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 bus station is empty
except for a homeless bag lady,
a mother and her child.

the janitor sweeps yesterday's dreams
from the worn floor.

the mother moves to a corner.
her son a shadow always at her side.
sad eyes needs someplace to go.

the bag lady moves to the corner.
she says something to the woman and her son.
I can not hear but
the mother smiles and the boy laughs
and they appear happy
long after the bag lady
has gone to talk to the lonely janitor.

she touches his shoulder.
he turns, nods and smiles.
and she is Jesus
creating small miracles
and harming no one.

in the shush of the brooms sweep,
the sun rises.
the birds are singing.
she moves into the flow of her heaven

the x wife calls
tells me the children miss me.
her voice
a mirror of broken glass
fragments falling into
the touch of sadness
from her fingers
the soft laughter
of her eyes like a candle
in the night

tonight
twilight comes to play
whispering in my night
quick as life
I hear the sadness
quick as life
I can hear the regret

I 've wounded you

I can only be
what I was
meant to be

I am the candle without the wick

excuse me, i tell her, i've got to go.

I wrap my arms around you

hold me tighter
I say
hold me till the flowers bloom
and the leaves appear on the trees

hold me
when the wind rustles the leaves
and the turtles sun themselves
on branches in the brook

hold me closer during a distant thunder
walk me through flowers and forest
take the hat from my head
and run your fingers through my hair

i belong among the wildflowers
and when the rain comes down like tears
hold me close to your heart
far from fields of blood and distant wars

dances me madly backwards
through the mirror of your eyes.
born to walk through fire,
your footprints linger
high on the mountain ledge,
the drop exhilarating 
and final.
dance me outside into van Gogh's "starry night"
lay my head gently
on the leaves of tomorrow.
memories slipping, fading into the hurricane
of what once was.
i feel your breathing
and your heart beating faster.
in a whisper
love is gone.

28 dollars
got him one to life  

the revolution was at hand
he was going to be free

george lived
like an outlaw
in the land
where he was born

Be prepared to be shot down


George Lester Jackson
lived like an outlaw


George was going to be free

another year passes by you

the sadness in your
eyes

like old newspapers
blowing down
a deserted street

the hunger in your voice
drifting between
a laugh and a scream

and your troubled heart
forever
chasing light
down a dead end street

we searched for meaning
in the shadows of dreams

What happen to the nights
when we only wondered
what tomorrow could bring?

high along a ledge
out of the shadows she comes

the mournful yipping
a longing howl for another
and deep in the forest
of cliffs and need
she is listening
too
shining eyes searching
waiting for the other
to return her plea

my lady of shadows
longs to lie beside her lover

i am here,
she is saying,
i am lonely
and i need your love

a dark cloud swallows the moon

somewhere above the cliff
above her
among the grasses and willow trees
an intoning prayer
a beseeching howl

the diver pulled
the body from the lake
his limp arms
kept falling off the stretcher
a tall black boy
about 7 or 8 years old
motionless and staring
through me and the others
through the green treetops
and the painted sky
through his mother’s tears

the ambulance slowly
drove away
and  we went back to our games
and joey and I made a house
out of a big
cardboard box
and everything I said
was so funny
to joey
and when joey said
anything
I laughed
and all we could do
was run and laugh
until joey’s mom
called him for dinner
and he left

the sky turned dark
darker than i had ever seen it
and i climbed into our
cardboard house
lit a candle
the rain hit the cardboard roof hard
the wind blew
and the candle flickered
out

summer was over



                        
                        
       ­               

                      
,

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
a broken heart is
in the unforgiving light
of a windowless room

he sits on the bar stool beside her
                            too skinny
                            his flat wrinkled forehead
                            lifts brown bushy eyebrows
                            but he does not speak to her

                            she is blonde of course
                            perhaps 23
                            also skinny
                            a flat chested go go dancer
                            from new york city
                            el passo
                            bakersfield
                   ­         miamichicagomontreal
                            denver…­

