I keep trying
to finish my
beer but
Miles is playing
Homs with Damascus
on deck like
Green in Blue in
Bashar
and the conservatives,
that is, the Muslim ones
or rather
the extremist ones
that is, ****
there’s good people
dying to a machine gun
bass line
‘dada doo da’
‘dada doo da’
and they all want
the guy gone
but we’re just playing
White Christmas on repeat
trying to drown out
the bass line
but it keeps bumpin’
‘dada doo da’
‘dada doo da’
so I finally take a sip
but it’s sour and
flat and the bass line
is bumpin’ my elbows
and pulling’ at my chest
‘dada doo da’
‘dada doo da’
with a C-4 concerto
that makes Bach
seem irrelevant
and Mozart a spoiled
brat, my god
it’s a sink-hole in
Dm, the last one
on the album that
makes you think,
“Why did they let
this happen?”
‘Dada doo da’
‘Dada doo da’
Oh boy!
It’s enough to really
hang your hat on,
but that’s for another
generation to wonder,
Me-
I’ve got this beer to
finish and the record
keeps skipping
‘dada doo da’
‘dada doo da’

I was in
a relationship,
now I'm not
(insert poem)
The End

Drunken couch corners
feet up head back
late night slow jazz playing
****** ****** ******
give me more give me that
sound
I need that sound
like the sky needs blue

Forest, rivers and oceans
couldn't hold what one note
can
And that slow drum
like Alexander into Egypt,
Give a man an instrument
and he'll show you God

"I don't belong here,"
Wollstonecraft must have said
As the Laudanum
Chased her eyelids

Three caged birds
On the back of a truck
Headed south to Smithfield

I know I
shouldn't write
anything down
but it's hard not
to
god is in it,
a bit
what I mean
is that creating
goes hand in hand
with satori
maybe it's good
to write down
what feels like
that word for the
unexplainable,
important
all-in-all
everything,
god that is
but that's not
what this poem
is about
it's about a cat
I saw on
the sidewalk in
the rain
last tuesday
waiting for mice