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

she mostly laughs when she dances
you can see the delight
in her eye as we get to the concert hall
that her feet are singing along already
that shes just bouncin in her sandles
ready for the band to to start up
ready for the song to take her places she oh so loves to go
she laughs as she dances
and she got nothin on 'neith that dress
so she can move easy
and feel free
oh man what a turn on
and so is that pretty laugh of hers
always makes me smile too
love to watch her dance
love to love her
my dready babycakes
my night passion
my day love affair
take my arm baby
lets go see who's playin down at the club
maybe
we can get a giggle or two
maybe i can get 'cha dancin
just for me

a thick clown living in his square meal life
painted his smile on his face quite early in life
sheds the years like skin but the smile remains
watches the grass grow
thinks how its like dreams grow into plastic flowers
if he only knew which priest of pestilence to follow
they all begin to sound like cheap warehouse salesmen after awhile
if he could just decipher the writing on the cave wall
spray painted faces and names like pictographs of
some mysterious civilization hiding out behind the 7-11
a robust man of leisure he fries his skittles on the front lawn
candy for the man with no other pleasures
but a sweet girly girl comes by and gives him hugs
in exchange for bedbugs
if we all could live a life of such luxury
the world would be a better place
the thick clown is getting thinner as he leaves behind
all his broken record memories
time for some brand new fresh from the factory hopes
time for a laxative for his mind
that'll flush all the bull away

her smile was
worn down by the road
and it seemed to her nothing could
lift her spirit
nothing could lift the storm from her brow

and you can feel the soft leather of his boot echo on down the hall
as he steps into the story
and there no joy to be had
there's no place to hide from this face of you

she had thought to
escape into the vast desert of the pages of history
lost to track or trace but
she knew someone would come for her
like a derelict pantomime of a gunslinger
both barrels hot to the touch cold to the eye

he came in to the busy room
and caught her eye
like a morning dove catching the first ray of sunlight
beautiful was the moment in her heart
beautiful in her mind
he was slick and neatly appointed from
his dark brown hat dipped to cover one dark eye
to his boots of spanish leather
that made a hollow sound in the sudden silence

a hush had fallen on the awed gathering
they had heard of men like him
coming up north out the wild country
coming up looking for fortune and fame
with the gun and the deck of cards
but they had never seen such a creature up close
and you could smell the fear
in every man
but you could taste the barely muted desires
in every woman there

the next day at the break of day
she lay with him
a gentle place in her heart had opened
she felt hope
she felt a coolness in the hot breeze
a rose had grown and there was no denying it
like a force of nature
like a tower never breached

and so it lay
a rose so sweet
on the breaker of the changing tides
waiting for sunrise
laying with one of the wolves
she had changed him
woman is a force of nature
that no man can understand
and no man can resist

they danced as one
under the candles and mirrors
his dark gunslingers boots perfectly matching her steps
her hair flowing in the hot air round his face
entangled in emotion and motion
enduring in passion
they danced deep into the night as one
this was joy

the day a furnace of desert sun
the street a wander path for hardy soul
he sat in thin shadow
and breathed slow thick air
watching the slice of horizon
that he could perceive
he knew that someday his brother would come
from out of the wild country south of the borders
knew his brother would come seeking revenge
for the betrayal

the gunslinger and his lover rose
were the talk of the town
how she had tamed the wild man from the southlands
how he had saved her from a life of disgrace
everybody loved them
everybody wanted to be them
modern day romeo and juilet
but romance is no suit of armor
and danger was at the door

the lawman rode all night
and camped on a hill above the town
there by his campfire looked down on his brothers happy new home
saw the light in his brothers window
and plotted his move

last call at the saloon
and the townsfolk drifted out into the darkness
by one's and two
calling out their goodnights in voices
tinged by beer and wine
the gunslinger and his beloved rose
fell to their bed embraced in love

morning slipped over the horizon
the lawman walked slowly down the hill into the town
reckoning had come
his brother would have to face the gallows
for his betrayal
calling out the gunslingers name
calling out like a voice of doom
calling his brother out to face justice

