No time to dwell
(on what's been undone)
or that
which has become undone

We'll hold onto
each of our moments
when love's song was sung

(When) we stepped on time's ladder
climbed each rung
Each one told a story
of births and deaths
failures and success

The higher we ascended
The shakier the ladder
Encouraging each other
when our legs start to tremble,
when our balance is threatened,
My hand in yours
then
your hand in mine
Should you fall behind
I wait for you
When I falter
You wait for me

When we stumble
We hold on to each other
With a word
A look
A warm embrace

Time's ladder
over time
deteriorates
with aging and pain

I know we'll hold on to the end
though no promises can be made
I'm not perfect
Neither are you

But

I know I won't be climbing to these heights again
or stepping up on to
another time's ladder.

To
the poets
among us
I
do
bequeath for
us
the lines
that
bring
us
elegant
truth.

since before I was born I can remember time picking me up and carrying me along in its embrace it held me close never letting me down never stopping along the way sometimes speeding up sometimes slowing down freezing in slow motion moments it has never let me down running on through these presents here Passing here past time's arrow only moving in one direction no instant replays no do overs leaving traces of memories some false some recovered some discovered left with the traces of remorse and guilt in pain to tend along our way
time my sweetest friend and enemy
of endings I have always thought a lot these days these ways these happy unhappy joyful passing passing moments with you I held on tight to your impartial embrace knowing full well one day on the ground you will lay me down

I've always been somewhat Autistic,
ADHD
too
More than a little manic
and
OCD
I've had the fever
Occupying me

I've heard the murderous rage
And it was me

I have had my periods of Schizophrenia
Paranoia
Psychic warfare
in the ether

He's looking at me
I keep looking at him
Wondering why he's looking at me

I've got that DID
Going into trances
The poet he writes these tomes,
Waking up in strange places

That PTSD
Get startled very easily

Anxiety and depression
Are you kidding?
What's a day without 'em?

The vice is nice
Abundance to depletion,
The parking lot walk  
Polysubstance abuse
has had it's use

Fetishes phillias
Electric brain all light up
Run amok

Decades of misery
Decades of mastery
Had them all

A walking DSM
That would be me
Everything which is human inside you is inside me

Hanging out with
the human condition
my old friend and me

Trying one more time
to figure it all out,
one more time.

If
every
moment
is
in
flux
will
you
get
stuck?

Access to excess
holds you tight
in its vice.

It starts off
it always feels so right
filled with promise and abundance
walking into that casino
loaded with cash
scoring the bag at Christine's
weekly motel
one more dab will do you.
She knocks on your door
and only wants you
the night is filled with promises too.

Is this any different
then gluttonous
billionaires hoarding what they can
it's never enough
while the rest of us drown.

The waiting, waiting, waiting
for it to come through
there's that too.

Access to excess
has this advice:
"I'll deal with it later"
and
"One more time. "

Drip, drip, drip
blood
triggered rush
images and cravings
euphoric memories
kaleidoscope
in
one body rush
after another
until there is no more living
in
your own skin.

Rubbing your self raw
to get back to that moment
when you first walked in
when abundance
was real
and
access to excess
was all you could feel.
What a moment of exhilaration.

Of course there are these bonuses too
ending up
with total deprivation
"incomprehensible
demoralization"

Locked in a porta-*****
with a guy and a pipe
out of money
out of time
out of consciousness

Access to excess
what are we gonna do
now.

Time flies at the
event horizon.
Started small
when I arrived
barely
baby fish size
grew
and
knew
everything
I did
not
know
tho
I now
stand
elongated in the event horizon
the black hole has me in its
grasp
half-awake
half-asleep
my eyes are open
but in a trance
as images pour into
the darkness below
as pieces and particles
of the galaxy we know
and do not know
fly by.

I recall your whisper
in my ear
mother dear
the night before you died
telling me of the art to
be created in the summer
sky
I am in surrender to these
forces
as every moment of my
self flies bye.
Some nightmares
some daymares
some hearts on fire
salted tears of desire
the black hole shines
in darkness,
nothing can escape
no amount of money
will buy your way out
everything you owe will
be left behind
we can only sail
through that black hole
alone
birth or death
no one knows
some peace is made
and then
we go.

Knowing
There is no other place
One
Would rather
be.

Ocean wave
curls and calls
gives its all
then
withdraws.

The dawn was no longer coming
The earth was no longer spinning
The horizon frozen.
We had moved into the deep chill
of our lives
The deep chill of our love.
Stone cold granite silence
Dancing around each other in
slow motion rotation
eyes like arrows
eyes like mirrors
words silent daggers
breath like icicles
held and panting,
volcanic eruptions seething
beneath the surface,
choreographed
hurt and rage
posing
feigning
covering up,
boiling blood
in
this frozen silence

civil, constrained, polite.

We turned around
walked away again,
alone
again,
with nothing changed
and
nothing said.

As poets
we listen for the songs
of the singing trees,
There is no road map as to where to go,
Our GPS, it doesn't know,
Goggle maps hasn't gotten there yet,
The internet will tell you what it knows -
Some rehab
some restaurant
some business selling shoes.

