We are still alien
To this paradise
Our journey
Shrouded in
Mystery
This celestial
Space, in space
Navigating
Through eternal
Cosmos
Ever expanding
And becoming
Unknown
Not even a
Glimpse of answers
We seek
As we steer
Through uncertainty
Between
Unknown origins
And Destination

Made in the shade of a weather-bent grave
Fly like the flames in a cave of an old age
Eye of the cliff side takes gaze at the blaze
A world burning as it’s turning like a half-flipped page

While the sage boils sage in attempt to re-engage
The memories of centuries as they fade into the daze
A gypsy drops spades, says that everything will change
Now the grass blades sway like waves and the moon is strange

Like a whisper before the war, a sigh before the slaughter
Mothers escape into mountains with their arms around their daughters
And the suns rise ready for the fight beside their fathers

And the gypsy woman lied, a pretty penny paid
For her to say that everything would change
Yet it stayed the same

(c) 2015

This,..  My way,  my nature
Birthed to this,
My lineage,  this legacy,
Given,..  Named,..  
Long ago,  our lines given
Titles, trades,  qualities,  dispositions
Earned, bestowed, deserved,  taken
It was a day of beginnings,  
A day of firsts, lines created
It was a day of words
It says the day of naming.
Only are names given but that once
After that day,  one is born into
The name,  the legacy then passed
From generation to the next,
fathers and sons
My line: Fehlmann...
A man missing, or lost and searching?
Hiding?  Different?  A little off?  
Perhaps indefinable?  
Unreachable, exploring,  so misleading,
Misunderstood,  built different,  special
Untouchable, wandering,  leading?  
I can't help but wonder,  why?  Those words?
Was my distant relative present?
What a puzzling choice of words to be given?  Or,  earned?

the archers have their fingers
pointed squarely at the hotel singer
smoke on the edge of their mouths
coiling sweetly all across the house
and the trees will part
for a song and a blood sacrifice

bowed low over a guitar
trying to teach himself the meaning of pain
sitting in the dark of a car
doing his best to convincingly feign
the long-suffering fool
with everything to gain

her ashes sunk in the sand
and the rest went over the electric dam
in the dark the mournful loon calls
as trumpets echoed in the concrete halls
and the rapids will churn
with a growl and the whisper of a lovely fern

The rumbling motorcycle pulled in
The Cowboy entered the luncheonette
And Doctor Boss was sitting there waiting
They licked their lips, shook hands and that was it
This is the Legend of The Cowboy and Doctor Boss
Two stones untouched by complacent moss
Together they made a deal
His satin suit and His Cuban heeled boots
This is how it began

Doctor Boss was a respected physician
Shaved, shampooed and conditioned
Wore a stethoscope, had tongue depressors in jars
The Doctor had a gold tooth and fancy cars
But he was crooked as the day was long
Had no regards for right and wrong
Just as long as he was making a buck
He had connections to the cartel down in Mexico
And they lined his pockets with rising dough

Back in 1955 he was peddling dope in med school
Made the junkies line up and the women drool
Until he was challenged to a switchblade duel
Got his right ring finger sliced off and throw into a pool
He turned around and killed that man
Slashed him in the face and punctured his gut
He packed his trunk and headed north and ran
Darted toward the Jersey Horizon
On the way he picked up gun and a phony medical license

You would think a ****** would weigh on a man’s conscience
But not the Doc his mind was on motel options
He got a room and went to a local hole in the wall
A smoky, run down biker bar
“Dewar’s and water” said a pretty little thing
Boss looked at her, downed his drink and suffered whiskey sting
“Hey there beautiful, what’s your name?” “Lillian” she said
“What’s yours?” “Well, Lillian that’s not important but I’ll tell you what is”
“I got a motel room all to myself and I need some company”

