Waking up one morning
It's a normal kind of day
Only there are bulldozers
on their way

It goes this way:
At the end of your driveway
down to the right
in front of the picket fence
The land is graded
a horizontal drill brought in
made to feel at home

You see,
We you me may own the land
But the mineral rights are theirs

A concrete utility structure goes up,
in what do you think?
About three weeks?

Chemicals are shot
horizontally under the land
under the house
to release the gas from the sand
While the ground water
is fearfully shivering
it knows
its days are numbered.

The concrete utility chimney
pouring out chemical smoke
24 hours a day.

The  County says,
"What do you expect us to do?"
The State says
"***** You "

Cancer clusters
Sick kids
Chemical water tasting very weird

Guess what?

Whether it be our 89,000
189,000 or 889,000 dollar
American dream home
The dog is going to be
taking a **** in the backyard
claiming ownership.

Welcome to LA too
No matter where you are
Every other day
the earth is shaking
buildings tumbling
Dance Dance Dance

Dots on a map
thousands of them
all around us
coming our way.

Better take a drive
next time on talk radio
"Drill baby Drill"

All hail Exxon
Cars love Shell Gasoline

The old USA
******* gas
And it sure ain't nitrous
cars idoling on a stop and go freeway
finding our true purpose
a grounded oil derreck
for the Koch Brothers
He who pays the piper calls the tune
Oh yeah
Drill baby Drill
I'm heading up Highway 101

The Earth hot and *****
for a new life form

Welcome to the new world order
Welcome to the new USA
Purloined, poisoned, polluted
The United Petro States of America.

Hey Hey Hey

I live my life
in the shadows,
the disconnected hours,
observing all I see.

I've learned to hide,
bide my time,
while time keeps passing all around me,
this set in
not today or yesterday,
but somewhere else along the way.

Eventually
that which protects us
defeats us in the end,
I become the naked dreamer
quaking
in the quad,
it all begins to strangle me.

Nature,
Open skies
open air,
this room
this mind
a suffocating refrain,
one wonders how it became this way.

I live my life in the shadows,
the invisible man for all to see,
take off my clothes,
shed my ego,
there is nothing left of me,
but this sacred breath,
these words that make no sense,
I'm the one that you don't see,
but I see you all around me.

I'm singing the Poet's lament,
the whispering voice,
you hear it in the shadows,
the figure passing by
out of the corner of your eye,
the one you can't quite grasp.

I live my life from the shadows,
the light is on the other side,
One of these days,
the dawn will call my name.

In this sacred space
People share
Their secrets with me.
They come to me
With their fears
Their rare thoughts
Their pleas
Their past experience
They share their secrets
All untold.
The say the truth
Will set you free.

In their eyes I am not afraid
To look
While others recoil
I go forward.

I surf the crest of their emotions
When others walk away
I go deeper.

Their words whirl
All around me
And in this heat
And in this center
Of the cyclone
Within their madness
I find peace.

Holding the fragile
Emotions in my hands gently
Remaining awash
In compassion.
A moments breath
And waiting for
From the tangle
A bird to fly free.

From the tangle
A bird flew free
These words were a gift
Given by another to me.

When ******* in the tangles
Rooted into misery
Doubt and despair
Too many thorns pricking me
Little paper cuts
Adding up.

Walking wounded
With no dreams left
to offer hope so free
I come to you
With nothing else to lose
And offered up my madness
Fearful of what you might do.

You had a smile
Of serenity
And for that moment
Peace came over me.
We looked at each other
In a moment of compassion.

Time for that moment
Stopped
But of course it doesn't stay that way-
You walked your way
I walked mine.

Perhaps we will do
This another time.

(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.

Denial of others
is an easy thing,
Label them
responsible for
everything,
If they are gone,
We'll all
be okay.

We hear the same tune,
Everywhere we go,
Among our friends,
Small office spaces,
Family members,
the black sheep,
Don't you know.

Corporate meetings
in board room splendor,
Fingers are pointed
at those,
Identifying those who disturb our peace,
Interrupt our greed.

