Me too, baby, I get it.
We argued a lot last night
My kid said it wasn’t “fighting”
He prefers to call that a ‘hissy fit’

How did he grab hold of my mother’s words?

He never even met his grandma.

A sophisticated word
He claims that ******
We were attempting
‘‘T’was just an argument”

You must hold your tongue
In your hand now, walk backwards
I just can’t look at you today
You, the nuclear excused

You who believes he rises
Each day anew, beloved
Again in the face of the gods’
Own tribunal?

I don’t buy it.

if I could escape the river, crawl under
hide myself away until I heal enough
for travel

would you come to me
by silver shadow of tree

if your face is open like leaves
as I wander after your sadness
eating every bite of tears a roux
so deserved as to be dissolved

why do we still dance like demons
my shame, where has it gone?
shame came from other places
never from you, only joy

****** mysteries lie on the floor
unapologetically left to the tides
we died quietly, on a weekday

no one saw the corpses, we
forgot to obey, no more photos
now pointless the perps moan

staggering along dragging
limp notebook resentments
relentless as ever

time, the very best trickster
eventually won the game
smile to see with no surprise

love’s flag is still alive

face to face, body takes mind away
please intoxicate all of me, bound & tied
captured in a web of pleasure

in a dream time
knowing trust
hejira of the many
travel as must, ***** & heart

blazing, burning up all my
rocket fuel for just one night
with you

all you are is all we are
all we were is what we are
where we shine is how
we survive


~^~

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?

Wanting more and more
Got me here, where

All I can see is deep red blood
Splashed on pure white snow

A vague sense of guilt,
Sudden revelation:

I did this! I caused this wreckage
I am to blame. I am the Murderess.

It grows late tonight.
Nothing much going

All I want to do is get out and
Splash the walls, paint the town

red

She will be any other reward. Therefore, ||
it is a woman. Greece, Italy (USA) 20,
2018 (62) 12, 100, 100

|| This is the most important thing in the world ||

External shadows in the same areas,
except for the soft golden bright and colorful.
Then landing for the first time Poets
and one if you cannot wait to stay the bird,

~J Noir

maybe you, only you, why not you
when you broke me open it worked
too well all the runes spilled out like
thirst onto wet blossoms nothing
could make me take it back

given in is a given when there is no body
here there is always a touch hinting at more it is your hands
it is your eyebrow it is just a passing river dream
of years now in a rock cleft where fingers can
explain one hand, one hand will become a life

still stuck clinging for no reason other than the love of
that perfection inside the frilled ridge
oyster to my lips a shell within my moist
center where nothing must be cast out
until ultimate description unites

darkness visible to my ***** imagination
there will I lie to call back possibilities
no longer tame, not ours perhaps yet
nothing stops my train on fire bursting
through all your darks at once

immediate remote altitude
love full of goat head stickers without
brakes until someone will explode into stars
before bewildered eyes who refuse to see
remember, or explain because they have gone

mute

tell me why love must hurt
explain it to me, draw it out
a diagram, intricately elaborate
like a four overlay ventricle & canticle
of the human heart in all its muscular

glory

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.

By mere threads do we meet and not lose sight
Of the ones we might have been fated to
Know in this Golden Age.

In this era people go without.
This is a time where magic is
Sunk under the Net of Social
Disease.

Blame Tesla and his perfect radio.

Everything went in waves before
Waves after. But the ocean got left out.
The waves inside us were drowned out.

Too much static. Almost dogs, now, & deaf to ourselves.
We lose more ground by the day. Instead we tune in
Some non-station that not even radios can hear.

Hoping for tribal wisdom, we pray to media gods
Whose evil celebrity is more soulless than acid rain
Leaving us without real faces, totems hidden inside

Titanic mistakes where we hide it all
We've taught everything to hate, a closet
of goathead stickers and rotting VCR tapes

Don't unlock that door, that's the secret
Where I store my bad ideas, so leave it
Alone.

