circular pathways
but some grinning thief
has made off with every aspect
of direction he could pry
off the roadsings
so the soft hand normal Joe's
all just pile up in a corner looking worriedly
at the passing crowds
hoping to catch some mental relief
for their moral delemias
and tickets to ride the soft ride
they are the nine to five crowd
and its hard for them to digest all
this street kid lingo
all this dark of night dumpster dive

she squats in the road to pass gas
and pick her own pocket for its
semblance of change
the hover kings stand round and
keep a wary eye on her proceedings
after all its only natural
they are depending on her for cash flow
but all she has managed so far is to
get tears flowing
she thouse one of thouse break
your hearts over and over kind of faces
she rescues the normal Joe's sends em on their way

the sunbelt in winter
and after all the barnburners
have packed up their stainless steel plastic wear
and formed a caravan of semi's headed ever south
into the industrial lights of miami night
it comes down to people like her
and her very human open hearted approach
to make this day worth living through
its her rough but realistic hopes
that make this day worth believing

i do not need to pry open this
lidless box to see what
thrives in its wet spaces
i do not need to sculpt the words that
sink into the dark waters for them
to find their home
nestled in the plans of the plotter
i only have to place the whimsical laughter on the plate of silver
and let the lesser natures take course or the darkness of empty room take its toll

this lidless box with its dire face
painted to be more friendly
but with bright colours gone dull with the passing years
carried through wicked winter storm
and through gentle spring rain
through all the toils of his life

what can it contain she often wondered
so she dare not
but knew she might mourn her sorrowful choice

could she spin up a misers coin from such a lidless box
and spend it on lush accommodation
with the finest wine
and the hostess with the forever smile
but the pavement under her feet
still feels cold to her soul
so she fears to take such a path

secure in such troubled thoughts
i know the lidless box will be safe
to the end of days
because no-one dare think beyond the consequence
its wet spaces and its dire faces
to the misers coin contained within

the long moment holding her gaze in mine
and the oceans of worlds that passed between us
in just that timeless time
i lay down with her softness next to me
and spent the dark night
with the gentle dove of her heart
the quiet song of her lips
i spent years there in just that timeless time
the hours we spent laughing walking running
in summer meadows and country wood
hand in warm soft hand
for such a dream of timeless time
twenty years on she comes visits me
in my dreams
and i love her once again
for such a sweet timeless time
until the day i close my eyes forever
and i find her again

his blistered claw marks on the tarmac
lead from burning horizon
to the chlorine haze of the motel pool
where she lay in a barren repose
one string of her bikini top lay broken
but the slow pace of events gives no rush to repairs
she simply languidly sips from her ice tea
and bathes in golden sunlight
while he waits his just deserts as her footstool
muttering a shapeless version of complaints
but i see his worried expression
i know that his assassin commentary
under a different name is still a paper thin lie
the world has never known darker places
than the souls of men
and the devices they set to toil in their name
even fates twisted clown must pause
to consider
the weight of his thorny crown
for the eyes of a thousand lost souls
he has influenced are upon him
and you cant negotiate the stain of the past
once it has set
you can only spend your days rubbing
misery into its spreading web
i lean down and slip him a simple note
turn back the page brother
of the inglorious fates
and in these dwindling hours
of our old age
let us forgive our youthful selves of transgression
and as i depart the motel for the last time
i see the blistered claw marks
of his steady decline back to the burning horizon

the hour speaks its tune and the world dances to it
in perpetual movement hand in hand to the eye
through the nameless ages of silent symphony
i wait for its rapid step to pass
on the way through the halls of time

a fool and his mothers milk of
answers for all occasions from the most fashionable of sources
like the distant days enlightenment from a bubble gum wrapper
time slows to a walk as it dawns upon the teacher that all who learn
have not the same measure of thought to consequence

my only thought as this caravan of the soulless passes
is of the eyes peering from 'neith the ragged tarp
the filthy lenses of their vision
carpets my senses with the intensity of the truly mad
not a shed tear blemishes their near perfect in unison laughter
what manner of beast birthed this nightmare of the perverse
what corner of rough madhouse could
be the home to such

