drill
i thought i left all this madness behind
thought it was a product of the eighties
but there in my rearview mirror
the narrative of single form insanity is closing the gap
the mystery engine
glides on the silent motion of daily demise
drill

drill
all thouse years ago
it was a simple affair you see
it was all just a song and dance away
a soft shoe shuffle
to get some medication
and a chat with a sympathetic plastic face
back in thouse whacky good ole days
in New York's sunny
nineteen eighties
drill

drill
someone is slipping in behind me
knife in hand'
they are plotting
i should just run while iv got a chance
the gate is open
and there is some ****** thing she is offering
at the end of the road just there round the bend
if i plunder today for tomorrows bankrupt mind  
drill

drill
i am sitting here in a dark room
asking that will you please hold my hand
the walls have closed in and im waiting for voices
waiting for the slow slide into the dark
please take leave of your schedule
and pencil me in for some ****** help please
drill

drill
its raining outside
and there is a wood at the end of the lane
im sure i could slip away unseen
repair the once great engine
that destroyed
rebuild the great machine that once
wreaked havoc
lets just drill thru the protective cover
and get our greasy little fingers on this trigger

morning seeps into the minds eye
like a process of madness
and as this place revealed
as this method is unveiled
the screaming, throwing things, acting out
thats expected seems to be a safe bet
the pout of childish behavior seems inevitable
i pause and wish i could find an easier way
i dont want to try suicide again
that ran out of entertainment value a long time ago
when a good friend succeeded

leaving my hopes and dreams in a small pile
that looks too much like litter
and makes me sad
cause now i know its really over
your really gone
and your never comin home
we are never gonna watch that german sunrise
on a western shore bungalow
gather up my belongings
and my heartstring longings
and step gingerly carefully onto the hardpack
lean out onto the road
put out my thumb
and begin to whistle softly some nineteen eighty eight tune
fastbender

drill into the the mislabeled logic
past the protective layers
and get your greasy fingers round this
you second generation second rate  hippy fu^^face
time is up and your lies are thin
gimmie my due or gimmie my leave
stop with the ******-social babble
and talk to me
or let me out of this monkey house

with a words full of soft smiles
she gently slides me into a mistake free zone
she gives me a cup of joe and a comfy chair
in the waiting room
pauses to give a wary glance to my
backpack and filthy jeans
but thats quite allright she seems to say
a rubber stamp will give a glancing blow
knock the dirt from this
plundered one
she sits down at her desk and pushes the keys
setting the engine in motion
the machine in gear
to end this long day

ill find some peace and comfort
soon enough i tell myself
in some quiet corner or room
padded by charity
medicated by soft compassion
soft compassion drilling into exposed bone

the wall quietly bleeds
the conversations of next doors
distorted masses
five loose angry souls
sound like a choir of the dammed
milling about on the wood floor
of their own personal private version of hell

she interrupts the process
of your steam engine thought pattern
seeking the real depth of a summer day
looking for the bottom of cup of coffee
in all the midnights you've wandered through
naked to the truth
naked to the waiting for revelation of the greater being
but she cant get past the church she sees in your eye
inside your own version you are
overrun with fast thoughts
little ones that are like nervousness fingers
they get into every crevasse of your vanilla mind
push them away but they sneak
round and come from the sides
come at you from the depths of her eyes
at you from the heights of
the big boss mans neatly pressed carpet
at you from the Red Barron's little plane
that used to hang from your brothers ceiling
all thouse years ago

to her truth is a defense of last resort
to make normality reduced into a *******
the beauty of half measures
to be the nirvana of her lifestyle is to be a moral *****
whatever treasure of slogans sells the best today
is the one she spreads with her abnormal disease of love
her spiritual life is governed by popularity and brutality
she has told the same lies for so long she even believes them
she is what she is
not quite death incarnate
but an animal of the same fur
a face holding the same memories
a brother to the madness inside her
the truth is never far away
but it might as well
be lost in the mountains of the moon

wake in the morning to
after effect
the sharp edge of consequence
that brings misadventure into startling focus
not quite death incarnate
but an after effect of its nearness
you dry heave with the sudden and present fear
and the knowledge it carries
i wrestle all night with tomorrow
a left handed struggle against the cold facts
that i cant foresee
a word twist can attest to my incapable process
as the knowledge sinks in

