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
caught in moments,
arches of our lives intertwining and declining
sine and cosine-ing until we come to a
point on our plane
shared around a table, one reality
my mind to your mind to my mind to our mind
to this conscious existence
we think therefore we are
together, now
now how and what and where and why
as we sit here side by side
my/our memory
caught
in
faces/features
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Look outside, look up, and find the moon
Look and know somehow I’ll be there soon
I’m out there somewhere thinking of you
Waiting for the early morning dew
The stars peer down
Watch me lying on the ground
A peculiar sight
On this clear summer night
Look outside, look up, find a shooting star
Look and know I’ll go wherever you are
I’m out here somewhere thinking of you
Like the stars I’m yours through and through
Watch the night sky
See with your own two eyes
Know I’m always near
Somehow, wherever you are, dear
Look outside, look up, and find the dawn
Look and know ever closer I’m being drawn
I’m out here somewhere dreaming of you
And you’re out there somewhere dreaming too
So look up and look out
Know what this night sky is about
Find the moon in its starry sea
And know that you’re watching it with me
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
Catch yourself wandering though memories
Shades of maroon and purple panging and banging demanding commanding your gut and your dreams at night
Burn it
ashes/ashes
the moment unpronounced
a blessing and a curse
bouncing in and around your mothers regrets- ashes
reminding you that there are some things you’ll never know
some things you’ll never forget
lips parted and toenails painted
a whole life
one’s existence unmarked by your
conscious/subconscious
Vacations and children and mortgages and dreams and ashes
late nights on phones calling long distance to
men/women/lovers/friends
and people you’ll never meet
people you’ll never speak to
Heartbreak is an abandonment of trust
a mouthful of ash
but it’s only the first step in forgetting a life
and leaving the dream
leaving the castle crumbling real fast
the castle built but past
satisfied with the obliteration of
one name/one face/one forgotten
at last
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
how come my projection is ignored
your eyes, like high beams, flash over my existence
scattering my photons/my waves
in exchange for your bright/white clean/canvas
you wander through these halls flitting from picture to picture to picture
fitting yourself to each
scene and visual style
discarding the ones irrelevant/inconsequential
like me, tossed aside
connections- but how deep
what soil does your friendship take root in?
in experiences/morals/ideologies/pasts
or is it simply a necessity
a validation
that you exist
but why don’t i fit into your
equation/picture/life?
You want to laugh and I want to hear you
i don’t get it
i wish i did
you look at me and you look at you and you look at the boy standing there
and somehow you laugh at his smile
you talk with his persona
you walk with his saunter
and here i am passing the other way, looking/writing down
your validation
in these words i will capture your
reality/aura/matter/existence
so that you won’t be forgotten
like his smile/persona/saunter
and my projection/
photons/
waves/
equation/
picture/
life?/
reailty/
aura/
matter/
existence/
is anybody out there writing
for me?
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl
in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes
to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that
would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her
body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some
said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To
the men she was simply a *** machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not.
And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it
came time to make it with Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind enough, but Cass
had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she made things of clay, and when
people were hurt either in the spirit or the flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them.
Her mind was simply different; her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous
of her because she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones; the so-called
handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They are riding on
their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all surface and no
insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she had a temper that some
call insanity. Her father had died of alcohol and her mother had run off leaving the
girls alone. The girls went to a relative who placed them in a convent. The convent had
been an unhappy place, more for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and
Cass fought most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek but the scar
rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I met her at the West End
Bar several nights after her release from the convent. Being youngest, she was the last of
the sisters to be released. She simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the
ugliest man in town and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that night, it was
simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was as simple as that. No
pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number of them. She didn't seem quite of
age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each
time she came back from the restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She
was not only the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She
came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through
her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me
and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled
the hatpin out and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't need
your dramatics here."
"Oh, **** you, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the handkerchief to her
nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some beer and we sat there talking. It
was then that I got the perception of her as a person full of kindness and caring. She
gave herself away without knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of
wildness and incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went to bed and
after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one in bed. She
laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite wonderful, her long
black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her glistening... She displayed her
body calmly, as a good thing. She got under the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run over her body,
through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began to stroke slowly, wanting to
make it last. Her eyes looked directly into mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her back to the bar but
she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I slept until 2 p.m. then got up and
read the paper. I was in the bathtub when she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elephant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were different but she
seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then we'd make love. One or two nights
she phoned and I had to bail her out of jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of ******* she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see
beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never forgotten Cass, but
we'd had some type of argument and I felt like moving anyhow, and when I got back i
figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when
she walked in and sat down next to me.
"Well, ******* I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked dress. I had
never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in, were 2 pins with glass
heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins, but the pins were driven down into
her face.