leaning on the far side of half awake
fragments of poems flowing and falling round
with glimpses of things real and imagined
roads taken and thouse that only dreams tread
out of this soft maelstrom she moves like a ghost of blue silk
out of the silent dance of half sleep
on the edge of reality's cage
she lay down with and with ever gentle hand
brushes away all the fragments floating
and gives with beautiful gaze
a single perfectly formed phrase
like a piece of music in the larger symphony of her life
and after making sure that i had a firm grasp on the lines given
because she knows what a silly forgetful boy i can be
she kisses me awake
with that giggle that i was so fond of
twenty one years
twenty one years

the room is devoid
but she sits there with a weak candle flickering
its barren carpet reeks of death
but the trails in its dust speaks of life's presence
water falls through the open window
and along the line of its realm things like children grow
but they are children of a dark wood
and their frightened faces make methods of
fleeing the sun
so we can neither aid them nor deny them passage

she waits and watches this theatre of the macabre
and except the plate of food and the mug of ale
nothing but the pages she has burnt remain
on the oak desk
thouse pages held within them a world unto itself
a seaside town where a man lived once
a seafarer and scholar who had understandings of
these things like this accursed room that holds her
in an addiction to the corruption of souls
she hungers the dark
and dreams that deaths kiss is warm and loving
she dreams that she is a creature of the night

drink of the ***
drink of the wine
but you will never wipe away such visions
they will remain near to thy heart to the end of your days

and the stair with the wood about
is a midnight palace of the legions of mighty creatures
that cannot be seen in the light of day
moonlight is her companion and her friend

i sit in the easy chair
with the refuse of a thousand years of learning scattered at my feet in useless protest at the futility
to love someone who loves death
her slow daily death is her complete pleasure
its a death that crawls slowly up her tender bare skin
like the caress of timeless lover who's sharp teeth draw blood
who sup's and drinks at the deep well of her soul
like a creature of the night

its a death full of dark romance and pleasures endured
like she is a creature of the night
and her words are written in magical verse
unsettling to the ear to behold
but brings such fires to heart
bring such longings to the bitter cold night
in the north yonkers weddings park
that she walks in with such beautiful life in the arms of death
have him as a lover
his cold hands finding the delicate lace of her tongue
and in his forever kiss
she breaths on
like a creature of the night

her pale skin is moonlight breathing
like she has an essence of celestial beauty in
the palm of her hand and
without her the sun will never rise
without her the stars themselves utterly die
like the air itself around her flowing like soft waters
gently drowning all sorrows

she held within her delicate fingers a small canister
'within this is my heart'
made of wood laced with silver threads
it was worn but still retained its strength
it had an illustration of a phoenix
she buried it in the soft soils of her skin
with four nails to keep it in place
each nail carved with fine line drawings from the astral calendar
i ran a volley of kisses quick and soft on her pale skin
hoping to set ablaze
but she passed silent while lingering one hand along my arm
like a grief for our parting

i swim up her presence radiating with careful steps
and i run one finger lovingly along her bottom lip
but cannot contain the river of images that flow there
she photographs my hearts intent with eyes that see my soul
makes still life studies of loves blooming with her gentle wet kiss
and with her soft lip sets smouldering thoughts in my lustful soul

i am the canister she has woven with silver threads
i am the phoenix arising from the ashes
after she has destroyed me with a kiss
i hold her heart gently
for without her
i am a moonless void
empty of stars
i run one finger lovingly along her lower lip
adoring the very scent of her soul on the air
like moonlight breathing

the long day done at long last
watching as the sun sails into night
watching as the street folds up its day faces
the ones of good cheer
peddlers of balloon cotton candy mysticals
the ones who have traveled to the far reaches
seen more than tongue can tell
the wanderers of the ancient and magical
listen as these deep souls speak
like a quiet song loud as the wind and sea
then listen to the young souls speak
with laughter and tears
deeper living to be done is what they sing
let us set aside the rights and wrongs
of what divided us
lets breath deep the gathering evening tide
and join them in believing and living
in the forgiving lovin sun
take off that anger you wear with such fear
mask that you hide behind
and lets fly in the stars
like the lovers of ancient world
with our very souls