my poems grow shorter
as my life slips into the denser wood
the night overtakes me
fare thee well friends
haste not to the gallows
for it seeks each man in his turn
and gives no credit for words
***** or barren
gives no comfort nor wine
for the grieving
or the celebrating
just gives cease to the roads aspiring minstrel
and his forlorn tune of loss

after effect lingers with a taste of gunmetal
is copper tinge leaves impressions in the eye
that time cannot vacate
and love cannot appease
once again i come
the miles a man treads are the measure of his soul
i advance the thought that you see my own threadbare nature
reveal my own worn feet
and ask if i have not exceeded the pretense she lied
gone above the expected
i cannot move mountains
but i can move hearts and minds
a poet, a wordsmith, a pen jockey
a introspection in a lesser volume of words
i am a mover of hearts and minds
a poet
a wordsmith
a craftsman of phrase

the keepsake of former years shattered
slowly seep thru each dense  syllable
like glass ground underfoot
as memory's get shredded by change
i insulate myself from the unbearable
and sift thru the ashes

she presses her face to the glass
staring out with a worn eye
pushing her stone
she gasps for breath
the room she infests has a chipped and bruised floor
where her naked feet dance in the dust bunnys
leaving traces like tales of her days
footfalls of a sneaking doom

she cries in her sleep
and stutters a used and warm phrase
it highlights certain aspects of her wild form
as it bends along the lines of conversation
like a momentary prisoner of our daily premise
she escapes answering revealing things
but is trapped by showing her smile

breaking into the memory
you steal away your moments with her
in your arms dancing
steal away the hours without fear
and hope to find somthing that can
endure beyond the dream
live out side the vision
keep your warm in the cold light of day

its in her glass encased old room
that she waits pulling wires out of boxes
and humming a song that she cant remember the words to
but loves nevertheless
pressing her face to the glass
her worn eye searches for the path leading away
from here
from her
hoping to find her own escaping form
fleeing into the sunshine

the quiet engine of passing time
produces gremlins in the shadows of morning
they steal the warmth from his cup of coffee
they place landmines on his daily road to perdition
'this is what madness must be like'
he said to himself as the dawn seeped into the room
one tear stained ray of sunshine at a time
because each added moment lighted reveals
more of her damaged face
more of her impossible eyes

her words hurt his ears as she bleeds his strength
she is a peddler of perils
whats your fantasy she cries out
tied to the railroad tracks like a maiden
or walking the long mile with the skeleton key in hand
the key opens all enduring keepsakes
and releases them to crawling thieves
you cannot retain your world for more than
a flickering moment
so you loose faith that it can ever be done
i miss her
and i miss my daughter
but she is a peddler of perils
and she now comes grinning and fast *******

my head full of noise
so my thoughts gather round
like they are at the Battle Of The Alamo
to the necessity of self preservation
and the warm comforting blanket of self interest
manufacture reasons to do what the ***** dictate
but its her goal to see such endeavor
fold under the weight
of her guilt trip

back in the echo box
she quietly shouts into
the acoustic confusion
madly laughing and the ensuing army
of echoes marching in lockstep to her mad mad laugh
of her mad mad laugh
of her mad mad laugh

we spend the day between the
sheets wrestling each others sweaty forms

i miss her

Intensity wanes as the day gathers warmth
and the vision that would have sustained
the words to be written has dulled
like a bakers blade heated and carved with fine line art
it serves its need with only a taste of the true intent
her ***** limbs and loose cloth dress
entangle the process in deeper things
never intending to let loose
never intending to reveal

the day endures the slow man
his fractured path along the road
is broken along the lines
of his bitter fears
which he announces like prayers to the humid sun
of his deliberate contortions of face and hand
which he offers up to the sky like sacrificial virgins

his staggered stepping
takes him past my door
his pet stops at the verge of its leash and
in no uncertain terms begs for sympathy
but for him or itself is unclear

thick on my face
slowly advancing stages of sorrow
each new thing brings to light
a new aspect of the diminished man
iv become since she opened the door to such
mystery theater and misery laden faces

