He staggered from the bar stool
To ask a lass to dance.
Alas, he'd had too many more,
He did not stand a chance.

A chance was just a fraction;
Hell, he could  hardly stand.
He took out fourteen tables there
And headed towards the band.

The band was playin' Old Fat Rose",
A favorite of the crowd.
But no one heard him crashing.
The band was Oh! so loud.

The lass what he was aimin' for
Caught sight of him and fled.
He tried to reach and catch her
But he snagged her beau instead.

Her beau, he tried to pull away,
But he'd been drinking too...
And so they danced the night away.
A fine "How-Do-Ya-Do".

So gimme a HI! and gimme a HEY!
And don't step on me toes...
We'll drink and dance the night away
To   Old   Fat   Rose!

Just time...
Like little fingers
Heart things in the Love dark
Small bright eyes
Playing attention
Paying Night and Day
Their due...
Just time...

Just time...
Odes and sonnets
And other words
Used as tools
Or feints of Love
In the swell and sway
So cruel...
Just time.

Just time...
Hardly a wink
In the blink of the wonder
Of Oxford, or Webster's
Or Roget...
Let's play...
With time.

I have washed my ****** hands      
in the hope colored stream
of my own karma;
a futile attempt.
The waters cleansed my hands
But stained my soul with
The leprous audience of
The singularity of my being.

I have waded souldeep
Into the stained waters
Of my own karma;
A quantum baptism.
My sins and triumphs
My denials and truths lain bare,
Visions which burn into the circle
Of all that I was, am, and yet to be.

I have become the hope colored water
Of my own floundering fate.
I am the circle, the enigma;
I stand within and without.
I encompass myself
And wait to be born
Into a new solitude
Of radiant wonder.

She was the only son
Her father never had.
Her legs were lean and long,
Alas, her eyes were bad.
And then at Sweet Sixteen
Her Father drove her mad.
(A sicko is a ******, after all.)

And after ten long years
They set her on the street.
With a pretty dress
And new shoes on her feet.
And so she looks for Daddy...
Or any fresh, new meat.
(Cuz an axe is an axe, after all.)

I do not need to know
How far or why
Just push me
And I will fall
Quite high
I will go over what
And under if
With room to spare