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"after 6 beers," says crazy george,
"she's not gonna be looking any better."

                      *       **

Oh, woman!
wounded spirit
of moonlight and broken glass

Oh, fiery night
Oh, heat
raging, dazzling light

the wild place
till the red morning light

till the red morning light

hold me tenderly
hold me in those gentle eyes

till the red morning light
unchained spirit

simple beauty

a flower

(as it was meant to be)
28 dollars
got him one to life  

the revolution was at hand
he was going to be free

george lived
like an outlaw
in the land
where he was born

Be prepared to be shot down


George Lester Jackson
lived like an outlaw


George was going to be free
you run along the ledges
walk the wire
have a touch of larceny
in your heart

and  I love it
like a ****** who
pretends to love you
every time
and you believe it

madness is like pouring rain
on the wet street
at night
reflecting through headlights
making a never ending waterfall
hot and white that s
dancing madly backwards
when you crank the Harley
and fly
over the cliffs of perception
into endless night
or star dust
or
into clarity
lore or god realized  

this world has gone insane
and this is where mad men belong

madmen belong in your arms

I need you more than want you
the nights grow long
in summer
in sauk rapids
minnesota

an empty pocket book
put on a corner on main street  
she was standing across the street

watching
laughing
smirking

and this is how I met Sarah

a storm of unshed tears
in the stillness of her eyes
but that smile sweet
sweet smile
and you know
you re her only one

and after 4 weeks
in sauk rapids
we knew each others secrets

the midges danced
above the field of wheat
"just say that you love me," she says.
and she began unbuttoning her red flannel shirt
and after
we climbed the town water tower naked
and howled with the wolves

captured in that moment
of sunlight fading
she taught me
all I'd ever need to know...


...I see you sitting beneath the dog wood tree,
whispering leaves
falling all around you
and you are humming softly

the chiming of church bells is calling

we ll meet again at the end of time
my love
and walk across the sun
"You don't wanna be
the last drunk at the bar,"
my psychiatrist told me,
"expand your horizons,"

and it s sunday
and the parking lot at the
bar was full
anyway
It s Sunday
So I am on my way to the tulip festival

up the long driveway
I followed
behind the
the state troopers
the ambulance
and the hearse

under the spell of the tulips
scores of angry men and women
wrestling
fighting
grappling

an old man in ah
Harley davidson t-shirt
sucker punches the tulip
stealing old lady
as loud speakers blast
gregorian chants

IT WAS AT A TUlLIP FESTIVAL
in the 1600's
where the puritans
who came to America
seeking religious freedom
promptly
hung 350 witches
it s hard to find a good witch, now a days
I thank them
(although my mother in law... )

strangers
death
and
desolation
at the tulip festival

I swear there s
nothing stranger
this side of the earth
The house has gone

that box that grew me wrong
is now
the storage for another's lot

and may the crate be good to them

Let them bring
it love and further, turn
the pile into a home,
to fold the walls around themselves
be welcome in their sanctuary.

God knows
the place deserves it..

but open doors
and windows first,
to set the spirits free,

For I wish you not
the likes of mine
that cowered
in its secrecy
a house is not always a home-I hope it now becomes one
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