the old hour limps through to its finality
and its tune is renewed with the freshly birthed hour
the old hour is buried in the ashes of the new hours burning desires
as seen in her now awake eye
she reaches for me
and pulls me slowly down into her viper kiss
i willing surrender to its poison tastes
for she is young
and willing

the fool having exhausted his mothers milk
of quick fix answers
lays down his defences
and is overrun
weeping the whole time
for his lost paradise
for his lost chance to be the star of his one man show

the smell of pancakes
drifts me into dream
and in the golden sunday morning light
sketches possible futures into the wood floors deep surface
and my eye wanders that thought
as time passes slowly
the girls chat over the days events
and my mind catches edges of dresses
and the soft curve of ankle
as she barefoot's to the grass in the yard
giggling her sweet heart to the summer like december air
placing the tray of treats
just beyond the reach
and entices me to rise  from my writing
and join them in this fare
need your strength for bed baby she teases
and runs her lips along my earlobe
i turn to meet her tender kiss
and taste her strawberry's and cream
taste of her deep waters love
and know that i need search no more
that time passes slowly
but it cannot pass slow enough to hold me
in this wonderful moment
with her presence in my senses
and i regret time for this
for i know it will pass far too soon

apostle of balloons
chases its playful shadow
across the neatly trimmed lawn
revelling in its quick foot
and then stops short of the
pavement
as the balloons laughter heads for the distant sky
apostle of balloon
sits there on the curb
waiting for its joy to return
his eager eye scans
the ever distant sky
but that shadow now lay
entangled in treetop miles distant
trapped by the nature of the world
ever a child's dream
we await the next balloon to entice us upwards
on onwards
chasing dreams
of laughing joys

his unwashed clothes retain
their vibrant colours
'neath the streaks of dirt
he stands facing the rising sun
soaking in with rabid hunger its warm glow
pieces of sunlight through broken cloud
his fingers loose their frail grip
on his bag which tumbles to the soft earth
without a sound
it lay gathering its shadow like desperation
he utters a soft sweet single thought
into the breaking sunlight
heal that which you have left broken far too long
he cannot know if the silence greeting
his words is a denial or affirmation
bear the unbearable
speaking to the wind
he awaits answer
please
please
heal that which you have left broken for far too long
even the lowest creature
from time to time must shine
within the graces of
she walks up to him quietly as to not disturb
and begins to sing in a voice soft and low as whispered wind
to sooth his heart upon his sleeve wounded appearance
she had never seen one so close at hand
and studied his form and nature with care to detail
caressing the nature of what she beheld with her clear mind
this is the grace
this is the secret knowledge from ancient text
invisible incantation of old lore
this is the grace he seeks
heal that which...

knowledge awaits is the ticket
they sell you as you pass through
the pearly gates of higher learning
with textbook in hand you pray
that the dream you have isn't as much of
a work of fiction as the history they teach
with your college bound girl
her vanity lay in her turtle frame glasses
she hides behind the foggy lenses of her
casual drugs and meaningful ****** episodes
she grasps the back of your letterman jacket
hoping that you are as surefooted as your propaganda speaks
as you follow the blinding path
of confusions principal and you think to yourself repeatedly
that the truth in the simplest explanation is the actually the most complex
because you make it that with
realizations and rationalizations
through the day to day whittling away
of what you really are
through lying to yourself that
if you stick it out with this false life
one more day it will all be better
that the relationship you are trapped in
will work with you
instead of making every day
an uphill battle to be heard
and loved without tears
sometimes look into her eyes and
see the endless road of escaping her past
and i think that i just want to stop running away
settle down
and be
just simply be
a father, a husband, a lover
happy

joy is transient
but its brief journey is golden to the
hearts eyes
in this place that must suffice for a reason
to remain
some come to bind themselves
to some inglorious fate
so that they may have that one moment
in free fall where they may open up golden wings
held quietly since childhood in hopes one day to shine once again
may once more soar among the clouds
light and free
they come here to sing with the angels of a better nature
or battle with the demons of a dark past
she walks with slow care
placing each step tenderly gathers her voice
and mutters the words in guttural whispers
to the soundtrack of her mad mind
where the ashes of burned cities settle like snow
on the image of a broken landscape she painted in dark watercolours
i came to build temples
out of the streets driftwood faces
the nameless who wash up on distant mystery shores
and leave intricate carvings in the minds scrapbook
that show like a roadmap to one souls journey
my coming to this tropical Christmas
and cardboard cut-out hero sortie into your world
if i could rescue you
i would be there on a sterling english steed
with a loud proclamation
that only the prettiest damsels get fine young dandies
she smiles for my soft approach
as i glide in under her eyes
joy is transient
but its brief journey is golden to the
hearts eyes