                            she is with someone else

                             he thought she was his
                             but now

                             as a friend
                             she would like to buy him a shot

                             tired eyes narrow                            
                             he  stares at her as if he
                             has never lost a job
                                                                      ­                                     
                             as if no woman
                             brunette red head or blonde that he has loved
                             whose name he has tattooed onto his arm
                             has ever left him
                             as if the mail man, the priest, and his mom
                             are spitting into his stupid face
                             as if god has kicked him in the nuts
                             as if his dog has bit his hand as if
                    
                             this could never have happened to him

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

if a person is famous
they name a bridge after you or
a street

at least a rest stop
on the turnpike

greatness

however

is a different matter ...


melodious percussion

the guitar player
in dark sunglasses
wearing a fedora hat
the brim pulled down

the vocalist
with a voice
like rain


you find greatness
in the strangest of places

a pint of bourbon
a poem

or

at
a strip mall on rt. 9

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

then the red flashing
lights of the cop cars
coming

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)

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...

sunlight bends
as it passes through the water of the pond
and graceful and bright
are the blue and yellow flowers
that bloom above tree line
so beautiful
and i thought what a shame
no one is here to see the beauty
of the flower
but light bends as it passes through water
and sometimes something
can look one way
and can be something else

a stranger to seconds and hours and years
the simple flower,
Just Is.
(the musicians idea of love
perhaps)

and in the sky
shape shifting clouds,
teardrops making figure eights,
the hundreds of starlings
heading to crash into
the ground
pulling up at that last moment.

and a flower 
Just Is

so walk with me through splintered sunlight
on a sunday morning
my arm around you

attentive to the echoes of our hearts
and we'll be the starling
and the flower
for the briefest of moments

walk with me through splintered sunlight

7 men walk into Deep Pool
an outlaw motorcycle club
the man in the red leather jacket
stood with his back against the wall
and every once in a while
for reasons
unknown
he'd yell,
"just nobody touch, Toad."

i push past Toad
on my way to the men's room
and as i'm *******
i think about Ron

he trapped rats in corners
then let them go

slapped angels in the face
and ihe craziest things he'd say
like
"the smartest rats
always get out of the maze first,"

he'd give you a knowing nod
throw down a shot
and walk away

but like a miracle
he had you wondering

ron dreamed of the angels
who stand under vapor street lights
at 4 a.m.
or sit on barstools til closing

but love is never
what it ought to be
and he lived his life
like a circus high wire walker
wandering back and forth
day after day

and one day
he disappeared
like the rabbit in magicians hat

now,
Ron was a warrior
he drew to the inside straight
to sunlight fading

and outside the 7-11
where his x-wife worked
with a pair of her nylon stockings
he hung himself

the doomed are the blessed
free of the worry of fate
or misfortune

the doomed dance
in bars
when no music is playing

the doomed are...
never lonely
and everyone is more beautiful
the eyes smile
the legs are long
(almost always a waitress)

the doomed
know what they want
*** and love and mystery
the pleasure of the morning after kiss     

they know dying
isn't any way to be living

humanity is doomed
I'm doomed
we're all doomed

aren't YOU?

blame it on the moon
shame on Eve

we are the catbird in the bushes buying time
a moment of sunlight fading in the grass

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)

fallow moon
lifeless moon
on the rise
over the ocean

we take off our clothes
to dance in moonlight pale

and i lay my shirt
and pants
and her blouse
and skirt
across the sand
and hold her hands
as she flows down
like water

her legs spreading,
an ace high
straight flush
fanned  across
life's gambling  table

and then
the ebb and flow
like the ocean

deep and faster
dancing
to the rhythm of the earth

primordial beasts
we are
organic and carbon
howling at the moon

fallow moon
heartless moon

there s a death that waits
in the pale moon light

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.

the trees whispering
in the wind

hooves thundering across the meadow.

on my arm
your touch is a warm breeze

in your eyes
I see the horses running

She has make up on and her face looks pretty. Kathleen blows out the match and looks up.

