am I evil?
wanting illicit thrill
am I bad?

looking for my garters in satin
buying more stalkings
sheer as a good knife

plotting, planning, I must be
truly evil, sin is fun
feed me

my grandmother typed poems out for me,
she was almost 100 years old, and still the women
lashed to the mast, half-naked, screaming in lust
in pain, in poetry from Anamae's imagination

straight to my brain, turning me into a flapper childe
wanting gin and jazz, I did, wanted to wear her skin
even at 6 years old, she knew what she was making of me
Anamae was proud of me, in a way my mother could

never have imagined

rapping on your window, wondering if you'll let me in
all the gals down on the E train placed bets on you
saying no, but here we are, back at your door
anyway, because why not have faith in luck

wearing my stolen blue mink, don't tell me if she wants it back
she don't know me, nobody invited her anyway
maybe outer space has bigger plans for her
could be

so come on, johnny, take me dancing, c'mon, baby
let me in, it's warm up on your roof but cold without you
look, stole you magnolias, and my whole back seat is full
excellent Chinese takeout, so baby come out tonight

just come on out and show me around this ten cent town
never been here before, wanna see your hideouts
let's go to some dive bars, dance til our heels fall off
you can wear my blue mink if you'll loan me those

crazy spiked boots, toss me a hat
here we go, finally, a night on this town
can't wait to see Spanish Harlem
with you

you're not even selfish;
would u call the universe selfish!?

Medusa turns to face you and replies,
in monotone, like a dirge:

Yes. The Universe insists upon itself.
That is a certainty. I would call the Universe
Down upon my very head if needed
to say simply this:

Our Universe, Our Call.
My Universe is Willful,
Playful, Immoral as Hell.

Let it roll.

Advice for Geraldine on her Miscellaneous Birthday

stay in line. stay in step. people
are afraid of someone who is not
in step with them. it makes them
look foolish t’ themselves for
being in step. it might even
cross their minds that they themselves
are in the wrong step. do not run
nor cross the red line. if you go
too far out in any direction, they
will lose sight of you. they’ll feel
threatened. thinking that they are
not a part of something that they
saw go past them, they’ll feel
something’s going on up there that
they don’t know about. revenge
will set in. they will start thinking
of how t’ get rid of you. act
mannerly towards them. if you don’t,
they will take it personal. as you
come directly in contact face t’ face
do not make it a secret of how
much you need them. if they sense
that you have no need for them,
the first thing they will do is
try t’ make you need them. if
this doesn’t work, they will tell
you of how much they don’t need
you. if you do not show any sadness
at a remark such as this, they
will immediately tell other people
of how much they don’t need you.
your name will begin t’ come up
in circles where people gather
to tell about all the people they
don’t need. you will begin t’ get
famous this way. this, though, will
only get the people who you don’t need
in the first place
all the more madder.
you will become
a whole topic of conversation.
needless t’ say, these people
who don’t need you will start
hating themselves for needing t’ talk
about you. then you yourself will
start hating yourself for causing so
much hate. as you can see, it will
all end in one great gunburst.
never trust a cop in a raincoat.
when asked t’ define yourself exactly,
say you are an exact mathematician.
do not say or do anything that
he who standing in front of you
watching cannot understand, he will
feel you know something he
doesn’t. he will take is a serious
blow. he will react with blinding
speed and write your name down.
talk on his terms. if his terms
are old-fashioned an’ you’ve
passed that stage all the more easier
t’ get back there. say what he
can understand clearly. say it simple
t’ keep your tongue out of your
cheek. after he hears you, he can
label you good or bad. anyone will
do. t’ some people, there is only
good an’ bad. in any case, it will
make him feel somewhat important.
it is better t’ stay away from
these people. be careful of
enthusiasm…it is all temporary
an’ don’t let it sway you. when asked
if you go t’ church, always answer
yes, never look at your shoes. when
asked you you think of gene autry
singing of hard rains gonna fall say
that nobody can sing it as good as
peter, paul and mary. at the mention
of the president’s name, eat a pint of
yogurt an’ go t’ sleep early…when
asked if you’re a communist, sing
america the beautiful in an
italian accent. beat up nearest
street cleaner. if by any
chance you’re caught naked in a
parked car, quick turn the radio on
full blast an’ pretend
that you’re driving. never leave
the house without a jar of peanut
butter. do not wear
matched socks. when asked to do 100
pushups always smoke a pound
of deodorant beforehand.
when asked if you’re a capitalist, rip
open your shirt, sing buddy can
you spare a dime with your
right foot forward an’ proceed t’
chew up a dollar bill.
do not sign any dotted line. do not
fall in trap of criticizing people
who do nothing else but criticize.
do Not create anything. it will be
misinterpreted. it will not change.
it will follow you the
rest of your life. when asked what you
do for a living say you laugh for
a living. be suspicious of people
who say that if you are not nice
t’ them, they will commit suicide.
when asked if you care about
the world’s problems, look deeply
into the eyes of he that asks
you, he will not ask you again. when
asked if you’ve spent time in jail,
announce proudly that some of your
best friends’ve asked you that.
beware of bathroom walls that’ve not
been written on. when told t’ look at
yourself…never look. when asked
t’ give your real name…never give it.


