a sword through the shoulder blades
into the heart.

we can only hope for such a death.

the bull's lament, fate, no destiny.

no one chooses their end.

(the bull'death understood.)

pocket full of pennies
rolling across the kitchen floor,
down the steps, out the door,

pennies running into the street
(and i'm right behind them.)

"where do you think you are going? and
I m feeling a bit embassed, so i whispered.
"you belong to me,

to keep or to throw away." and

there s a light tap on my shoulder,
and the policeman tells me,

"better find them soon
before they turn to rust,

I couldn't find mine
and I'm sure they turned into dust."

and the echoe from the hole
in my pocket shouts,
" his dreams are
trying to find the waterline."

i did find a few of them, a handful,
(I had swiped my hand as they tried to roll away)

I did grasp a few

but some of the other
pennies i threw into the air
where they may have fallen,
I know not where.

she crosses the line
black hair shining
like the raven's wing
alive like a bird in flight

eyes, soft, so complex

like a church's stain glass window

the sky above,
the sea below,

are not as blue.

and her seductive, smiling face,
lips blowing shadows,
courting lovers

a little risk involved,
a little madness necessary.

she'll steal your heart with passion
to set the night on fire,
spread the smoldering ashes across a page

and dance ballet while strumming
your heartstrings.

some jump into the fire,
and some are never free.

that flash of fire,
a savage love
as there ever was
burning through the canvass,

but when

she smiles...

have you ever seen

moonlight on the lake?

the moon whispering

to the water lilies,

the lilies white as the lace of a bride's gown.

have you ever sat on a log

contemplating the mystery
of a cold and distant romance?

2 hearts
forever longing to,
but not able to embrace

separated by endless night...


...wild birds are singing,

and dawn's sweet chorus
chases away the sad, lonely moon.

have you ever heard the moon
loves the flowing water,

loves the mortal music
of earth-borne water lilies?

I was in my rocking chair
and I asked my son,

"open a can of beer for me,"
and my son said...."sure
Pops."

"the bar was open,
then sometimes open, wait

where was I going with this,

any way, my mind wanders,...oh yeah,
nothing is free

and Son, humanity is doomed,
trust no one,
especially neighbors
who fly the flag

and when you're dead,
you're gonna be dead,
for ah long,
long, time.

so have fun when ever
and where ever you can,

get me another beer, will you?

and keep clear of moonlight,
and walks along the boardwalk,
and women with eyes
as blue as the ocean,
women who smell like wildflowers
scattered around a mountain pass

they become the snowflakes falling in summer

ah, well, anyway

trust the woman who knows
your heart,

pure of heart,

a lover to hold you close,
the candle flame touching the wick

of the candle and son

grab me another...".

on a Friday night
no matter where you started out
you always ended up
for last call and

the unexpected was expected

you might find a line
on the women's room sink,
the bartender dancing on the bar
tequila in mouth
a lit match
then spitting flame

maybe
some guy pulls a knife
so the other guy shows a gun

satori's abound

beach day in January
300 pounds of sand
and a sand castle contest

crazy George swings
from the wooden wagon wheel
light fixture
and the lights flicker off and on

and the desperate and the dying
lost in want

appear and disappear
pop in and out of existence

dead
then alive
dead
then alive...

our cards are spread
and the joker card smiles

no search for meaning here,
the ****** return the dealt card's smile

we are the wolves and the lambs
no saints here

and no matter how you acted or what
you did or owned
who you hated or loved
no one was ever was bored

so alive for the fleeting moments
of Last Call

a random freedom of sorts
seen in a wink of an eye, heard in a sigh
the kind of freedom
you only experience
once in a lifetime

folie a' plusieurs.

the pram gliding across the lake

water lilies in bloom

summer

lonely streets of sidewalks

and crossing the cracks
your heart beats for a heart

that beats no longer for you.
  
double crossed
and the cold fire is calling,
the cold fire burning,
a flame frozen in thought

and a wilderness of shadow

and the wild dog howling
into the wind,
the night howling like a dog
from within your heart.

the white flower pedals slowly falling
like snowflakes

and the gulls striking the top of the sky
and the vastness, stars adorned,

the white flower pedals falling
like snowflakes.

those flower pedals,
and the night blows Claire a kiss.

the best fishing trip to the cabin
and we never went fishing,

a torrential down pour.

it rained for 3 days, the electricity

went out and we had charcoal, barbecued
on the porch.

a candle and a lantern.
there were batteries and a radio.

we smoked a joint,
drank beer and we talked
about the the stars
and the care and release of fish.

listened to music...