I warned you twice.

silt is sand and sand is silt
let them ride it out like
Shelley & Keats

romantics  deep in that sand
because if they had sunk
the toes into the fleshy
parts and more then I must

confess that they would
tell on them selves
they who were

true were wild
like wolves
without apology,
and they died
exactly so

Xactly so shall
they all true souls
pay blood  to the
witness, seeing is all you have

you must be a laugh
the one with the wings too survive
when camps happen

camps are coming
for me and for you
if you don't see it

it still don't stop
the mein campf

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

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

your pain fills us with sorrow
we love you like parched earth
loves clouds of rain

we dream you
healed, happy
drifting

a happy sky
full of love
& rain once

again

sensually bringing
such beauty to
all this world

generous & sweet
you are always
in our hearts

Jamahdi

we
love
you

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

why capture ****** or knave
without purpose?

why indeed, asked
her majesty moon

only for scarifice
or sacrifice

everything holds a purpose
inherent to itself

mother really is
necessity of all

It was hot on the dance floor, you had to scream like a mad woman to be heard. He didn't ask her a question. It must have been something in his eyes.

That forced her to stop so suddenly that her hot pink skyscraping heels almost kept on without her. Brought her up literally short right at his heart. Her line of sight pointed directly at his aorta, because nature had shaped them so.

For no reason at all he reached out and held her head gently in his large hand to steady her as she tottered for a few seconds.

Her dignity seemed important to him and fragile. Like an egg toss across the disco floor. Or a heart carried, ****** and beating, in a spoon, during a sack race, and he feared for her. So he reached out to hold her. Her cranium, cradled in his warm, gentle hand, that easily held her head tightly to his chest.

The breath left her lungs like a heavenly absolution.

Some of the dancers near them swear to this very day that they saw the heavenly host or a choir of angels, some even say they saw alien beings, all around the pair of them, a man and a woman, who didn't even know each other's names, holding on to each other so lightly, on the jam-packed dance floor.

It was in August, in 1971, and nobody who was there, or who ever heard the tale, will ever ever forget the meeting of Merry and Oliver. It was a moment that will live forever.

we walked ‘neath a true moon
you talking and talking, fast, faster
we walked up hill, and around again

you are my favorite walking partner
everything so clear on your perfect face
under this moon with me

someday you will remember our
walks, from distant planet of age
but thank you, kid, for tonight

it meant the world to me

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

a chance of us

Yeah, sometimes the gang
They call me that name.

Vining fear comes creeping
In so late at night.
Hissing that I’m Not enough
That all the friends will leave us

I have enough love
to face this night
Out with doubt

All will be well once more.

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

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

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

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

"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

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

holy grail might have been
chalice, a woman's cup
challenge, for to save
her love

knight templars might have been
reporters with long zoom lenses
watching guinnie & lance
cavort about on a stone

none who were not there can touch
beauty, knowledge, fate,
legend leaves tracks for more to follow
let lovers follow us

it was my moment in the sun
my shining nothing conflicting
inside my head were the pure
chords of ethereal air

breathing in rhyme & circular riffs
as if entirely upon harps
& flutes

sun, it's never too late
moon, give it up

united we shall be

universe is bigger than this love
but galaxy?

may in fact collapse
entire, & strand us all
with empty hands

aching hearts
mouths who never said it
to you but then again

you
always
knew

Medusa slips into necessary days, 20th century,
completely by accident, it was a chemical spill

nobody was there to clean up this ms stake
but she was definitely sorry

boy was she in for a surprize
it wasn't golden at all

it was all about the wrong moment
wrong in every way

1944, Germany, Medusa on stage
Fraulein, in tap shoes, wearing powder kegs
beneath her stage set and she had no idea where she
might be but she knew exactly where to stomp down

exactly when to toss that feathered purse
and to whom to throw it, with a moue
a dimpled kiss and a wink

goodbye, my love

The masculine assault upon the reluctance of the “coy” woman lies at the heart of Marvell’s best-known love poem—perhaps the most famous “persuasion to love” or carpe diem poem in English—”To his Coy Mistress.” Everything we know about Marvell’s poetry should warn us to beware of taking its exhortation to carnality at face value. Critics from T. S. Eliot on took note of the poem’s “logical” structure, but then it began to be noticed that the conditional syllogism in that structure is invalid—a textbook case of affirming the consequent or the fallacy of the converse. Has Marvell made an error? Or does he attribute an error to the speaking persona of the poem? Or is the fallacy part of the sophistry that a seducer uses on an ingenuous young woman? Or is it a supersubtle compliment to a woman expected to recognize and laugh at the fallacy? These alternatives must be judged in the light of the abrupt shifts in tone among the three verse paragraphs. In the opening lines the seducer assumes a pose of disdainful insouciance with his extravagant parody of the Petrarchan blason:



An hundred years should go to praise
Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze.
Two hundred to adore each Breast:
But thirty thousand to the rest.
An Age at least to every part,
And the last Age should show your Heart.