in the dim light
her smile is implied
but its warmth is genuine and clear
a talented soul is never marred by the worlds lack of vision
i think if i could sum it all up
all the hopes all the dreams
all the things iv fought so hard to build
  thouse wonderful things as a child i dreamt of
all the magical things that i felt were waiting for me as a young man
i would not be bending the phrase
to say she is perfection
in dreadlocks and patchouli
for thouse who have never had the privilege
real hippie chicks are
all the beauties of summers day
and all joys loving warmth of summers eve
she is wonderful
i love you woman

she wears a set of keys
on a chain round her neck
one for each of the nights alone
unlock my heart with these she whispers as if it were obvious
but then she casts her love letters into the river
saying that nobody ever understands her point of view
so we might as well all be blind
there are no real desperate words
on her tragically trembling lips
but what dose come out jiggles like a carnival crier
to the harmonica players thoughtful song
she used to sing it in the coffee shop she loved
back in one of her yesterdays
now her days are an egg shell blue patchwork of plaster fixes that
define the destitute box and its failings at life's tiresome money game
its trail of paperwork attempts to find a prophet
who could give us a defining moment and photo op for time magazines cover
somebody to tell us that we are on the wrong road
she spends her days taking care of me and
sweeping up the dusts
of all our yesterdays
and neatening up the lines of mason jars
filled with jams and jellies
the sunlight falling through them makes a rainbow she smiles to me
as she settles into a cup of coffee to stare wistfully off into the morning
i ask what's shes thinking but she never dose say
she just runs a thin hand through her auburn hair
and laughs that its snowing somewhere far away
that some field in a distant wood is peaceful and filled with the grace of innocence
that one finds in the stillness of fresh snowfall
that one finds in a newborn child
or a newborn day

her words laid out before
me like a feast of the fanciful mind
and her inner demons like ravens of the soiled soul
hold themselves at the ready with wary eyes
her words spill in slow honey
smooth on the minds tongue
and leaves an aftertaste like mull wine
leaves one lightheaded and without inhibition
i become a drunkard of her thought
forever lounging near her lips in my mind
waiting for the intoxications to begin

my own words come like the unshaven behemoth
like the fair maidens foul brother
my conversation a meal with dance of the clumsy attempt
each step has a sticky note of scrawled apology attached
like new lovers trying too hard
being overly tender with eachothers words

her heart has spoken its mind
and she feels childish recanting its
written in stone meanings
so she follows
silently behind with her head hanging low
trying to be picture perfect
in the pliant girlfriend role

the inner demons like ravens of my own soiled soul
each moment spent like a misers coin
harpie fingers oiled grip
on the narrow metal
slipping ever so slowly past the eye
each day i sit here and watch as the sun settles
like dust onto the deadpan horizon
each day i pray fervently that i find
a better phrase than the one i live

sorrow makes its way in
like an old friend bearing his treasured gifts
the photograph and letter
that you cannot bear to part with
he settles into your empty room
and sits with you in his silent way
while you grind your soul
slowly over the past and what you have lost there
he gently takes your hand and leads your heart
deeper into the rapture
of longing for what you cannot have
for that which is lost beyond redemption
she lay beneath headstone
in small Massachusetts town
fall leaves and now snow lay quiet blanket
on her resting soul
sadness bring you here in dream
from the miles where you lay
to stand unabashed weeping
in the cold dark of night
sorrow betrays you
but you cannot care
it consumes you
until you are blind to all else
until you are withered
lay down next to her and take your rest
none will blame
none see
but your old friend
sorrow

