i had the windows open

the heat

and of all the nights
not to be able to fall asleep

and the neighbors had their
bedroom window open, too

some songs you never forget

and he played the same song
over and over
like ocean waves cresting,
falling onto the sands of time
and never lost in memory

yeah, the fireman
had a wife and child

some songs stay with you

touch you some place
to deep to descern

some corner of your mind
holds it tightly, angrily,
hidden away in that dark corner
of never forget

i don't know who sang it
or the title
but i learned every line
that late august night

it ended with

"Lord it'sad to be alone
help me through this night"

and the fireman turned off the stereo

no muffled sound
no flicker of light
just the shot


"Lord it's sad to be alone
help me through this night..."

some songs play over and over

... on and on...

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.

I know I dreamed of you

so shoot me
bury me in an unmarked grave

and in a 1,000 years
archeologists will dig me up
only to discover
a dusty pitcher of margaritas
still cold

the ashes
of a half smoke cuban cigar

and the picture of you.

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

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".

****** angel slept

in silence

softly curled into a ball

a sweet song in nylons spirited

away in dream rapture

6a.m. to 2:00
the diner is open
a little ***** in the morning
so sometimes she burns
the hash browns

eggs
always soggy

her black shirt and pants
the black shirt and pants
that at one time
showed off
her ***
so well
too tight now
like a snake about
to shed its skin

"sometimes I see him in the mall,"
she often talks to herself,
"I ask him if he d like to meet his son.

I don t know why he thought
that

I did nt want to marry him anyway,"

she s *******
flips the hamburger

watches it  

slowly
peeling off the ceiling

a black moon coming down

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.

3 a.m.

the lonely crowd,
a quiet madhouse

i'm dressed in those rags
of too many yesterdays

but a wink from the waitress
and then a smile
and she s talking to the rain

and she bounces
across the gloom

and i fold like a flower
in a book

a game of chance
a desperate man

hold me close,
hold me tighter

take away my fear

gently hold my heart

I m going down
and i'm talking to the rain

the waitress is coming

and she sits beside me

blue sky mirrored
in her eyes
and she gives that
smile


we hold hands

2 wounded creatures
seeking shelter

from the eternal rain
of the all night-diner  
in winter

the rowdy, disorderly, and wicked
at the Black Heart Bar
chatting like neighbors
in the evening...


"...and the toilet don't flush
and the corner boys are singing
and the window don't shut"

"so move,
do you have family?"

"no
dead
all dead
all *******
anyway. "...


...L.A. Woman
comes on the jukebox
and soon the bartender's
grandma begins
singing along

the woman across the bar
is shaking her head
and the guy in the corner

is tapping his fingers on the bar

and the barmaid is smiling

and reborn are the memories
that save us for a few hours
and for the length of a song
we are not the ghosts
we have become

we are the lotus flower
rising from dark, muddy waters

"let's face it,"
the professor of filosophy
realized
during his doctorate dessertation,
"LOOK,
Thoreau
had
had enough of Waldon pond.
when asked, why did you leave Waldon Pond?
Thoreau shrugged and said,
"**** it."

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.

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.

ice forms along the edges of ponds and hearts
thin ice...

holding you in my arms
after
puzzled you

johnny al said it was always *** with you
just *** and even if I was good at it
(and I was)
I was out of my league
johnny al said that


the cat that plays with the mouse is sad
when the mouse dies
and it doesn t know why it is sad

sometimes love is like that

the door to night swings open
and the night comes down hard
I still love you so

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.

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...

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.

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.

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

her sneakers wrapped around a telephone wire

"tall stone monoliths and crumbled walls
hell is not a physical place
it is a spiritual realm

and this city of locked hearts
a prison of sorts
without barb wire," Kate tells me,

"and the high wire walkers
and the dice tossers
and the lonely ones...
all in search of the lost song."