Copyright Bob Dylan
This was printed in the programs of his October 31, 1964 performance.
at Carnegie Hall, in New York City

twins get to sleep in the living room on weekends
sitting at my desk, I can hear them talking
their bond is tighter than anything

and finally, in bits & pieces, love slips in
in spite of myself, hearing my girls talking
is as good as I can imagine it will get

& Ramona tells me
"Mom, just caaaaallllm down"
Sasha threatens me with dire things

now demanding musical instruments
how can one think of anything else
when Sashie is using my own voice
perfect imitation of a mommy driven

over
the
edge. . . .

now they just found the moon outside the window,
my girls taunt moon, calling him out, teasing

"hey look" they cry "it's morning"

so many giggles, I am covered in girlies
who rain down giggles upon me & moon


moon & me both hide our faces
in front of such joy

i love you

you talk


i heare ye and i sleepe

i will sleep yes under you


i wanna sleep
right under you

but i want more

more & more
no apology

"Red Right Ankle"                        by Colin Meloy

This is the story of your red right ankle
And how it came to meet your leg
And how the muscle bone and sinews tangled
And how the skin was softly shed
And how it whispered,
"Oh, adhere to me for we are bound by symmetry
And whatever differences our lives have been
We together make a limb"
This is the story of your red right ankle

This is the story of your gypsy uncle
You never knew cause he was dead
And how his face was carved an ripped with wrinkles
In the picture in your head
And remember how you found the key
To his hide-out in the Pyrenees,
But you wanted to keep his secret safe,
So you threw the key away?
This is the story of your gypsy uncle

This is the story of the boys who loved you
Who love you now and loved you then
And some were sweet and some were cold and snuffed you
And some just layed around in bed
And some, they crumbled you straight to your knees
Did it cruel, did it tenderly
Some they crawled their way into your heart
To rend your ventricles apart
This is the story of the boys who loved you
This is the story of your red right ankle



copyright Colin Meloy 2003

write, don't read
but some guy on the subway
he got up next to me
he said

write poems not letters

& it felt like a crowning and borning but my god

it still hurt like hell
nobody better know me
nobody better think they own me
I am so freakin mean

I have half a killed
so many men


this is my simple
confession

my entire
cosmogony
consists
o
f
the
female

body

(writes johnny noir)

And the choir of the feminine galaxies sing hymns of thanks.
in tonal sincerities mixed patched arching over all is a prayer
of thanks for the men who get it, even imperfectly, they reach beyond us, beyond themselves, and they give it all  back.

we are all made of star dust. nothing more, nothing less.
we are made all of red dust, leaving up in the wind
silent as dust will always, frustratingly
be

all is warm and one
you are here in my mynde,
where I keep the holy relics
all along the martyrs' trail

****** footprints less than
walking on your spirit hands
so skip, dance, you martyrs

you signed on for this: mysterium mysteria majestic
now you are here, there is no turning back,
you ate the knossos bread, you drank the wine
you are tainted by ancient perfection

You are one with the Golden Age
You can no longer be less than you are

welcome, welcome, rose petals at your feet
next harvest, perhaps you will be our sacrifice

but for now, live in thys moment
become what you know you might be

so many to cheer your life as it drains away in dust
revered, beloved, nothing less than a God
you are to me, save the crops for another year
become the bread between our teeth

grind me like corn beneath your hips tonight
that moon demands a sacrifice, but first
you are the golden god of our dreams
we need you, trust your blood

singing like erinyes at your heels
singing helah helah helah
as you walk the white dust of the path
The path that only Iphegenia knows

we love you
we love you
selah, love, selah

we would die for you
will you die for us?

