Life is the continuous struggle
to preserve the first good
dream you ever had.

It seems to me that I've
got myself a situation.
The girl I love doesn't even
know that I exist.
The more I think, the closer
I get to a revelation -
when she's away I'll write
my name down on her grocery list.

Even though we sleep
beside each other every night,
she doesn't reach for me. In turn,
I never reach for her.
I try my best to justify it,
but it isn't right.
The hardest thing to do
seems to be the only cure.

Maybe when I'm gone she'll
see the error of her judgment.
Maybe she'll be sorry when
I ain't walking through the door.
They say that time heals all wounds,
but maybe it doesn't.
At least she'll think of me
when she's shopping at the store.

It ain't nothin to see that there's
so many dead no more.
It ain't nothin to see that there's
so many dead.
And if that don't tell you somethin
then there ain't nothin in yer head.

It ain't nothin to look up
to see the fire fallin.
It ain't nothin to look up
and see the fire.
If you tell me it ain't there
then I'll tell you yer a liar.

And it ain't nothin to look out
and see no one lookin in.
No, it ain't nothin to look out
to see there's no one lookin in.
Make no mistake about it,
the ones that's there ain't yer friends.

It ain't nothin just to find that
you got no place to stand.
It ain't nothin to look 'round, see there's no place for you to stand.
No, you can't even go outside
or yer on someone else's land.

I been listenin for the voice
that'll say "come get yer lovin."
Lord, I been listenin for yer voice
to say "please come get yer lovin."
That there's somethin special, man.
Oh yes, it sure is somethin.

Ah, summer,
come dancing up the mountain,
bringing near-naked lovers
and flowers and fountains.
Good summer,
and all in good fun,
with women in the shade
watching children that run.
Short summer,
you are all but too brief,
a daze dipped in sunlight,
warm dream of relief.
Dear summer,
time to gather your things
and wait out the winter
to return after spring.

I never heard
the door unlock
but *******
I wanted to.

All the same eyes, same minds,
in all the same places -
day in, day out -
casting their sparks
of doubt or defiance,
never bothering to question
what either is aimed at.

Moon alive.
Curtains dancing.
There is no one
at the side of the bed.
Peel ***** sheets away,
get up and walk
down the hall.
There is no one
at the side of the bed.
Movement in the mirror,
but it's just you and
there is no one
at the side of the bed.
Check the loveseat
for something left behind.
There is no one.
It's just you.

When I am dead and gone,
as the final note of the song
     fades and
the next ensemble takes stage,
may my spirit be resurrected
     among sprightly friends,
for that is the crowd I played for,
and the music never ends.

Woman,
I know it is
killing you -
the quiet -
because it is
killing me, too.

The moment
you told me that
we were through,
I got lost,
and now it's all that
I can do -

to be humbled
by the thought
of loving you -
to be angry
at what I thought I
needed to do -
to be happy
with being just one,
no longer two.

I lost all my ambition
when I moved here with you.
Now I'm in no condition
to do what I have to do.

My mind's mixed up with worries
on track to coming true.
And now I'm in no hurry
to spend all my life with you.

I used to dream of writing
for some big magazine.
Now I dream of hiding
with a bottle of amphetamines.

Some days you say you love me
and want me in your bed.
Other times you loom above me
and drop your judgment on my head.

If you'll just come out and tell me
what it is you want from me,
then I'll lose the pills I'm taking
and put you in that magazine

And everyone can read about you,
with your name beside "forever."
Otherwise, just say adieu,
and I'll write it, "darling, never."

He's going bald
like my dad
So he wears a cap
like my dad.
He likes Led Zeppelin
like my dad.
He drives a Ford
like my dad.
He votes republican
like my dad.
He holds my mother.
But he's not my dad.

I thought about
what it would take
to be happy and
to sit by the pool,
sipping drinks,
acting sappy and
how much it'd
mean to you, girl,
but I can't just
snap both my fingers
and rewrite my story.
So, instead, I
sat here and
wrote you this love song,
but by the time
it reaches you,
you'll prob'ly be long gone,
sipping drinks with
somebody who
never knew heartache
while my heart
barely beats
on the count of
a new break.

There's something in the water
making everyone a fool,
reading doorsigns that say "push"
and yet, they still are trying to pull.

Get me out of this suit,
for ****'s sake.
I look like
some flashy bird of paradise,
but I feel like I'm in hell.
Feel like I'm a far cry
away from myself.

I look up at the tenements and wonder
how many of them are like me.
Hidden by roofs and walls and windows, sitting, chasing their
butterflies of silent obsessions as they
threaten to fly too close to the net.
Do they too struggle with eternity?

I go by my old apartment, by the college, and don't hear my voice at the door. No more my reflection in the glass bulb. Whoever's inside there now, I hope they fill the space better than I did -- hope they're remembering to laugh once a day.