Blame becomes epidemic,
Get rid of them,
We'll all be okay.

Pulpits of every denomination
scream at
those who would be so,
Just get rid of them
We'll all be okay.

Changing times
enemies become allies,
The doomsday clock
moves up a notch,
Get rid of them
then we'll all be
okay.

Well,  it's just
you and me,
As Dylan said
"I won't be the last to leave."

Get rid of them,
I'll be okay,
We both say,
I look at you,
You look at me.

Alone at last,
No one else to blame,
I'm looking in the mirror,
I'm pointing at
me,
Get rid of him,
Then we'll all
be
okay.

You can't see it
You can't taste it
You can't feel it
Or smell it
But it doesn't mean you
Can't sense it
Or
Know it.

A breeze of moments
A one way street
A steady river
Always the same
Always in a state of change
Only moves in one direction.

Youth and its expansion
Age and its contraction

Time swirls around us
Through us
Dragging us along
One moment taking forever
The next moment
A fading light in the distant past
No wonder of endings I think a lot.

Yesterday 10
Tomorrow 80
Seems like forever
But never really is
In stacatto bits
Of memory
Flashes
Lies
Some true
Some false
Some recovered
Some not at all.

Continuity of self and I
Until
We are
Eventually
Slipping
Into
That black hole
Of
Time
Like a galaxy
Spiraling
Down the drain...

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.

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.

Your picture
Your nightstand
Three kisses daily
I   Love  You

I
still hear
voices
but now
we all get along.

Smoking
Pacing
Thinking

Talking to the poet
You never know
He can be cruel sometimes
Funny other times
Crude
Convoluted
Compassionate
Delusional
Banal

Repeating his cliches
Over and over
Controlling like a blackberry bramble
"Time to write this down"
"Put it up"
He says like some kind of
*******

We walk
We pace
I smoke

We sit in the sun
He's a stoner & a drunkard
Sometimes it's the ocean
Sometimes it's a lake
Sometimes it's the backyard
Alders trembling

We stare off into space
And wonder
what's next
He disappears forever
He reappears down the road

Best friend
Worst roommate
Couldn't live without him
He writes these poems in a composition book
Progress notes
States of mind
Whatever it is he's trying to find

We talk
We pace
I smoke

Tomorrow
We'll do it all over again
Like it was the first time.

Be
Love
Work
Play
Spirituality
along the way
Get these together
not
much more to say.

Have you seen my beloved?
I have been looking for her everywhere

The first time I saw her face
It was the most beautiful flower
I have ever seen
A mandala of perfection
Bringing me absolute peace
How could I not
But love her

She once brought me
Alders swaying screeching in the winds
salmon running
skies Hale Bop eclipse Tahoe clear
She brought me beauty to the sunrise in the sky
Have you seen my beloved?

She always has been the same
Though she's known to be extreme
Shaking the earth I walk on
Sending rising tides
Stilling the wind in the center of a cyclone

She always knew what it meant to dance
Sings every song
The music of the full moon
She once believed life would find a way.
Have you seen my beloved and
Do you know where she is bound?

Her breath has become firey hot and dry
Her tears shed microplastics
Her paths are white with toxic snows
Where is my beloved and what does she feel or know?

She once loved me dearly
Nourished my way
Until the winds began to change
Have you seen my beloved?
And do you know
When she'll return?

gives exquisite attention
speaks with grace
flowing through the room
touching everyone
Groundhog day
six weeks later
telling you your life story
though you might have just met

I tell my son be careful son,
(also reminding this heart of mine,
you'd better not walk that line)

Look in the eyes
there's a white light shinning
focused right on you
feels so good
easy to misjudge what you're seeing
easy to take for granted

The day it's going to come

The white light blinking out
The exquisite attention
somewhere else

(This heart of mine, I put on notice)
I also tell my son,
be careful.