Although the Lady is said to “deserve this State,” the compliment is more than a little diminished when the speaker adds that he simply lacks the time for such elaborate wooing. It is also likely that most women would be put off rather than tempted by the charnel-house imagery of the poem’s middle section where the seducer, sounding like a fire-and-brimstone preacher, warns that “Worms shall try / That long preserv’d Virginity.” Finally, the depiction of ****** intimacy at the poem’s close, with its vision of the lovers as “am’rous birds of prey” who will “tear our Pleasures with rough strife,” is again a disconcerting image in an ostensible seduction poem. The persona’s desire for the reluctant Lady is mingled with revulsion at the prospect of mortality and fleshly decay, and he manifests an ambivalence toward ****** love that is pervasive in Marvell’s poetry.”

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

"To Try For The Sun" by Donovan Leitch

We stood in the windy city,
The gypsy boy and I.
We slept on the breeze in the midnight
With the rain droppin' tears in our eyes.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
We huddled in a derelict building
And when he thought I was asleep
He laid his poor coat round my shoulder,
And shivered there beside me in a heap.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
We sang and cracked the sky with laughter,
Our breath turned to mist in the cold.
Our years put together count to thirty,
But our eyes told the dawn we were old.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
Mirror, mirror, hanging in the sky,
Won't you look down what's happening here below?
I stand here singing to the flowers,
So very few people really know.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.
We stood in the windy city
The gypsy boy and I.
We slept on the breeze in the midnight,
With the rain droppin' tears in our eyes.
And who's going to be the one
To say it was no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I'm too young,
For I'm going to try for the sun.

"If mountains crumble to the sea
There would still be

You
&
Me."

~maybe Led Zeppelin, maybe somebody else

When last we laughed
I was flush to your bluff
By necessity and nature

Joyful unto sky of gray

Comprehension is pain
Outran it far as possible
Truth is a rock, but they
Mapped it for me; ephemeral
Delicate as a piece of ancient
Poesy. No rosy-fingered dawn,
Nothing to write home about.

             * d *

You can’t get far on a sick nag
Fresh water, strong mind
On a narrow road, endless
Desert ahead

Where is your Masala?
Your final stand?
Don’t be some dead girl

            * a *

Let them win, there lies strength
If you can shut down need
You can win a life

            * d *

Just how far I went I’m not
Sure. Still finding castoffs
Pieces of salvage I can use now
Flush with hope, I can eat again

I can truly laugh
You were the one who
once laughed best
Silly as loons we were, so
maybe we could be
still

Possibility runs rampant
Through me
Shivering wet and wild


"Birds can't unchain from skyway"
You said that, remember,
But what if weighted regret
Claims us in this journey

Suddenly, so privately
A moment of recognition
Pure, behind our eyes

Right where I keep you
Where it's always you, Pop
Fully recognized, armored up
Tenderly on display to

Such hungry world

I love how the bonds connect so fast
I call a number and I want to buy
a dresser for twenty bucks

but they are looking for a connection,
they want to discuss times
places

we should talk about night stands
more often with total strangers

people are so alone now
with all these ways to connect

wisdom is draining out of us so fast
perhaps it gathers in night stands

or vintage knick-knacks
wisdom lost like this
it must be gathering

into something

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

"******. Will I never be rid of that infernal woman,” ****** snarled.
“Now, now, Mister ******. Miss Medusa is only looking out for you. After all you’re only flesh and blood.”
“And she’s a primordial cosmic force. I get it.”

~Johnny Noir

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

Nothing can change the past
But my memories are all
Who would rail against the Gods?

When given such perfect
Time as we were,
Yet still we pine above the water
Line, asking for things to unfold

In changed devotion:
Like as ask for maps to use
A new formed compass
Of my own crossing