"Hello Kate," Jack says and sits down.

"My name isn't Kate. It's Kathleen." The bourbon makes Kathleen feel confident. "Hello, Dell," She says mockingly. "You know Sue worships your ***. She just loves to call you, Dell. She thinks Dell is such a **** name." Kathleen takes a last drag on her cigarette and rubs it out in the ash tray. What should I call you?"

"How about, Darling?"

She looks up from the whiskey glass she is fondling in her slim hands. "Hello, Jack, Darling." Her soft, deep voice whispers accenting his name and the word, Darlin.

Kathleen crosses her legs and the black dress rides up to the middle of her thigh.

Jack glances at the milky white flesh between the blue ***** hose and the hem of her dress. She is drunk, but Dell does not care. He leans forward. "Do you wanna dance?"

"But no one else is dancing."

"Well, we could go to the beach and walk along the sand."

"It's 20 degrees out there." She takes the glass and swallows the last of the whiskey. "We'll freeze."

"I'll keep you warm."

In the other room the kitchen door swings open as Paul Keater and Bob O'Malley come rushing out, talking, laughing and rubbing their noses.

"Come let's dance." says Kathleen.

Jack stands up and takes her hand. She rises and as he draws her close her ******* flatten out against his chest. Jack feels her heart thumping.

Across the smoke filled crowded room, the bride is cutting the wedding cake. "That's a beautiful wedding gown." Kathleen tells Jack as he moves her around the ***** floor in and out of the circles of light cast by the overhead lamps. " Theresa looks beautiful."

"So do you." Jack holds her tighter.

"Do you really think so?" Kathleen is flattered. She is perpetually surprised if some one thinks she is pretty.

"I do," He says with sincerity.

She rests her head on Delleto's shoulder. The man with the bruised face disturbs Kathleen.

Most men like to talk about themselves. They have a need to tell what they own or what they can do well. They need to impress and when Kathleen is with one of her men he genuinely awes her.

Lifting her head off of his shoulder, "Does your face hurt?"

"Only when I laugh or cry," he says as he moves Kathleen in and out of the circles of light.

"Jack Delleto has anyone ever told you, your a strange man?"

"Just my mother."

"Did you win?"

"What does it matter? Sometimes tryin is more important. Not giving up. "

"you lost."

"Yeah."

" Kate, what's important to you?"

Kathleen raises her head off of his shoulder to look up at him. "I don't want to depend on welfare and other people and I want to send my son to college. But most of all I want a home." She rests her cheek against his. I lived in foster homes all my life and I always knew one day I'd have to leave.

"Do you know the difference between a house and a home."

Jack thinks for a moment, "No, I' don't."

And her voice is a roaring whisper in his ear.

"LOVE."

The song comes to an end. Kathleen takes a cigarette from the pack on the table and puts it to her lips.

Jack strikes a match and the light flickers in her eyes. "Maybe, sometimes you'll tell me about your home."

"Do you want me too?" She leans forward and puts the cigarette to the flame. The flame flickering in her eyes.

"Yeah." Jack blows out the match.

bicycle by your side
hands tied
arms and legs askew
faceless man
who are you?

what did you do?
who weeps for you?
who loves you?
children, any?
father?
son?
who put the gun to the head
of the faceless man of BUCHA?

lying in the ruins of the street
what horrible creatures did you see
in that last, darkening light
of BUCHA?

150 elk

tall grass

cool mountain breeze

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.

"hello kate ," Jack delleto says and sits down.

"my name isn't kate. it's Kathleen.'" hello Dell. "sue thinks Dell is such a **** name. " what should I call you?"

"how about darling?'

she looks up from the whiskey glass "hello, Jack, DARLIN." her soft deep voice whispers.

Kathleen crosses her legs and the black dress rides up to the middle of her thigh.