Paper thin walls and a moaning women
The mattress squeaks as the vacancy signs flashing
The next morning Lillian awoke
Just to see The Boss had hit the road
She got dressed and went on her way
The motel bill remained unpaid
She wished he would have stayed awhile
But he was miles away by then
And starting a new life
This was the origin of Doctor boss
Wayward bound and identity lost
How a boy became a man
From check ups to drug trafficking now
This is how it all began

Now The Cowboy thought life was a game
A wild child that wouldn’t be tamed
He lived his life against the grain
Behind his aviators was repressed pain
He never knew his dear old dad
And his mother, run over by a drunken cab
Broken home launching pad
The kid went mad and hopped on his bike
He began his quest to quench his thirst for an exciting life

He raced and robbed from Cali to Michigan
He broke every law from Dallas to Vermont and back again
Until the day when he wasn’t fast enough
They tackled him down and put him in cuffs
He was charged and sentenced to five years in Cook County
An extensive criminal record by the age of twenty
But as soon as he was behind bars he busted out before anyone knew
Off to continue his life of debauchery
Of freedom and existential ecstasy

He was an escaped convict with a bounty on his head
The warden of Cook County didn’t want him alive but dead
But The Cowboy went on his merry way, making deals and getting laid
Getting ******, kicking *** and taking names
He was just looking for a good time
He was searching for a new trail to ride
All he wanted to do was live
Do everything in the world there was to do
To him every day brought something new

On a faithful day, The Cowboy came to Hacketts
The city where Doctor Boss opened up his practice
The tired traveler went to go get drunk
Over in the corner of the bar he was slumped
The Doc strolled in and everyone paid their respects
But there was something The Cowboy didn’t get
“Why are they kissing the ring of this nine fingered quack?”
He pulled out a knife on The Doc and a bottle went smash!
Over the poor Cowboy’s head and he blacked out

“Now, son I know that’s not how you say hello”
“And you seem to be a nice young fellow”
“So how bout I cut you a break”
“And we’ll go over to my office and I’ll clean up these scrapes”
The Cowboy agreed and got to his feet
They walked to Boss’s office just down the street
And The Doc sewed up his head
“Say, boy where you from I never seen you around here”
“It doesn’t matter you three piece suite wearing queer”

Doctor Boss chucked then pushed The Cowboy down by the throat
Pulled out his gun ,“I can **** you now but I won’t”
“No, you’re gonna do me a favor you little ****”
The Cowboy couldn’t breathe but Boss wouldn’t quit
“I got a package that needs to go to Georgia”
“If you take it there , they’ll be four grand waiting here for ya”
Now how could The Cowboy resist such an adventure?
Not to mention the grip Doctor Boss had on his Adam’s apple
He let him go and began to cackle

“Now around here, I run things”
“I’m free to do as I please”
The Cowboy was amazed at this man, he was right
He owned a gun and  got involved in a bar fight
Could this man be in the mob?
“Boy, you can call me Doctor Boss”
“Well Doc, they call me The Cowboy”
“So tell me, where am I going?

Doc Boss loaded up The Cowboy’s bike
With Mexican white powdered dynamite
“Now that’s four kilos, you got there”
“You get the money and bring it back here”
“You got it Boss, I’ll be back by Tuesday night”
And off went The Cowboy out of sight
The Doc new he could trust him
He had that look in his eye the he did those years ago
The one when you yearn to search for the unknown

This was the origin of The Cowboy and Doctor Boss
They paid no attention to consequence or cost
They saw themselves in each other
Just trying to reach one height after another
Cowboy respected a man so free
And Boss saw his prodigy
Together they became filthy rich
They shook hands and that was it

I am from toaster
From toaster strudel and bagels
I am from the small space with too many bodies
Cold, old, musty
I am from the acorn
The maple tree
Whose long limbs I remember
As if they were my own.

I’m from movie nights and slender fingers
From Hélène and Luc
I’m from thinking of the worst outcomes and crackling knees
And from moving forward

I am from finish your plate and don’t draw on the car
And twinkle, twinkle little star
I am from Canada
I am from Quebec
I am from being locked out of the house
And desperation