We were sent to a pit
And burried in clear thin
Blood
From the rain and
Mud.  The bayonetts screamed.
My face scared,
My chest opened
And layed out
In a picture that took
ten minutes to finish.
They jumped off
Into my youth
And rolled
The canons down my face.
My image burned
Until I found my self
Under the safty of
Calm waters
Where nothing
Concerned my
Fear.  I closed my eyes
And slowly disapeared
Under the picks and grey
Shovels.  Next to my enemies
Colored servant like the way stripes
Stick to a ball.
Lost and assumed here.  My father and mother believe im still Burried in the mountains.
Underneath a rose bed of yellow roses. Please belive me when I say I m not a foe.  Im not a forrest.  
Im boston.  Im the soft hymn emerson forgot to finish.

My friends a pizza cowboy
My uncles a interpreter
For the grainery
My cousin lives inside
Dry mouths
and my mother
Makes fake smiles
my other cousin
sticks his pruned up
Hands in rivers of unwanted
pasta
My father makes sure
Boats do not go gently
Against the stolen tides.
I think of the underdogs
Whenever were all together
We sit on the same green couches
Durring the holidays.
The same ones that tell us
No matter what happens
Were going to be ok.  We sink
And recline in the coushins
And forget about
Nine to five for a few honest hours.  
While we drink and eat and lauph
Underneath the same old popcorn celings.
The same living room
Where every thing happening now
never went unoticed because
Ireland found England after
The bombs after the soccer game
Where she said (after the game)
"I want nothing to do with that *******"
Are you sure about that grandma.
Better stay away from uncle george (the keeper)
He wants you to meet his friend (the forward)
Who played for the Blackburn rovers.

Despite all his missing teeth
And bombed out cavities
He can still eat bags of
Bricks and speak
With perfect diction.
Somedays we crave
Revolution when
He crosses the line
And we the
Comittee dream
Of removing
His authority.
but theres nothing
Left. So we press
And pull our cigarets.
and curse the birds
and talk about
Whatever *****
Our fancy.

Inside our own jokes and theraputical
Humor:
We wait for him (our boss)
While his briches swell more
And more every hour
Till his buttons burst
And his yellow fork
Lifts final suicide attempt
Becomes a sucessful send off
After to many
Years it finnaly
****** out
All the unchanged oil
And passes out in the
Mainconcorse next
To all the pigeon ****
On top of all the knick nacks
Behind customer service.

long agonizing nites
Spent running like
Dog show enthuisists
The ukanuba muts (our crew)
Have names
And cold plates of
Meat loaf waiting
For them
When the noise
Of old boots
Warns the couch
About our irival
ill be away from
Home some where
Adventerous like the
Green hills of affrica (Hemmingways worst knovel)
Getting the perfect
Shot on the rhino three hundread
Yards away in the straw grass
Watering hole.
He falls like frozen patatoes
And my day closes
Half full
Half golden like
Whiskey on
The burning slopes
Of tacomas
Blue collared ridges.
Flooding the flood
Of endless floods
Inside my nitecaps
Hidden shot glass.
Thats the only way
We all sleep before
Tomorow brings out
Our best jokes.
The only pride we
Can find after
To many hours of
Half finished sandwhiches
So we can make room
And stare into
The welcoming fridge.
Good nite tacoma
I need all the double
Shifts we can get
Before we all find a new
Paying gig.

I can put on a neon orange jumpsuite
And stake my self like a spike
Infront of all the busy cars
In this crowded parking lot
And still be invisible
I can throw every ecyclapedia
Out of this libary like a varsity
Pitcher who never lost
A game
And still be invisible.
I can walk into the lecture hall
On my head like a martion and
Speak astronomy without a
Glow of english
And still be invisible.
Twenty two years
Have made me
Disapear
I cant spend another year
Alone with my invisibility.
I cant hide from love anylonger.
Its time to repear and find
My self again before the dreaded
Forty four only has one candle
On a single cupcake.  All alone when
It knows he turned the lites off.  Hes the only
One who could of flickered the dusty
Plastic switch.  There was not any mystery
Only a wind of failure he caused on himself
When he blew the candle out twenty two years from now.  
Because he was invisible.

Is this raining sumer ending into september
With the bang of thunder coaxing the
Eight ball into the felts green exit rolling down the tubes of
Las vegas like red boxcars rolling away with
All the cash.  
I hope so
I want our team to play
And shake cans of raineer
Beer in the pinical moments
Sucess.
And spray broken chalk conversations after
We harpoon the no 7 whales with our maple
Mcdermits.  A universe of of black hole eight *****
Will mark are sucess in the end
When we shatter the rack like
The uviverses biggest bang
The sound creating the foot note
Of imtimidation after sinking melodic
Rythems and strokes in to
The corner pockets surrender.  
This is how we win
This is the unicorns
Hope
We are and will
Become
One of the silver dollars
On the glorified bar.

A new adonias we weep for
A miiddle aged life tooken
From us by a disturbed
Hairy trigger
We flood the rows
And watch anger
Linger behind stained glass
But forgivenesses message
Dwells in the holy  mans heart
All the worlds unsharpened charcoal
Cant sketch the scene on his deck
When the bullet missed the dart board
And landed inside his precious
Life breathing chest
In here we are safe
In here a wishing well of endless
Purified water from our sadness
Cant ressurect our friend frank rossiter
Few fathers experience lost sons
Few mothers watch their sons
Explain to strangers why adonias
Cant be here anymore
To watch the running
Pigskin at the state foot ball game