her ***** limbs
her patchouli scents
her pre-printed desperate pleas are wooden
and filled with hidden hope
that throw off from her intended meaning
leaving one wondering who is confused
you or the far crowd abuzz with anticipation
she kneels and strips
soft carved delicate lines
with spider lines of ink and sweat
she humps the moment for its worth
before pulling on her dress once again

the words have lapsed
and i am left with only her dull empty waiting
and my own diminished soul

grains of time slip thru fingers unabated
like the slipstream of her words
all thouse meanings slipped by
unawares
until madness thought to dance on the pinhead
of a logical choice
and you suddenly found yourself with
nothing to your name but your name

rebuild and reinvent who you are and meant to be
and in the sweeping away of your former years you discover that
each precious person who's love you
you received the gift of
meant just as much as all the rest
that the real value and meaning of our lives
is in the love and joys
we find in thouse around us
that share caring and positive things

its the laughter and love
the compassion and hope
we find in friends
family
strangers
that makes this worth living for

the wind chases a few dead leaves
across the grass
and i can taste the cold in the air
as my words wrap round eachother and die in the darkness
faintly echoing of my yesterday
when she was still here with me
lingering here to remind me of all that harshness that we did speak
all the things cannot be taken away
you can always add more dope
you can never take away
you can never ever take away
and she just slipped away
like the leaves chased by the cold wind
'and this game is fairly serious too'
and the tears flow
you can add more but you can never take back

i shuffle along the ***** road
to the edge of the alley where he sits in the sun
and ask
ask so quiet and so meek
please man....please can you...
musta been there for a year
maybe ten
and then she did that
she forgot the golden rules
forgot the way to go
and somthing black and sticky came to take her away
made her sleep
but it aint so restful
in the cold

the wind chases a few dead leaves
through the years
and catches one in a tenement with a spike
catches another in the park with a blade over a bag of ****
caught her doing more than she shoulda
more than she shoulda
you can always add more
you can never take back
i want her back

the small wooden floor room
where she spreads her trinkets
her mystery box spells and
potions in tiny bottles

she lay there amidst her tokens and treasures
and sings softly along with a song
that plays in the distance
on a radio
a song that speaks to her of simpler times
and beautiful people
of a better world we all left behind decades ago
a world she could rejoin if she belived hard enough

the days when she holds enough hope
there is a smile
and she faces out towards the sun
but i dread the days when
she captures a glance at the reflection  
of her fast vanishing days
and how little things have changed in her life
her smile is gone on thouse days
her face is a shadow
i must carry her through
days like that she needs my strength
to keep from getting trapped

the crisp blue skies
frame the giant oak tree that we lay under
leaves float down here and there
with vivid fall color
you can taste fall in the air
you can feel it in the texture of her conversation
as she talks of hallows eve
and Christmas

William Tell
Ivanhoe and Chaucer
its the season for dinner theater
its the season for a bottle of red wine in the sand
by the river
and the tales to be told
grand ventures to be undertaken
in bold and fast words alone

she takes your hand
and with a deep smile touches your lips
with her fingertip
and begins to speak
but you never get to hear what she would have said

you awaken sheets soaked in sweat
twenty years on
and she still visits you near every night
sometimes its her on the beach where she died
sometimes its the weeks that lead up to that
godforsaken day
twenty years
twenty years
twenty years

soapbox man has
measured the moments
in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and to her soapbox man is god
as she slides slowly thru the dense air of his self contained contentions
in the the small wood floor room
its freedom to her
soapbox man has come and she is here
to get her fix
of his brand of guns to subjugate the dead
and iron fist rusting in a vacant lot brand of rule
its freedom to her

echoes down the bridge road between realitys
a woman laughing in slow motion
the tread of boots on marble
oddly distorted pieces of conversation
that are appended to soapbox heroes
who preach
that those not with us are against us
and should be punished for their cruel foolishness
this is not heaven
its a place that wears the face of grace on earth
it wears the mask of memories warm and kind
its peace and freedom to her
its a lie
this is the nature of the human beast
what reality we dream is pleasing
no matter how toxic

in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and as time passes
and it eats from within
she falls to the floor
and crumbles to dust
a fragment of humanity
on a pergo floor
and its freedom to her

the center of my passing moment
her face profiled into the corner shadow
pale and delightful

her beach sand picker outfit
gives an upscale look of leisure
but her eyes
shout her intense inner demons
nervous energy dance her fingers
on the kitchen table

a fine sheen of sweat
covers her cleavage
which she opens further to cool off
oh my....

