There is neither
word nor rhyme
with passion
left to prove
my love for you,

thus then either
bird, or lime,
or fasten,
shmeck, or groove
will have to do.

A man stood up to pass me by,
and heading briskly for the door,
let loose an almost inaudible sigh-
what could he have been sighing for?

Could it have been for all the friends
who never call him anymore?
Or was it in woe of all of the ends
of happy times gone long before?

Or are his motives less self centered,
and he sighs for the human race?
Was he so solemn when he entered,
and did he walk at such a pace?

I wonder just how many sighs
contribute to our atmosphere-
if bottled up, how much it buys,
and does one ever disappear?

Could I have answered to this sigh
and brought a castaway to shore?
Could it have been a silent cry,
or just a sigh and nothing more?

I think
therefore
I am
afraid
the hand
will take
what it
has made
and I
will fade
into
the snow
before
I find
a place
to grow.

The ugly boy
saw the beautiful girl,
fell under her spell
and was lost in her swirl.
In whirling wind,
he fell into the sky-
but she was a storm,
and in passing, would die.
So then he would fall
and get caught in the trees,
to go back on loving
like the rats and the fleas.

I see it in the bathroom mirror,
and on the horizon, coming nearer.
It’s dripping from a dollar bill-
I sell it off but touch some still.
I hear it dripping from my car,
I hear it comes from wells afar,
I see it seeping from a stone
(that monolith we call a phone),
and spilling from our eyes at night
while sirens dance in rays of light.
Now as I shower for an hour,
I feel it filling up a tower
all the way up to the moon.
This tower will come crashing soon.
It is the milk of death and strife,
yet some would say it's the stuff of life.
Some say that it will set you free-
in blood they tried to baptize me.

He dreamt of mice
and he dreamt of gods
and he dreamt of mice
that were gods
and gods that feared mice
and he dreamt of secrets
that he could not tell
and of memories
that were not his
and he dreamt of days
that wished they could see nights
and nights that ignored mornings
and he dreamt
that the planets were fish
and that the ocean
was let loose to swim in the sky
and through the emptiness of space
and that man was never made
of flesh or bone
and that men where children of mice
mice that knew too many secrets
and they would not share
any of those secrets with man
but they would share
their milk and their cookies
and tell men how to avoid cats
when cats dream
because when cats dream
they become bigger than mice
and become more loved than gods
and in their purring
is the death song
of the kingdom of mice
and without mice
and their kingdom safe
that man would be lost children
that looked like worms
to the planets that swam like fish
in the ocean that floated
in the emptiness of space
and then he woke
and did not remember
what he had dreamt
and scurried across the floor
and ate some cookies
and scanned the darkness
for any cats that might
dare to sleep
and in sleeping dream
and dream the beginning
of the end of everything

Every time that you fall in love,
your soul inhabits a distant star-
so as you come down from above,
you must remember who you are.

As even the light is but a dream,
and woke you screaming in your car-
as decades now have dried the stream,
you must remember who you are.

To comfort that loathing little boy
who lives within your reckless scar-
to love; to touch and not destroy,
you must remember who you are.

Because you forgot your eternal worth,
and all the roads you’ve walked so far-
because you're the savior of the earth,
you must remember who you are.