It's not on Facebook,
My phone may be smart
but it doesn't know a thing
about the songs of the singing trees.

My Twitter account was attacked by a cat,
I swear I tried to rescue it,
But it tweeted away
as it got jumped over the fence.
The t.v. drones on and on,
HD pictures explode.

Our eyes, tho, are far away from all this,
Our voices, they long to harmonize
with the songs of the eons,
The songs of the singing trees.

You and me and Thoreau
sitting by the pond, the river, the ocean,
All day long
in this solitude we know,
Watching the light dissolve,
The moon, it rises too,
While we
together
me and you,
Thoreau too,
Listening so carefully
for the lilting epics
of
the songs of the singing trees.

A
single flower
on a young peach tree
glowing neon pink
in the morning sun
a single promise
of
what we all can be.

One day you're here,
the next day there,
No connection
between the two
but you.

Not like a boat
leaving the dock
and having the
shorelines fade
slowly away

Not like an airplane
above it all
when it all becomes so
small,
Until landing
brings it back up
to size,
Not like that at all.

Not like watching
them waving,
Fading away
as you drive down the street.

Yesterday at work,
In love,
Home with your parents,
Your spouse,
Your children

Today it's not present at all,
Whole ways of being,
Don't dissolve,
The program changes,
Lights on,
Lights off,
Maybe a flash
in-between,
But that's all,
can you tell me, my friend,
What does it really mean?

Yesterday, today, tomorrow,
I guess we are not all three,
The present is not a flow.

Just you and me now,
As we go.

All is
this composition book
in front of me,
With one more period
to go.

Two outs
Two strikes
It's all over now

There's a line drive
Down the right field line
One run scores
Two runs score
******* in the bottom of the ninth
On a hot summer night
And childhood
Inside
Never  dies.

Called a cab
It had to be Yellow
Checkered at least
A rumble seat

Old school,
an Uber
it
just wouldn't do.

The cabbie asked me
What's your destination?

Take me to the end of time,
I don't think it's on your GPS
Do you know the ride?

He hit the meter
never replied

Looking out the window
Saw it all fly by

When we arrived
I was surprised

No charge, he said
for this ride.

They used to call
him
the young genius
now they call
him
the old recluse,
holed up in his
shack on the Mad River,
A garden of grow
in the back corner,
Always a **** for me and you.

He sits out on
his little patio
those bottle fed
cats
all running around
chasing ghosts
this way and that.

Pink camillas
white roses
silken dried out hydrangeas,
Spirits in the faces of the flowers.
Red berries
the bird's bar
a bar fight breaks out every evening.

We visit him there
on Friday afternoons
sun setting
sun high in the blue sky.

He finger ****** his
way through life,
Where ever he stopped,
People's lives changed,
He, searching for the words
to heal others pain
until compassion fatigue
set in,
Now he can only relate
to others
in small quantities of moments
too much pain felt
from
without within.

He is like his river,
a madness,
always different/always the same.
The sanest person we ever
knew.
Just watch your eyes, though,
with a look
he'll see right through you,
All your secrets will be revealed.

The young genius
the old recluse
if you need some healin'
go ahead and see'em,
He'll give you just a
hint,
Even if he's not feeling,
He'll take you down to
the Mad River's shore
give you a glimpse of you
and
bring you back home again
for more.

Shaman's on their way
have nothing much better to do
and nothing else to prove.

"Soldiers Heart"
Two brothers on their way
one wore blue
and
one wore gray
one came home
one stayed behind
one mother mourns
on a November's day.
212,938
bled and died
on
American soil.

"Irritable Heart"
14 years in the Philippines
far too many days
4200 died
so many miles away.

"Shell Shock"
Johnny got his gun
alive in the tomb
of his mind
no eyes
no ears
no arms
no legs
a beating heart
an active mind
alive
with memories and sensations
Paths of Glory
leads
the way
and 53,402 stay
while one came home.

"Battle Fatigue"
291,557
perished.
Nagasaki got its bomb
six million died
before our fathers and grandfathers
liberated them.

To the 38th Parallel
we did go
where old soldiers
never die
they just fade away
with
time.
33,746 died.

"Stress Response Syndrome"
Apocalypse Now
Jacob had his ladder
in
the jungles of Vietnam
Full Metal Jacket
Born in the USA
homeless veterans
now aged still pay today
while 47,424
lay in their graves.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder"
My daughter
my son-in-law
bring it all
back home to me
Navy Medics
seven years
they traveled with the Marines
picking up the pieces
as they went their way
many too many trips
for all those young
troops
now we are
seeing
their heroism
proceeding
despite being afraid
a price
dearly
we all pay.
5,282 and still counting.

For all those who have walked in the horrors of war
and the grief too countless to tell.
Let us all pray in our way,
work in our days
for the end of war.

Midnight on I 80
passing by Truckee
heading East
towards the lights of old Reno.
The snow starts blowing
around Floristan,
Sierra Nevada
winter
following me
all the way down.
I'm looking for a big truck
to
get behind.

Riding on the crying road
every
Sunday night.