"God **** you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten bucks. But
you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't stay. You
don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like you you know it's for
something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a fascinating
face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a beautiful
woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place and I opened a bottle of
wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came easy. She talked a while and I would
listen and then i would talk. Our conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed
to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh-
only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we kissed and
moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go to bed. It was then that
Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it- the ugly jagged scar across her throat.
It was large and thick.
"God **** you, woman," I said from the bed, "god **** you, what have you
done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more? Am I still
beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and laughed, "Some
men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I keep the ten. It's very
funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, ***** I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears. The long black
hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made slow and somber and
wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making breakfast. She seemed quite calm and
happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over
and shook me,
"Up, ******* Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come enjoy the
feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer so things were
splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns above the sand. Others sat on
stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old
ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left
behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all,
there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say
much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and
drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an
hour. It was somehow better than ********** There was flowing together without tension.
When we awakened we drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested
to Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she slowly
said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and walked out. I
found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest of the week went to
working. I was too tired to get about much but that Friday night I did get to the West End
Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender
said to me, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the doorway at
any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters, the most
beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept thinking, I should have
insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that "no." Everything about her
had indicated that she had cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too
unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up
and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town
was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and
persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "GOD **** YOU, YOU SON OF A *****
,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was nothing I could do.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
how morbid a thought
caught in the kitchen sink/in the tiles/in the spotlights
illuminating my memory-
a human/a female/a mother
my mother standing with
a feline/a female/a pet
my pet sitting with intrigue
how common a scene
as if there were food coming or a treat
but today/tonight
only contentedness
and me observing such a human flash in the pan
how odd- at 18 to realize
all things come to an end
hate/happiness/loneliness/sadness/love/life
first the cat then the mom then me…
or that’s the supposed natural order of things
am i bitter? i accept
am i naive? i understand
it has to be this way there is no other way any other way
my mother is more than 3 times my age
the cat more than 3 times younger
we will all live an impossibly long life
in dog years
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
it’s all just a matter of re-screwing and re-screwing and re-screwing
my head back in place
everytime they walk by
no distractions no distractions
follow the straight and narrow--
yes, we follow the straight and narrow,
the girls wrapped with the tight
elastics and see through tops
the powdered faces and porcelain bodies that
seem to go on and on and on
but it’s all just a matter of looking ahead
keeping your head on straight
no distractions no distractions
even as the mascara flickers on their eyelashes
like black fireworks on a white sky
even as they float by stealing time
with their hourglass figures and ancient eyes
but no
not this time
nodistratctions nodistractions nodistractions
it happens everytime they talk or sigh and especially
when they say goodbye
but to hell with all these silly teenage girls
and their platinum-blonde/midnight-black/chestnut-brown/blood-red
personalities-- stuck in the wrong realities
constantly throwing themselves
against the walls walls walls
cutting their fingertips on the sharp edged boys they clutch at
until they bleed bleed bleed
wondering why no one ever hears their
desperate tears tears tears
looking to boys like me to catch them
when they fall fall fall
but it’s just a matter of turning away--
re-screwing and re-screwing and re-screwing
my head back in place
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
still hours in
still company
still sitting-- waiting
stilly
how long until
we break this
monotony--
are these the hoursminutesseconds we regret?
is this where it all went when say- 80 and dying
you recall and all you have around you is
a familiar stillness
still it can’t all be that bad--
you were alive you were breathing you were still-
digesting and growing and learning and
you heart all the while was beating
you were never still at all
just a vessel for the motion of life
80 years of it
and then it’s all just a return to the good earth
to nurture the movement of life through
a blade of grass a dandelion an acorn
the beauty of your existence was how
you carried the torch of life so brilliantly
cradling it in your breast for so long
even as your youth crept away and your blood slowed down
and the memories faded and the thoughts all but stopped
but here we are
still here
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
The vacant, quarantined building
On the middle of main st.
Busted, breaking down- demolished
Rooms forgotten
Unfilled// with people/thoughts/lost memories
Patched with various shades of
whites/off whites/eggshells
Broken/peeling/dripping
With yellow clingy innards
Moving along my palm and fingers
Dripping//
from my lips/from my eyes
Catch it please
Catch it won’t you catch my words
Won’t you catch and be caught
Speak to me
Drip/dry/shrink
In the mid-day sun
Open up baby, I’m coming in
With pliers and piercing bullets
No walls can’t be scaled
I’ll bump/bust/buzz
A real game of operation
Dissecting the truth of
Past/present/future
You’s and me’s
Speak so I can echo
Like vacant halls/empty stairwells
Take me step by step
Hand in hand
Pull up floorboard after floorboard
Searching for the dirt in our foundations
If only fingers could reach
Farther and farther- they falter
Sinking into mud//alone
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC