Well,
who would have
thought it would
end like this?

with just what I wanted
in hand
and the painful sense
of regret
when you give away
what you had.

Dance with me, Lucy
Show me kaleidoscopes of the spirit
Colors mixed and found, anew
Make the little clock
On my iPhone,
Spin in violent motion
As I stare into your eyes

Lie with me, Lucy
Tell me your stories
As I lie on my back and listen
In wonder
To the sounds caressing my soul
It's only you that brings out
This wonderful, wonferful feeling
in me

You make my mind do backflips
I lose myself in you
My conciousness expanding
The third eye peeled open
By your paper fingernails
And the taste of you,
Keeps me coming back
Wasting all my money,
Wasting all my time
But I'd lose all that only if
I can have you by my side

Why do you have to go away?
Why do you leave me drained?
Do you find solace in,
These tired eyes that remain?
I can fall into your influence
Like a perfume inviting my sweetly
To the breast of a conscience yet unexplored
Miles away, I am from me,
With you alone, the third eye sees
everything left unexplained
To me
I love you

I am empty,
       given myself all away.

I sit here on the 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be
a writer.
some ****** gall,
at 71,
my brain cells eaten
away by
life.
rows of books
behind me,
I scratch my thinning
hair
and search for the
word.
for decades now
I have infuriated the
ladies,
the critics,
the university
****-toads.
they all will soon have
their time to
celebrate.
"terribly overrated..."
"gross..."
"an aberration..."
my hands sink into the
keyboard
of my
Macintosh,
it's the same old
con
that scraped me
off the streets and
park benches,
the same simple
line
I learned in those
cheap rooms,
I can't let
go,
sitting here
on this 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be
a writer.
the gods smile down,
the gods smile down,
the gods smile down.
Black Sparrow "New Year's Greeting" 1992

If I had to give my son advice,
To, on his little life, shed light:
I'd say don't do drugs, and if you do.
Do Class C in the mornings,
And Class A's at night.
If you're gonna do it, do it right.

If I had to give my son advice,
To save his little heart from pain:
I'd say never love at a distance;
Your heart will succumb to a lonely bind.
For words, are far too nervous,
and probably won't get there on time.

If I had to give my son advice,
So his smile remains a genuine jewel,
I'd say be sure to marry a writer.
Smile as much as you possibly can,
And if they feel it worth defending
They will rewrite, and edit out your problems,
And give you a happy ending.

I haven't seen her since Friday.  
Weekends with her move
Like electrons around
Nucleae; without her like
An old slug up a mountain side.
Now she's less than
An hour
Away.

Apart from daily good night calls,
I've spoken to none but our cat.
Now my voice sounds alien
When I fill her bowl,
And she looks at me as if slightly
Worried for my mind,
Before she eats.
Don't worry, Wolfie, I
Hear myself say.
*She's less than
An hour
Away...

I have
   big dreams

        and a  
            realistic mind.

You
     can
  only
         imagine
               the
  frustration.