Wondering
if I am creating
gratitude or regrets
for
my future self's past.

What am I doing?

I left you on a January night
chasing love
in a blue moon light.
Stuck between desire
and
staying home.
I don't know what's true
what's true with me
what's true with you.

I'm stuck behind this wheel
snowy anxiety
ringing on through,
what am I doing?
what are you doing?

Creating
gratitude or regrets
for
your future self.
Will the adjustment bureau
come on through?
Or
will
I like you
make it all up as I go along
with the window steaming up,
Art Bell on the radio
Coast to Coast
the sounds of ghosts.

Will I hate myself
for
being my self
or
look back with eyes
sparkling with gratitude
and
the wonder of who I was
I doubt it,
don't you?

Now as I write this poem
with my life
together and asunder
will I look
back with gratitude
or regret?

As I hit Fourth Street
the clouds have parted
stars are shining through,
I'm no longer crying
the crying road is done.
I still do not know what I have begun.

(Went out today,
Charter boat
Trinidad Bay
Limited out on rock fish
in two hours
Watching Elks Head
from the ocean,
Grandpa)

Isadore
Called him Izzy
Chewing all day
on a fat cigar
Looked at lot like Jimmy Durante

His father stowed away on a ship
Wasn't going to be a Russian military conscript
Genocidal pogroms were coming
how he knew
we'll never know.

Ended up in Philadelphia town,
Scranton Pennsylvania

Moved along to Brooklyn
Stubby Izzy
fighting it out with the Irish immigrants
Dreaming of having a chicken farm
over there in New Jersey

Izzy met Grandma Sarah at the family clothing store
they fought it out for 70 years
The 60's book
Games People Play
They were the star attraction
The friction was the glue
that kept them together
The friction was the match
that lit their passion.

Grandpa Izzy
funniest man I ever met
Drove an old 48 Ford
selling housewares in the Southern route.
In the morning far too early
Sneaking into his room
tickling his feet to the sounds
of ohhs and hoho's

At five years old
Grandpa Izzy
took me fishing
on some New Jersey pond -
Afternoon sun with yellow colors
bringing all the foliage alive

Sun setting
fish rising
a hand held in mine
defined the peace
I seek
in reoccurring dreams through out a lifetime

A troubled teen
all suicidal
the drive in the 48 Ford
with Grandpa Izzy
running down the Malibu pier
catching the half day boat before it
disappeared

Grandpa Izzy
never lived far from a race track
I don't know about those losing days
but the secret he said
Was to never lose your sense of humor
Always be able to laugh at yourself

Izzy smoked those big old chewed cigars
lived until he was 94

Ended up not knowing
Who or where he was

Maybe we all
end up
that way too

But in my memory
there is sharp focus
he remains alive in me

If heaven is there
I know I'll find
Izzy and I
on that New Jersey pond,
a fishing line
and
peace inside.

Every morning at 9
She puts on the
banker's disguise
puts her poetry
in a sacred jar
next to the ashes
of
her husband
her dad
her mom.

She's a river of currents
behind the smile
darkly ******
phantasims
fly and flower

She not only carries
the keys to the vaults,
but also
the keys to wisdom
sublime
She can see right through you
when
she wants to
She can read your mind

Smilies
Metaphors
Haikus
Rap
Manifestations
of
all that makes us human,
These are the currents she rides
while
she
files
e-mails
signs
floats loans
defaults
default swaps

The whole time
she's got on
John Prine's illegal smile

She's watching secret movies
inside
she's alive.

It took many years
to learn to hide
the images
the colors
thought dreams
which flow inside -
while in meetings
behind her eyes
flows
the poetry
from herself, she cannot hide.

The commute ends
The day ends
She unscrews the sacred jar
pen to paper
the currency of poetry
resurrected
she comes alive,
All disguises
hide.

There's a full moon risin'
in a blackened sky
there's a full moon
sittin' huge
on the horizon sky.

There's someone standin'
on top of that hill
could it be I?
Hearin' music coming thru the trees
dancing
an old soft shoe
arms held high
silhouetted
by
that big full moon sky.

There's a shadow bein' cast
long thin and lean
stretchin' out creating darkness,
while illuminating light
all around
the shadow movin' ahead
a thin strip of darkness
and callin' it my life.

Illumination
darkness
a small pin light
flashin'
on
memories
possibilities
metaphors
allegories
waterfalls
in
all­ those
exquisite present moments
the poetry
our flash light lightenin'

And of course
there's a soul
could it be I?
Dancin' that old soft shoe
on top of that hill
a moment's delighting
in a full moon's night sky a risin'...

You're a sweet sweet friend
said the rain to the wind
pushing me to find a place to land

You're a harsh master
said the trail to the mountain
leading me higher then I even knew
I could go

You're teaching me all
said the river to the ground
guiding me down
to mother ocean's mouth

You're the father
said the earth to the sun
bestowing life
in the great dark vacuum sea

You're my consciousness
said the darkness to the mind
which allows me to behold
the light
the wonders of beauty
all around me.

Sometimes
you
need to call
in
sick
to
your
self.

She's texting me from
old L.A.
Heading north on the El Camino Real
driving fast on 101

I'm heading west
from Paradise, Nevada
No work here
It's all shut down

Driving through
Susanville
Hat Creek
Shingletown
Redding
Across the burning Trinity Alps
the river sure is beautiful
My heart is soaring,
just missed that landslide
late last night

Meeting my life in Humboldt County

She, from the South
Me, from the East
We cross that
Redwood Curtain
Right into the heart of the Emerald Triangle

Meeting my true love in Humboldt County

They say the streets
are lined with
green gold

The family "grows,"
up in the hills
where everyone is welcome
to trim scene solutions,
the emerald gardens
with trees six feet high
Glistening buds as big as your fist,
Everyone is smiling
Everyone is high
sure I may reek
of that Marijuana resin
but two hundred dollars a day
flirting all the way
all I can eat
all I can ****
sounds a lot like heaven to me.

I'll be getting that 215
growing plants
as far as the eye can see
Another millennium
with back problems, insomnia and anxiety.
My fortune is just waiting for me.

Meeting my sweet love in Humboldt County

Like an old Woody Guthrie tune
you ain't gonna find nothing
without that dough re me

There ain't no doubt
that ****, so pure
will get you so high
you'll be wishing your still alive
No matter how high you get
There will still be reality.

Gotta get out of this indoor grow
Black mold growing up the walls
The floors are buckling
The ceiling too
The electrical is sparking
Another landlord on the hook
What's a boy to do?

The methamphetamine
The ****** machine
Trying not to blow my face off
with a butane tank
making that concentrated cannabis

Cold and wet
sleeping bag soaked on the beach,
A tent in the Devil's Playground
the  homeless encampment
behind the Bayshore Mall
that's what I met
and don't leave your ****,
It'll be gone in a quick minute.

The gardens are beautiful
good chance I'll never see 'em
The man with the ball cap
The big *** truck
holding a shot gun
"Better move on, son,
No trespassing here. "

I'm just
another dread locked kid
on the Arcata Plaza
with a dog I can't take care of

Down in Eureka
on concrete Broadway
Fourth Street
Fifth Street
Old Town
Where the fights break out
The cops they have no patience
Another Drunk in Public
drunk tank
Back on those same streets
at one a.m.

Get too crazy
5150 for an overnight stay,
second floor in County Mental Health,
walls closing in,
Psychiatrist says
"We ain't got nothing for ya,
good luck out there. "

Meeting my sweet love in Humboldt County

Once here
there is no way out
Panhandlers
Hitchhikers
on every corner
No one's giving out
No one's picking up

I'm gonna need my family
to send that Moneygram
Get me on a Greyhound Bus
haven't heard a word from them yet.

Even the police say
No one's gonna accept me,
So they ain't gonna pay.

I've been
Trying to leave a message
for my sweet love,
haven't seen her for a month,
She headed up to Trinidad
with a would be spiritual monk

The Redwoods spiral to the skies
The ranchers own the green
pastured hills
The beaches are vast and empty
The ocean is wilderness wild
waiting for the tsunami
turn your back on the ocean
you may fall in
many have fallen
few survive
on the most exquisite
blue sky day
you've ever seen.

Meeting my true love in Humboldt County.

I can project any fantasy
on you,
I don't even have to know you
really
I can love you truly
fondly, dearly
internal chemistry
hot hot hot
inside to inside
mingling
in
the early early
morning
in the late late
night.

You are my pixel cowboy
on a Saturday night.
I know you need a
woman like me
to believe.
I can pretend to
satisfy
your every need.
Magical love in 10 words
what's there not to believe?

Turn it on
turn me on
light me up.
We never go backwards,
We always go forward
each interaction
starts us anew.
It's perfect for me and you.

We can get it on
get it off,
We can meet
I don't have to be there
who said I wasn't
the perfect woman
for a cowboy like you?

Virtual love,
an endless Western horizon
now that's our song
sing with me baby
we'll stream our dreams.

Well Annie now you've done it
through your gyrations,  characterizations
imitations
a spot of light of spirit
flipped out into the ether
like some kind of spiritual dandruff
all crystal prisms
twinkling stars shook off of you
and floated
through my eyes and ears
and penetrated and infused
my pumping heart
through my circulatory system
snapping synaptic changes,
touching those places
of
dreams and trances.

Well Annie now you've done it all night long
with images of Olive Oil
and no Popeye
I have become a sailor man
unmoored from the safety of the slip
dragging the anchor
until the tether breaks
and find myself floating
on some Jungian sea
of the unconscious far away from the shore.

Well Annie now you've really done it -
How will this all play out
when walking down the faux marble hallways
as I roll up one wave of imitation
and down another in
clients/secretaries/billing clerks
deranged psychiatrists stories
and all of this reality
grabbing trying ranting riffing
how is this all going to play out
when strange guerilla theatre
erupts on backwards
in administrators offices
and leadership committee meetings
when I spread my  legs
as my grand opening
in carrot top hangings
and turn to clients
offer them too
this spirit spark of
courage.

Well you've really done it this time Annie
when my door is locked
and pagers are begging for my attention
but I will be in the room at that desk
throwing rules, regulations
and my professional reputation
to the current winds of unwinding
truths and soulful stories.
When they turn to me
and ask for my forgiveness
in their true confession
or when I shift shapes
to the big onion
when everyone who wanders near weeps
when they ask me for that magic sentence
to make it all okay
or write a treatment plan
or
just a hand on the shoulder;
as they begin to talk
like rooms of old echoes-
I will tell them that will cost them extra.

You've done it now Annie forever
in my minute little world
rocked the boat
that spirit
like the butterfly wings causing the hurricane
of courage.

You've done it now Olive Oil Annie
I have found my spinach
and
freedom cannot be far behind...

The driver
she wears mascara
the
last remnant of her humaness
she's always been a
little blessed
she's met her death
many times.

You can hear
her coming on
the winds
freight train sounds
through the Jeffrey Pines
this train isn't
Bound for Glory
this train's bound
for eternity
a one way
ticket with
no return.

Though I've always
rooted for reincarnation.

This train
stops for gamblers
midnight ramblers
**** addled ******
addicts caught between
nodding out and cleaning
the refrigerator with a tooth brush.
Even saints on board will stay.

The oblivion express
your going to hop
on board when your
ticket is punched,
the ticket taker
laughs and smiles
his last glimpse
of humaness.

She's the driver
he's the turnstile
they were once
an item
before they were delivered
to their
new careers
never to see each
other again
except through the
glass of her engine.

The fire is stoked
the express becomes
a local
stopping for each
and every
daily passenger
you can hear that
whistle blow.

You don't know where you're
headed
you just know
you gotta go.
Her mascara drips down
her face
you and she
the ticket taker
too
there is no escape
the oblivion express
just around the corner
and
on its way.

The tree dies
but keeps on growing,
The soul dries up
but keeps on crying,
Lovers leave
but we keep on loving.

Our children keep growing,
But we keep on trying.

The mysterious darkness
keeps on descending,
Light will guide our way,
We are gone
but in memories
we live on.

The earth keeps
on spinning
but
we stand so still.

The ash remains
but we keep on
burning.

Everything is lost
but we keep on
finding.

In the place
between dreams
and awakening
everything is remembered
but we keep on forgetting.

The poem is done
but we keep on going,
The poetry is gone
but we keep on writing.

I was invited,
She was dressed in red,
A long sleeve blouse
to hide
the upper arm gills,
Cuts inflicted with
perfect knife skills,
Invited by the friend
of a friend's friend,
That never slowed her down.

She appeared before me,
Inviting me to her bed,
When I said, "Hello"
She was wounded and insulted
and told me to go.
When I started to leave,
She lay on the bed,
Threatening suicide
if I left.

She held me in high esteem
or so she said,
When I came forward
she told me to "drop dead. "

It's a black and white world
in her head
with no hues or colors
but dripping dread
it's what happens
with trauma's invalidation,
No boundaries, no barriers
rip tides running
takes her under.

Everything changes in a
moment
from tears to rage
and back again.

"I'm warning you," she said.
A gut check,
I thought I was up
to the task,
When she was silent,
I just had to ask,
"Is there anything I
can do to help? "

She jumped out the window
made a mad dash.

I sat on the curb
to consider my fate
smoke my last cigarette
she had taken my pack.
I fell into my shoes,
Staring,
Waiting for one of them
to move.

"I love you sweetheart" she said,
"You'd better go,
I love you sweetheart
don't go away.

I love you sweetheart
stay here - no not
there
over here. "

A dancing puppet,
I learned to love her truly.
I made the moves,
Learned acceptance, too.

Then she saw you.

I returned from the borderline
a little less smug
not so refined,
Now late at night
when anxiety has passed,
She comes into my mind,
I toss and turn
fall off the bed,
I don't know if she's
alive or dead
in
heaven or hell,
A test for all those
who think they know love.

If you fail, you pass,
If you pass you fail.

Beware of uninvited guests
dressed in red.

My night time self
hates
my morning self
it's clear as night and day
they never did get along.

My night time self
stays up too late
never sleeps
always thinking
drinking, plotting, planning,
worrying about morning self's mistakes
smoking a thousand cigarettes
one **** over the line
eating chocolate bars
at one a.m.

While my morning self
an early riser
is the one
that has to get up
go to work
always corrects
and
lectures
dedicated to maintaining the structure.

My night time self
only thinks about himself
uses
the last piece of wood
won't bother setting up
the coffee maker
he's so cruel
stares into t.v. space
muttering about love's
he's never had.

While my morning face
has to face
the clutter of night time
disgrace
bottles,
lights blasting
computers running
another ***** movie going
hello poetry splattered on the walls
and another alcohol poisoned
Jersey blonde
stretched out across
the bathroom floor
while morning self
has to shave
and doesn't know her name.

Night time self
finally sleeps
god rest his soul
about the time
morning self
from his dreams
has to rise
rudely awakened by talk radio.
Morning self has to go out and play
the straightened out games
while the residue
of night time insanity
lingers,
a film
covering morning self's
pretense at sanity.
Responsible
ethical
moral
always has to pay the bills
for you know who.