her wrist sparkles
with bands of silver and jewels
and makes small metallic sounds
as she reaches up to brush away a strand of hair
with a swift soft movement
that is almost ******
as her perfumed and lithe form leans toward me  
as i in one sweeping moment get a glimpse
of what it must be like to be in her arms
and that intense and absolute beautiful moment
in the near presence of this goddess
leaves me without the ability to speak for several moments
she asks if i am allright and becomes alarmed
when i do not respond
i manage to assure her

i adore women
i love being with them
i love just being around them
they make the world a beautiful place

the page echoes back my silence
it has traces and track of whispers
little voices that harbor malice to my intent
little things crawling round in my wants
and as the song disintegrates on her guitar
like my mind slipping into the dark waters of a spike
she announces the motionless perspective
of a Salvador Dali  masterpeice
as seen from the inside
her liquid eyes
are in my mouth
as the song desintergrates on her worn guitar
they are blue opulence
but taste like an engine of death
and as that song of our love affair
desintergrates
its dusty fragments clog my pen

blue opulence
is a state of mind

the shuffling men huddle
in the lighted room
eyes glue to shoes
the miles a man treads
are the measure of his soul
and these worn feet are
men to move mountains
with bare hands

tinge the conversation
with the propaganda of innocence
priesthood of crafted reality
puts good and true men prostrate to the
graven images of a better world
when all that is accomplished is the slow decay
rotting fruit of our collective wishes
our collective hopes

a man on fire
his hand to the road
that i must travel
like a cool drop of rain in the blast furnace heat
like a woman's smile after years of being alone
like the taste of real hope
after the road has come here
this strange strange place
at the end of the world

one hundred and ten men
in this dark hall
waiting for the storm to let
waiting for the sun
waiting for a better world

one man waits
in the rain
surreal in his mind the day has evaporated
and as the shadows of night crawl into his eye
he dreams aloud that she has come home to him
that things never went astray
that we could be our happy little family again

i reach in and silently grasp
the motionless windsong
the captured bird
and with deft fingers release its bindings
with a phrase give tender to its
timid fire
with intent i set in motion the
captivation by slow roses
the freedom by the scarce better graces
of humanity's collective soul

the thoughts are sticky
engraved with each meaning softly embedded
into its thick skin

the carefully crafted box
of her smile
each detail lovingly attended
each lined honed with precision
she fine tunes her perfect form
and spray bottles the scents
one for public consumption
the other for me alone
enthrones her earrings in edible lobes
and with zealous care places a bead necklace
in the sweating sweet expanse of naked skin
of her open polo shirt collar
shakes out her hair
with a little version of dancing sitting down
while singing along with phish
and then  she catches me open lustful staring
and laughs
'want some...come get it babe'

her tennis outfit
misplaced on the shopping center floor
is neatly wrapped around her in a mixture
of loose and tight
devious adventure for the eyes

he gathered the bone white shards
with great care in the near darkness
of the kitchen
the streetlights toxic amber light
burrowed into the silent house
curtailed by the narrow window
and lay unchanging on the pitted and greasy floor

his feet shuffle across that lighted square
he watches it intently as he passes over it

a few leaves of an intervening tree are
are silhouetted there as stark contrast
but he is numb to the contradiction
lighted floor tile with shadows of leaves
it makes him giggle inside like a giddy schoolgirl
the light is diseased and its so so nasty
ain't it delightful
saturated by shadows
his mind shuts off the unquiet thoughts
replacing it with something warm and fuzzy
like a warm blanket
a blanket party for the mind...
yes yes yes...beaten senseless

morning collapses the streetlights
mesmerizing light/shadow
for another day
he picks up the fine white china cup
that he drank coffee from all night
and smashes it on the floor with mock violence
where the streetlight had lain
the seed of his madness all night

the bone white shards
will lay as a dangerous reef until nightfall
when he will gather them to their grave
one more fine white china cup
one more day alone in the
shatterbox

