The cost of living fast and lean
And getting what you're owed
Is feeling always in between
And strung out on the road

I sink into the motel bed
And stare up at a water-stain
I take a pill and rub my head
And listen to the rain

The blues and reds are easy meds
Embalming for my brain
They drive the creeping minutes out
I count the loss but gain

The easy buzz of Secanol
and bourbon brings me peace
One-hundred-forty minutes flat
A fleeting, sweet release

I run my fingers through my hair
Relaxed, as I come to
I lift the satchel off the chair
I've got a job to do

The headlights through the curtains
Trace a line across the floor
I pull them snugly closed and
Flip the deadlock on the door

Pull the slide and pop the spring
Wipe the action with a rag
Lubricate with kerosene
Reassemble, slap the mag

I shake the cardboard ammo box
The rounds are heavy, cold and clean
I flip them over, one by one
And press into the magazine

The sun is slowly rising though
I cannot see the light
As sure as I'm about to blow
Tonight will be the night.

In between the silky stars
There is a silver line of cars
Watery scotch and cheap cigars
A dingy dive beside the road.

A ***** blonde beyond her years
Serves another round of beers
Crispy smile, the boss is near
Another sorry episode.

Whose place this is I think I know
His girlfriend's in the city though
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his bar fill up with smoke.

A man in greasy overalls
Strokes and chin and grabs his *****
I check the door and scan the walls
A heavy pistol in my coat.

Heart pounding now, this is my chance
I pull the gun out from my pants
and drop into a Weaver stance
Barking, for the money - now.

A shotgun blast, the sound of sand
A searing pain inside my hand
Without the strength to run or stand,
I stagger to the parking lot

I drop the keys and pull the door
Just another minute more
I've got to stop the bleeding or
Another minute's all I've got

Pale flourescents pierce the night
Mosquitos buzzing round the light
Tiger, tiger burning bright
Hell on Wheels, that's what we say

I fish the keys up off the ground
start the engine, turn around
and limp away without a sound
And live to fight another day.

Once, in thirty summers past,
I walked in shadows, moonlit cast
And broke my daylong journey's fast
with sausage, honeymead and bread.

Then in among the piney trees
A sounding crash my nerves did seize
And set my rushing blood to freeze
A sounding crash to wake the dead

I stood at once and looked around
For what had made that terror-sound
and peering through the branches found
An old man working, felling trees.

Carefully, I wandered to
and brought the man back into view:
An ancient woodsman dressed in blue
with woodsmoke drifting on the breeze.

Silently, I stood there, lurking,
For a time, and watched him working
Then I hailed him, with that irking
He met me with an icy stare

He loosed his tongue and dropped his axe:
"beneath the stone and craggy cracks
slept the dragon Cathagorax
Grown old in years beyond his share."

Young Cantabridge the brave and fair
left his father's bedside care
And called to all who gathered there,
Who'll put their courage to the test?"

He cried to them, "I have a plan,
to **** this creature if I can,"
No other, single, mortal man
Would join him on his foolish quest.

And on his way, the young man going
the creature then, in dark ways knowing
Awaken-ed, his hatred growing
prepared his evil darkling cast.

Darkling words and phrases chanting
Screaming, shrieking, raving, ranting
And finally completed, panting
Settled to the ground at last.

Cantabridge stepped in the cave
his face afear-ed, grim and grave
A final warning cry he gave
among the icy water floes.

"Worm my father couldn't fell
******* steel and fly to hell!
Its ring will be your funeral bell
and bring your seasons to a close!"

Wings swept down and armor flashed
Claws rent flesh and hammers crashed
Contending sinews groaned and smashed
And formed a hymn of battle-cries.

Falling down, dank and muddy
Bodies broken, torn and ******
Each warrior turned to study
Each other's watchful, waiting, eyes.

Cantabridge, with strength afleeting
By darkling magic, heart un-beating
Realizing and retreating
His victory had turned to death.

He thrashed about, his body lying
Struggling and vainly trying
Against the magic, finally dying
and with that breathed his final breath.