I once tried to get them together
a meeting of these two
but it quickly dissolved
into
a
shouting match
across the twilight dew
never could get them together
they were as different
as
me and me
and
you and you.

It's a sad tale
It's true
It happened to me
Don't tell anyone, please.

Darcy was a fifteen year old
runaway
1969
Came to San Francisco
that
was the place.

The most beautiful girl
I had ever seen
but
then I was only 19.

A different story
a different tale
Hugh Hefner
had given her
a flirting stare.
Just to let you know
how beautiful she might have been.

I lived on Homer Lane
Darcy and I, of course
lovers became.
She moved right on in.

As young lovers often do
3 months is 3 years
and
Darcy flew off to Wycoff
to see her crazy parents
he had built a wall
blown down by the wind
she dressed like Anthony Quinn.

As young lovers often do
three weeks later
I followed her
just to
see what we
were going to do.

The next thing I knew
we
were living on 12th Street
across from the New School.
Jimi Hendrix
down the block
screaming guitar jamming
from his fourth floor apartment
we'd all stop and listen.

I was going to
Gerdy's Folk City
singing my version
of my own written
Bob Dylan songs.

Darcy was putting
Huey Newton posters
on our rent controlled apartment
front door.
Somebody kept ripping them off
She added more layers.

Needless to say
we were evicted the next day
as young lovers often are.

It was summer
Woodstock came
Darcy bought us tickets
to
get us in the game.

I was working as a copywriter
writing movie ads
Every father's daughter is a ******
that
wasn't one of mine.
My claim to fame
for a short time running
trending you might say
"Up Madison Avenue"
a girl dancing on the top of a fist.

Darcy
had an ill fated
voyage to France
to
smuggle hash.
I
almost got us busted
at
the airport
Darcy's friend
who bought the plane ticket
hadn't told her about the ******
he
took the hash
and
was coming back.
We
never saw him again.

1969

As young lovers often do

We met at 5pm
at
the Port Authority
on
a Friday summer night

There were a lot of people
jammed together
knocked around
really tight
pivot point
it wasn't all right
claustrophobic bound

You know the drill

Heart pounding
hands tingling
sweating
hyperventilating to.

What would you have said
what do you think you would do?

"I gotta get out a here.
Let's go to the movies instead. "

She was very kind
went
and saw
Putney Swope
Up Madison Avenue.
The city was empty.
I
thought
I heard a pin drop
in
that warm summer night
in
New York City.

The very next morning
Darcy
was gone
Woodstock bound.
I was watching bowling
and
thinking something profound.

Two things left
to say:

will this shame
ever
go
away

And
guess who didn't
keep
his *******
ticket.

Hold on
Hold on
Hold on to the light inside
before it's gone
Hold on to the love you feel.

Darkness is coming around the bend
The plagues are moving in on the winds
The wars are raging in retaliation’s name
The sun is burning,
shooting solar flares our way.
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on to the wisdom of your mind

Life is precious
Comes and goes
Time is an illusion
That we all know
Lovers, they also come and go
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on to the light inside
The mandalas in the faces of the flowers
call your name.

Against all odds
Against the deranged machinations at the hands of the gods
We’re mere humans
Standing at the rim of the stars
Staring out into space
In this brief
Time and place  
Throwing sand at the waves
To  protect the
Sand castle walls we built,
As children at the ocean.
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on to the light inside
Childhood joy and wonder
Before it to comes and is gone.

I weep these tears
For the innocent sorrow of all mankind
Who has always been so sick inside
And never remembered to hold on
Hold on
Hold on
To the momentary flickers of all those lights inside

Hold on
Hold on
We all know what’s coming
Darkness to each and every one.

Let’s make this pact
In this room
We’ll hold on to the light inside
Until the last candle is done
And the last breath blows out the light
And whispers lovingly
“Good night.”

Hold on

The it upstairs
thinks it's God,
But it isn't.
Man or Woman,
It comes in a thousand genders.

It's only has one mind,
Its own pleasure,
The power of Now,
Well, that's what it's all about.
The cost,
Well, that's no problem.

It begs
It borrows
It steals
It pleads
It lies to you straight faced.

If you bleed,
When the consequences are paid,
It says, "Not me"
"We'll deal with it later"
"One more time"
"One more round"
"One more rodeo"
"One last time for the road."

It's pretty smug
most of the time,
Can't move your
arms or legs,
But whips up anxiety
if
you say, "No. "
It'll show you resistance is futile.

Though it only hangs
around
for little while,
It'll let you know.

It speaks to you
in the third person voice -
You deserve it
You need it
You've been so good.

It'll talk you into trances
strange self-destructive dances,
Twist you upside down,
Inside out.

It ain't God,
Somebody needs to talk to it soon,
Let it know,
These days of running the show
are numbered,
There's more to life than this slumber
Numbness has had its abundance,
Talk to it soon
While there's still time.

A whisper, though, says something different,
"How's about
one more
time. "

Sometimes
I feel the innocence of all of us
Filling me

Our lives
Our deaths

The moments of love
The moments of terror
indescribable
far too real

Nature has enough in store
How do we treat each other so cruel?

