Delicate. Mother and child. Innocent need.
   Pure as fresh snow.

   Awkward. Hormones. Pimples.
   Weak flame. Growing.

   Fierce. Flesh desires flesh.
   Will not be denied.
   God ******.
   Furious. Quick temper.
   Let's not fight
   for just one night.


   Over and over.
   Marriage.
   Divorce.
   Again.
   Again.
   Again.

   Winter. Frozen stars.
   Ashes. Alone in a cold bed.

   Buried. Adjoining plots
   for frisky bones.
   Love never dies.

No real commitment. Not a burial.
  Just flurries, enough to excite
  her knees apart for a time or two
  and moves on leaving her with child.

I checked out last week without notice.
I took what I needed and disappeared,
family and friends good as dead to me.
I followed the tracks to horizons. I met
other lost souls just can't take anymore.
We live under bridges and sleep in
fields in good weather. We help fellow
travelers and share when we can.
We died killing others.
They were the enemy.
Just not mine.
I'm gone.

I was searching for TP at Walmart.
I turned into the frozen aisle and my
heart told me this woman in this flowing
revealing dress was the reason I was born.

What stage could contain my passion?
What life could the bard write for me?
What lover could tame my wicked  lust?
I'll swallow a pill of my sins and die
while the world spins on its axis
in the darkness and stars guide us.
Bury me in the shade of an oak tree.
Visit me and I'll whisper secrets.

I called her from a phone booth
     by Jack in the Box and asked if
     she was bored. She said come over.
     It was cold in Boston and her heat
     shut off so we warmed up with wine
     and naked under covers and shared.
     She takes me back to normal before
     I drowned the watercolor in the pool.

I have nothing to promise.
You want a piece of my heart.
It isn't for sale or even mine.
It owns me. I do as I'm told.
I bleed when it says. I love
when it says. I die when it says.

Boston. January. Temperature near zero.
  You had no heat. Naked under covers our
  breath smokes in passion not to be denied
  like a fire breathing dragon called Love.

I've fought this war with me in
  flooded rat infested trenches
  I die in me over and over and
  all I see is barbed wire blood.
  I want victory but will accept
  a truce. Pride tears me apart.

I'm north and south, east and west.
I spin my compass in confusion.
We live in shifting times in odd places
where we seek solid ground but
we stand on sand and shores that
move our world beneath our feet.

We shake our fists at a world
  that's passed us by and leaves
  us wanting more with old skin
  and old ideas and no relevance.

In fields of high grass we ****** like
  lovers in the springtime of our life.
  We're gray and wrinkled and shy with
  our ******, not like we used to be.
  We were beauties to be drawn naked.
  Sketches mock us. We eat cake in bed
  without shame and laugh at body noise.
  We pray we wake again in morning.

Fire made me a freak.
It kept you warm and
cooked your meals and
gave you light to read.
I kept you warm in bed.
I gave us food to eat and
wood to burn. Fire caught
me and made me a freak
with onion skin frail
as wrapping paper on
Christmas gifts for you.
I feel love and pity. Freak.

Everyone is worried about my prostate.
Beautiful young women want me.
Every store has 100 dollars to give me.
People promise me a bigger **** and
a smaller flawless body with a pill.
I'm 70 but I can have better ***. No ****!

I'm a little pink punk
    walking to the Waffle House
    with a stray dog named Wendy
    and it's love never in poetry.
    We have no white weddings and
    bride maids and bachelor parties
    or toasts or rice or noisy cans
    on a string or honeymoon. We
    have Motel 6 and Waffle House
    and tricks and dealers and us.

You people hiding in crowds who
  think I don't care of your pain
  need to ******* tears and know
  I bleed the blood you do and die
  in your pain while I think of
  loved ones who will miss the
  mess I am and always was but
  hold your hand to the very end.

I sit here stunned stupid by wine
   finally happy but still not satisfied.
   What's missing? What will fill the void
   of all the lovers who went wrong?
   I just can't find the right song to soothe
   my savage beast. I don't have a lot of time.