"I want to sing songs
and dance far from this desolate stage,"
I'm telling Kate,
"I envision myself a tragic figure."

a tender smile and,
"who, Hamlet, Walter White?

we're walking down sunset avenue
occasionally passing other failed animals.
silent howling and teeth hidden in our
lost hearts
those parts too delicate to display
except in anger, rage, and want.

and my love touches in me places
I don't want to feel
and I love her like the mad hatter
loves alice.

it's summer.

we smoke a joint
and we're walking on the boardwalk.
we past the arcade
and a song is playing
and as we walk
down past the coffee shop
a different song is playing
further, another song.

"never tangled or twisted,
how do you do it?"
I asked her.

a serene smile
and Kate says,
"my life is quicksand
struggle you die
relax you float,
you survive."

her blue eyes
bright
my reluctant Cinderella laughs softly
and another song is playing
and i move closer to my heart.

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

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 had
the *******
tatooed on his cheek
above the scar,
whispers when he talks,
and people listen...

the edges worn
on the black and white photo
he fondles in his hands...

he walks passed the tombstones
collecting the bouquets of flowers,
gardenias, some violets, and finally red roses
kneels
places them gently on her grave

she was the prettiest cop
that ever arrested him...

passed the ******* tattoo
above the scar
one longing tear
forever falling...

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

the 5 of us in that Ford Galaxy
cigarette smoke and beer,
rarely ate,
we consumed anything we could read
Soul on Ice
Three Pillars of Zen
The Alpine Christ...
and listening to Pat Benetar
back then
kept me sane
and back then
we all grew beards
and back then
all dreams came true.
we were pretending to be poets:
a photocopy machine,
some staples,
and free... RIVERS of the SUN.
the next Blake,
Poe,
Jeffers.
intellectuals overthink
every thing,
logic
reason
be ******
keep the stuff simple
don't write anything
that people
wouldn't understand

paper, pen in hand
and I m riding that old car
into Rivers of the Sun

the 5 of us
beer and cigarette smoke.

i haven't ever been as free,
and all dreams came true.

Balloon strings

at a children's

birthday party

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.

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.

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!

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.

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 ***."

"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.

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

I returned
a book at the library,
"Soul on Ice"

"it smells
like beer," Emily,
the librarian said, smiled.
so I asked her for a date

St. George Orthodox Church
was having a festival.
I took Emily

must have
drank a pint
or more of ouzo

i thought it was a Greek custom
and i began
smashing plates on the floor
but the Father said
the church uses the plates
for meals

and I said,
"I guess no one
will have to wash dishes."

so we left

"your too
drunk to drive
on the street," Emily warned.
so I drove over the curb onto
my neighbor's yard
circled his house
2 times

I saw him
looking out his window
and he didn't look surprised
at all
just shook his head
turned off the light

(the sound of sirens in the distance)

so we left

I had drank a 6 pack
on the way to the library
shoved the empty cans
under the seat
I went to put on the brakes
and
a can rolled out
under the brake
and I could
not stop
Emily,  SCREAMED
I went through a red light but
we made to her house
anyway

(7 year old Igor
Emily's son
bit a chunk
out of my eyebrow,
her pit bull bit in my ***)

bought a scratch off at WaWa
won 300 dollars
we went to the horse races

i told Emily to pick a horse
any horse
and i'd put all 300 dollars on it
she picked a 40 to one shot

PERFECT INSANITY

i was feeling lucky...
and...

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

Mein Kampf  2,  

by Donald J. Trump

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

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.

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...".

we are going to fish

we carried our backpacks
fishing equipment
into the cabin

the cabin wasn't
Thoreau's cabin at Waldon pond

then came the storm
lightening
thunder
torrential rain
and

and then
the lights went out

there we were

******

eating potato chips
and drinking beer in the dark

"quick
put all the beer in the freezer,"
my brother says

we put on our headlamps
sat in the dark
discussed
the care and handling of fish
how the hybrid strippers
don't have the beautiful stripes...
we played cards
I read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"
by candle light
til 3 a.m.

rain
thunder
and lightening
for 4 days

and living the way Man was meant to live

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.

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.)