on the fringes
the outer extremes
a vision of myself
standing next to me

is this a future destination
or a song from the past?

is that my final countenance
I view in a dark mirror
and ask?

where I am now
and where I want to be
I detect hidden clues
in my aching spleen

a foreboding of
what ill winds may blow

a toxic brew
of electric jazz
jizzing in a ***** bottle
aging in formaldehyde
splits a mind in two
poetic visions

running watercolors
of empty houses
with more hidden clues

words to songs
written by me
now sound funny
and patently absurd

loving the history
form seems desirable
content too
but it doesn’t come together

something is missing

stories are embellished
an ego grows larger then a house
bursting open the doors
exploding the roof
sending the heavy slates flying
in all directions
flinging them
into ponds of regret

and lonesome longings
of art offered up
to a critical God
ignorant of history
as I see it

so I lie to myself
and proclaim
delusional truths to others
hoping they’ll listen
to my ***** tales
of higher knowledge
intimate loves
and this weeks episode of
my life’s action adventure series

am I an empty box
or a clanging bell?

ringing something of a warning
about me and my emptiness
as I stumble along in my cluttered apartment

Music Selection:
Ornette Coleman,  
Dancing in Your Head

Oakland
1/31/99