Then, she began to sing,
her voice limped out'uv the speakers,
crossed 'round my half-empty glass
and slid into the open stool at my side,
each breathy word was a breeze through my fingertips,
enveloping the space ‘round my heart
she sounded like rust colored leaves drifting down onto unbroken ponds
of a thick morning frost slowly melting away
of the first warm ray from a low winter sun's
and it was all I could do not to love her.

The music echoed off the walls
and caught in the corners
each note its own explosion of sound
erupting from her scratched dream-blue-guitar.
her fingers didn’t just pluck strings,
they caught a note on the edge of its sound
and pulled it into space, sending it through the airwaves
to float on through this dimly lit atmosphere
only a heavy breath away from falling back to earth,

She sang like the last lines a suicide note.
each verse felt vital and final
only to be replaced by the next
feeling vital and final,
each line a beautiful declaration that she belonged on stage,
the only world she ever truly felt alive.

and how I hoped the song would never end,
each little silence scared me
because I had not known how to listen until words left her lips
and I didn’t want to know if it could end.
until it did.
and I suddenly felt like the world was very much alone.

“Hey, nice show.”

         “Oh, thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.”

“That was beautiful. It was beyond amazing.  Can I buy you a drink?”

          “Um, sorry.  I gotta show in Missouri tomorrow and we’re driving
           there, tonight.”

“Oh. Ok. Well, good luck. You really are amazing.”

          “Thank you, again…”

I'm bound to the round sound of the guitar
and I'm deep underground sleeping down with the drowned
now the lights of the town seem extraordinarily far
wound around my crown, sleep drips down from the stars

but I think it's the dope, smoke dances in my lungs
or the drink that gropes both my liver and my tongue
one long blink - begin to float roam the unknown with the young

and opening my eyes I'm awake from the sleep
the dopamine has died my aches on me creep
its time to climb but the slopes are steep
put on my tie and climb in the jeep
put my mind to the pile of files that are heaped
run with these self proclaimed wolves who are sheep
just thinking of home, the release of the deep

I am he
   who blistered and
   purpled his aching
   fingers, upon playing
   the saddest, dissonant
   melodies out of
   his old, untuned
   guitar, whose strings
   of somber used-to-be's
   he ceaselessly strummed
   and plucked under
   the dullest starless
   night sky; and
   sing of his
   weeping heart the
   poetry of melancholy
   notes half-composed.

It is me--
   the lone guitarist
   on broken avenue
   who never stopped
   playing his love
   song of rue
   since you left--
   whose only lyrics
   is your name
   and your words
   he dearly kept.

dancing
a body electrically
creating
a mind destroying
the floor
we did once
form a circuit
with that eternal natural return of
ground to sky

the fingertips hurt
the best kind of pain
beautiful music in my ears
the guitar strings vibrate

word come wobbling out of my mouth
sometimes they make sense
and sometimes they do not
sometimes they're nonsense

feelings have no reason
just wants to be expressed
comes and goes with the seasons
makes me feel both sad and blessed

Open your eyes and see
Don't fade away, don't fade away
Breathe in the air and be
Everything, everything
Wake up and hold your dreams
Don't let them stay, don't let them stay
Hiddin within your sleep
Don't sail away, don't sail away
Into the shinning sea
Call out your name, too far away
I only hope you see
Behind the line, behind the lines
Oh now woh is me
I've wasted my time, wasted my time

You made me a mess of your hungry kisses and the strings of your guitar.
I chose to not be the **** you seek