My old trumpets and trombone slides
Sit unopened and cured with the dusty attics formaldehyde  aromas.  
My lips dry  up like mummified beef  to their ancient smell of old black bibles and their taped up cardboard tombs.  I find myself unable to break their mossy temple structures where I practiced my classical studies and could feel my whole kingly persona taming auditoriums and thrones of asp faced judges.  But now my structure and stamina ruined and gone like a ginger bread piano.

Its ok if you came alone
You didn't miss much
Unless you noticed
The woman who
Touched the
Longest mustache
In Poland.  
She was drunk
And laughed
At the names
Of every cartoon
He resembled.  
I felt like a ****
Watching
Them murmur
Their wry
Whispers.  
Unaware
Of the mans friend
With giant white ears.

My golden brass
Did you hear a silver tone.
One day I remembered the sound we made.
Oh boy with thirteen trys
I played the song of things.
The sound was a still like a drop of rain.
Great full Holst composed his eyes in vain.
And now im chopping my lips with my dreaded lay over.
Five years ago and now im searching the twenties
For old photographs  about the way I played.
My heart stops and excepts the choices I made.
Because the future now the preseant is grey like a grave.
I still dream of film and simpler days.
Like it was still ambitious
When I see trombones sliding and clarinets deciding
What reed made the sound of jazz.

All night I head inside rain water.
Getting back the women I failed.
My heavy jacket feels like stray cats.
Then A garbage can upon the street.
Becomes some other racoons ocean dream.
He opens the door in ring tailed underwear.
And forgets about the skunk waiting
Under the bushes ontop of spongy beardes of moss.
The business isnt worth the trouble
For me against the passion to find
Another way inside a house of plastic
Bins.
But mine is wooden and strong and Ill be able
To dry my arms and go another day
Of traveling through the pools
Of open water.
And singing here comes the rain again.
Let it fall again and forever until the streets
Dry in clouds of ambitious steam.

Bigfoots a jack ***
Strange
He pured us both
Whiskey.
We talked about darwin,
And Goodals new book.
But now  hes trying to **** me!
Vegitaraian?
We thought he did.
But now hes trying to **** me.
Its getting dark
I cant smell the cave anymore.
His brown face sounded like a
Blender.  
I was just another elk
With them I slept
Like white bones.

Why care about the coronglais (English Horns) music.
Of course the brass I speak of is woodwind.
Masters of sound are older then the Tux-
Edos choking boughtie on my white neck.
The pub next door never will hear opera
The way a glass of hard ale fills me.
All a reason to say hiphop is jazz.
The old lady with scotch breath doesnt show
Me how ice melts in her mouth like twelve octaves.
On the concert halls roof cellos fall off the gutters
Like drops of rain.  The rare wood burns the hobos
Metal warm fire  and we finally walk with purpose.

shes sleeping
And chrystal ssnow
Floats to rest like me.

I think of the waves
Crashing into the ****.
The rocks are sturdy there
In west port washington.
And on the rocks
A shorebird got closer
To where
I stood proud
On the unmovable
Pile of boulders.
I could tell you
This was it.
But a star fish
Exposed the air I breath
In a moment of beauty.
The waves flicker like lite bulbs.
The split seconds are eons
With out times way of saying
Got ya now.
You know
How the you
And ocean.
Meet in the shores
And die in the earth.
How can the spirit of mythology
Tell me the rocks where once human.
And the boy told his mother you swollowed
A pebble.  
He returned to free his uncles.
They called him the stone boy.
if I stand here for four days
Ill break down like gravel in the grange.

Enupuph to throw away scores of iron shirts.
How heavy do you think a cord of wood
Weighs.  Its exausting and pointless to be
Acurate when time cost more then dollars.
The head that hides me never alters the
Way something alive has to die.  Even
Pine bleeds like pulp juice from the new sharp ax.
All around my neihborhood im being
Looked at by the trees when the wedge cracks through
Why am I splitting through the years of storms.
I hate hearing how alive my tree is.
The pines point of view is much higher then mine.

I wish henry didnt do the thoughts that he thought
Was his suicide.
I wish henry could talk.
The point being henry is gone.
Feels like the empty pit of an ocean poem.
The empty walrus has a beard
In it grows the bankers heart
And the crooks on wall street.
My father wasnt what destroyed
The crazy heart of a thurough poet.
Im to normal to feel the big haul
Of the god of henry.
But never the stinking less.
The god that kills poets.
The god who always comes back for more.
If the posh bar in new york closed
Henry would of went next door.
Henry would of been around
A little more to know where he sits
In the book store.
The ****** way to be perfect
Was the nastiest game in
Snowy Michigan.
There ought to be fences on that bridge.
But he would of just climbed over.
Mr.  Bones what made henry do it.
Mr. Bones what made henry
Killed henry like the banker
And the revolver from
Oaklahoma.  
Empty is every ship returning home.
Henry isnt on the list of survivors stranded
In the aftermath.
Captain henry stayed on board.

Its made out of rebellion.
Heres a edgar allen poe book.
There was always heavy metal.
The boys,
The dudes that never wore underwear.
Our mothers kept turning cookie sheets.
Here she was un knowingly imune.
How bad can it get.
Two years from now youll have an idea.
Of course im saying what I know.
Back then I couldnt of done a thing.
Im tired of trying.
Im ready to just do what I always wanted.
Slap those chips down.
Make the noise that drivea me nuts.
I didnt ask for whatever will happen 20 years from now.
Its all ******, unless you see how ****** it looks.

