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.

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.

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...".

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 always turning around to see
who was behind  me
and there in lies the danger
and so the past holds me in its arms...

...the tip of your cigarette glows in the dark.
(the light without a flame)

you are sitting in a chair.
I m sitting in a chair.
we don't speak.

that is my everlasting memory of you.

the fire had taken flight.

you bought books and never read them.
you always used too much perfume.

I had no time for you, lonesome dove.
my heart of sand,
but thunder now follows my heart,
with the perfume of things lost.

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

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...

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.

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...

I love,

the desperation
as if wandering lost on a mountain.

I love the solitude
and the loneliness of being
compelled to love.

i love the desperation.

the wolf hidden in my wild heart
howling at a streetlight

and the sorrow of distant echoes in my head
and the laughter coming from an empty bed.
the mountain ledge whistling in the mist.
the pierce of thorn from the rose
clutched tightly in my fist.


some never feel more alive
as love fades into the silence
of sweet lies and blue skies.

just never show the fear that's in your eyes.
never shed a tear for the rose refused.

you are the prettiest women
I ve ever seen.
I ll give you my heart
if i m allowed to dream

white lace dress and red sweater,
you are the tender love,
and if you let me hold your hand,
and walk you home,
and to perhaps kiss you.

you are the prettiest woman
I ve ever seen
and i ll give you my heart
if i m allowed to dream.

the cops are at the door,
open the window,
toss me my running shoes.

out the window I went, left heaven,
down to the narrow street
into the welcomed night.

(my fair weather fade away.)

you have the prettiest eyes
the sky ever knew

so please don't be surprised
to find me one day at your window

some cold december night
holding plastic flowers for you

so love the thief who tried steal your heart,
and plastic flowers never fade.

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.

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

MARS:

the shrieking horse
pale as death

in flames,
madness and anguish.

soldiers ride the mare on fire
across dark lakes,
down vast caverns into the fire

flesh and fire tumbling slowly
thundering
thundering
tumbling slowly
spectral light emanating from
wide open eyes, anguish and madness.

then shattered glass, enduring night, and war.

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.

the sun spills warmth
across the countryside
and the flowers smile

waving their tiny leaf hands
to greet the new day

so I smile with whispers of love
as if the wildflowers are my children.

the elusive thrushes
hidden among the bowing willows

whisper sweet songs.

the tiny bird angels
not so far off.

those tiny angels

far from the silences that **** you inside.

he lives in an oblong trailer
at a trailer park.

every night he'd make a pitcher of margaritas.
salt around the rim of the glass.
crushed ice to the top of the glass.
the glass cold to his hand.

he turns the t.v. on
and the lamp on the night stand off
and sits in the easy chair
in the darkened room.

he'd drinks the margaritas
and watches t.v. until the station
goes off the air

and then watches the random dot pixels
and listens to the static coming
out of the t.v. speaker.

the flashes of light flickering.
and the blue light settles on his face.
eyes open, staring.

the darkness reached for him
and in the ghostly flickering,
he let it.

in the meadows above treeline
the wildflowers are in bloom
turning time into sunshine:
the indian paintbrush, green orchid,
yellow columbine, heart-leafed arnica

and climbing through the rain into sunshine
our shadows stretched across a cloud

and my love's surprise
echoes across the mountain side
to the bow river
and snow-covered mountain tops.

it is an angel's song, gentle and sweet
where the wildflowers bloom
and our hearts are always free.

Alberta.

she had a wicked kind of motion,
a cold beauty
with the radiance of a sunset dying.

Jack had seen her,
had seen her walking
the sidewalks and streets
that are too dark for dreaming,

the acne scars on her cheeks
had left faded marks,
with her wolf spirit longing
to be unchained.

the sudden rain drumming on the roof of the car.

and Jack was no stranger to sad streets,
the sidewalks and tenement caves,
strangers in a crowd laughing.

his sad eyes, two black eyes,
another fight,
he looked like a raccoon.

he came around the car
as she knew he would,
took her in his arms,
kissed her and when he withdrew
from the kiss
she felt his warm breath.

Melissa was from Montana,
had left her husband.

just one more nightmare to try
and understand
and so Jack didn't want to know, why,
He didn't ask

and she is the one women
that never took the smile
from his face
and some loves forever to ring true.

2 souls in the fire.
one heart.

"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

3 a.m.

the dying town, dark moon,
the wolf lurks in a concrete tomb.

fallen friends and picnics at the graveyard,
empty stores and sidewalk ******.

streets of sorrow--
one-way roads to no tomorrow.

shadowed eyes, whispers in bars,
fallen angels, shooting stars.

sirens wail the ****** night,
and in every traffic light burned red
time never stops for the dead.

the ****** on the corner.
none to morn her fate,
a wink and a whisper,
"do you want to go on a date?"

the black butterfly,
soul of sorrow,
no echo, no refrain,
lost in silence, bound by pain.

