a sky of caring
a rabbit foot on a chain

two 6 packs
3 friends

take me back to the river
by the railroad tracks

and shelly
and keats
and junior kimbrough

take me back
to the river by the railroad tracks

and the flat pennies we held
in the palms of our hearts


fall
is a forgiving season

so take me back to the river by the tracks

where the river runs
deep
and wide
and the memories have souls

once inside a woman s heart
tell no sweet lies

she loves the unlovable

so hold her closer

kiss her tenderly

thunder and lightning
a slow dance
and she dreams only of you

once inside a woman's heart

the touch sadness from her hand
heartaches wrapped in silence
only women bleed

no shinning light

ambulances and cop cars and nightmares
concrete and ashes 

streets too dead for dreaming

the abandon buildings
like tombstones waiting


as night edges prison walls
in the vanishing landscape

we were kings of the neon sky


and when the bars close
through puddles of lost tomorrows
running every red light
on main street

in a sun turned black as night


we were the kings of the neon sky

We were only ever
moving through..


A transient
encounter pinked
in sprinkled serendipity

had synchronised
our step

and having met
before the bested peaks
of all that seemed unlikely
we stayed close.


Through
needless plays
of problematic metaphor,
we laughed and wept,
deplored enforced morality,
embraced a great unknown,

explored the cultic
sympathies, arrested
in our infancy
and swore an oath
eternal to the greenery
regrown..



..while knowing
well, the day will come
when one moves on
alone

he s standing on the table

i'm looking up at him,
"this bar
the city
this city
isn t the place to lose your mind,"
I try to tell G..rge

Geo... only listens to sad songs

he's coming undone

he s been thrown
out of 3 bars
one bar twice

did 12 years in state,
said he loves her

"I only stabbed her with the steak knife in her thigh,
I wasn't trying to **** her,"

blames it on
the moon

"the gravitational pull...
we have water...
our bodies are 80 percent water,"

he says, " our brains...90
...the same thing
...happens to the tides."

his eyes rolling back and forth
adrift in that ocean

"...and why do barbers
always think
they need to talk to you..."

edged with sadness
his mind filled with ghosts
his x- wife runs around inside his head
like a mouse on a wheel

and the wind runs dancing through the trees

comes across the hill

a bluebird singing
the red ribbon in her hair

in the pale moonlight
hold me

softly In the pale moonlight
                                                       ­ 
sweet summer breeze
a fire in her heart

gentle summer breeze
and the ribbon comes undone

there is a love
that waits  in pale moonlight