Lend me a tune

(For Robert C Howard,
One of the lucky ones)


"But I'll know my song well before I start singing".   Bob Dylan


Some of us poets,
some of us musicians, and a few,
A very blessed few
Songwriters and lyricists,
Poets in sound and words,
Both.

Wish I knew how to
Compose some love song music notes,
But can't carry a tune,
Seems to me,
Comes first the music,
Must music comes first

So with conceit and disbelief,
Wrote words and shot 'em into space,
Hoping they'd pass thru galaxies,
Maybe a comet tail,
Find a Songster who will strum them
Into perfect, into complete

I ain't unhappy that all I got
Was the lesser gift of
Humming words to myself,
Ain't dissatisfied, but wish they
Could be ratified, by the music
Of a voice singing them to me
Or fingers tapping, happening them
Played upon  the ivories upon my chest,
Where the lyrics are aborning,
The chest that needs
Music to be whole, and word-completing

Wish I knew how to
Compose some love notes
But can't carry a tune,
Seems to me
Music,
Must come first

So let's make some music
**** right, together,
Finish these lyrics jointly,
When all finito, pointedly
Needed your music, my darling,
Music to make them soar,
Take our co-sing-song,
Dance to it with our bodies
Sing words the whole night long

Let us imagine, we write together!

You come for a visit,
From Germany, the Philippines, Singapore,
India, Nepal, even from industrial Leeds,
Bring me some Aussies and some Kiwis,
Green Tennessee, Nevada City (Ca?), the Canadian Plains
Hampshire & Haverford, where the H's get lost,
Even London, where everything is pensive expensive!
Cannot forget Minnesota, hotbed of poets restless.
If you are crosstown, let's meet on the Great Lawn in
Central Park, by Shakespeare's castle,
Let us turn my, now our, town into a belle-ville!

Side by side,
Stride for stride,
Manhattan, we connive
As our source, spring waters
For inspiration.

You come to me not as tourist,
But as explorer.

Ever-after twenty blocks,
Movement ceased, halted,
The mile, approximately travelled,
We then stop-sit.

Park bench, museum steps, bus stop,
Street curb, ok ok, Starbucks!

We each write a poem.
Exchange fluid words.

No proceeding until each have
Completed composing.
That's the rule.

A poem per mile.

I see this lovely island,
As home,
The sidewalk cracks, my veins,
The harshest of noises, my siren harmonies,
The dirt, my soul food.

But you, fresh eyes for me to
Discover what's been missed, for
Familiarity breeds cataracts,
Clouds the visionary.

I need you beside me
To be my teacher
To see my city
Anew.

Let us run where the clouds call out our names,
like a wife looking for her lost soldier,

Where the sand bites at our toes,
and the sun ignites our face
letting us know we are, in fact, alive.

Alive,
not just living.

A simple mind puts one in front of the mirror,
and ignorantly see's the other.
Completely ignoring their differences.

Everyone lives,
everyone follows the lunch line,
in and out, everyday,
Mindlessly shoveling the newest trend down their throats.

You're never truly alive,
until you throw out what society gives you,
and create something for yourself.

Something new,
Something beautiful,
Something that is,
you.

there are aliens who do not believe in me
and twice as many men.

there are opals
that get their color from blood droplets.

there are novels that never got composed
just spat onto paper.

there is a trunk full of
vintage clothes and their women.

there are
pieces of dust I have mistaken for rag dolls.

Jack Frost visits the world
Turning the once warm earth
To a cold, hard ground
Snowflakes fall from the sky
Turning all the world to a dazzling white
The song of the Celtic Harp rings in my ears
Filling me with a bittersweet nostalgia
Dance with the snowflakes as they fall
Fill the joy bubble and overflow in your heart
When all the world turns cold, dance with the snowflakes
Pine trees and fir trees hang their heads covered in icy snow
Watch the sun as it rises and sinks
Listen to the wind sing a song through the trees
Listen to the song of Winter
And dance to the snowflakes
For there is joy in your heart
Let the sadness melt away
As snowflakes do when it is Spring
Dance to the falling snowflakes
And be as happy as a Fairy
Enjoy the Everlasting Winter

*~Marian~

I have,
Nothing.

I have,
Nothing
To give you.

I have,
Nothing
To gain
Or lose
In this
Battle of
Trust.

I have
Nothing
To show for
The things I've
Done.

I have
Nothing
To say
That will
Make you
Stop
Dead in your
Tracks,
And turn around,
With open arms,
Bearing the
Opportunity
Of another
Chance.

I have
Nothing
To gain
And I have
Nothing
To lose

It's already been
Seven
Lonely months
Without
You.

i want to perform an exorcism on myself
bite into candles so rough
wax’ll become sewn to my mouth

and i forget how to
flick my tongue to form your name.

i must be as close to you as my thighs
are when i sit down,
mature inward upon ourselves
like legs crossing, calves behind kneecap.

count the number of girls
who pretend to be someone else

during ***,
then count the number of girls who say
softer softer softer please

and i’m sorry, i promise the first will win
because chilly air can make us
light-headed and nauseous;
harder harder always just distracts.

i want to swallow guns and swords, then
tell my friends the bruises
came from you –    they kind of did.

Several forms of art, I can sever the seas
or have as many “him”s
and “her”s as time will allow the couple of us –
all involving ******* one another
up, I can even cause oceans
to bleed in my mouth. It is okay to be bad
at painting landscapes and good at
destroying them – good at making people seem
as expansive as a country or continent
because freckles are stars and
we cry so much we’ll build a sodium factory.