Jack glances at the milky white flesh. she is drunk and Dell does not care. he leans forward, ''do you wanna dance ?

"but no one else is dancing."

"Well, we could go to the beach and take a walk on the sand.

"It's twenty degrees outside." she swallows the last of the whiskey. "we'll freeze."

"i' ll keep you warm."

"all right let's  dance."

"jack stands up and takes her by the hand. she rises and jack holds her close to him. jack feels her heart thumbing.

she rests her head on his shoulder. "what matters most to you?"

"not giving up."

"what's important to you?" he asks.

Kate lifts her head off his shoulder and looks into his eyes. "I don't want to be on welfare, and I want to be able to send my son to college." she rests her cheek against his. "I lived in foster care homes all my life and I always knew one day I'd have to leave. do you know the difference between a house and a home?"

Her voice is a roaring whisper in his ear. "love."


the song comes to an end. kate takes a cigarette from the pack.
jack strikes a match and the light flickers in her eyes. "maybe someday you'll have a home."

"do you want me to?" she leans forward and puts the cigarette to the flame.
    
"Yes."

Kate blows out the match.

nothing is any good
you know
unless you
share it
so Tom has brought back the bar:

the Elvis impersonator
who almost
played las vegas,
the hair dresser
come future race
car driver,
a sufi
and a seer.

the seer
tells me she hit a cat
the cat was still alive
so she ran it over
again and again,
"and that's when god
talked to me."

"was that before or after
you ran over the cat
the second time?"
i asked.

"She talks to me every day,"
the angry divorced seer
tells me.

is god talking, now?

now, elvis
joins in,
"what if camus and nietche
met. what would they think
about the cat?"

"nah, who cares,"
the race car driver-
hair dresser,
says, snorts another line,
"what if they
started
a rock
and roll
band."

the Sufi wonders,
"who would play
what?"

"nietche on drums!" tom interjects
with a smile.

"yes,
and camus,
a gibson semi hollow."

"vocals???"

"god!" exclaims the seer.

"right on," i say, everyone smiles
and the seer is looking better and better
after every beer.

sometimes the dead
travel the road
to nowhere
with a smile


and i've got to get
up at 7a.m.
i'm a college
educated
toy store clerk

it's closing time at the circus

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.

When I walk towards the dog his eyes follow my every step.
Eyes  blue like hard candy. Lips curled above white fangs
smile at me with a smirk of someone who has awakened
from a bad dream.

I think I hear him sigh and as I kneel beside him, his cold eyes catch some light from the pulsateing drum bar sign.
"What do you see?" I ask. "What can you feel?"

Inside the bar I order a shot of bourbon and as I put the bourbon to my lips I see the dog standing on a barstool next to the fireplace. His lips are contorted tightly above its teeth and his eyes pulsate red light. After staring in disbelief the impossibility of situation dies. His eyes flash quickly several times. He knows me .

I order 2 shots of bourbon and walk over to were the mutt was sitting. He is not there and I'm beginning to wonder if I have imagined the dog when I feel something ice cold rubbing against my leg,  I look down. The mutt winks at me. I crouch down to put the glass of whiskey in front of him. Then I touch my glass to his.

"I've learned to moan without making a sound. " I tell my friend as his stiff tongue stubbornly licks up the bourbon.

He slowly turns his big, ****** head towards me. "Out of the lowest the highest reaches his peak,"  his hoarse voice whispers. Causiously I stroke his head. He growls but it is not too menacing. It becomes more like a contented humming. The faster I caress the louder the droning becomes. His eyes dilate and I become mesmerized watching them grow from a warm yellow radiance to a terrifying hot white.

And with a vicious snap the dog sinks his teeth into my hand.

I **** my hand loose. Quickly I stand up and punt kick the little ******* into the fireplace. My wounds are deep but bloodless. A cold numbness  travels up my arm, into my chest, and down to my toes.