birthed in toxic soup
of nesscessity and lust's needs
her own words haunt her
with simple phrase pronouced
clear and heartfelt
sorrow fear hope lust love love lust

like her little ballerina musicbox
such an entertaining little toy
such a long daydream to wake in such a
strange place
with its strange names and faces so flush with anger
why are you here
snowbunny go back to your mountains
go back to cold serenity
and the dream that she could care
for a malfuntion like you
snowbunny

clear and heartfelt in the morning
are full of doubts and questions by nightfall

in her dream
they lay in candlelight
and speak in whispers
though they are alone
they are as one with love
they are as one in heart
she awakens in a trash littered feild
by the highway
wet from the long night of rain
cough
the latter days of her sainthood
had faded

she wakes in her bed
and alls right in her world once again
for the moment

snowbunnys come to paradise
seeking new lives and easier living
in the sunshine state
but when they arrive
its raining
rain
rain
rain
rainy season in the tropics
sunshine state is an advertisement
not a reality
nothing friendly
nothing real

irksome thoughts spin round the moment
and they flee to where iv fled to
and they tap out strange messages on my head
and they gather dust into piles
and the piles grow to hills with the
passing hours and changing landscapes of the heartstring
strings are for kittens to play with
chase round and round

she lay in the shade of an oak tree
by the roadside
in the dust hills
sipping her long island
and watching the road with languid eyes
leaf floats down and
unattached from the dream
she wanders
the dust hills wailing for lost loves not her own
and berating thouse resposible for every
slight ever felt

headlights bath the dust hills
as eighteen wheelers truck
the empire of america ever southward
into the cheaply painted tropical sun
she is bikini clad
and is forever clutching an ice cold drink
that eternaly leaves a smile on
her forever blemish free smile
in the ***** dark dust hills

i feel so alone here by her side
i want to run away
and sleep in a feild
with the ****** and the drunkard
with the apostles of night

he rides his bicycle in the the
torrential rain
plowing a froth quick and fierce
through the rivers created

the cycle once bright orange
has patches of rust the size
of cantaloupe
and has a blue hoodie wrapped
round the seat which smells musty

you can feel him panting
bathed in sweat
as each hill retains more and more of
his hard earned pace
but mother nature is kind to her
strangest son
and every hill has a
fly by the seat of your pants
whoop whoop laughing
breeze in you hair bugs in your teeth
downhill

shift to vision miles distant from
that smile
the cycle lay in the weeds by the river
broken
the night obscures
the riderless iron steed
its form twisted
it has expressions of pain in appearance
that paint cannot contain
pain for its own lost
freedom of the road
but pain for its rider

the years count on and on
from that downhill smile moment
that lives on in the heart

fresh tracks into the distance
well past midnight
the streetlight afterimage reflected in pools of
unblemished rainwater
stirs with slow echoes of the night
stirs with the slow echoes of the summer

keepsakes she quickly squirrels away
in the tiny pocket sewn into
her deep blue dress
the tiny pocket where she has a
lock of his hair
a picture of the ship he sailed off to sea on
a note he left her telling her
that he would dream of her

now the keepsakes she puts away
are twigs from a tree
a peice of plastic from a beach
bits of things that her wandering mind
grasped upon with a smiling fancy
on a stormy night September 1932
his ship was lost with all hands

all these years she waits
all these years she keeps vigil by the shore
gathering strands of the world
driftwood of lives cast off like her own
set adrift without particular place to be
and she has been lost
in mind and body
waiting for him to return

fresh tracks into the night
well past midnight
the streetlights image reflected
changes slowly
to show a figure walking carefully up the lane
his steps trying to remember
where they had been once before

was he returning
was he just a shadow or dream
she held her breath in delight and in trepidation

in the first light of day
her empty home lay quiet

her delicate stepping on up the carpet
places her in the shadows
where she dances silently
but with such powerful seduction
she smiles at me as she slips by
and her scent grabs me and squeezes vicegrip on my heart
her fleeting fingertips on my forearm
ignited me like my whole house on fire

its frigid in the hearth of her soul
and that heat you see in her eye
has a source deeper
there are dark dark things in the deep places in the world
and that's what really turns me on about her
no apple pie sweet young thing
this little Betty is sure to be the death of me
and I'm ******* that leg like
a rabid dog
that's what love do to ya they all joke
as I pass with this little Betty