the plight obscene to her
as the denied
she stands in the corner shouting into
the nearness of the unyeilding wall
that its unfair
nighttime cannot fend fot itself
the disease of light will infect its borders
and spread across the skys pallet
the deformity called sight will
allow others to see
her sad face
sitting in a broken shopping cart
with her white party dress torn
her makeup a puddle of tears
they will all be able to see
she isnt the engine of perfection anymore
that she isnt factory fresh and polished
its unfair that night
must suffer the inglorious day
that it must be blighted by light
unfair i tell you
she cries into the paint
standing in her humble corners
dire straights and desperate measures
on her magical mind

the shadows are long on the wooden floor
i can see the etchings of every weary foot
that has sought rest in this place at worlds end
there's a mist forming where the sun is burning off the rainwater
and the light is getting golden
that kind of glow that romances every face
that makes even the darkest night
seem comforting
her dress clings to her shoulder with a fine sweat
and her eyes cast down till i cup her chin
and she looks up at me
and thats all iv ever needed
the shadows are making inroads to making me sleep
so we step outside
and i gently pass my hand over her face
and her whisper clings to me
like a softly spoken hurricane
she leads me to the bed
and pulls me down into her scented arms
down into the sweet darkness of her love affair
and i am filled with the sounds of my
triumph and submission all at once
a sound like a hard race car engine
with the sigh of an old man
like the sound of a mid summer moon
high up in a warm forgiving sky
far above all the toil and mud
up here in her bed
in her arms
watching the shadows of the sun make
inroads to darkness
in a south florida motel room
a rain storm is comin

weaved into her thoughts
are the disturbed images and the maniacal music
carousel music from the macabre circus of the mad
and in the absolute center of this
steampunk master vision is her pretty little face
sitting with a lace umbrella
and a slow thick smile
she eyes you head to boot
and reaches out a single blood stained finger
and says accusations are for the weak
her pasty red lips are
sour to the touch
she makes no apologies
but rather relies of her smile like charms
which she wears like
a patchwork quilt of maniacal methods
stitched with loving care
and the devotions of the needy
who pay her fare without questions
she is stylin on the main street bus tonight
with her entourage of hungry strangers
just looking for a bed and breakfast
and its delusion that
after a time
the clouds passed
after a time
measured in the millions of years
that her touching your face lasted
looking into your eyes and telling you that she loves you
after a time everything would change
and she would remember what it means to be happy
after a time under a maniacal lace umbrella

synopsis of trajectory type tragedy
the day after the dreaded day
and the meals limp leftovers now
stuffed into the bulging fridge
our new neighbour taps at the door with a
synopsis of trajectory type tragedy
she spills her daily story with soft sounds
all over the living room glass table
and plays with its entrails
while trying with halfhearted desperation
to pry certain monies from certain people
without being too specific cause then that'd be rude or something
her projectile vocal charade slowly subsides
into a vapour trail of trying to get her get well
out of the spare change the sing flier has left behind on
the last beer run of the night next door
he is passed acknowledging himself
her feet ignite the carpet
when the bag achieved is glory in her ***** pocket
she cooks her dinner in a spoon
and the night is
spent chasing the fluff across the spaces in her mind
and deep in bathroom mirrors
fascinated by the focus
and delicate operations it takes to get
the place into what it shouldn't be
she falls asleep with her hand in some old mans pocket
as the sun creeps over the lost horizon
she admits in a whisper
that we have become the lost children
that we have become shadows of what we once thought so grand
filthy clothes replace
the latest threads from the fashion house
and the newest thoughts are fresh off the press too
the defend the empire of the needy
and require the few to to fend for the many
but the reality is
we live hand to mouth
day to day
desperation is measured in moments
that you cannot answer the tears in her eyes
she rattles around the kitchen
making me coffee
and two eggs over easy
but her own breakfast she cooks in a spoon
the projectile tragedy was the last
thing i wanted to relive
but here she is on my living room carpet
my ex chatting with my current
and im in the other room
holding
out hope that someday you will cease
this and come home to stay
the candlelight denied its own shadows
it moved with the wind but resisted change
it was a late fall evening
and the wind had grown cold
with winters first touches
and there in the only light
she showed me her face full of trackless tears
and the troubled things that lay within her mind
the choice of changing words
never spoken clear never spoken quick
but the story they gave me was
a dark tale flowing from her past
the places she had been in the years
and how she was
hoping to come home at last