thar she blows, from the Universal Brain
& the ultimate know hole
speaking right into your eyes

imagining absurd decorum trying to sit side-saddle
in a drawing room, hoping to attain some sense
of grace, whilst miserably uncomfortable, makes me want
liberation for all of such corseted beribboned ladies

let them run, in fields of gold, let them hear Sting singing
siren song to come away, loosen your stays, and follow
only this life, none other, throw down your needle-point,
cast from you the good book, and let limbs run wild

roll me in heather, under bridges, come to sky
in fields where the plow-man knows me well
tis a fair morning to a wonderful new day
come away, he smiles, my girl, come away

shall we n'er meet again, will have my plow-man
he shall have me, and the wanting comes in waves

want to throw myself into you
give it my all, every atom
meet me there at the edge

waiting is best part

thinking all of those yearnings buried
walking about this planet securely wrapped
tighter and tighter and even more still
finally something broke

my red balloon floats free
letting in all kinds of
memory, imaginings,
cravings, and love

definitely love
love is there
right
yes,
oh
yes

right there
yes, there
oooohhh
yes, yes, yes

oh god yes,
please

it's a wanting that haunts me
nothing will do, it takes me back over
decades, and to last month, but
others float in that jar of ether

men, boys, all of them warm
like pearls on a perfect necklace
touching them against my throat
reminds me of one thousand

wantings

where we all wonder is where we wander
against nature, against planetary pull
things reach out to stop our falling spheres
but nothing can beat free fall out of us

wanting this undeserved frail moment
chasing it down to ground below trail
following til nothing left of myself
hunting rest, knowledge, dreams

nobody gets the sleep
of the dead

rain love fell a dream tonight
you were not there, but felt close
seeing nothing in mist of trouble
walking cloud of forgotten shrouds

no one, dank street, cruel houses
no dry place no cats about
wearing red and yellow slickers
long while cats hidden entire

wandering one wet world
slick pavement sky so asphalt
empty windows gaped calling
out deceptively catch the unwary

windows, concrete, no trees
mother's voice laughs soundlessly
no signposts, no streetlights
oddly forlorn, my hometown

unmarked, without direction
darker than hell's moonless night
this is my town, my place
one learns, find a way

feel the way, march in tyme
crawl slowly out the pier
knowing bay so full tonight

use poet radar
you will not
fail

medusa medusa,
let down the lair
medusa medusa,
let down your hair

so said the last one
go find his head
bring it back to me
my own true love

well, my sweet heart,
between you and the lair
I'd be better off
in love with

the lair

you your own self know
this to be true

but I pledged for life
I'm still here

& then

I am:
the first man to touch you
the way you wanted me to
so I am waiting for you

I will stand here and I will wait
I have wanted you for ten thousand years
no vipers could stop me

who are you fooling?
fake snakes with those
cheap black pearl tears

nothing will stop me
but you, so say the wyrd
but you never will

I love you
always and still

it remains three over three
a hand upon a moment
nothing but rivered memory
wrung out in sodden time

more to follow, years of it

where will you hide it all?

no apology
just sleep


sleep
what a strange

word

weighted scales fallen from eyes that I do not own
other monsters come beneath and rise over them
we place napkins so lightly arising and weep
tea time, flowers, amenable, soothing

running to get a foothold, three steps before a leap
none will say goose goose gander to you or I
nobody wants games now in my rubble of storm
all is a heap of torn down things floating away

hold onto your hat, it's deep here, a gamble
there are footholds in a marsh inside my dream
pitons need sharpening, moon shines merciless
as we tumble into said ravine on one long string


lost, as begun
never to
rise

dreams of dishwater days never returning,
rescue by some knightly hand
fade into days duller than any ditch
you miss the courtyard, the stablemen

sancho is funny, he loves you
you get each other, he is a true love
yet a spark that kept your hot eyes
burning like bad pools of hate
might have been pleasure

now confusion is reigning
everything is muddy, ruined
all you are is really in one tin
reflection, of a barber bowl

lost grail of a bad girl who misses
knightly courtship, but lost her chance
now sancho is love, food, comfort
your song is gone

not even sad songs come
from the well you tend

bereft of quest

when I saw the eyes
of my first child
I knew that when I  
die, someday
sometime, someplace