When I get home I make coffee.
I add creamer and sugar.
I stir it until they disappear.

Go ahead and point your crooked fingers at me
I bet you’re dying just to get them inside
I know your nature, your sins, your reasons
A creature like you’s never satisfied

You pick a new face from the gallery
Practice everything you want me to hear
You’ll be anyone, say or do anything
then raise the blade when I let you get near

And when I’m bleeding for the world to see
you’ll tell them I was always dangerous
No doubt will linger, there’ll be no debate
and you’ll be praised for being generous

So go ahead and make a fine example of me
Frame me, hang me there on your wall
Rip and pull me apart, take hold of me
until I can’t be recognized at all

I get nervous when she comes my way,
her cigarette smoking in the glass ashtray.
My reflection in her emerald eyes,
I wonder what the look stretched across her face implies.
She's the kind to make me lie awake
contemplating what's to gain from this
and what is at stake.

She's known love at least once before,
and the feeling is one which she can't ignore.
It's a sentiment we both must share
judging by the way my fingers move through her hair.
But my heart is ******* in knots.
A good love is just that -- good,
until it's not.

I can feel you reaching across
miles and miles and miles.
I can see you in the sun casting
smiles and smiles and smiles.
I can taste you, and it's new
like I were still a child.
Yes, after all this lonely time,
you're still driving me wild.

Will I meet you?
Will my eyes see you again?
Will I greet you
like I did O, when, O, when
I first met you
and my eyes were closed on you?
Will I greet you
with arms open, open?

(You)
You’re flying over my head.
(Now)
Now the sun’s in my eyes.
(I)
I have both my wings spread,
(But)
but never learned how to fly.

You’re supposed to wait for me, girl.
You know I’m scared of the fall.

It doesn't take much
to bend you toward beauty,
just a little sunlight
and a woman who cares.

June 19, 2019.
     CNN headline:
"Trump vows to cure cancer
and AIDS if elected to second term."
     Watching this on a television
     in a second floor hospital room,
     I ripped the IV and oxygen tubes
     from my body and danced
     into the elevator.

When he died I was waiting
for my meal at a fast food restaurant thirty miles out.
My father called me and said,
without crying,
"Pap passed away."
I regret that I still kept waiting
for my food.

When I saw his body,
shorter than I remember,
in the casket lined with white,
I thought Am I man now?
I didn't say any words for him,
but laid a handed-down
golden cross necklace
over his cold fingers.
Part of me was buried, too.

I'm in love with a lady
and it's only been days
since she became my baby, now
we're gonna travel the world.
Though I suspect a lot of you
prob'ly think that I'm crazy,
but

I'm really diggin' this girl
and only moments ago
she asked to have my baby. Now
she's got my head in a whirl
and the next few months
are gonna be a bit hazy,
but

I'd do anything for love,
I remember how it felt
to have a lack thereof, and now
I'm bending over backwards for her.
And please don't ask again
because of course I'm sure
(of her).

I get up out of my lazy chair
daydream to stare out the window
and I'm looking for someone to dance with me.

I envision little footprints in snow,
two pairs pointed at one another,
made one with a cold kiss and
who'll ask me for my coat?

You'll say I'm drunk and ought to get some sleep. I'll say I'm happy and not afraid of winter. Now let's meet outside while my bones are still warm.

My bones proclaim the work
of a hand unseen.
I am formed and fitted with
the means to spread joy or ruin.
I am humbled by the presence
of those who came before,
for they are wise
in the ways of this life.
I am certain that
neither demons nor death
may separate me from my faith
in learning or loving.
I am, for the first time, seeing
my reflection in the shape
of this earth and beginning to love myself.

Babe, you know I'd love to go and
meet your mother,
but I've been hearing that she
kicks like a mule.
Maybe I should just go
undercover
so I don't seem like such a fool.

There's a girl from Ohio.
She's only searchin' for true love,
but her hands are tied
to the whipping post
in the town square
where she grew up.

And there's a boy
who lives next to her.
He walks past her nearly every day.
But he thinks that she's
lost her little mind,
so he just turns from her
and walks away.

Her father is a minister,
and her mother is a ghost now.
She never learned to say hello,
but she prob'ly wouldn't anyhow.

Well, there's a girl from Ohio.
She's only searchin' for true love,
but her hands are tied
to the whipping post
in the town square
where she grew up.

Now her tears mix
with the raindrops
fallin' on top of her.
Her heart's caving
like a cabin roof,
and you know
there's no saving her.

And you can hear her
moaning in the night
if you bend your ear
to her, hear her yell.
And even though you
don't know her name,
you know her story
all too well.

And there's a girl from Ohio.
She's only searchin' for true love,
but her hands are tied
to the whipping post
in the town square
where she grew up.