"come in, come in, part the curtains.
I'll tell your future.

i tip toed in...heavy night
beyond the door.
the curtains parted rippling
like water circling a deepening hole

and the face of shadow moans,
"you seem to be looking for answers???"

"well, yeah, does the size of the tombstone
tell how much you are loved,
or how much love you gave?'

"sit down," the shadow tells me,
i'll dust off the prayer wheel,
tell your future."

"when i was a kid
i dreamed in shadows
and whispered to the night.

i know the future.

the dead go to places
they will only know."

the face of shadow offers
roses cupped in wistful hands.

the shadow dissipating,
petals from black roses falling to the ground.

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

walk the high wire without a net.

the poem is life all else is waiting.

a tribute to  Dave Roskos, poet.

at the Poet Wednesday
a long, long time back
in Woodbridge, I heard
the poet, Dave Roskos,
and the one line that rings so true,
a bittersweet, one word, symphonic waltz
the one line i 'll take to my grave.

"2 flies ******* on my coffee cup."


BEAUTIFUL, Dave Roskos, poet.

the door to his room moans open.

a shadow familiar and sad
like the cold, raining night, whispers,

"Jack, are you awake?"her voice startles him.
"can't sleep again?"

Jack shifts in the chair,
"yeah, I'm awake. i can sleep alright."

he stands, and as he walks to the shadow,
"I want to climb a high mountain
through snow and ice
and never be found."

"a heart that's empty hurts. I miss you, Jack."

"i'm glad someone does. i miss you too."

"you forgot something our last night.
I didn't know it was goodbye."

"what did i forget?"

the shadow moves towards him.
jack slips his arms around her waist.

"you didn't kiss me goodbye."

she puts her arms around his neck.
her lips are soft and warm
and like a summer night, the warmth of her body
comes to him through the coldness of the room.

the shadow raises her head
looks into his eyes as distant
as a sailor tossed on a violent shore,

"why jack, you're crying."

"yeah, i'm crying."

her lips are soft against his ear.
"don't cry, my darlin.
i can't bear to see unhappy.

if you love me. tell me you love me."

he is looking down into her dark eyes,
and softly whispers. "I love you. I do."

"Hold me jack, hold me."

"i'll never let you go..."

...jack probes the snow bridge
with his ice axe. the bridge collapses,
day becomes night
and he is falling, falling,
falling...

startled jack opens his eyes,
jumps out of the chair.

the bar was dark cave.

Dixie sang a song
and I pretended
she was singing to me.

two amateur fights,
2 black eyes
and a broken nose.

(and i couldn't get the silly grin off my face.)

"there is something beautiful
about the fall

to the canvass," I tell her,
"the sweet dreams only of you."

Dixie shook her head,
"why do you fight
when all you do is lose?"

"if you don't fight
you've already lost."

Dixie said I was crazy
and i scared her.

"but Dixie
you are my only friend.
we'll pull the stars down from the sky,
set the wicked night on fire."

Dixie tried hard not to,
but she smiles.

and there is something graceful
about the fall, golden leaves. the brevity
and the cooling air

and the nights we had by the lake.

a silent embrace...her warmth lingers against me,
a quiet tenderness beyond touch
and all we knew was a timeless "now."

Nietzsche knew of the waiting abyss,
those inside and those outside.

...Bobby's wife is *****, murdered.
he gets a gun, tortures
and slaughters the 3 men.

the entire movie theater cheers. some clap.
we've had our fill.
(transitory though it is)

we've realized in the husband,
the animal lurking in all,
not hidden, but not acknowledged,
our dark light rising from the mist
of primordial quicksand,
the mirror facing the mirror.
the monster fighting the monster.

and we are pleased.

she took my picture,
that's how it started
that's how i knew,
she took my picture
off the refrigerator door

when your picture is taken off
the refrigerator
like dust off a knick knack shelf

you do the dishes,
you have to wash your own socks.

the refrigerator is cursed
like a lost winning lottery ticket.
cursed with pictures of dead pets,
dead aunt's, cousins, grandma...

(my picture rip off the fridge like $#@#$#@...)


the fridge hums its song,
warm on the outside
and cold on the inside.

you *******, i shout,
and i punched the fridge,
packed my suitcase,

grabbed my fishing pole
and out the front door
I went.

half way down the sidewalk,
I turned

and there was little Jack
looking out the window at me.

(tears ran down my cheeks.)

MAN! I'm gonna miss that dog!!!

surrounded by the vastness of stars.
the mare silhouetted on a hilltop wishing,
waiting, she prays,

"O, nightingale
sweetly sing your solemn song.
send white butterflies adrift on moonbeams,
so he feels my longing in the night.

his wings carved from distant dreams
Pegasus drifts through silver mists
into the moonlit meadow,
but dawns golden fingers
drift across the field
and the winged horse must flee...


...Pegasus weeps from distant stars
to his love waiting on the hill

and her whisper drifts to the heavens

a hush held still in the lullaby of all distant hearts.