Cumulus clouds
erupting
in the searing heat
over the green pined hills

Sitting
contemplating
reviewing one's life
change is coming
burning up

Corn cob
clouds emerging
while lightening flashes

Tomorrow the
fog
leading to rain
all is silent
no movement occurs
the heat wave ends.

smoking his "peace pipe",
Pontificating about
this and that,
he doesn't know a *******
thing,
but he has an opinion about
everything,
always certain
seldom right,
you'd be glad
you're not
his kid or his wife.

The old guy with the peace
pipe,
don't ask him anything,
he'll tell you about
everything.

You're ****** if you do,
you're ****** if you don't,
better go elsewhere
while the getting is good.

There are details you
don't want to even know,
you don't gotta love 'em,
they don't love you.

But when you're looking
in his eyes while he's
smoking his pipe,
you just know
in your heart
it's going to
be alright.

Our love
Is the tides
Rolling
In and out.
In and out.
On that edge
Stay or go
We turn to each other
Go inside
yes or no?
Never clear
49/51%
Stay or go.

Our love is
The tides
Rolling
In and out.

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

Hollerdays Hollerdays
We're heading south
To
LA.

The kids are asking me
Are we there yet
I'm always telling 'em
We're always there.

The turkey's laid out
Samonella feast
A lotta pink not much meat.
My father's screaming about the right
My brother's yelling at his wife
My mother's crying in the kitchen light.
My aunt is grinding her pelvic bone
Into the back of my hand on the couch.
Uncle Paul just out of rehab is
Pouring out another one.

While my sister's distressed her third husband Fred arrived mostly undressed.
Her kid keeps sticking out
His tongue at me.

Jesse's next door
Doing a smash
And grab.

Liza's boy
Toby has come
Undone.

While you
And I dance
In the hall.
To "the road goes
On forever
And
The party never ends"

While the cousins have taken
Their fight outside
Just about the time
The cops arrive to
Warn us about Mickey
barking
In the yard.

The ****'s all gone
The bottles are done.
Kisses all around for
Each and every one.

Hollerdays Hollerdays
Same time
Next year
We hold our traditions close and dear.

No Tell Motel
Low rent rendezvous
Johnny and Darcy
Modern romance
She lived at the doctors house
With the loaded gun
Bang.
Both were going out with
Dancin' Doug
Though nobody knew
They always did their dance at noon
Poor Johnny, he always came to soon,
He was from Virginia City, Nv
A small town boy with a cosmic mind
Darcy was a runaway from Wyckoff, New Jersey, escaping her family having an adventure she had no where else to go
They all lived in the dust on
Homer Lane
A dusty dirt road

Dancin' Doug threw a benefit
No one knew what for
He scheduled bands to play
BYOB
Smoke anything tree
The moon was full
The colored lights were twinkling
Dancin' Doug saw Johnny and Darcy
smooching to
A cover of Dancing in the Dark
Maybe it was the Ecstasy
or maybe it was the whiskey
He didn't know what to feel
jealousy, great love, or greed
He took all their money
And danced on
in
the dust
at Homer Lane

Johnny and Sue
Headed on over to room 102
at The No Tell Motel

Another low rent rendezvous.

Tragedy's shadow
So
Easy to miss
If you're
Not looking
For
It.

There’s a place up the avenue
Where lovers come to fail
Look at each other with dispute
And hate is all they feel.

When they check in they always say
“I tried so hard, where do I sign my name.”
They always complain about the investment they have made
Does the room, have a place to change?
The credit card’s declined
The Hotel never seems to mind
The key is in the shape of a broken arrow
right to the heart.
The desk clerk smirks
Gets your name exactly right,
Even though you’ve never met
until this night.

The concierge will give you directions to the local graveyards
The bell hop only dances and never says a word
When you give him a tip, he’ll only throw out your words
The elevator only goes down
The only music heard is the sound
Of a solitary heart beating in rhyme
Singing the song
“You will never be mine”.

The hall way corridor goes on forever backwards in time
The lonesome sounds of whales singing
Echoes through the halls, coming through the walls
And from beneath every door.