And in my bed, awake and dreaming
I saw a vision of him, seeming
Like a ghost with armor gleaming
Lying dead and in the sun.

So here upon this piney tree
I hammered, ere I talked with thee,
And in the valley, I could see
The fun'ral pyre for his son

In the moonlight, by the river
I searched and in the night air shivered
and for the woodsman's son delivered
a single, wild, yellow rose.

So on that night, I stood and turned
and watched them while the pyre burned
For the warrior boy who'd learned
The darkling magic a dragon knows.

There is moonlight on the mountains on a
cold December night, behind the glass
On my way to Raleigh-Durham like a
bullet, six miles high, and fading fast

I know that in a year or so your
little broken heart will surely mend
Loving you was heavenly but
leaving you will **** me in the end

I can lose myself reflecting on that
moment of the day that we first met
Drinking from a rocks glass full of
bourbon, with a chaser of regret

Tonight I've got raise the strength to
face an empty hotel room alone
The time we spent together was the
sweetest thing that I have ever known

I am trapped within - all that might have been
I know in time your memory will fade
Better bitter tears than all your wasted years
So I'll live with all the choices I have made

Like a teardrop in the ocean,
our love is lost and gone beneath the waves
And our old, romantic notions lie in
pieces, while the memories remain

The pain that lives inside me like a
devil is no more than I deserve
But hearing that you loved me was the
sweetest thing a man has ever heard

There is no fool like an old fool
And when you're in the autumn of your days
I'll be done and gone, and you'll have long moved on
And you will struggle to recall my very name

If I had been a better man, I
never would have kissed you on that day
But the days roll ever onward, and there's
really nothing left for us to say

Baby, I'm afraid that I'm too old
To try to change the way I am
But Loving you may be the only thing
I've ever done that's worth a ****

And when you lie awake in bed
I hope you know I tried to do what's right
and remember how I loved you when
I left you on that cold December night.

I love my little butterfly
Who flits from room to room
Retrieving toys for little boys
And pushing back her broom

I love my little butterfly
Who works from dawn till night
Untangling curls for little girls
And making boo-boos alright

I love my little butterfly
Who floats on house shoe wings
And tells them stories of ancient glories
Of distant queens and kings

I love my little butterfly
Who works the whole day through
Changing diapers and windshield wipers
And cooking chicken stew

I love my little butterfly
And loved her from the start
Each new sunrise her angel eyes
Captivates my heart

Sweet little one, so young and willing
Fill my rusty nail with another round
Cause I am comfortably numb on my way to Southtown
And I am making a killing on these college towns

The refuge that I find these days
Is bad habits and darker skin
But I've grown too inflexible to come back in
And far too old to change my ways

Play another round of Don and Glenn
Close it out with the man in black
Snap the guitar case, I'm headed back
To where I ain't been in in I don't know when

The White City, she ain't what she used to be
And the wind today is dark and cold
My heart is young, but my eyes are old
Grown old from things unsaid and unseen

Hotel bar and hockey on TV Sweet
little blue-eyed wonder
One more draw, and you'll pull me under
For tonight at least, we'll both feel free

I'm comin' to a place
where I don't know If I'll turn left or head right
Because there's not a soul in sight
And I can't figure out which way to go

So I'll take a drag and take a breath
And drive west through the night and snow
It will be warmer in the West, I know
Cause this town just feels like death

Nineteen hours, drove straight through
The desert is dark and cold as hell
The darkness came along, as well
I light a cigarette and think of you

All alone in a crowd
Too tired to sleep,
too hungry to eat
Silence when I'm speaking out loud

Pocketa, pocketa
Christopher B. Behrens
pianist, classical
fell on his assical
shattered his spine

Married his sweetie
Recovered completely
six kids and two keeties
all keep him line

Yacketa, yacketa
Christopher B. Behrens
Loves his Lord Jesus
Who loves us and sees us
Through thick and through thin

Lots sixty pounds of fat
Jumpin' Jehosaphat
Some might think that proves that
he's full of win

Ceteris Paribus
Christopher B. Behrens
Is deeply musical
sometimes confusical
Plays on guitars

To kids at their bedtime
He sings "You're my Sunshine"
And sometimes at nighttime
he smokes a cigar

Hexasyllabically
Christopher B. Behrens
Econ and Business
But software's like Christmas
And work is like play

Deskwise, a Latinist
Cat-In-the-Hatinist
Vobiscum Dominus
Have a nice day.