the pen has rusted
and the hand has grown old
are there any words left to say she wonders aloud
are there any roads left to walk down
the rain keeps my head in places id rather not be
and there are too many people trying
to make thick walls before me blocking my way
there are highway lights that are like deep oceans
and small rivers of the logic that must be bridged
there is so much standing in the way
i wonder if i can keep going on with this
even write another word
but they keep coming
not always so easy not always even worth saying
but they come anyway
because there are heavens in the eye
there are summer fields in the heart
full of life and birdsong
that its hard to just turn and walk away
still dream of it years away
its the kind of thing who's beauty catches you by surprise
and takes the breath away
cause its that moment for me when the
words strike true to the song of my day
when the words hit home to what i'm feeling
to what i'm burning to say
that it lives for me
that the rest of the world falls away
when the small minds and the troubled hearts
disappear into the darkness they live for
and i'm here in the bright light
of the knowing
of the perfect line
of the good phrase
that taps cleans
that shows true to the thought

she lightfoots it out the backdoor
and heads for the nearest highway
says there wasn't enough romance in my last words
so shes gonna jump ship
and go find another place to sink into despair
she loves to be in love
and needs to wear it all the time
like a remnant of her yesteryear round her wrist
so all the other girls can hover and be jealous
i stand there looking at her saying all this
and i admire her and her big hat
gotta admit don't know where i'm headed either
but i'm trying to make sense of the
things written on the roundhouse wall
cause there isn't any truth greater
than the truth of innocence
its got nothing to prove
and it holds no grudges
and the truth is that i love her
so i grab her hand
and together we ran away from
the desperation of the ignorant
and the cruelty of the small hearted
the stars may fall
but if you catch em in your delicate hands
i can paste em in the scrapbook
and we can have them forever
to remember these days
paste em on the walls so
we can smile at them while making love
and that's enough for me
why aint it enough for you
she smiles and makes a house out of lace doilies
its gonna be our home sweet dream
but the gambler and the rose faced mother-in-law
fall all over themselves to stop us from leaving
cause they need someone to blame
too proud to admit they lost their humanity long ago
they will fade into shells of shadows
and get lost in a strong western breeze
a voice says to me that there's no time to loose
and i break open the day
and stare in stark wonder at all the lives
i could have lived had i not come this way
or followed this road on the way to see her
new clothes and her new dog
with its sparkling new leash
captured him to keep her company
its a tragic story to be sure and it shows in his face
its written in big easy to read letters on the side
of our now empty home
she left with her dog and a snake salesman
leaving me here side of the strange road with a naked dready honey
and a pocket full of apologies
but they aren't worth the paper they were never written on
the air they breath in my pocket is slowly leaving them
no choice but to escape back to the mouth that spoke them
and the uncomfortable lips that spawned them
the dready honey takes me by the hand
kisses away the shadows on my heart
and builds a house out of tye-dye scraps and lace doilies
now i sit in the warm breeze with sand 'tween my toes
and relish the daylight

'its the last stand'
she laughed as she said it in passing
as she walked down to the riverbank
from the sky the sun broke through a bank of clouds
and lit the scene with brilliant light
could see every detail in her beautiful face
could see the flaws in her thinking
but even knowin it was folly
followed her down
cause when you got your hand in another's heart
you follow even into the most foolhardy
cause for good or ill
we set the day spinning
and time passed slow while we waited for
things to pan out
while we waited to see how deep we had
just dug ourselfs
she just laughed
the rain had finally passed
and the sun slowly walked out from behind
and the grass sparkled with hundred fold tiny suns
like the night sky in broad daylight
barefoot she wanders these deep waters
holding up the edge of her new dress
giggling like a promise
of a future
of hopes
she was a woman of the season
and she lived it well

the rag man
sits under the freeway bridge
while it rains
a small lizard crawls out of
the sandy soil
its emotionless eye focused
the desolate day
breeds sand blown wind burned faces

a chill wind speaks its mind to him
and while he huddles within his torn coat
and with one eye bare to the world
watching for the rains retreat
the rag man eats slow
savours the fresh water fish taste
of his divided mind
waits for the rain to retreat