The rooms offer amenities
The devil dancing in the pain
On the head of a pin
The walls have one function
That’s to close on in.

The ribbon of blood
That seeps through the mirror
Dances in inkblots all the way
To the sink
Which drips tears of
Frustration
Resignation
Isolation
Recriminations.

The bathtub waters
Only run too hot
or
Too cold.

There is a bed of nails
Inviting ruminations
The images of her with him
Him with her
Strobes on the ceiling in endless loops
Of anguish’s fatal tunes.

Room service offers a variety of suicide utensils
The mini-bar contains a row of empty bottles
and a syringe without a needle.

The garbage men are always out side
Garbage cans crashing through the endless night sky
The windows open to brick walls
While couples in bliss dance cheek to cheek
In the bar across the street
Sometimes they look up at you and smile
That smile.

This nightly room has become a weekly
The weekly a monthly
And if you are not careful
Stay too long
Once you check in
The check out will always be closed
At the Hotel Heartbreak
Just down the road.

How is it being you?

Everything ok?

Up or down
In or out

Feeling forlorn
Intimate with sorrow
Or
Dancing on rainbows
With love in your eyes

Struggling with aging
Or
Far too young

At the intersection
Of
Sanity & Madness


On a streak
In a slump
Is your next move
The right one
Or
The wrong one

Sometimes we just gotta have the space
To
Think these things through.

How is it to be you these days?

Frustrations
Dilemmas
Chronic pain
Or
Smooth sailing all the way

If you check on in
What would you say
How is it to be you these days?

Sitting in that tiny room
you call your
office
sweating in sweat
heater blaring
chills of regret.

Inflammatory response
tightened up
tripped out
grimace has become
your middle name.

To steal from Bob Dylan
"there must be some way
out of here"

No wonder
plunging head long
headaching
heart breaking
into red brick walls
second story shaky
jail cells flaking
one too many souls
borrowing one soul too many.

We don't really
get it our way.

Bursting out of all that gray
making your way.

The streets will be
calling your name
to be the light angel again
drifting into dark
consciousness to light
the way.

Descending
back into
that
twisted tiny room
you call your office
in a modular tomb
and the only window
is
sleep.

I can't hear
There's a darkness
everywhere

Spinning in circles
Drawing squares in the
air

Confusion reigns
while calmness soothes

Longing for the dawn
at night
Longing for the night
at dawn

Wanting to be alone
when together
Missing you every
second we're apart

At work watching
the clock
At home restless
not knowing what to do

There is a road
that goes
There is a home
that stays
I'm sure there's a way
Never heard them say -
it was easy being
human.

If fire is life
than what are we?

The fire breathes
reproduces
and feeds.
It eliminates
and
struggles to survive.
It creates its self
with every touch.

If fire is life than what are we?

The sun our mother father
gives all life.
The stars a population of beings
they are born
they live
they die.

If fire is life than what are we?

If I leave this house tonight
I'm going to get a ****** and ******.
I've been playing it straight far too long,
I've been walking this line far too long.
Keeping a check on the freedom of my mind.
Oceans to the west
Tundras to the east
Stars spinning out there
Quick sand beneath my feet.

Wrapped up in obligations
disguises and costumes
fake jewlery
fake smiles
routines and rituals
Keeping one foot going ahead of the other
Too scared to stop
Too alone to go on.

Freedom to the left of me
Disaster to the right.

How am I going to find revolution
at this time of night?

I'll be your Elk's Head
granite and sandstone
falling off into the Pacific
falling off over thousands of years
I'll take everything
the ocean has to give
every storm
every wind
with my smooth scarred
face forward
into the sea.

I'll be your kayaker
on those hormonal rivers
running through the white waters
of
ups and downs.

Sparking fireworks
like the crashing waves
at Elk's Head
we'll both go ooh and ahh.

I'll be the wood stove
warming you
when you lay
most exposed.

I'll be the breath
you feel when you are lost
in the nightmares of realities past
I'll breathe peace in
and fear out
with each breath
I take.