You can keep your sun.
    My moon's on fire tonight.
    I'll keep the laughter and
    let you hold onto the pain.
    Pets are going to be our war.
    You take the house. I keep them.

We were at the liquor store
waiting for it to open every
day. You were so pretty.
I wished I combed my hair.
We had poetry in common.
We liked Frost and Auden
and loved Dylan. We lived
in Bukowski's rawness.
We haunted warm libraries
in winter and read aloud
to each other in spring.
We huddled together in
the nights homeless but
together. We had each
other, so much more than
the rest of the lost world.

I feel trapped inside my skin.
   I feel trapped inside of time.
   I feel trapped inside of life.
   I have a bottle of escape pills.
   Painless dreams out of prisons
   sing to me from rocky shores.

It's ugly.
It's necessary
so we know
beautiful.
The difference
blurs after awhile
it's only skin deep.
Your flaws are what
makes my heart dance.
We'll live forever.

We were giddy with the promise of war,
adventure of a lifetime after all.
We were boys on men's threshold.
We saw our generation explode in
****** mist and die like fish on shore
with the mustard gas. Broken men
returned home and never
could love or forgive again.

Walked the dogs across the bay from Gatsby's place.
      Dark as sin tonight. Rumor is Gatsby was shot dead by
      a jealous husband. The party's moved on and taken
      the lights and tents and champagne and laughter.
      Nothing is ever one of a kind. We're interchangeable.
      Another rich Gatsby a mile away with the right view.

Buildings stand shoulder to shoulder
  like giants ready for battle.
  The rich live in ivory towers. The rest live
  in concrete boxes in this city of extremes.
  Our hearts beat faster. Our desires burn hotter.
  We live with blind eyes and silent protest as
  atheists **** God with science and formulas
  while we light candles and put coins in a box.

When this poet dies my soul will
be buried in an anthology in
alphabetical order. I'll be placed
in the index. I'll be easy to find.
Between **** and syphilis my
magnum opus will sit forgotten
for eternity. We live poems and
die in fields of brilliant poppies.

I know I should repent but I
  gave that up long ago, like
  candy for Lent. Mortal
  sins have been my savior.
We joined ***** drunk and
fell in love for a week or 2.

I'll sprout again like stubborn sin.
  Kiss me goodbye but I'll refuse to die.
  I haunt your heart and I won't depart.
  I am a forever stain, I won't leave again.

Do you still have a pulse and goodness in your heart?
Do you have loved ones? Do you have regrets?
Do you have failures? Do you wish upon stars?
Do you scoff at Disney? Yeah, me too.
Let's live our real lives from this second on.
Let's meet in bars and dance naked and
huff and puff in bed and let us die
in our ****** with abandon.
While they all live on
down in the street below.

Patient. Slow to anger. Never cruel.
  Stoic. Trusting. Honest to a fault.
  Brave against all odds. Demanding
  of love in return. Sharing good and
  bad and owning it all together. Loyal.
  Pillow talk, "Love You", Goodnight kiss.

As I ascend to the heaven of her shot
  I think of your taste and smell and
  almost get an *******. Blood flows in
  veins of her creation. I almost love
  you more than ******. I did in rehab but
  it seems so long ago now we die together.

There are just 3 things I need.
A heart and brain and courage
will conquer a world and fill
it with love, care and strength.

Steel wheeled chairs we spend our days in
  "marching" in parades on the 4th of July.
  Little flags wave. Fewer each year as the
  memories die like our fallen brothers.

After all it's just a hollow conceit.
Spill my guts upon a page to muster
some semblance of brilliance.
Shine a spotlight on me and gasp.
When all's said and done I'm the
lonely poet in the garret reading
pencil scratches on old envelopes
wishing they were in Anthologies.

You're perfect.
I know I should love you.
I don't understand ways of
the heart and Cupid's cruelty.
I fell in love before and felt
betrayed by Eros.