Within this humanity
is everything I feel
All of us really
children without protection

Maybe it's sentimental
morose
maudlin

People work so hard
Try so hard

Put out
Put on
Endure
Put up with

It's all we know how to do

Sometimes I stop
when the colors are vivid
the birds cease their call
a pause in the breeze
and I can hear the innocence
of all human beings
whispering
to
me.

I'm wearing one now
the noose is tightening

Problems that won't get resolved

You know the ones I mean

The refrigerator died
The roof is leaking

Everyone in the house
has a
Virus
Including the computer

The boss hasn't taken
a vacation or a shower
for
four or five years

True love that ain't comin'
and
bank accounts they go to zero

All problems, they say are time limited
But when in the midst of an albatross
the grinding wheels of time
come to a standstill in your mind

Anxiety Apprehension
late into the night

But you know
we know
the albatross
goes away or is forgotten

when it's on the scene, though  
life is just plain mean.

Higher than a kite
Reaching for the light
Higher than even
in the dream light

Higher than exploding
into crystal shards
Reaching even higher

Higher, until awareness
clicks in

Higher than the last dance
Higher than the last romance

Higher than a galaxy
fading on its a way
Bye Bye

Still higher still,
Until
Another day
Another dog walk in the woods
behind the golf course.

The Voyager has left the solar system
It has taken our consciousness
with it too
A Commodore 64 running the show
How ironic
We're still collecting those tiny bits of data
today.

What does Voyager know?
What has it experienced?
What does forty years in space give you?
Is it beginning to wonder
or
Is it way past that?

While we're going
far far further
than any human object has ever been
Earth no longer visible

(While we slaughter another human life)

Voyager is in deep being
Without borders and no hope of home
traveling forever
an extension of the human mind
heart and soul.

There's a little boy
crying out into the night,
His mother's arms
hold him tight,
He puts his head
on her shoulder,
Nightmare dreams,
They disappear,
With a shudder he begins to feel,
a little sanctuary
so near.

There's a homeless man
sleeping outside tonight
behind the mall,
His beard is long,
His hair is *****,
He changed his clothes
in a thrift store
late last week,
the voices scream his name,
All he's looking for is
a little sanctuary.

There's a politician on
the stand
had *** with another man,
Tried methamphetamine
religion too,
Even hypocrites
are looking for
a little bit of sanctuary.

There's a woman on the road
tonight,
Two kids sleeping tight,
Johnny Walker's asleep
in front of the tv,
There's an internet
between her and her lover,
She turns up the music,
Patsy Cline's singing
Stand By Your Man,
All she's looking for, though, is a
little sanctuary.

The money's gone
the house is going,
The ***** is flowing,
The tears are rolling,
He steps outside
on the deck,
looks up at the stars,
Smokes a cigarette,
Looking for a little sanctuary.

Lover's up in a cabin loft,
twist and shout,
Grasping at straws,
Grasping each other,
Holding on tight,
For a moment of bliss,
Come on in,
Give'em a little sanctuary.

Insomniac mind,
Racing thoughts,
Won't shut off,
The days are long,
The nights are longer,
Every fear and dread,
Keeps raising their ugly head,
Quiet her thoughts,
She would if she could,
But all she can do is wait,
For a little sanctuary.

Soul survivor knocking on
the gate,
Waiting for the light,
Waiting for a world just right -
Putting away all sin and vice,
Hoping for a little sanctuary.

Garden Buddha sits on the path,
hands unfolded,
Quarter smile on his lips,
Serenity's smile,
Mastered the art of waiting
and just being,
A little sanctuary.

These poems I write tonight,
Words all tumbling
through my hand,
I don't know what I write them for,
I don't know where they go,
Where they land,
Only trying to see through
sanctuary's door,
maybe there's a little more,
A little bit left for me and you.

It can be so hard to find,
Maybe it's just a state of mind,
Sometimes so close
Sometimes so far,
We long for the day
to have the night,
We long for the night
to have the day,
But either way,
We're all just looking for
a little sanctuary.

"I am the sky
Riding the lightening,
Cloudy
Sometimes peppered with clouds
Sometimes tornados
Sometimes even hurricanes
Skies sometimes
are clear"

"I'm the ground
No earthquake found

Let's merge on the horizon
When the supermoon rises."

Destiny's child
had a smile,
"How are you doin"
She winked.

"There have been many
close calls,
I've done my best
Afraid you'll have to do the rest"

Yanked out of the way
of that car
flying by at a hundred miles an hour
paused just long enough,
Didn't fall when surrender called.

There was that 18 wheeler
changing lanes fast,
Snow flying everywhere,
Couldn't see me,
Moved on over to the center divider,
The only place not concrete,
Destiny's child
she likes to smile,
Laughs with glee,
A tinkerbell to me.

The CHP didn't look into my pocket
"Please"
Destiny's child
she's been on my side,
I just go along for the ride,
She takes care of everything.

We've all had 'em
many close calls,
Almost near falls,
Some have her
some don't,
Some survive,
Some die.
Directing traffic,
Destiny's child,
Roads not taken
every once in a while.