I made preludes to understand loss.
I broke the rules,
I dont understand mathmatics,
My friend a disabled tragedy,
Convinced herself,
The rules are mathmatic.
I dont count on death the way a
Funeral home director makes his car payment.
Or howmany shards of glass are stuck in somebodys head.
She had to know something physics
The nite he died.
It was a first hand demonstration.
One of the those moments of inspiration.
She celibrates with a drink every nite.
Her walker makes sure you can walk straight.
And the bartender made sure hes ontop of
Every drink, like the lime in a plastic sword.
The juice is arsenic.
And she will slowly poison herself till she dies.

The grass isnt greener on the otherside if your in arizona.
You have to look at the pebbles,
And hope  that in this dessert forrest,
A piece of your old home is burried under a cactus.
The rocks getnhot,
So hot your face burns when you kick the soil.
Whats good for anything worth knowing
That the cats made a home.  On your bed
Hangs a shirt, a lite blue shirt.
It gets briter and briter every time you leave it by the window.
When the door opens you know there is consistenzy down here.
But I miss reading books by a fire.
The fire I xould burn my worst poems in.

House on fire,
House on fire,
Role me a phat one.
Tonite the house ,
Tomorow nites up in smoke.
The walls were brown
Wall paper.  
Upinside here.
A white beard of smoke.
Goblin green walls,
Purple stains,
Scattered gold vains.
What a joke
We felt like smoked out
Hot patatoes,
I sat on my missing phone.
*******,
Coconut musics third encore.
Remember what you said.
I said sometimes say the truest things.
Remember what you said.
You become what you love.
He needs help.
He doesnt know,
What isnt his own.
Isnt my best friend,
Starting to bun out,
My bic lighter,
Is out.
My hands strike a match,
Is it so much to ask.
There were so many clicks.
Jump up or something
Else happened
To apear
Just to gorge
On your ptsd
Like the memory
of seing your last horror film.
You left angry,
And told us repeatingly.
I need help
tell us what we can do.
Help us tell you and
You can  show us
whose fault it was
I told you not to let anybody
do what they did.  
What is it worth
doing all over again.
All the reconziliation
Speeds off with ten dollars
In gas money.  
Did you know
What to do
after one interview
In a shrinks office.
Your inner thoughts
have to record
everything.  
And for a few seconds
Every thing pushing
towards her garage.
Found a place upwards
in new hours slowly
able to erase the dust tic by tic.
Now we can start counting
Episodes you had.
Nowe we can understand what you have
And by december you will have the best christmas
Your peace on earth will be seeing a baby boy cry
When it snows.

A text message  with uppercase letters.
He could of been an auctioneer "YUP".
Instead he works inside eyelids.
My caukerspaniels ears look like **** carpet tube socks.
Im dreaming of women and dogs all over my one pillow matress.
The same ones who ruined couches and charmed the mail man.
He ran off like a dobermen unaware she extened the leash button.
If im lucky the mornings are reliable (they usally are)
The man upstairs our heavy metal enthusiest
Tap dances away the land words aspestoce flake by flake.
Hes proud of his roman garden (its really greek).
Business as usual,
I take a deep breath and loose fifty pounds all over again.
The fountain gets hot and my dollar store shampoo
makes my hair smell like juicy fruit.
The kitchens old.
The antiqicated refridgorator farts like a unrully bachlor.
And the microwave was upenheimers favorite way to nuke a
cold cup of coffee.  I regrett the things I did to save time.
The sizzling eggs cry "you dont know how good you got it".
The toast smashes the yoke.  
A head line reads:
over four hundread civillians killed from drone strikes.
The radio bleats "waking up..... welcome to the new age"
"Welcome to the new age".  
I thought of the boy in the bubble and paul simon.
"These are the days of miracle and wonder"
"These are the days of miracle and wonder".
Outside my double pain window I look for women in jogging shorts.
Its still not warm enouph.  Instead I find an army of children waiting for
Their yellow bus.  A boy drops his lunch and a girl picks it up.

We drank and became aware.
After a sneaky shot of whiskey.
The hispanic reminded myself.
The ingnorent Michael of sidharthas plan.
If he came now and toaday.
Could the sidhartha buddha search his own.
There are circumstanses to understand.
Sidhartha sidhartha.  I read about the river.
Govinda found your nieve friend.
The man who would be disiple for the world.
Sidhartha would find somone elses journey.
Which in the making was his own creation.
In a epic adventure what's worth the struggle.
Its to easy and simple giving in.
Our sidhartha understood the noble Idea.
Which is make patience before accepting and believing what you have to.
In his unshaken morals he would become the buddha.  
A soul every person needs to read about.
If they want fufillment in life.

Michaels a coward,
Stupid Michael layed down.
The beds a horrible way for
Michaels new business ideas.
What isnt turning the world toaday.
The Radio, my books, the ***** laundry.
Happy neihbors come back!
Ill be sure to undraw my blinds.
We must not victimize the barkingdogs.
After all, we do have to know whos responcible,
Although a bowl of Marrijuana makes us better people.
It wont clear up the countys public ban against the peacfull nights.