I left home when I was young
To the fringes I was flung
And I never wrote a letter
to my home, Lord, to my home
No, I never wrote a letter to my home

I set out for Tuscaloo’
Just my baby sister knew
She hung her head and handed me a dime

An’ it took me pretty far
I hopped on the next boxcar
I waved goodbye to her a final time

Not a coat upon my frame
nor a penny to my name
But I never wrote a letter to my home
to my home, Lord Lord,
No, I never wrote a letter to my home

I was settled on the track
A cold wind tried to ******* back
But I held on an’ swallowed all the pain

I stepped off in Alabam’
Boxcar door shut with a slam
And I tried to build a house there in the rain

If ya missed the train I’s on
Count the days that I been gone
You can hear that whistle blow a hundred miles
Hundred miles, hundred miles
You can hear that whistle blow a hundred miles


But when it rains it pours
When it’s done, there’s always more
And it’s hard to build a home out in a storm

My Papa warned me, “Son
you’ll be sorry when you’re gone”
I thought that he was bitter - now I know

I left home to chase the sun
But it moves faster than I run
Now I cry alone the end of ev’ry day
I can hear my Mama call
“stop your runnin’ ‘fore ya fall”
I don’t wanna go home, let me play

Not a penny on my name
ever since the bankers came
I got a letter on a lonesome day

Said “Your Mama’s dead an’ gone
and your sister’s all gone wrong.
Son I need you home now right away”

Not a coat upon my back
and I’m still livin’ on the tracks
No, Papa can’t see me thisaway
Thisaway, Lord ya know
that I can’t go home thisaway.

And if ya miss the train I'm on
count the days that I been gone
You can hear that whistle blow a thousand miles
Thousand miles, thousand miles, Lord
You can hear my whistle blow a thousand miles.

I've been dreamin' up my own hell.
I've been ringin' Satan's doorbell.
Just makin' sure that I'm prepared.
Don't wanna get there and be scared.

Don't let anyone
try to tell you
how to live.
The moment you
do, that's when
you start dyin'.

Sometimes when I lie
half awake in the night
the streetlights take
the form of your face.
The way that they twist
and they turn and they kiss.
But I wont settle for this
cold embrace.

So I'm here on all fours
feeling 'round for the door.
Gotta see you once more.
Please be soon,
'cause I'm tired of being
trapped under this ceiling
or starin' outside
at the moon.

One more hour in your arms
is all that I need to feel warm.
One last kiss and I'm gone
and I won't bother you anymore.

Do you still remember
that day in November
when I held your hand
in the park?
The light danced around you,
I was happy I found you.
Tell me, how did it end up
so dark?

Now I'm talking to shadows,
wond'rin' where does the time go?
I don't know, but I
waste too much.
If you want to ignore me,
it's prob'ly best for me.
I'm a fool and I acted
as such.

But if you find your heart changes,
if your hate rearranges
into something that I'll recognize,
don't brush it away, girl.
Find something to say, girl,
and we can begin to revise.

One more hour in your arms
is all that I need to be warm.
One kiss is all that it takes
to make all the light shine
once more.

It drives you mad, Eve,
that I won't eat your apple
(now hold your tongue and say it).

Subtlety is poetry in practice.
Too bad the world is made up of bad journalists.

Nothing like
a pen that won't write
to ruin
the whole ******* day.

Look at your fathers.
            All dead men.
   And all you have in common
        is the blood.
      But, once that's spilled,
nothing.      
                      No truths.
  No lies.
                   Bury the thought.

By now I know you're hungry
for your god,
and not the painted porcelain face
hanging on the cross
above your doorframe.

You want more now that you're
struggling,
a voice that you have conjured
in the mind you know
he gave you,

an image blended from
your idols,
arms you once learned love in,
eyes you never from which
could part.

But that's the best you'll get,
and a shame
no one told you sooner.
An idea of faith or
more like
a dream of salvation.

Starved.

Inspiration, like a trickle
beginning at the skin,
moves hot beneath the surface
to flood the veins within.

The page is blank before me.
Pen lifeless as a board
until I pick it up again
and fill the page with words.

Ink gushing over paper,
pen and poet become one.
Veins burning with a purpose
with the heat of every sun.

And all the clocks hang silent,
and all the planets do align
when I raise the poem to the light
and read what's only mine.

The only thing that keeps me sane
is hoping I'll see you again.
Legs bound and move around a chain,
I search the sky for aeroplanes.

The past comes back to us,
emerging from the dark, cold water,
dripping wet and breathing hard,
born again and longing to be held.

Heart under construction.
Looks done but it ain't.
Heart prone to seduction.
Caution: wet paint.

Fine,
I'm as awful as you say
and I just get in the way
when you're stretching out
your wings.

But,
did you ever stop to think
that you're the missing link
in this chain that you
have made?

Yes,
the one that keeps you down
like the corners of your mouth
when a smile is trying to
come out.

So,
just before you turn me loose,
I ask you to think of whose
fault this is and what's
to gain.