I knew then that I will die
staring right into his eyes

if I might be
so lucky

sending you the wind in my hair, and highways
lit up so bright at night that you feel like a movie
star, and you gotta wear your cheap shades
at midnight just to get through Circus Ville

machine dreams, big rigs, perfect coffee hot
& fresh, god bless truck stops,
buy a fluffy key chain,
three pounds beef jerky, ride all night
out into the  hand-painted desert
where you know you don't belong

when the rocks turn into freighters & sail over you
like pirate schooners in the coming dawn,
& the price of your awe is more than you can afford
so you laugh, step ******* the gas, turn it up

dylan rasps out some ****** tempest tunes
all you can think of is how pure this air
he's singing about scarlet town, where you
were born, and you try to understand, but
feel it instead

because there is where you were born
listening for twining leaf & thorn
casting out for clues, in the blue vastness
of his voice in your husband's old bmw

racing through towns to nowhere
listening, breathing, playing a few rounds
of some game inside your hollow point head
before the sun comes back to the huge cacti

eats your eyes, swallows this plain

we love the feel of highway beneath us
wind everywhere, touching us in places
we need to feel something

all-american something about the car
indulgent as some old rock song
I still love, like my sharona, I am

helpless
hopeful
driving

no resist in me for you,
pulls me in every time
road and wind and that
beat

let's g-go, speeding
my lovely engine,
my sweet machine
stutter it to me
car shaking

shudders
my *****

336 miles to go
tonight

time to
ride



~a~

doesn't feel like it did before
cold wind is howling round my door
not like a lover, more like something
else, another thing entire. . . .

And I don't live on a moor
O, I am no where nearby
Heathcliff, name of my stallion true
I feel unhinged, I let it fall
There were strange & ghostly
Sightings that I never should of saw

All I gave to my own Self and
Even Ghost Town trips....I let it drop
It now evades upon a chill frost
quiet down stroke

I can make it all blow down
in formation, the chessmen
placed  uselessly before me

your will is marching towards
me any way I turn, relentless, one
pinnacle of moment when

ceased to bow under you
evil eye a warning like a gale
force tornado flying monkey  

(just a rumor, in a dream, so many years ago)

headed straight  towards
very heart of me, you do no harm. . . .
yet maybe you see it differently?

keep tossing them gals
down into the depths
wearing  200 pound diving dress

continual surprise when
sheer will carries gals
aloft, back to the airy
living world

diving bell, ring it out
nothing new to see here
move along

give into our  open hands
&  waiting mouths what cannot be give
to local charities or time

or space, in place of otherness
all words were wasted
on us, once you locked onto
such tender tight coordinates

anyone would do?
would anyone do for you?
it was so real and maybe I
am wrong in thinking this of
you, but I would never mind

one true thing is that it
scares me to think I left myself
behind for no more reason and I
could live with any truth

if it were truely true
my confusion is
not half as lost

as wondering what
has really happened

and with whom?

it bothers me too. . .

I have my own room
back tomorrow now
it will be my time

I will call all my friends
just to hear their voices
hum into my ears

I never missed those guys
so much as I do now
after what is left from you

what did you do?

only what I begged of you. . .

how did I enter into such
a bargain, sell it out
at fire sale, where
did my mind fly to?

I need a lonely bus heading out
into a sheeting rain never stopping
without a reason to keep driving

need a radio without a dial
a black raincoat and three extra miles
to go

I read what you wrote, and I knew I had it coming
They say that someday the first will be last
Nothing goes so nice and orderly
My Love Shall Not Crawl Away

Not quite like that, my oldest friend
Let us talk and kiss once again

I have let you down?
Imagine me, in the snow,
All that hope

Yet all the years of expecting nothing
Taught me how to listen, how to gird myself
Against

You ever breaching this fortress
Of other potential Assassins

But our mothers can't climb this high
I'm ready to strike mine if she dared
Dead 13 years, but that won't stop me
Nothing will, just the thought of you

Forget it.
I ask you, forget us.
If one of us can escape this net
Such strange thing without a name

I want it
I need it
I hope it

Will be you.

~*~


2018

What now? The voices sing out
What to do with all of it, such possibility

It was easier then, to let it all be buried
Easier to pretend it was not important

You were, I said to myself, nothing much
Now, at all, to me. . . .not these days

But the potential sings up and down my body
In your touch, haunts me in your thoughts,

Inside my mind, Your voice, your dreams
Living a resonant life of their own

Right next to mine



2018