...an hour before sunrise
I took my fishing pole
and headed down to the river
where the ripples and rapids
mimic modern life

sunrise lit the sky on fire
and slowly off the river the mist rose

mingled into sky

and I spread my brother's ashes in the river
and every river flows to the sea.

(love you, Dean)

Guardian Angel,

let me rest here awhile on the sandy shore
and gaze out at the sea

everyone  dies
and some people never live

and Beloved One
hold me and love me in your heart

allow my weary head to rest
on your shoulder

wrap your wings around my heart

Angel,
let me linger here
in the salty air of time

Angel,
my Guardian Angel,
misguided Angel,

who will plead for me
when I ve gone to bone?

and my Angel s voice whispers,

"you re one big pain in my ***."

and as he was led down those hallow halls
he hummed the melody
of the song he had come to know, too well,
my friend,

and he was forgotten by the hammer of justice
reaching from the obsidian night, soul lost
in the song without words

the angry sky's mournful lament

the wild howl of the wolf
hidden in the hinterland of his heart

the leaves are frozen on the trees

and every wolf must howl
and every wolf must run
through the glass night,
when no heart will beat for him
where no soul can find him.

I love crazy people.

"I m ****** up
but I m,

too ******,
up,

to care, " she tells me.
"but this isn't the most **** up
I've ever been."

and she druelled on the bar.

if,  "come hither eyes",
it s a crazy woman,

crazy women are the best.
some are so sweet
and they always keep you jumping
like a kangaroo,

a little insane is not good enough.

"meet me in Machau,"
she would say, and then,
"what's your name?"

and I was suppose to reply,

"bond, James bond."

(but the *** was good)

but those were distant times. and so

i ve sworn off crazy women.

(and I mean it this time!!!)

dedication:

to all the women who said
I don't have a heart.

the nun had told the boy,

"say a thousand hail Mary's
and God will grant you
anything you want."

the boy in the front row pew at church, alone
always alone. he didn't want

a ten speed bike or a sunny day,
the Mets to win the world series or

to be president of this sorry country, to be rich

or not to have to clean his room

with the heart of a lonely kid
he felt destiny within himself
so he went for the gamble and spread his cards
leave it to faith
take the road

and he walked into soft light
and disappearing shadows.

dark cave spiraling up
into jagged spires of silent distances falling
into splintered sunlight

the winds of the river Styx flows  
on a distant shoal and waits
beneath the waxing moon

for the wounded lovers to bloom
into white and blue wild flowers

and into the loving arms
and silken threads of time lost.

a faded blue and white flannel shirt
long black hair like midnight
and almond shaped eyes

her name was Grace
and she was beautiful

i had long hair
and we sat cross legged
on the grass in the park
smoked a joint

i was 19
the philosopher poet, wise,
and misunderstood

then we walked and talked along the beach
until sunrise

she had to catch the bus at 7 a.m.
back to where it didn't matter

at the bus station we held each other
and kissed

and she was the flower that blooms
once in a lifetime
the tail of the comet passing through the night

grace, what you are will never be again.

the slow slide
down from the stars above. love,

it leaves so fast,
grows so quickly cold.

she had looked into the shark's dead eyes
and found the friend
that waits in silent shadows

that draw the dying
inside themselves and into

the lone, solitary ring
of the cold church bells song.

Sylvia stared with dead eyes
and rode the white horse of death into the fire.

the mirror runs the length of the bar.

we down our drinks
and the bar empties out into the street.

across the street
the unemployment building is burning.

the tender, passionate flames
sets the night on fire.

blue eyes looks up,
she says to me,
"wanta go on a date?

i'll make all your dreams come true,
wouldn't you
love to love me?" she hooks her arm
through my arm and smiles,
"$20 and up depending on what you want."

"what's you're name?"

"Marie."


Gretta and Marie are kissing and turn
to me and give me that
Cheshire cat smiling


and for a moment
the ****** of the impossible
when the 5th floor collapses on the 4th floor
the flames shot up
like the 4th of July

and everyone cheers.


but then the fire engines come.

we file across the street
and into the bar,
unhappy faces,
angry faces stare.
the party was over.

and the mirror runs the length the length of the bar.

we know each other better than we know ourselves...

"I never felt as free

that summer
5 friends drinking beer
at the lake by the railroad tracks...

...the leaves were frozen on the trees.
the snow covered road
and a Robbin above
and the hawk dropped from nowhere
and the robbin fell into the snow, dead...

another puff and i go
deeper into dream.

"she was almost pretty.
the right touch of almost pretty."

sadness walks into the room.
I'm talking to the walls.