the day done
she drifts in with the tide
washes up on my shore with
the tattered remains
of her girlhoods smile
in a keepsake box in the
pocket of her long grey coat
she speaks her thoughts but they are
tangled like seaweed
worn and worn like driftwood
she tells me her intents
and the lost sailor aspects of her soul
and her words linger on the air
like kestrels in the breaking of a storm
wheeling high above
wheeling high above
and the tears flow quietly
each one burning slowly into
my heart
I turn out and set sail
into the inky sea
blind to the trail
but rather than face her downfall
I attach myself to the darkness with a passion
of the task of finding my handmadien
of scorned empire
and saving her from herself
and all her internal wars
she was a shy young woman
in the years on denvers river road
a shatterproof demo for the better living
to be found just the other side of that
infamouse greener grass
that keeping up gets you in the end
a byproduct of the heart attack they give you
at no extra charge
standing naked feeling all kinds of uncomfortable
they question everything except your sanity
they are sure that's the one thing you've lost
I get her home at last
only to find she is nearly only
a chocolate bunny that's been chewed on
and her words telling me she must leave
are just forebodings of nightmares she gets
about Easter egg hunts
and viper roughness of being eaten alive

perception slowly escapes as I lay
entombed in sheets and pillows
the comforting scent of clean
serves up rememberances of childhood
helps relax into slumber

an overhead fluorescent flickers dim light
strobing the darkened room
like flashes of a summer storm
lingering on the edge of perception
miles distant
before even the rain taste can reach
before the air gets heavy

a dream rides forth
and settles in for the night

a old old man
standing in the desert
the noon sun a hammerstroke
that has no end
he wears a simple robe
leans on a thick wood staff

it is just perception
that seperates us from being a dream within a dream
and when that perception fails
they say its maddness

mumbles into his grey beard
in a long dead language
his back bent by
a heavy western wind

gone are the days the old mans family
held him close to their hearts
gone are the salad days when he was loved

now the desert has claimed him

now the desert is his lover,  friend,  his everything

the crisp thoughts running
build empires outa the oatmeal of my mindset
give the girl a penny arcade
and watch her shine
give the old man a shining girl
and watch him breath
cause life is what you make it
so make out with living honey
cause it'll love ya back

the grace of night flows
depth sought in the lover's embrace
and found only when that lover has departed
and the bed grown cold
but the night spins on
and the song is unforgiving
but your drawn to it because
her face is in the words
her scent is in the guitars strings
her touch is in the feelings that flow through you
as you lay alone weeping

as the dream turns from fall to winter
snow gathers on the sill
where the girls penny arcade had lain
where her smiles had shone
now there are only footprints into the forest
into the darkness

the old man lay
his tears done
staring off into the stars wheeling thru
their own silent song
speaking their own silent sadness

lover's intwined
and he will never be the same

penny arcades never last a lifetime
and neither do shopping cart laughs

she has taken a long term parking spot
in my heart
she is tye-dye in a three peice suit world
she is a grip of smiles in a stash box
that looks like a naked girl dancing in the rain
she leaves footprints everywhere cause she hates shoes
she has never owned a bra
and she will be glad to show you shes not wearing one
she just showed me...my oh my
shes carnival fun
and summer camp happy
she saved my life when I had a heart attack
and has a longterm parking spot in
this old geezers heart

she is a robust thinker
and a deep ocean of stars when she is romancing
she has a love in her for everyone
and such high hopes for the coming days
shes a grip of smiles
in a long term parking spot
is this old geezers hairy old
malfunctioning heart
*she bounces into my hospital room
and jumps up ontop of me
infront of four medical students
grind grind grind
woman is gonna make sure I go
with a smile on

as forsaken as the hundred mile forced march
in the blistering sun
wrapped in the liniment of mourning
eyes like haunted shadows
watch the approaching dawn with
keen regrets

they gather themselfs prisons within prison
and shuffle forward into the sweating air
the sound of their sandle clad feet gathers
untill the sound repeats in on its self
and the echo sounds like the world itself
being ground down

the measured politics of this
woman's labours trouble me
she knows the key and combination to free
but profits from their caged destitution
she thinks it ain't so funny now is it