remnants of his life
cling to his pocket
lint covered photographs
dust filled half remembered dreams
he believes he carries all he will ever need for
the road he sits by that
follows the coast down into the sunny islands
where they say you can live on the beach
where all you need is a dream to thrive

each sound is the great beyond
trying to tell him significant moments of his day
no rattle of the chain to be taken lightly
even the silence has voice in the grand scheme
even if its single contribution
is futility of waiting
step boldly or timid as doormouse
but step kiddo step

the freeway is a river
upon which the concepts we call lives float

pastel monotone thoughts paint
an image of me in her mind
complete with shrinkwrap
and a bright smiley face sticker
her eager hand sweats the dealt moment
she awaits with impatience for
her daily christmas time package
her daily reprise of her happy moment
she remembers it with fondness
her pastel colours spread slowly
like an intellectual STD
a malfunction of the common man
she is a true modern miscreant
she wants a pretty girl lover
that comes complete with emo look a like
laptop gamer girl
attached the hip down to matchin **** selfies
a hundred smooth moves and cheat codes
she wants the complete package at the discount rate
shes a card carrying member of
some fan girl fandango
she calls me captain saveahoe
street nasty superhero with kung-fu grip
trailing through the dank alleys
in search of the legendary ultimate dumpster
the prize of every divers wet dreams
wandering all night with a few vampire hangers on
looking for a fashionable means to a glorious end
meanwhile the corner girl is waiting on me
thinking i'm just trying to find her a safe place to be
she is my safe place and i'm hers
the few of us that survive the moment
stroll on through the rain
to the dairy queen
to see and be seen
dont cha' hate that whole show up
to show off
she lives to die for it
but thats ok
cause i love her just the same

her delicate finger
creates the empire of obscene in her teacup
others look on with growing alarm
it spreads slowly onto the lace tablecloth
she sat in the crowded room
and with desperate chewing on lips
announced that with her silence
she had condemned all to live without her
i reached out and found her smile
but its cardboard folded under the weight
of a hundred conversations that all took place
in the first moments our eyes touched
inadequate to the feral beast
her pristine face in the candlelight
fragile as bone china
and just as sharp when its broken fragments
lodge in the mind
seeping into the eye
she took me in her arms
slow dance in unison
with the grease lights flickering
and the hot tacky feel of cake
the stages floor creaks ever so softly
beneath her delicate foot
precursor
her finger traces the lines of all the futures
all the things we should be
and all the things we left behind
the stain grows
it is a madness in her mind
it consumes her
her sharp fragments
are scattered all over the dark corners of my life
her delicate finger
creates the empire of obscene in her teacup
and i hungrily drink of its poisoned soup
thirsting for its sharp teeth
and its dark *****
her delicate fingers
are writing my doom

she looked out at me
from across her bleak miles
with a question talking rapidly in her eye
its dark center a pool of poets ink
with some kind of pencil she had drawn a line
sculpting the edge of her sight
with the unresolved love and tears that
had found their way to the world from here
i place my finger across her untouched lips
bridging the desires
and the cautions
until in her arms i found the place where
the we balanced the thought and the desires
she laughs
and peeks at me from the years
and i think how am i supposed to get any writing done
nuance in the moonlight
we tangle eachother in the sheets
kiss eachother in every way to be kissed
and laugh at eachothers mumbling pokes
nobody is an expert at love
but shes near nuff for me
she makes me feel wonderful
from the bottom of my tired feet to
the top of my dizzy head
rose
your beyond the sun to me
your waiting for me on the sun baked beach
your waiting for the dawn in my arms
your right here in my thoughts
your a thousand thousand miles away
rose

she worries the hem of her white cotton dress
in her delicate hand
while her other hand nestled softly in mine
she looks up to my eyes
and smiles
as she gathers me up
to the hay in the barnyard
where she lay with me
and indulges me of her delights
we lay in the cool air
and she is curled up in my arms singing to me softly
the summer birds dance in the open sky
the summer afternoon sun glows golden in her eyes
she looks up into  my eyes
and without a word need to be said
and in my heart
the sunlight is devoted to her face
a worshipper of the only real beauty in the world
it caresses her delicate features
and paints my perception of her
she is a masterpiece of love
paints my vision of her
her vibrant laughter and smiles run
round in my heart
making themselves a home in my heart
and making my heart feel at home
she worries the hem of her white cotton dress
i lean in and kiss her lips
with the heartfelt adoration
of every ounce of my soul