"summer and we held hands.
the moon lit the path
down to the river

and the days uncounted
and i had walked the high wire without a net.

all I ask is don't tell anyone
I know her,

eyes as black as coal
and with her heart of stone
she bites to the bone

but her sad eyes had looked so pretty to me and..."

and sadness tells me,
but most times it s just the luck of the draw.

"and when she smiled,
that crooked little smile...

sadness grins,
walks around the room.

"I was never as free...

...she was almost pretty.
the kind of almost pretty
you fall in love with.

please, don't tell her i love her."


standing in the corner
looking into the mirror
sadness says,
"it was just a bad dream."


author's note:

(...I just loved
the way  "gargoyles and  ***** dreams" sounded... gargoyles
does not have anything to do with the poem, but what the heck)


"or does it," smiles sadness, "seems like old times,"  
and sadness winks at me.

Balloon strings

at a children's

birthday party

some
float
up

slowly

the wind taking his hair
the wind blowing through him
skin and bone
the wind whistling through his teeth

some ride into the abyss

some are bounded
to cling to the earth,
rock and soil

some hang on to the edge

some ride the wild wind
into the Abyss

some see the river and fish

some rise up
when the lonely one asks for the them

does the abyss wait for you,
or did an angel come for you, brother

and if the earth is but a grain of sand
in the vastness of all the grains of sand
on all the beaches of an unfolding soul
drifting into the ripples of time,

I need to know, Lord?

the box

my brother on the dining room table.
ashes and memories.

my memory

I m 5 or6
in the bathtub

I hear the little girl next door
calling my name

I run down the hall
out the front door
down the steps

*******,

I'm naked.

when the bars close down
I walk through a silent town...

an open window
a song is playing...

and you whisper in my ear
telling me everything
I long to hear

you chase me with your Cheshire cat smile
know all my failings

you come to me in sleep
and in sleep I hold you in my arms

such sweet lies
this crazy blue night

golden curtains and hard wood floor
longing and lightning

I dream a dozen roses.

I want to hear your voice
I need to feel you

sitting next to me, sister

i dream a dozen roses, beloved

and golden curtains touching the hard wood floor

I dream a dozen roses. little bird

your heart smiles,
angels and wings waiting

one spirit

I dream a dozen roses
white in color,
heart shaped
filled with hope

I dream a dozen roses,
are you still here
dear sister, Lisa?

surely

gentle spirit,
dear sister, Lisa

darling of light

I dream a dozen roses

the bees are sharing their dreams
with me

and I want to know what
it feels like to rob a bank,
to run naked through the moonlit garden,
compose a sonata,
stare up into trees
then pause to listen to blue birds singing,

the bees are sharing their dreams with me, today

and I want to run with the bulls
in Pamplona

I want to remember

time insane
when untamed dreams
ran wild
in the dim light
of a room without windows

desperado,
purple eyeshadow and lips

dancing through misty memory,
she comes

quiet midnight settling in her eyes
bare foot waif, never kind...

the thief of my dreams

"but I only pulled up my underwear?!;"

finish the sentence in a poem.

my carnival heart rides
the Ferris wheel

got lost in the tunnel of love

(lost my love on the merry go round)

the minute hand of my watch, forever

back and forth
tap, tap, tapping on midnight, i'm

tossed and tumbled
like the rodeo clown
riding a bull
I'm holding aces and eights tucked tightly
against my chest so

play the long shot

I pray for the gypsy wind
wild and flowing

my heart is true.

precious love
my precious love

"he hopes the book will
run into many editions...
to defray legal costs..."

Mein Kampf  2,  

by Donald J. Trump

****** angel slept

in silence

softly curled into a ball

a sweet song in nylons spirited

away in dream rapture

Harry,

always in a room without windows
a straw up his nose
a bottle of Jack Daniels
on the moveable food tray.

Harry, he

lived his life like a hurricane
violent and fierce yet
beautiful
in the havac he caused

the lone wolf,
never a destination
all he owned was time


Harry,

lived,

the neon sky, dark,

afire with visions
of  the wounded women
partially wrapped in night, hears

the song the sirens sweetly sing

so he chose to fly

soar

above the high wire trapeze,
grasping for tranquility with a straw
and with ease
he follows the shadows
into rooms without windows

a solitary wanderer in the heartland

the man who chose to fly

strange fish, my friend,

Harry.

I salute you.

haiku attempt 1.

the bums are barbequing

rats by the river

I'll bring the barbeque sauce.

haiku 2.

with billions of stars
and billions of planets
what if we are it.

god's experiment is failing.

haiku attempt no. 3

oooppps,
I forget to hit "draft".

true love is hard to find.

it's like turning lead into gold,
water into wine,

ketchup into barbeque sauce.

miracles do occur,
most often times
under moonlight

and sometimes under saffron and silky streetlight.


