Stars explode during daytime,
firecrackers produce my ashes
burnt to death ,
I see an oasis far away
soaking up in the desert
with the faux Pyramids behind,
sand flies into my humble vortex
revealing my secrets hid behind the curtain
it’s too passé !
my shoes run off with the tide
rubbing against the scales of a Tuna
my feeble conscience is hidden behind those doors
playing hide and seek for long,
I drink every thirst of water
capturing the swarm in my jar
margarita flows in the canals of Venice
creating drunkards by the mast,
my boat where Venus reigns
sinks in the depths of my soul
lifeless limbs swim my wretched body away
I embrace the black moon .

One day, some day, soon.
She always told me,
one day, some day, soon.
We wrote scripts together.
We cried together.
We acted together.
She was my world,
and I was hers.
We never kissed.
We never wanted to.
This is no love story.
This is the story of a lost friendship.
Et tu, Clara?

she stood outside the apartment
finger halfway up her nose
scratching with her free hand
a **** loosely encased
in patchy, ***** blue jeans
ratty sneakers with holes where
her toes and dignity poked through

usually a whiner, a brayer
a donkey among gently purring cats
calling down thunder and racket
like a motorcycle tearing circles through a lamp shop

today, of all days, she swayed

silently
in loose waltz time
to soft piano of a long-dead Frenchman
curling down from speakers
mounted in windows
across the street

her misshapen hips and flexing calf muscles
lifting her up in a rude en pointe
somehow made elegant
by a quiet ballad, a soothing moment
on a hot August morning
in Main Street
of the hinterlands.

2/12/2015

The Rheostatics, they bring all their equipment on the bus.

And you can't **** with the Rheostatics

You cannot **** with this band

Smell of earth
Rugged brown
Taste the rain as it falls down
Rise and fall
Blue and green
Trace the clouds that paint the scene
Lift your eyes
Make no sound
Feel the stillness all around
Bow your head
Kiss the ground
This is where your heart is found

To start fresh
A chance to be different
A chance to love
But what do I want?

To travel far
And feed the spirit
Quench the wanderlust
But what do I want?

To love another
An honest tenderness
A heart that makes mine beat again
But what do I want?

To write the stories
Learn the legends
To know the stars above
And that is all I *need

I.    the end of life;
      that which was always fated
      shocks us, even still

II.  the passing of time;
      we can never comprehend
      our frail existence

III. the creative soul;
      we must, with earnest ink,
      make every word count

IV. the end of an era;
      it is but a beginning
      of something much more

All of a sudden;
I don't know how we got here,
But we cannot stay