( "........... ...  ..............., ..... .......  .
......... ..................... and ................ .......... .
............, ...................... ............. ."

and
when she left
hemingwey

ernest put the barrel
of a shotgun
in his mouth

big toe
in the trigger ...

line and color
at the tip
of his brush
van gogh
knew her intimately...

ravel
felt her with his heart
and composed
the piano concerto for
the left hand...

and his dead hands
and with his dead hands
still clutching a book of poems by Keats
shelly slept with her
on the sands of Italy...

the wolf and the elk
blood and bone

a savage
animal
she is
when taken
for granted

the night
jumps from
the wall

and...

she walks
8th avenue
in the rain
and snow

beauty always
has her price
(usually 20 and up
depending on
what you want)

and here I stand
a stone
beside an unshaded lamp

4 walls and a door

I've tried to chase
your ghost
out that door
many times

and the unfathomable echo
of your footsteps lingers
forever fading down the hallway

the unshaded lamp
the mirror above the sink

a dangerous animal
the broken heart is
in the unforgiving light
of a windowless room.

little purple flower
In a desert of scree
waits for a butterfly

     (me, too)

across the log
as graceful as a dancer...


rising out of the water
jeans and blue t-shirt
like a weighted blanket

muddied and wet
the girl of the lake
delighting in the fall

the playful eyes
that wild in her smile                               

(I too
knew that smile
intimately
once
and dreams were plentiful
as the songs
that kept me alive

but the wind walks
a singular path
through the tall grass
surrounding lakes

a thief tip-toeing into another day)

the red glow of her cigarette.
the fingers of her left hand
yellow  with nicotine
clutching dying flowers

"buy a rose for your lover," she says,
"buy one for your wife. buy 2."

"the flowers are wilted."

"maybe it's your eyes that are wilted.

she had black hair
black as the night
the violent night
and gray eyes
the shade of ***** ice

"you must love
someone,
some of the time, no?
put a rose on
your father s grave, then."

"love is like lost pennies
falling from a broken jar."

she smooths her hair with one pale,
long, fingered hand, "you re crazy."

"my mom says so."

i was born to
have adventure

I followed her up the steps.

i was born to chase the night
through the forest
of dead roses.

I floor the car
through the orange traffic light
pass a line of cars
have to cut in
and I m behind a hearse

trapped in the sad procession
traveling
to
some cemetery...somewhere

and on the way
I have time
to contemplate
my demise...

... at the viewing
as I lay in my casket
I want speakers playing
Purple Haze

and a strope light
in my coffin

the scattered
on again off again
flashing

and
it ll look like

I m dancing... dancing



my last dance