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.

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.

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.

With her,
It was always ***.
An absolute meltdown of passion
At least twice a day for half of the year.
No words or even sounds.
Silence.
Only two bodies convinced of love.
Lies.
When both of us had one thing in mind.
Satisfaction.
Close the curtains
Block the sun and all hope of greeting the day.
The most beautiful dungeon
In the world
Was mine
For just a little while.

Oh, dear sweet one.
If you ever
feel
beneath the glass
I could only ask of you
your promise
to
hold fast.
It is not the tree
and withered
figs
your blossom-body, chaste,
that sets aside
a destiny
and
fits you with a mask.
I am not Buddy,
Gordon, Irwin,
Demons
in your past.
I'll wait till Spring
to call for them
Ms. Greenwood
and Ms. Plath.

Had to get out
From our second hand world
To a cinder block warehouse
With jet black girls
Racing away
From the carpeted walls

Out in the night
Immortality calls

Six pack of tall boys
Shoved down my pants
My life was saved
By Darby Crash
Co Co puffs
With Mr. Scratch

Out in the night
Immortality calls

Inside the Masque
With Alley Cats
Someone sprayed ***
Across my back
My drunken crush
On Mary Rat

Out in the night
Immortality calls

The daisy daylight
strums
my windows
like an old guitar
beaten into
a
key
indecipherable.
From my pillows
blankets
sheets
and hangover
I build a fortress
to protect
myself
from ever mistakenly
wandering
away from loneliness
and
into
your resplendent song.

She likes to drink
But she aint no $5 wine.
I'd like for her grapes
to be crushed with mine.

She gave me a cigarette in
the monotonous rain.
Divided two ways in time
on separate plains.

Begging the night to surround
our carnivorous dance.
Boring futures delighted
as victims of chance.

Wild eyes white & burning
while arms black & blue.
Oh darling, devoid of the void
catch me like the flu.

The hills at dusk
are calling
out to all
these evening lovelies.
Bring everything.
Your toes
and your tails.
Your books
and your new
pure, painted purple
fingernails.

The old, rotten dogs
hear it too.
A whistle
most crystal
bursting across
tables
and tulips
and Queen Elizabeth tea-time.
It calls to all:

Rise from
your planks.
Don't just beg
for bones
but give thanks.
You have
scarce a penny left
but Lincoln will forgive you
For wanting to be free.

The river stones are
in their places
and unabashed
to wash their faces.
they won't blink an eye
when it all
simply crashes.
Cuz all the water
touches
is but an old
free-form
freedom
metaphor
From the Mississippi
to the
Valley Floor.

And
these brave children
aint used to cryin'
cuz they have
it all.
Their eyes were only
red cuz
they let the Devil
Run.
Look around lucky ones.

Everyone out here
is gonna
Call it Quits
After
40 Days
And
40 Nights
40 Years
and
40 fits.
That garden is a danger
Where a beast
is sure
to
live.
Thank you Ma'am
for
rescue.
The first real gift to give.

Ever
Ever
Running wild
Break your necks
&
Breathe
Don't go up There
it's
Better Here
My
Blood
Is Finally
Clean.

There's a
black cat on the roof
and
a girl with
Coca-Cola skin.
One surely
is an omen for bad luck
& the other
is merely
a
cat.

Ol'
leafy Whiteaker
alive w/
death
& my reflection in the windows.
Alive w/
strange breeze &
all that is carried w/ it.

Curiosity is killing
everything
but somehow keeping
me alive.
Tossing and Turning on
the cold banks
of the
Willamette.

Ice water that
creeps into the
street & sweeps up
all
mystery
while children bellow
from beyond.

Indecency
is a weight
that they have yet to know.

They are wild
& sick w/ the
fresh evenings of the future.
Mondays &
Sundays
that you & I shall never
ever see.

For now,
All I have is the girl.
The
Black Cat
has long since fled.

Laughing.

Two days in
And Kansas approaches with arms outstretched.
It began with me in trust of reaching Colorado
Unharmed and unabated.
But my windshield was
Covered in dirt, grime, and debris left over from
The truckdrivers of this entire country.
Behind me I left
The frozen fields of Illinois, the Old Civil War battlefields that still smoke and steam
And divide us
And I left my cousin somewhere with his moaning girl in a dark apartment
Most importantly,
I left behind unfulfilled wants for selfish, future me.
On the road ahead was
Kansas,
And that was all that I could possibly know.
Beyond in the clutches of California
was a romantic relationship, doomed to perish
And disappear too quickly from this world, just like the kind eyes of my father.
But first,
There was Kansas.
The plains screaming to me that
If I was to get home without incident,
I first had to scrape through this entire state
And earn that icy rest stop in eastern Colorado.
Where I might lay my head and dream beautiful dreams
About the furious sadness that lay ahead of me.
Every radio station was a blazing relief from
The fascinating void of this state that only goes East to West.
I thought often, “Where the **** am I?”
Half-way through, I suffer from
The tragic beauty of no gas stations
No restaurants
No hotels
No people
Nothing
For over three hours.
And when you realize that your oasis in the desert
Is McDonalds and a place to fill your car up with regular, well
That is all you need to realize.
That is all you need to realize that insanity is not too far off.
And at first you will be giddy.
I was at least.
Countless radio talk shows about the truth of God and the comeuppance of man.
Maybe they’re right.
Moses wandered for 40 years and I can’t handle 4 days in my car.
NPR repeats stories of how Gays should legally be able to marry and **** when they want to.
But no music, where did it all go, man? Where is the great Blues Music of
Kansas?
Kansas.
I start singing to myself, making up noises, nonsensical rhymes.
On-the-spot poetry that, when recorded, sounds like the words of a boy trapped in his car
Somewhere in America.
And there it is.
Welcome to Colorado.
Wait…the moon is full and I just drove through all of Kansas in the majesty of the night?
I want it all back.
This whole state, this whole region, this entire country.
But all I have is that cold rest stop in the plains of eastern Colorado
Just west of Kansas.
All of the danger ahead of me seems colder still.
“I made it, Kansas! What do you think?”
She answers, “I don’t think much, all you did was use me to get where you needed to go.”
That night
Was the loneliest night
I ever had.