Standing just a foot away
In leather boots and sequined jeans
Five foot nine, lean and mean
at the Taqueria, El Si Hay

Pink cellphone and cheap sunglasses
Waiting in the order line
A pug-nosed man in chinos passes
and paces round to pass the time.

When it's cold I miss the birds
It's always nice to find
the easy flow of Spanish words
and English mixed in kind

I woke up on Monday
like a Dog tangled up in barbed wire
And the Voices inside me
Singing like a discordant choir

My Hands gripped the wheel
I drove North with nowhere to run
And a grinding inside me
like bone against steel
And a heart with the weight of a gun

By the whine of the engine
and the rhythm of the highway beneath
I turned Left out of Denver
and Shifted an inch in my seat

The Mountains were heavenly
But did Nothing for the pain in my chest
With the Afternoon fading,
and the Road unpersuading
I Flew down I-70 West

On my Darkened commission,
I Drove till the gas tank was done
turned Off the ignition
And Threw the keys into the sun

I Kicked off my shoes as
The Sand turned from grey into gold
In the Starlight I wandered the
Desert, like a prophet of old

I Stumbled and crumbled and fell
Down in an arroyo to weep
But my eyes wouldn’t water,
so my crying turned softly to sleep

A Vision ran through me
A Dream of my children and wife
And a Beautiful, new world
With the Darkness transformed into light

then a Form blotted out the whole
World, like a total eclipse
as a Rancher knelt down, and brought a
Bottle to my sun-broken lips

As I lay there helpless,
He smiled as he took out his phone, saying
Softly and tenderly
ye who are weary come home

Many years have gone by since
the days of my journey through fire
and I know that the one who
deceived me, is surely a liar

and life like a dancer, is lifted
through rises and falls
And I have my answer, And it’s
everything, or it’s nothing at all

As I hold you in my arms I search my
spirit for the perfect words to say
Take a snapshot in your mind of these
moments of contentment for they’ll
sustain you and they’ll surely pass away

We all are stuttered benedictions
Played out of tune Hosannas
Imperfect parts, through God made perfect, Whole
A sweet and subtle contradiction
Of power and mercy defines and refines Our souls

Let the wind blow, let it move you on the ocean
Of yourself
Let the rains come, hailstones clatter but it doesn’t matter
It is well
Be slow to anger – for we are surely slow to understand

More out of simple fear than hate
People will break your heart and later on
They will regret – but you will never know
Try to find your joyful duty
Like the one I found in you
And in your brothers, in your mother Long ago

Find the faith of our fathers
It’s the harmony and rhythm
Of your symphony and all you’ll
Leave behind
Seek out the pen-strokes
Of your composer, and the watermark within
First edition, signed

Let the wind blow, let it move you on the ocean
Of yourself
Let the rains come, illusions shatter but it doesn’t matter
It is well
Be slow to anger – for we are surely slow to understand

And as I put my pen to paper I hear your mother calling, calling-
Me to bed, to gather strength to fight and rest my weary head
To wage war with the world and with myself

Let the wind blow, let it move you on the ocean
Of yourself
Let the rains come, hailstones clatter but it doesn’t matter
It is well
Be slow to anger – for we are surely slow to understand
Lord knows, we are surely slow to understand

The words come easy,
flow and free
They tumble out
so easily

Like a song inside a dream
Focused like a laser beam
The notes are loose like borrowed *****
They follow any way I choose

With perfect meter,
pitch and rhyme
In harmony
and 4/4 time