the sun streams down broken by the leaves
and my head sketches romance novels out of the patches of blue sky
that she illustrates with her pleasures,
she weaves a life out of the pure love that she feels
sometimes its pattern of shadows dance with a passing breeze,
sometimes its the harbor lights as a ship slips away out to sea.
she rests her cheek against her arm,
letting her soft brown hair spill loose
cascading down in a strawberry scented river
lined with lilacs and lilies,
swaying in time to the beat of her heart
she looks to me;
she looks right through me.
Sometimes it's in the cardinal's call echoing through still woods;
sometimes it's in starlight that glitters across rain-wet city streets.
She blinks her eyes,
her mouth moving into a smile;
she speaks, letting every lovely syllable trickle from between kissable lips,
soft, caressing words,
finding their way to the clouds.
she rises moving into the evening...
letting each supple line of her form be the subject for novellas of desire,
letting her every motion and gesture in my presence
be her love letters to me...
her tender thoughts of our love affair
and of our moments of sharing our very souls
have become her joy which shines from within,
sometimes like cool moonlight on a summer eve in each others passionate arms
sometimes like the laughing abandon in loves playful embrace.

contrive to be the one
standing at the center
to be the one in the limelight
and high society gives you a warm welcome
with a practiced hand you
manipulate the air
to produce the wind
and it blows cold right thru my soul
and i know that i am no longer welcome
in the great halls
in the family's kitchens
in the fields of maidens

with a professional eye
line up the targets
to resemble me
and people think that its so charming
but i taste the poisons in your unseeing glances
i sense the malice in your every gesture

its in your shoe print
in the sand of some  woman's ****** shore
its in the words you scrawled on the headstones
of scared churches
laughing with filth in your dark soul
its in the deathbeds of the trail of victims
you have left behind every doomed road you travel

with a cage round your eye
you think to keep
your intent within
but it seeps clear like a river
of dirt and death
and falls to the silk ground
and curls there like a viper

i must flee you
because i see you
your no Prussian prince
your tyranny in the satin sheets
your a well trained assassin with a clean glove
covering the lepers touch underneath

i must flee
i must flee

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

a hot little betty
the engine ran quick an hot
and the miles did run by
a hot little betty
my little red coupe put so much highway behind me
that thought the world would run outa road
my little hot betty sweet and cool
ran so much highway
that thought road had become dream
so smooth her wheel
and she handles pavement like a lover
she handles road like they good ole boys
lookin for a sweet peice
so easy to ride em
so easy to tool up one side and stroll down the other
thats my little red coupe
my little betty
dressed all in black
like johhny cash
dressed like im gong to a funeral
from my neatly trimmed hair
to my black dress shoe
im a natural behind the wheel
im a natural at everythin i do
im a hot engine lover
a cool customer
and tonight you can find me out on route 66 of the soul
in my little betty
in my little red coupe
cruisin the moonlight mile
lookin for a girl like you to take the co-pilot seat
and look so drop dead betty boop
in my little red coupe

but you are smooth in full regalia
reptilian in your lounge suit
your westchester upbringing
shows in your brooks brothers snake skin boots
so she knows your from old school money
and plants a perfumed eye on your rear end
it sticks there like sweaty glue
every inch of her polished skin
fermented at great expense
and you thought suntans were hard to pay off
try having the ***** pickled in whiskey
but the divorce would leave you
a destitute sideshow on rodeo drive
with nothing but your mansion and your jag
standing between you and the unwashed masses
so you make her slap on another layer of makeup
you drop another crotch rocket happy hardness pill
and slip a few more bucks over the border to Switzerland
and drop a quick prayer to the twin god of Morgan and Stanley
that the market holds for one more day
lounge lizard
pushing seventy
with a twenty two year old ******
on one arm
and the keys to the rolls clutched in your liver spotted hand
your ready for anything
you may be king of the florida keys
but
gotta respect the cash flow
if what your pointless poison
bites off your **** more than goes into your mouth
then ya gotta wonder kiddo
if moving back to the homestead
in Spuyten Duyvil
might be better than lettin lifestyle carjack your life
that twenty two year old ***** you got poured all over your lap
has more spider in her than girlish charm
shes a train wreck waiting to happen
ill get ya to the border safe and sound
don't 'cha worry bout that
have you headed north
fore they even know your gone
may be the king of the florida keys
but it high time we get ya
back to brooklyn fore they bury you down here

