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I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible--
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.

the old composers -- Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.

finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
**** on them.

now I work for the editors the readers the
critics

but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.
stupid living boys
     and their hummingbird hearts.
stupid dead boys
     and their lingering stares.
supermarket polaroids,
     cold apartment poetry,
faded glassy eyes,
     ***** fingernails.
I love you
For all the times I didn't say it
For all the times you didn't know it
I love you
For every breath you questioned it
For every bit of hurt
I love you
For every time I cut you off
For everything I do wrong
I love you
For the lines crossed
For the tears lost
I love you
They part to speak something I cannot hear.
As wandering minds find other senses I,
Notice the smell of cigarettes and try
To restrain thoughts of how you'd taste- like beer?
A pause of expectation sends a shock,
A smile will do, then go on to peruse,
That taunting bottom lip, I'd love to use,
As warmth for mine and what that might unlock.

Quickly compose my mind and converse back.
That drunken night falling for you, I thought,
That senses just don't matter now, they're blank.
Just me and you and feelings I once fought.
Two pairs of lips then touch, and I can't track,
Where one pair ends and where the other starts.
Though carefully selected words allow
A slight enlightenment of inner minds
And inner hearts, I'll never truly find
That perfect blend of letters to spell out
Pure sentiments of amour. There's no doubt
Those words do not exist and can't describe
Even a fraction of it all- You're mine.
And just how did that ever come about?

Reflections in your eyes, astonishing;
They never see the inner dark that hides.
Though in my mind it's all that I can bring,
As I can't seem to express any light.
If I could find the perfect words, I'd cling
Forever and you'd heard them every night.
I've lost my sense of home
Walking these city streets so alone
Where do I belong?
Where do I come from?
Questions rush to me,
consuming my mind
This sense of home, ever will I find?

By those around me happy I'm told to be
The house that was my home
So deescalate and unknown
This house can't hold the two of us
I'll pack up my things,
get on that inner city bus

Ride out to the darkness on the edge of town
Lose myself in the faces that frown
Make my way to the river crossing
Falling from the bridge I begin to drown
Until a kindhearted stranger reaches to save me

There's a sadness in his eyes,
a sadness he simply can't disguise
Telling me he also believed the lies
The lies they fed him
The lies that left him homeless and thin

Looking at each other no words are said
I embrace him in my arms, for without him I'd be dead
The simple act of a stranger restored my faith,
my faith in the kindness of man
God might not have for me a master plan

But a second chance to me he granted
Gathering my things I hit the road
Embracing the desire to roam
Out there in the far off distance
A place I can finally call my home.
As time passes on, I hear many songs
Songs of old, songs of new
Mornings haze, dusks stillness
Lonely nights, city living
County air, summers medows
Winters lonely streets
Death of the old, birth of the young

A guitar, a band, a note, a strum
Busking, travelling, clocks a tickin
Waters flowin, trains a rollin, end of the line
Dreaming, fighting, crying, dying

Oh father of night
Oh father of day
Oh father to you I pray
You require no faith
You are past, present, future
Forever with us

In our cars
In our rooms
In the darkness
Share the joy
Your words
Your chords
Your voice  
Guding unyielding to the truth

What's right
What's wrong
What are minds are thinking
What our hearts are feeling

I drift, I flow
Years go bye
You remain
A ship that can't be sunk
A dream that can't be thwarted
Wherever my restless heart wonders
You will be found
Robert Zimmerman we are forever yours

The  disillusioned
The faithless
The loveless
The lost
The wiry
Now and forever
Till the day we pass
You're the father
You're the light in the dark
You will never die
Your star burns brightest
In this life or the next
God willing
We'll meet again
If what we write are just rambles,
why do these letters mean so much?
The way a child is mesmerized by hanging leaves
reminds me of the simplicity
of putting an arm around each other.

If I worry enough,
will my woes fade into twilight?
glass shatters as the words leave my lips
trembling I lay down one last time
and accept the fate of my actions

If I run fast can I escape
from a past that I wish would kiss my ***?
I'm a different person than that time,
and for each subsequent revelation,
I learn my life is but a line
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