fifty trees bereft of leaves
whipping back and forth
in a swift walking wind
by the cold waters of the river
the stone wall separates them from
the field
she sits in its shadow
facing the small stretch of sand
where we beached our rowboat
having spent the morning drifting down river
we take a rest in the shade
and eat the cold meats
salty and alive with flavours
drink the crisp wine
**** and warm
to the palate
the meal lay like an unburdened waif
sleeping sound in safe harbour
fifty trees with nothing
but a crown of birds nest
with naught but wind rocking stiff limbs
create such a sound
in the fall air
that is foretaste of winters solitude
of cold nights hand
the rain sweeps in with a
sudden rush
scattering the summer birds
that had come to sing for us
the humid thick air
shifts as the clouds overhead move
in swift silence
we sheltered in the fifty trees
till the storm had passed
i held her to me
and we made love
in the late day sun
now an old man
i wake with the fifty trees
imprinted on my thoughts
just as they had been that day
thirty seven years ago

the fast car evaporates into the inky darkness
like a hazy thought
in the summer night
like a fervent wish to endure
it rides some backroad near the county line
with some stratocaster echoing sweetly
and a crooner of these latter days
sing-talking bout all some love he had stumbled upon
in the backwoods of childhood
and the flame that endures in his soul for her sweet hand
this song fills the air of the empty road
as the fast car
plymouth grey with primer
her wheels spinning on the dust road
the river run by the metro north tracks
the stratocaster hits the end of its song
but some part of you just wants that song
to go on forever
you just want that midnight run to last forever
cause shes there with you
and she has smiles for you alone
your just like that stratocaster looking for
the opening notes of that song
that'll last forever
that'll be on her lips
be her song

daylights body wanders down the cobblestone street
and falls on the old church steps
the friar steps out of its golden doors
and tries to sweep daylight off its feet
with a ten cent broom
but he cant get a purchase
on the shadows that follow light wherever it goes
daylights groupies are naked for daylights leasure alone
so the friar retreats afraid and muttering curses
at all the power and influence the church has lost
daylights body takes a powder from that strange place
and goes down to the shore
warm up all thouse chilly babes
snowbunny's massing on the beach
pale skin honeys needing a tan
all give daylight a kiss on both cheeks
how ya been babe gimmie a call do lunch
but his is a hot phone number to have
and you gotta stand in line
to catch a breeze in that company
daylights body is dying to take a break
so he slips on down
the back road
and kissing the girls one last time
slips over the horizon
be back tomorrow
is the sticky note in the sky
snowbunnys are here and its time to fly
up to the big tree
in downtown ft lauderdale
and see what winner gets the bed in the corner
under the all night gypsy choir

the girl in room five fifteen
the royal roach motel
sitting with her box of crackers
in the setting sun
most of the time shes focused on the path
to the next drama free dream
but tonight shes putting on that red dress
and fixing up a confused face to put on
and picking up the keys to the kingdom
she strolls out the door
and up on  the avenue
shes a smile to thouse she endears
shes a shadow to thouse who dont
remember the first lesson of the road
you cant succeed till you have utterly failed
so i play her a soft song cause i know it must hurt
to be on that bitter betrayal with no way home
she toils into the night hunched over the table
to create a boxer to fight her demons for her
she makes him out of cardboard
and pictures pasted from magazines
but she is quick to judge
and kicks him out before he can say a word
so he sits quietly at the greyhound station
and crumbles slowly into his pretend memories
the girl in fife fifteen
royal roach motel
up on colorado boulevard
eating her crackers in the setting sun
waiting for her prince to rescue her
but he caught a train
and now hes in the california mountains
trying to be a better hippy
she knows she has nothing left but
the crackers
and the setting sun
i think thats a terrible way to live
but im not the one looking for perfection
in the baubles from the gutters
of colfax avenue
so glad left all that misery behind
goodnight my spanish bride of the winter
fare thee well
hope you find your kingdom