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Busbar Dancer May 2018
She has never built sandcastles.
She has never toed the surf along the Gulf of Mexico.
She's only ever known these mountains;
these cold, granite monuments to impassibility
that reduce the sky to slits,
somehow managing to make the heavens smaller.

Half closed eyelids with their own trap-door gravity.

Short lives last eternities too
and there is beauty to be had
- even here -
It's just that everyone should get to build sandcastles sometimes.
  May 2018 Busbar Dancer
Nateive Son
One of the most romantic moments of life,
Was there in that bathtub with you,
Listening to Pink Floyd in the bubbles,
Touching your pearl and kissing foam.

The memories toss themselves aside from years of replay,
And even though I've never ridden the rails,
I feel O-L-D and D-O-N-E because of time,
Kicking its boot into mah head.

My mind and body are torn astray
That was the conclusion after 24 hours of driving,
Toward the Continental Divide in search of,
Tearing myself apart to find YOU again.

But it's only myself that I have to live with,
Over and over again,
Repeating ceaselessly similar songs,
Hoping to catch the tune.
There is a quote attributed to Bob Dylan that I'm almost positive he lifted from some true Amerikan hobo:

"To live outside the law, you have got to be honest."

Regardless who said it, 'tis true.
Busbar Dancer May 2018
People only ever want to ask me about
the poetry -
those verses about
busted up noses in outer space;
about the pros working
way down passed
the corner of Broad and Main;
about fistfights and hard, hard drinking.
But I built a flowerbed this weekend...
Twenty two tastefully irregular stone blocks
in a crescent moon shape,
filled with the blackest of soils.
The sweat of toil.
The digging.
The planting.
Exotic grasses. Asian maybe?
Purple and yellow flowers.
Zinnias or some **** thing.
All covered in a thick blanket of brown mulch.
It's a fine thing to have dirt on your hands
instead of blood.
No one ever asks me about flowerbeds.
Busbar Dancer May 2018
as reminder
of how cruel the time.
Of how intractable the wind and weather.

I cry the cry of the reformed mean spirited;
the once-unholy-then-unholy-again;
the backslid.
It's been so long since I've sinned,
come short of the glory,
come at all (costs)
It would feel good to make a fist again.

Please render me in subtle shades
when you paint me into your masterpiece;
barely discernable from the canvas.
A ghost in achromatic acrylics.
Busbar Dancer Apr 2018
I'm terrified of not having at least one secret that only I know.
Saturn moves into capricorn
as  conqueror
rather than lover.

I keep drawing the tower card.

Space has no boundary.
Down is relative.
We know, then,
that it is entirely possible to
Devils roam free in the sixth house.

I've been drawing the tower card.
I keep drawing the tower card.

The snake I am is not the snake I was.

Tower card. Tower card.

"Mama, some pieces are missing from this puzzle."
"Only the piece with the eyes printed on it, baby."

Drawing from memory, now.

Come on and touch
this broken husk
before it crumbles
away to dust, and
something different
is left sitting
at the foot of your bed.


Might be
that there is no Heaven,
there are certainly heavens.
Busbar Dancer Apr 2018
I only ever wanted
to sleep
for a thousand years tonight -
To awaken bathed
in the cool, blue light of the future
with its promised obsolescence.
I will embrace this since
the warm, yellow light of the past
has done nothing
but tell me lies.

Tell me lies.
Busbar Dancer Mar 2018
The setting of traps
has always seemed
like a tacit endorsement
of the mice.

Admission of failings as a homeowner –
(cracked baseboards or an unsealed gap in the door.)

We are usually responsible
for our own infestations, after all.

The relationship with the mice is codified
“you are vermin,
I am not.
I will ****.
You will die.”

Thus the mice are transfigured,
Frozen in fear,
frozen in time,
laid bare
on a sticky, chemical
altar of sacrifice.

giving their lives
so that we may preserve
those unwanted crumbs
in the vacant space
between the couch and loveseat
where the vacuum won’t reach.
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