And just when I 've lost all feeling. I begin to burn. The fire is burning me from the inside out, so no one knows how I feel.
Instead, I stare at the dog in the fire place as steam rises from his head. His eyes flash at me three or four times.

I give him the finger.

When I walk into the poolroom, I put quarter on the table. It is a crowded room of tired faces unable to radiate any light of their own.

"The fire has consumed me. The true believer of snow and sad faces, I am a shell."

I am confused, frightened. I hear the words as if they are my thoughts. But then across the room hidden in a dark corner I discern the silhouette of the mutt. His eyes are shut but I can faintly see his subtle smile.

It's my game so pretending as if nothing has happened I select a pool stick. A tall man in a leather jacket comes over and tells me it is his game.

we argue.

And the dog's voice groans, "No matter what you dream it'll end in ashes or ice. Hit him with the pool cue." The next thing I know I'm slamming the pool stick into the man's face. Blood rushes from his wound. People rush from the shadows. Hands grab me. Punch and kick me. I'm dragged to the door and tossed into the gutter.

Semiconscious, sometimes dreaming, I roll over and face the dog.
From the shadows someone comes behind me, I try to roll over to see the voice but cannot.

"What does this world consist of?" The voice whispers into my ear. "Empty lots, a dead dog, and visions of the night."

you strayed into my heart
like a candle flame flickering
in a mirror
and there you'll stay

so i m gonna steal me some flowers
roses
red roses

i 'm gonna steal me those roses
so crimson in color,
and the rain,
i'm going to steal the rain
and the echoe of thunder
from that night

and a porcelain vase
too
white as snow
white as the ptarmigan
in winter
with blue tear drops
falling
forever falling

frozen in that moment
when you left

i'm going to steal the roses
that you love
from my neighbors garden

red as the sun
coming out of the sea
at dawn
and put them on your grave

crimson roses in a porcelain vase
for you

the clock smiles
and it is a sad smile

and coming through an open window
tiny red eyes on dainty feet
scurries around
the 4 corners of my prison  

where the dice roll
but never fall

 so,

hold on,

st christopher
former saint
taken off the calendar

O lost angel
guardian angel

say a prayer for me,

and like the shadows
thrown by the corner boys
as sunset approaches

i'll follow you down

into the tall
grass
where the lions wait
for wounded
dreamers

can you spare
a little faith???

O, st christopher

I ve been locked up
way too long
in this crazy world

please.

tell me.

how far is heaven?

some people are already dead
and don't feel the magic
of moonlight and a car and a 6 pack
music on the radio
and an arm around someone
you think you love
and sometimes when the moon is full
I can hear your footsteps
coming down the back porch steps
of your house
and the memories of you
come running to that moment
when our hearts were young
and if I am attentive
to these echoes from my heart
I can hold you in my arms
for the briefest of moments

through an open window
when a bulb burns out
a sliver of moonlight turns
tiny eyes red
and on little feet
the dimmest of dreams
from a corner
comes crawling.

when the night comes
through eyes closed
the room turns inside out.
the heart pounds away the seconds.
the edge moves closer
and the clock smiles.


when the night comes...

on the corner below my window
shadows whispering gather.
broken clouds
rolling dice that will never fall...

and on my knees
praying into the void
the toilet don't flush,
the toaster won't pop...
i grab the smoking toaster
and throw it out the window
the corner boys look up
the corner boys
are rushing up the stairs

me and the rat
waiting for the cops to come,
me and the rat
when the night won't leave
at 3 a.m.
eating donuts.

i'm falling into walls that appear to be rising above me

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

along emilys hill road
the trees are bare

she's skipping stones
across st martens creek

as she turns
smiling my name

her breath comes out
white clouds
mingles
and hangs in the air

the quiet
stillness
in her eyes

she sees something
in me
that I can't
see

and that s why
i love her so



emilys hill road
unchanged

the trees are bare

she's skipping stones
across
st. martins creek

I believe that's the way
I remember her best

the bow
touches
the strings
of the violin

one note,
one song.