(play your wild card, Sam.
bet the jack of hearts,
run with the feeling.)

(she has

ICE,  BLUE, EYES,
and so innocent.

he wonders what it will feel like to hold her.

(think Sam,
use your imagination.)

(the clock is ticking on you, Sam,
let's do something crazy)


the what IF?

(with billions of stars
what if,
we are???

you can't always be an angel???)

he is searching for the perfect line.

Sam does not know she will bury his heart
in silent sorrow

she turns and smiles at sam.

he does not see the ghost in her eyes,
the blueness of ice and empty tears

george collects baby doll heads

my guestion to george,

do you cut the baby doll heads
off the dolls?

rules for wars
and other fictions

and the grave digger
gives me a nod
hands me a shovel of thunder

what to tell the children?

shadows can't exist
without light
and on my bended knees
lightning in the air
looking up

what to tell
the little boys and girls?

be amused,
smile,

darlings, it's not odd, not at all

we humans shed our skin like snakes
and one man's freedom fighter
is another man's terrorist

hell broke loose in Palestine
hell broke loose in the Ukraine

the angels' weeping choir
and cat eyes turn grey as the sea

the cat stares into the fire
cold as the sea

child, have you seen some
awfulness?

what could it be?

my cat howls into the fire

what to say to the children?

(welcome to the night)

pawns and kings, the rooks
the bittersweet comedy
of the heart and other losers


what to tell the children?

stone angels and crosses,
myrtle leaves and a wreath of roses.

i have built relationships
among the tombstones
and beneath dirt
silent voices shout

time is quicksand!

so, climb a mountain,
swim the sea,
jump into the fire,
walk the high wire,
stumble on

be free.

the softness of her hand in my hand.
her humming to a song
and a whisper comes from the grave of my mom,
don't let life slip away into sorrow,

and through the moonlit smiles of angels,
through the silence of stone,

there among the tombstones
where time no longer teases,

the silent flight of tomorrows.

Waco
Ruby Ridge
Jackson State

May 4th
Kent State

(4 dead in Ohio)

i 'm standing in the dark
staring at the floor

and there s something
spiritual
transcendent
after 5 beers
******* into a toilet
something
like sunshine after a rainstorm

she was just the right touch
of pretty

her bellybutton
and the contour of her thighs

and I thought i had found a heart
that had me feeling good
so good

but you have to bleed out of your heart
to be true to love

and you had to bleed your heart out
to be with her

(a roll of the dice,
sorrow, or joy)

and the Gypsy had cursed me

said all relationships would end
badly

trouble and death
would follow me,


love.

(sorrow or joy)

there s something ethereal
standing in the dark
******* in the toilet
it s all about aim,
aND

suDDenLy,

SATORI!

and as the prisoner was led out of the prison,
"see you later," the prison guard said.

how you love
the field and the buttercup flowers.

the meadow
and the chase
where love becomes fire.

and it is love

that has brought us here.

a heartache for you, dear doe.

a heartache for me, too.

are you bleeding your heart out
not to be with him
as i am not to be with her?

a prayer.

let the ghosts of heartache
rise in the mists of dawn.

let our heartstrings
stop beating to the same
sorrowful song.

doe in the first light of dawn.

Run to him!

her seductive voice
and a forbidden love


the black and white photo:

2 men smiling

gaberdine coats and hobnailed boots

the delighted dance in their eyes
the intriguing puzzle

finely woven into their subtle smiles
of wind and lightning and snow

they have heard
the goddess of the sky
and she beckons,
COME

her beauty, cold and captivating
snow and vanishing hopes
and into the silence of no turning back

for king and country
climb high or die


the black and white photo

2 men
smiling


2 men smiling
about something
few men
will ever know

Mallory and Irving disappearing into the clouds.

i read the poems
(perhaps not poems)
maybe, perhaps?

they are crying their hearts out
reaching

for that feeling
innate
and pristine

a howl for love

sadness

faith and joy

those tortured *******
their words trumpet,

"I am here!"

all too human
and i will not read you
anymore
this nascent melody
of us tortured souls.

on the silent city street
when the bar closed
that's where I met her
she was crazy

and wanted to dance on rooftops,
at sunrise
she took me to the cemetery
pointed to the graves of children
the box turtle crawling
toward the 3 crosses

full moon

we climbed the water tower
her eyes dark as coal
looked inside of me
and she began unbuttoning her blouse,
" just tell me you love me,"
(and we howled with the wolves)