Where in the world
Was I standing when all of the school buses were abandoned?
The voices of the trees
What did they have to say about today’s execution?
Unusual world.
With a masterful patience for precision.
The maladroit tremors of each moment
Are as fleeting as the smoke beneath the lampshade.
What was the weather like
When all of the airplanes fell from the sky?
How many dentists died for no reason
On the day that I was born?
Just as easily as the wine from my glass
Can the tears of millions spill to the Earth
And run, disappearing into each crack and crevice
Into the Night.
It seems so awfully heavy
All of this.
Chase all of the answers deep into the evening.
Scrape and scratch at all who pass.
Contaminate the world with your selfish story.
End
Things
Badly
If you dare.

A saintly cabdriver
High in the mountains of Arizona
Once told me to try to never be cynical.
Live in the now, you won’t regret it.
His own son
Had given his life to negativity.
I never saw the driver’s face
But I know he had a moustache
And I imagine his face was lined
With many years of the winters of Flagstaff
And the harsh wisdom of all creation.
I tipped him two dollars after
The ride was over.
I probably should have also told him
Thanks for saving my life
Or
Thanks to you
For imparting these golden thoughts
Or
I hope things work out between you and your boy.
But I didn’t.
Instead I got in my car
And pointed the headlights
For New Mexico.
It was a long drive.
That was many months ago
And it has been a crazy ride ever since.
I remember every single woman
That I have “loved.”
I remember all of the friends
Whose shoulders were but precipices for understanding.
I even remember what I had for breakfast this morning
Or what new horror story the news had for me a month ago.
But I will forget those things soon enough.
The cabdriver
Who’s name I never even asked for
High in the San Francisco Mountains
Of Arizona
Spinning his wheels all around a city
Filled with
People that really just want him to drive them somewhere.
He drove me somewhere.
I just don’t know where.
The perfect thing is that
Once he was gone
He was gone.

The men here walk
With their lives on their backs.
Some lope up and down the road for hours, days even.
Cardboard signs strewn about reading, “PORTLAND,” “SOUTH,”
“ANYTHING HELPS, GOD BLESS.”
Some sleep in the parks whacked
On a drug-induced trip
Or
Whacked from the long trip of life.
You can tell they are tired,
Can’t you?
Girls will sometimes cross the street
In tears.
They really don’t care if you see them that way.
But they don’t seem to care about much.
Crying babies pushed in strollers
Down the avenue for miles
While their mothers talk on cellphones
About something that they probably shouldn’t.
The grass in the park is green and wet from the rain,
Still a homeless man lies there.
Asleep for just a little bit longer.
And as a train rumbles into town, you realize
That soon there will be more
Of them.
This town was meant for the strange.
What’s more, it all makes you finally realize that
All along, you have been the strangest of all.
The whistle in the distance
Says,
“Welcome home.”

There’s a statue of
Rembrandt in Amsterdam and
Beneath his feet I once got ******
With a funny German man who would die
Soon after in a dreadful accident
Involving a beautiful waterfall.
There’s a five-foot ****
Just West of Sacramento
That got me so ripped,
As well as one of my best friend’s
Brothers who soon after rolled
His car and went away from the Earth.
There are some beautiful mountains
In California and
In their shadow I got red-eyed
With a May-Queen so beautiful
That she just would not
Be long for this world.
There’s a ridge outside of Vegas
That looks like a naked woman on her back and
It was pointed out to me
By the man I call, “Pa.”
I wasn’t ****** that time.

Lou Reed
Died
Today
And was
Buried
In
The
Velvet Underground.
The streets
Were
Damp
And
The leaves
Kept falling.
The grass
Was
Green
And so were
The
Alcoholics.
A single
Tooth
Lay in the road
Busted
Out
From debauchery
I’m sure.
A day like
Today
Is enough
To
Terrify
The night
Forever.
A day like
Today
Is enough
And
Enough
Is enough.
Everywhere
I see
Girls,
Little
Ducklings
Wading
In the puddles
And
The morning.
We are all
Frightened
At first
And then
Free
At last.