I'll be the morning sun
after migraine night
the
end of the pain
the beginning of delights.

I'll be there
when
the road is dark
a flashlight through
the horizontal snow.

We'll be there
when
the final nova flares
fireworks explodes
into oblivion
that'll be my hand in yours.

I look for you
You look for me
I breath the air
You breath.

I hold you close
I feel your touch
I watch you move
I hold you dear to me.

I found you there
When my life was scared
I found you here
When my life was more than
Half over

If I could unwind the time
Knowing that you were here
I would have searched
Each and every soul to have made
You mine.

I'm dying
I said to my wife
she said you're right.
She never did editorialize.

I'm dying
I said to my children
my children said
you're funny dad
way too wild.

I'm dying
I said to my job
They smiled
Your job
we have others
we can rob.

I'm dying
I said to the redwoods
they laughed out loud
your life span is the same as a cow.

I'm dying
I said to the owl
the owl said
who not you.

I'm dying
I said to my truth
My truth said
no doubt.

I'm dying
I said to my life
my life said
you're next.

Of death
aren't you?

Sick of hearing about it
talking about it
seeing it,
family members
strangers
friends
aunts
uncles
parents
next of kin
all I feel is dread when the phone rings.

Pablo may have been weary
of chickens
but
I've had enough
death
to last a lifetime.

Every night on
the daily news
the death report
reminds me
every time you turn around
there's another tragic story
you're going to hear.

I'm sick to death
of death
in the movies
on
t.v.

You know what I mean.

You know what?
I'm sick of this poem
I'm sick of thinking about death.

It's 8:06
I
declare it officially
dead.

The poem, I mean.

When
I was five years old
my grandfather
took me to
a pond
probably in New Jersey
but who really knows where
lost back there.
The sun was setting
the light was golden
with god rays
floating through the trees and clouds
reflected
in the water.
The fish were surfacing rising
jumping here and there.
Innocence peace perfection.

I was in awe of life
and
to young to know
what this moment would become.

The beacon
the lighthouse
on the edge
calling me
showing me
the way home.

As exaggeration
has set in
with aging and pain
the moment became
the symbol
in my dreams
trying to make it back
to that
New Jersey pond
and
depending on
the state of my life and mind
in my dreams
I
would see it over there
sometimes
hanging in the air
in distorted images
of
cold wicked docks
sitting on
dry desert lands.

No water
no grandfather
no peace
alone
in exposed
and vulnerable landscapes
and
sometimes the water
was just over there
But
I was lost
in rooms which had no doors
and eyes that had no windows.

Standing on an island
surrounded by water
but
no setting sun
no rising fish
no grandfather to hold me up
on that island
spinning.

The beacon calls
I have always been moving
towards
that
perfect moment
with the sun setting
the fish rising
my grandfather holding my hand
a piece of peace
forever the end of my path.

Came to me in a dream,
The internet of the unconscious
the place
where dreamers flee.

As I lay down,
Eyelids shutter's close
deep dark night falls,
Into the interweave
we are delivered,
Into the collective unconscious
we go
coast to coast,
In synchronicity's archtype's flow
where all the
heroic demons and fears
dwell and go.

Awake?  A dream?
A Balinese on LSD.
The boundaries fall
as the currents of the interweave
take us all.

When we hear a voice
we look around
to
see if anyone hears it too
otherwise how are we
to know
if it's a dream or if it's true.

The interweave a current,
We only enter unconscious
or
is it
when we are fully being?

We don't know.

We are swept along
on the night riding songs,
Our voices sing in
colors vivid, strong,
Sparkling in the black sky
lightning of consciousness crackling
the thunder of life
echoes in our ears
ripping us asunder,
To emerge
on another side
in another way,
Not too different,
Not too the same,
Irreversibly changed.

Our hands we hold
as we plunge, plummet
into the white current in
the dark sky
broadcasted to
the tumbling
rotating
universe
the interweave
a transit to
anywhere
you might imagine,
Don't fear,
Courage is here.