patterns etched in the face of
circumstance are ones of destitute sorrow
romance you with promise
but deliver nothing but offense

defying the odds
freedom is calculated
while desperation can only be measured
in miles or blood

twelve days in july
and i carry tokens of each of them
in the pocket of my filthy jeans
each has a face
each has a story and its own trail
of rages or tears

she danced alone in the room
of the redhouse bodega
a spanish tune twisting slowly from the player
its sound thin but the song robust
spinning spinning round and round
she was shadow and light
flashes of rich color
in her best dress and boots of leather
hear them still hitting the hardpack floor
like thunder
she was a goddess that night
she was the worlds that night
let her stay there forever in the limelight
happy in the moment

he waited dressed in his finest clothes
pressed and neat from head to toe
with a single rose
in the moonlight a mile down from the redhouse
in his heart he sings that song to her
in his heart he holds her in his arms
theres nothing that will stop us he says
theres nothing that will ever stand in our way
and his heart dances thru all the days with her
that he will love her
that they will share
there in the moonlight a mile down from the redhouse
singing a song in his heart for her
let him abide there forever
happy in the moment

i see dawn sneaking in the window
pull the blanket from my shoulder
shake off the chill
cough the sickhouse regret and
feel my lungs fill with  slow death
twelve days in july
but i keep dreamin of one night in febuary
a shopping cart and smiles
hope
i could use some
all the places i could have ended
did not see this one
alone in an empty broken room
an empty broken man
dont leave me here alone
in this moment

she lay in the grass
public park just before dawn
looking up at the stars fade
holding a small budda
rubbing the belly
smile on her face
but thoughts run deep and swift
with one finger she traces the edges of clouds
in her heart she paints masterpieces
she illustrates the world with a carefree hand
and is loved by all who behold
in her heart
the last sliver of moonlight is hers alone
on the road from the redhouse
an ambulance ride to saving
a quick journey to hope
on the road from the redhouse
she just wants to stay here where its safe
where nothing dangerous can get at her
in this moment of moonlight
happiness

twelve days in july
seem like years to me
where am i bound
will i make it
i just want that night
shopping carts and smiles
hope
just a glimmer of hope

the soft cotton skin of her jeans
against my bare cheek was warm and enticing
i lay curled up against her sitting cross leg on the bed
her hands busy with her notions made quick shadows
in the light on my closed eyes
her scents heavy on the air
intoxicating
i stir and ran my hand up her thigh
and was overcome with desires
for every inch of her
we were occasional lovers
we just enjoyed each other from time to time
she was a giving and warm person
lit up a room when she entered
with her smile

she was lean
and tight
she was made for making love
and she reveled in it as much as i
long black hair
and deep brown eyes
where i often lost myself with willing abandon

she never asked
but i wish now i had
i do not know what became of her
i wish her love and happiness all her days
i send her my love from
this empty dark motel room
on the edge of urban blight
hope you fared better than i joyce
hope you have fared better than i

dust devil spins up into the air
as your boot scrapes the pavement
a fair amount of echo lends surreal edge
but the cool heavy wet night air labors on your chest
the trailing edge of sunlight slips along a silent horizon
and fades into her hair

beads of sweat along her lip
which move slightly as inside her complicated mind
she sings her song
the sunlight carves edges along her supple form
harsh and dense against her her soft giving skin
point and counterpoint
pull myself up ontop of her
grind our sweat into one
her eyes flutter open and focus on mine
her mouth moves over my name
with a verbal caress that has intentions
but they remain unrevealed

she tastes the wine
and takes small measure of the bread
seeming to relish the textures
but its distracted thought that slows her progression

the world has gone
and its just the room that
negotiates with you attentions
fill and expend, fill and expend
the echoes have grown worse
till they thunder in your mind
and still there is no clear path
there is no future seen that dose not contain
dust devils in the soul
fill and expend
but your desert can never be greensward
your emptiness can never be

she sleeps
and you walk slowly to the door
open it  and out into the wall of heat
and sound
faces and eyes
there is no escape
there is no staying
you must go

i have become the dust devil
evaporate in the air
no deeper knowledge need be spoken
i am as empty as the air