they say shes waiting for me
beautifully
they say that shes there
with loves tender embrace
with loves intimate kiss
softly waiting for the mad rush of my day to end
waiting for me to come home to her arms
but for now i'm just a tinker
down by the ***** river
lost in the back roads and shadows
dragging behind a fat sack of yesterdays
building better dreams for all the pretty people
filled with longings and desires
but ill make it home to her someday
where she lay in the peaceful moonlight
where she waits for me beautifully
filled with such tender desire
with loves intimate kiss
ill be there in her arms
home at long last
never to leave again
she is all iv dreamt of
she is waiting....

i met a man upon the road
who carried his mind in a thicket of thorns
bluejays nesting in his thoughts had built it
one thorny troubled thought at a time
untill he staggered as he walked from the weight
of this contraption of the mind
like a drunkard in the backstreets of seaside town
he would sit by the small cafe or coffee house
and sing for young lovers such songs as ballads of old
or ones from folk singers and childhoods fancy
bright songs of good cheer

at the end of the long summer day
as the cafe and coffee shop would shutter their doors
he would gather his coin
and bid the day fare thee well
would climb slowly the flower strewn hill
sit under the great oak tree
and prune his thicket of a mind
with pinking shears and a hacksaw
with a farmer's plow and the beekeepers glove

a thousand fold bluebirds moving as one
with a terrible sound of wings upon the air
a soft beating of wings like a hearts dry thunder
each carrying a twig to add to his thorny thicket
which was now larger than the man himself
he would wrestle with it all the long night
till sleep overtook him there under the great oak tree

so he lingered here by the sea for years
at the whims of romance by lovers in the coffee house by daylight
and the light of the moon that lead him to dance
in a maiden hayfield at night
he would sing ballads to the star light
and to the wisps of clouds flying the night sky

they buried him with his thicket of thorns
at the top of the hill
below the stars that weep even now
he asked me why once
why none helped him be free of his thicket of thorns
why not one took pity and took his hand to at least comfort
and i told him that the world had
in bluebirds that kept him company
in coffee houses that loved his songs
in me that came to know him at long last
not as a man with a thicket of thorns
but as an empire of bluebirds playing in the skies
just at dawns first light

a dark enlightenment forms in her mouth
its pure sanity's not tainted

a dark enlightenment mouthed with her bright ruby lips
letting it fall to the carpet
where it slowly rolls in the dirt

it ashen face weakly weeps

a dark enlightenment
lay on her treasured spiral notebook
college ruled
she lay pallid and limp in the setting sun
flea infested glitterboys lay all around her
for her entertainments
they watch her with weak eyes
waiting for her soft hand

the dark enlightenment
is five civil words uttered in profane mannerism
that showers the speaker with the knowledge's unkempt
by malice's smooth grandeur hand
malice is an old pro at this sort of thing
leasure suit in lizard lounges

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

she kept her bedroom eyes in a marble box
i opened it expecting to find
but there was only dusty footprints of some stranger leading away
her cool hand rested on mine like reassurance
but her far off eyes trailed his every move
knew id have to leave soon
before it got to me that she was already gone

i packed my pockets with the silver and gold
that we garnished from our long years
and headed for the ornate doors
she was waiting there for me
the light has faded from the winter day
and now she was just the logical other end of
the footprints that are stretched out behind me in the snow
'take a little love with you' was all she could say
so i clutched the heart shaped coffin to my chest
like all the pain it contained could be wished away

quick shoes have lead me to this strange place
and my companions the broken engineer
and the sketchy girl with the funny hat
so i unpack the marble box on the hot sand
hoping to find all the things i know i left behind
no disappointment there
the hollow box was full of empty promises
and unspoken love sonnets
the devoid tears of loves aching

in constructing the poem i made mistakes
and all the words i left out have come back to haunt me
they all come to talk to me in my dreams
wanting only to be spoken aloud one last time
before the final curtain
but i left them all in her pocket and
she will always be back there somewhere
at the logical end of all the logical footprints
bury the marble box so her memory cant ****** me
throw away the heart shaped coffin so i can forget me
but ill allways be making thouse footprints
that lead back to her