The imagination
runs so wild
call it what we will,
When we make our return
from the interweave's
milky way,
All we will
really know
is
that
for those
deep dark nights
when the eyelids shutters' close
after connecting
to the interweave
I
with each other was
free.

In the present
we're all here
We all know that
except you of course.

A river turns
three dimensional
when you've
been on it for a while.
The past runs down that river
becoming
smaller and smaller
a fish eye lens closing
until it disappears
into a memory

impossible to verify

Did I dream it
Was I told it
Did I see it on tv
Did it even happen to me?

How did I get there
Who was that person
What did they want
And what did I give them?

Memory is an echo
that rides on the currents of light
the song being sung
the perfume scent of something familiar
the look on a face in the crowd
the laughter floating through the neighborhood

Nightmares flashbacks
terror
too

Ok

Turn on the lights
it's just you.

Memory
this connection with "me"
yes
I was there
that was me
and
it all adds up to identity
connection with one's past
the narrative of our lives
the soundtrack of our times

but no more sorrow
no more melancholy
look around
it's the present
we're all here
your not
alone.

The fruit of the BlackBerry
so sweet on a summer's night.
But those thorns
will
slice and cut
and leave you stuck
you get to close.

For my brother
he sees the berries
and only feels the thorns.
For my sister
she sees the thorns
and
only tastes the perfect
summer sweetness.

She sleeps in peace
He disappears each night.

Her days are filled
with hopeful delights.

His nights are dark
with demons
and
vice
left anxious deranged and raw.
He looks at the morning
and fears
the night.

She embraces the darkness
and
awaits the dawning light.

Is anybody out there
Is anybody home?
Is anybody out there
Is anybody home?

The lights are shinning in my eyes
I can't see a thing,
the silence is
so deafening,
I can sing,
I can dance,
but
My words are falling
into dust and ash,
Is there anybody
out there?
Is there anybody
home?

I know there are
so many times
I know I need to
be alone.
I can hear my
voice a whispering
I can hear my songs
being sung
into this empty silence
even before I have
begun.

A satellite without a planet
a planet without a sun
a motherless child at the park
without a room to call
her own,
a life without a tomb,
Is there anybody
out there?
Is there anybody
home?

A heart without
a lover,
empty pages
without a story
time with no beginning
time without an end.

A freeway with no exit,
a ticket without a destination
a sunrise without a plan,
soaring with no place to land.

It's hard to be a god
in this universe alone
and all your creations
have taken the first bus home,
as the house lights fade
and
the last intermission is done
and
no one is listening
and
no one is home.

when the moon was
red
The ocean luminescent
she was a starry
eyed girl
with a northern star
and a direction to go

Epiphanies unfold
like ribbons in
the winds

Decisions
they come
in wishful
longing
or
careful planning

Throwing caution to the wind
she took the first boat to
the island.

There he waited, an
apprentice to an ancient art
Preoccupied and isolated

She of the northern
star
had a sense of
direction

Settling into a
parallel universe

They were like
two kiwi bushes
across a fence
3 years later in
vined embrace
Produced the fruit
that never ripened
and over night
was gone.

She took the
last boat back
the northern star was
encased in fog
But
the southern cross
She couldn't miss it.

I'm recycling these nails
the cross is going too,
broken down
into
the wood from which it came.

I'm recycling you.
Nice try.

I was sure
you were exactly
my kind of guy.

No
you didn't have a car
Disability pending
that weekly motel was threatening
the rent was due a month ago
I know the manger is your best friend
and yes
I'm out of money
out of cigarettes
and I guess
you're out of time
not even time for one more line.

I thought
if I could only love you right
then
everything would be all right
hope is the hook
because
I love you
it must mean
you must really be good
until now
everything I thought
I thought was true.

Some kind of consciousness
came to me
I understood something
I had never seen
all of that
past trauma
this is what it means.

This is the last time
on my knees
the last time I take it
you know what I mean.

It's come down to this
when I die
it ain't
going to be
your life
I see
flashing before my eyes. . .