Sun set before five
we were laughing loud at starlight
          We just
let our frosty voices drift up,
break upon the moonlight's
                       streaking skies

Aware my time's up...
You wear your life stitched on your sleeves

Midnight chimes shattered on winter nights
and fell back on the skyline that we shared

Time is up, the wine's all drunk
Stains map out the story over miles
With borders crossed
and chapters done
We'll fold it up, tattoo the legend on our backs

Ground begins to thaw
March will knock all of this ice off
          so just
try to stay dry, keep your chin high
just float until the flood
                            decides to pass

When summer dries up...
You'll wear the story on short sleeves

Midnight chimes call back the winter nights
and outline those same skylines we once shared.

Springtime's up, winter wine's drunk
Map is stained with purple markered miles
Borders erased
and chapters closed
It's folded up, we bear the legend on our backs.

Now pack your luck up in handbags
hurry hard through your back door
                      These nights
Are colder than they ever were
dousing fires on 13th floors
When flame-lit streets frost over,
you can see a little more,
and the dancing sidewalk shadows let you pass

Now cross your arms and your fingers
clear the cobwebs from your head
                      You're off
And running on your rabbit's feet
clutching clovers to your chest
10,000 lucky pennies
for a Greyhound ride out west
when you get there, count to 7 and exhale

The ceiling ***** you in
And the rafters wrap around
     and devour
While the daylight outside
          begins to doze.
The corners of the room
Start to accuse with silent
phrases which they toss into your mouth.

          Time to walk to the next one
          Alone.
          Single minded but softly, bluntly so.
Time to dare the world to judge you
'Cause you're forgetting; "frogs will jump...
          by request or no."

Time to stumble to the next one
     Bile summoned to your throat
Doors open and inhale you
As you think about your breathing
Far too hard and carefully.

Half heard conversations start to wrap around your neck

     Time to loosen the belt
          around your waist.

You step out for some air.
They're smoking--fancy that.

Time to fall into the next one
     When you belch it tastes like soap.
The floor springs toward the ceiling
     Drop a dollar in the cuss jar,
                                ***** mouth...
And cinch your hat down tighter
     Like you hope it eats your head.

Conversations yank you to the ******* floor
And the rafters chew you up
          and spit what's left into your hungry hat.
The corners are done with you...
...so it's time...

So I'd like to see you try and crawl home.

Thaw out frozen thoughts
shoulders hunched against the sleet
stride crunching on the downbeats
familiar haunts are blurring
Hurried northward daydreams don't
trickle south through Douglas Firs
But remember how our paths crossed?
Stargazers both--I balked first

4 blocks down, I'm held accountable
for crusade hypocrisies
I keep tucked in my back pockets
and rolled up in uprolled sleeves

The sun returns, or so I'm told
but it's been evening for awhile.
And, if they're wrong, where are we then?

Left knowing we're left under miles
                         of mounting snow?
Left knowing we've got to stop--
                   but not one clue how to cope
Wondering where hours, weeks and years went
counting calendars we've peeled off walls
Counting marks on records
               marks on faces
Counting calendars
Tally scars--stubborn reminders
     of how we got where we are.

Ground my skyward thoughts
in the grid of frozen streets
I'll sink deep in the hoarfrost
coats the ground, turns steps to beats
I'll keep time, now, walking westward
hands in pockets, eyes on feet.
I'll remember how your breath looked
off of Brooks Street walking east.

Nothing special left to say
but got a hundred thousand words
A hundred thousand fireflies
     caged up behind the teeth

Quite a mouthful--Quit your shiver-
-ing and open up to speak
     If they should listen, this time
Brand new words will greet their faces,
reinforcing fond embraces with fresh breath
and--any luck--a brace of good advice

1) Come around more often.
    We care and you forget
     Fast as years careen these days
     the months and weeks can get
                                 declensive,
                                   dent you,
Deepen lines on once-young faces--
So come around
Remember.

2) Stay in lofty spirits
    And surrender late debts
     List off last year's enemies
    Rip out that page and let
                       your clothes dry
                                dive in
Feet first if you want to; why not?
But do the diving.
Don't forget.

If not then mouth will open
     a hundred thousand sparking points
Released into the night to no one's
     sight or understanding

Noncommittal? Cop to mirrors
Reflection fades out grey to white
     Thickly fogging breaths will empty
out a chest and tile the night air
Wield an ashy look and when lakes
freeze over, find a way across
     to shining shores
     the water's span, a world away.

Write some words on my blank page face
They'll trickle down into my mouth
There they'll be slurred, but still flow out--
          now yours? now mine?
          Shared property?
Joint custody of low opinion
Seems ungainly, seems unwise
     when miles of snowfall separate
               by hundreds,
                      tens,
                    and ones.

Miles of squares and cylinders
Of circles, splotches, mandelbrots
in whites and blacks swarming and buzzing
     warring in the hissing static.

Hissing static, searing cold
Underdressed on Tuesday morning. Shivering
chattering teeth mouth curses, shattering
     winter air with whiskey breath
     and wishful thoughts.

Write words upon my blank-line lips--
     "Disloyal," "faithless," "stupid," "shameless."
They're falsehoods, true, but they're tattoos
I guess I'll wear them for a while.

Such lies flow down my throat
Now nameless but for lies, I'll turn
I'll the crawl the miles home.

I can whitewash late night skies
Until they become blank pages
******' fling my name on firmament
Until God hands out C-plusses
With degree in hand, descend
           to Earth
But don't forget the lessons learned
These Bighorn nights all seem like dreams
until those dreams just don't match up.

No city streets tonight--
      though that might be my locale
The lake's at rest, but speaks with pines
          about tomorrow's yesterdays
And something deep inside of me
     knows names are nothing special
when a fellow writes on The Firmament.