There she goes laughing,
She can be pretty wild,
Destiny's child.

There ought to be a Tarot card
with her name,
When she steps in
the game will change,
She knows how to dance on the
head of a pin,
Change generations
with a gleeful laughing grin.

Destiny's child
She was there that night,
When I was looking through the circular light
Stop sign with a grin,
She knows when you gotta end,
She knows when you gotta begin.

You'll catch her out of the corner
of your eye,
When the light's just right,
She ain't up there with the green flash,
But she definitely has class.

Destiny's child,
I'll be grateful to her
'till the last gasp.

The rooster does crow at the break of dawn
but five to seven a.m.
is the hours of the dog
"Time to wake up"
Cheerful beyond belief
face in mine
dripping licking tongue
tail wacking the dresser
in perfect time.
Hot breath
not yours not mine
but you know whose.
Through the fog of the mind
knowing it won't stop
until food is served.
I am never that cheerful at sunrise.

Seven to five
the birds and rats
are in their time.
Squirrels chipmunks
deer
everybody working their *** off to survive.
I gotta go to work
Calling in sick every day
But one foot in front of the other
And I am on my way.
The crows line up
on the garbage man's run
The ducks laugh at every move you make
but you take it in stride.

The cows lay down to
take a nap.
But not I.

At about five
The bear comes sauntering down the street
tossing garbage cans
this way and that.
The best part of work is the drive home.
Neighbors come out of their houses
to watch him.
Power and hunger
a dangerous combination
But in a rare moment of neighborly cheer
even a cocktail was had.
He was big he was strong
We gave him a wide berth
but owwed and awed him
along his way like watching fire works.

Five to eight
The hours of the skunk
and you get very cranky
through the PTSD
of a mean and angry father
and tires on the driveway.

As darkness totally sets in
the racoons come out
making mischief on the roof
batty as the bats that flee into my room.
Those racoons
the more you try to
chase them away
the more they come over
to see what your doing.

You look at me and wonder who I am
Sometimes you snuggle up
While the night birds sing.

Three to five
D.H. Lawrence
called the hours of the wolf
when madness and suicide
remorse and dread reign
Blood pressure
at its lowest
Heart rate at its slowest
Breath down
Body temperature as cold as the ground.
Remember to not
take very seriously
what ever you think
until with relief
the sun begins to rise
and doggy smooches
awaken your time. ..

Nothing is going to protect us from the human condition
We can have fortune and fame
Be on the top of our game

We can be a rocker
in Lost Wages
We can be a woman with a small child
Trying to do welfare to work
We can dance the tango with a Friday night ****

We can be busted for another dui
We can be the head of the corporation
We can even be Paul McCartney
Michael Jordan
Kennedy may be our name
But nothing is going to protect us
from the human condition

I've gambled and won
I've gambled and lost

Millionaire wives die of cancer
Joanie's Johnnie gets SARS
Steve Jobs takes the last dive.

A truck driver falls asleep
A thirty seconds delay winds up catastrophe
So sorry!
Nothing protects us from the human condition

There are mine fields all around us,
most we don't even see

We can be in Mosul
We can be in Aleppo
We can be in Somalia
We can be in Mozambique

One ember, a conflagration
One breath of air, a hurricane
One drop of rain, water everywhere

Twisted Bill Cosby
his son
murdered while changing a tire
Your name can be Whitney Houston
mother and daughter
have died

Ronald Reagan's dementia
he didn't remember a thing

The list of the names
it never really ends
all that fame power and fortune

All of the pain loss and suffering
of me and you
Bad moods ain't seen nothing yet
There is no protection from the human condition

You can set me up another one
I'm drinking to
"how it goes "

I hide out
I come out
I'm probably like you
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
except
find slices of delight when able
There is no protection from the human condition.

Rainbows cross the silent sun,
The full moon lingers on the horizon still,
The comet has come.

The Earth stands still,
A cosmic event unfolds,
The winds are silent now,
The Earth beholds us here,
Wondering what it is we are doing.

The last woman standing
sinks to her knees,
Her tears to the soil falls,
A flowering life unfolds,
Ancient cycles perish,
New intelligence begins,
We behold what we have wrought
and
What we can create.

A cloud forms into a giant question mark
across the vast skyway,
Eyes seek answers
undefined,
Time stands still
we still don't know why.

As a chorus
we all sing our song
love emerges
in a single sound
stillness echoes
peace is finally found.

Weary of my days,
Weary of my unspoken ways,
The tricks and games
the mind will play.

Feeling weary of the rains,
The trials and tribulations of being a slave,
Weary of the looks when I speak,
Weary of the battles,
Weary of the crooks,
Weary of the screams,
Weary of those being so mean.

Fault or blame
it doesn't matter,
Weary of the meaningless chatter,
Small talk on a foggy day.

Weary of this life sometimes
in every way.

The darkness will come soon enough,
Weary of these darkest thoughts.

Lay me down
in a cozy comforter,
Morphine to make me numb,
the weariness
just lasts a moment,
Savor it
then it's gone
and
done.