2 troubled spirits

she wanted to be held
"and tell me you love me,"

she wanted to be held

but not
the way I held her

she's in my dreams

waiting for me

and no matter how you play your cards
misfits and wanderers
are lost and never found.

the edge keeps getting
harder to find
keep my ledge clean
brush away this uneasy
disparate ride

spin your thread
that delicate strand
wish me good luck

and i'm not a dancer
but if you ask,
fate or fortune?
smiling,
dancing madly backwards
I'll ride the razor ribbon wire
into the wall of shadows

and until the tug of destiny
and before the ringing of bells
keep me close to your heart.

her beauty born
of feathers and wax
she flew to close to the sun
and with her palm
holding stardust

her love gave her
a bouquet of goodbyes

never love sorrow
Sarah
the ledge only grows smaller

Broken Heart

butterfly
under the glass

Pure Heart

into my arms you can run

you know it needed something
but you don't realize it
until months later...

if it had
had a dog and a child

it would be perfect...

"I picked up Bella
our Maltese
and took little Johnny
by his tiny hand

as the ambulance drove off."

flannel shirt and torn blue jeans
she always held her cards close
to her fragile heart
her wild heart

(a heart not for me)

and she fades into a cold wind
whitens into snowflakes
and wild infatuation

i'm faded

the torn page
from a list of lovers
broken and sad

my love is moonlight and mare's tails

the night's stars
shot full of lost tomorrows

wounded blackbird on a telephone wire
in a bright and hollow sky
searched for the lost cord.
his heart has betrayed him
and no longer will he fly.

there's something beautiful
about tall buildings
and a dark street,
the vacant restaurants and stores

the drive-throughs
on their way to work
don't see it
don't feel you
don't hear your voice of desperation
or the screech from the garbage trucks
brakes

there's something beautiful
on the corner
of Dewitt and Springwood Ave

where there were dances
at the bingo hall,
the fist fights outside

and angels
with their eyes
whispered,
come hither,
and giggled softly

and with voices
like rain
and with a touch of regret
sang all the sad songs

I hear

the ghosts of Springwood and Dewitt
wailing
in search of hope or a prayer

or perhaps it's just the police
or an ambulance

there's something beautiful
about you,
dark avenue
of crossroads
where the hanged men are dump

and shotgun in my hands
i'm going to run down
that avenue of dead dreams

the revolution is at hand

sometimes you perceive things
as they
aren't

and some will look at the ground
and never have to look up

and some will stand in the sand,
and not be held by fingers twisted with fate,
gaze up at the stars
with wonder

some only look down
to watch their dreams fall
to the ground


and then there was

Cathy Brown

I wrote
"I love you"
on a napkin
got caught in the rain
on the way to her apartment
and when I gave it to her
and she unfolded it
there was a beautiful flower

I never told her I love you
never had too

the light in her eyes
the twinkle of stars...


I was watching an old movie
and the make up artist
was

Cathy Brown

while I dipped
my ******* in the holy water
of madness???
why not write a poem
I loved the name so

the touch from her fingers
kept me sane

some dreams never vanish...

do you believe this **** I wrote
sometimes I need
to not
get serious

I love you Cathy Brown.

i was watching
Shane's funeral

beautiful
and deservingly so

and i wondered
who would come to my funeral???

(debt collectors
police
2 x-wives
DEA)
(surely
i'm heading to purgatory)

perhaps she'll come
the woman who wants to be a mortician
i meant her at the liquor store

i answered her ad
in the A.P. press,
it read, as follows:

Female, a young 60
likes UFO stories
and exorcisms
loves to watch autopsies,
has a potato chip
that looks like D. Trump!
(not for sale)
will be in front of BY-WAY Liquor store
7 a.m. Tuesday. Gladys.

and one thing
led to another
SO,
here i am
and the the smoke
from the camp
fire's
burning my eyes
i'm on my 18th can
of miller light
Gladys and me
are looking for
UFO s

never in my life
have I ever thought of it
but beneath my skin
is a skull

I feel the bone outline of my brow
the contour of my crooked nose
the catliage in my ear

horrible creatures they are
those vultures
my father ****** at 54
long in the ground

and feeling the bones
of my nose

sunrise is not guaranteed

wind and rain
stars and the sea
the lonely one
who left us here

created
those 8 mother ******
vultures
feasting on a dead deer

the griffons know the failure
of bones and flesh

and ice is forming
on the tips of my guardian angel's
wings
but the Nightingale sometimes
still sings
to me of you in dreams

and we'll meet again
at the end of time

and walk across the sun

my love.