voices in the wind swept rain
graves open and never close
eye of the storm

america we need you now
to fight against the monster

monster on the loose
putin's neck in a noose

the stench of death and deception
reaches up through the sky

freedom
freedom
freedom

FREE THE UKRAINE

she walks prospect avenue in the rain.
dead eyes, sore feet
the flowers have wilted into
the shadows of acceptance.

she finds the corner
and the last light lit,
wants a match for her cigarette.

a ****** that has found her god.
a needle and a bed of thorns.


the beep from a car's horn,
so a customer waits,
swings open a rusty gate.

and when that door

slams

shut

the prisoner of light asks,

"where have all the flowers gone?

heavy rain from a darkening sky
and buildings  fall

no one knows what will be left
running down the nowhere
where dreams die
on a metal tray
at the hospital morgue

trouser leg pushed up
the search for black ink
and a child's name
begins

perhaps the arm
the hip

the back?

and the children plead,
lie to me,
tell me,
i won't die,
today

and the silent screams
are left in an eternity of why?

foul and bitter hearts
will prevail
on both sides,
this is the poetry of death

tattooed arm holds a cell phone to her ear,
leans over a garbage can
but like a firefly caught in a spiders web
she still glows,
" hi, linda loveless,"
she tells someone,
buys 6 pack and a lottery ticket.
doubtful pleasure
for sure
but we all have our slot
on the roulette wheel,
red or black,
win or lose,
and sometimes
double zero

children waving
from the back
of a school bus window.

the flowers bloom.

kent state

jackson state

waco texas

ruby ridge

"live free or die"

been to Wawa
bought a drink
had to ask for a straw
the powers that be
passed a law
that requires plastic straws are
kept behind the counter

now

I m home
sitting in my easy chair
putting on my st. francis socks
shotgun across my lap

first, they took
our plastic bags
(the *******)
what's nexted?
seatbelts for pets???

the darkening  room
and  I'm staring
at the glow-in-the dark Jesus
fondling my
plastic straw

they will have to pry
this straw
From my
cold
dead hands

"live free or die"

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)

run the halfway house.
the winos will be showered,
fed,
and then led
back
into infinite night.
they talk quietly to one another,
waiting,
and by the time
I have finished my 3rd cup of coffee
some of them are in the park
drunk already...

...eyes burning like a locomotives furnace,
eyes flutter,
a half spin,
the man kneels and then falls.
others just stand
and stare
as if already under the mortician's
knowing smile.

and yet,
some will rise
from bright mists at dawn,
cherubic and dew covered
survivors of the night's storm.
grim miracles
who will share a bottle with a friend
and then laugh
at the selective kindness of good men.

between the burning furnace and
the chill of the night
hungry strangers are waiting.

a new day begins.
all is quiet.

sunrise on the river
a million stars
2 fishing poles
and my brother

the average cost of a funeral is
$8,515

death is unaffordable for me

put me in  big oblong cardboard box

2 feet by 3 feet by 6 feet

packing list enclosed

fragile (not really)
      please handle with care

keep upright

       or

supine

send me to the
grande vide

postage due

my daughter and her friend
scream and laugh
watching a scary movie.

i listen to them.

a moment of heaven
reverberating
through the universe
of our brief lives.

a moment when the struggle of life is forgotten.

give me a ledge on a mountain
18 inches wide
quite a lot of room to pray.

when the sun rises
the flowers of the field weep:
let me love your eyes,
your lips, your compassion.
let me lie next to you.

let me walk the high wire
of  loving you.

I walk through the door
the manager walks passed turns
and stares as if he has forgotten
to say something
but i'm on fire
I hold the withdrawl thing in my right hand
the tellers are all so
willing to help
I walk over to the teller
the most nervous one
use my withdrawl slip
slide it across the polished counter
she hands me a pen
tries to smile
i make my withdrawl
get my money
and
slip the pen
slowly
carefully into my
back pocket