They shoot me full of poisons
   and charge me a fortune for it.
   They steal my hair and strength
   and leave my skeleton to explain
   to friends and family about nausea
   and don't touch me or you'll burn.
   I can't **** my wife. I'm toxic.
   Love is watching someone die.

Where do we go from here?
The beats grabbed Howl and
tore our ordered world to hell.
The Romantics had us *******
in the bushes. Charles Bukowski
had us ******* in the subway.
Where do we go from here?
We've done broke hearts to death.
Who will dare to write of love?
Love men at war return to?

War requires absolute insanity.
  Suspend every decent thing you
  learned growing up. You must ****
  a man or woman or child. Anonymous
  means guiltless. They're the enemy.
  ***** and carry on. It gets easier.

I never feel as helpless.
Thunderstorms and dogs shaking
our night apart. I curse gods
of thunder and try to comfort
my dogs in my arms to no avail.
Our love's never enough.

I wake each day in a house of mirrors.
I stand inside of a different me.
I see me ******* a *****
who begs me to love her
for the kid's sake. I can't.
I want a mirror to fool me.
I see my kind friend Joe
who always saw the good
and was killed picking up
a hitchhiker after all.
I want a mirror to fool me.
I see my father still wet
behind the ears flying
a bomber in a war as a pawn
for them who don't care.
I want a mirror to fool me.
I see my cousin with ancient
broken heart, the wound
that never heals, choose
slow suicide by *****.
I want a mirror to fool me.
I see a man who doesn't
know how to love a wife
no matter how many times
he tries. He writes poems.
I want a mirror to fool me.

Rest in your love's arms tonight.
Sleep inside her dreams and frolic.
Tomorrow waits. We can worry for
our children then. Now we wander.

Let us pretend that all is well and
life isn't drowning in a sea of wine.
Our passion is alive and hungry.
Years ago it never died on the vine.
We live in separate hearts.
We live in separate rooms.
We crave other spaces.
We crave other tombs.
If only we could fall in love
again like we did before.
We could forget the winter
and devour each other.

She seems so real and perfect
  I want to be with her forever.
  Don't take an ice pick to my brain.
  Please don't make me better. Let us
  live our wonderful life in my head.
  Why ruin true love as rare as it is?

I used to be so angry at indifference
and cruelty rained upon the innocent.
I chased off the wolves and shot the
powerful cowards feasting on the weak.
I don't feel much anymore. Passion
lies in my waiting grave with love and
anger and desire to eat my lovers.
Tonight I'll sleep without dreams.

The whole world is out tonight.
Dancing and celebrating and seducing
one another over drinks and  taxi rides
to his bed and a disappointing ****.
She wakes early and dresses and flees.
She hopes he'll call sometime today.

I was born in 1949 back before
every child was fragile. We
were just a brood of kids our
parents set loose in the woods.
We broke bones. We kissed girls.
We swung on vines like Tarzan.

If I could die for you I would.
I see you withered from cancer.
You're young with youngsters
and I'd be you in a firing squad.
I'm spent and ready for blindfolds
and a shot in the heart. I wish.

I want to love you
again like before.
We were kids. ***
was our gift. We
had no use for food.
We only wanted more.

They trust our blind allegiance to their lies.
    We will bury them with their own arrogance.
    Forget your petty differences with the world.
    We're in a lifeboat, the Titanic ******* us down.

We worship on bar stools in smokey
  churches with neon gods and clergy
  behind the altar with the holy blood
  bottled in rows in front of mirrors.
  Our hymns play on a jukebox while
  we sway in harmony feeling the grace
  flowing between our souls as one.
  Our bible is the newspaper and we
  confess our sins to each other.
  At last call we're given absolution.

The devils in the details.
  The angels in the wings.
  I loved as hard as I could
  but it was never enough.
  I never saw the manual.
  I never understood how.
  The mechanics were easy
  in and out over and over.
  I needed Love for Dummies,
  ******* all I had back then.