We kissed our fierce goodbyes.
I got on the troop plane and flew
to Viet Nam to **** commies and
keep our freedoms safe.
Jungle. Moist with poison life.
Snakes in tree limbs and frogs
with deadly skin. Not Kansas.
We wrote less and less. I knew
you had needs I couldn't touch
10,000 miles away. You wrote
a Dear, John but I was too tired
to give a **** 10,000 miles away.

We've all gone crazy lately.
I don't wear a tie or cut my hair.
I smoked some hash and lost my
mind a little bit. Save me from
a world I don't recognize anymore.
I dress like a clown and eat drugs
to keep me up and down and level.
Friends are straight or hippies each
seeking their very own Nirvana and
I walk a tightrope above insanity.

I've outlived everyone of you
******* who wanted to ****
on my grave. I'm not pretty.
I'm a lump of clay but still.

I love you inside your mind
  I love you outside your head.
  I love you in solitude or screaming
  stroking you gently or kissing thighs
  in dreams or nightmares bravely or
  shrinking in fear from your anger.
  I love you inside out and upside down
  north south east west night or day.
  I always love you most at 3AM while
  you gently snore and talk in your sleep.

We drink stale coffee and eat
stale doughnuts and chant
stale prayers and stale hope.
12 steps are our savior.
Find your own way out.
Behavior modification works.

Alcohol stole my life.
  It made it all about it.
  It gave me pieces of me
  to juggle like I had a me.

We sit in church basements on
folding chairs drinking bad coffee
with shaking bones and shame in our eyes.
I'm Joe and I'm an alcoholic. Hi,Joe!

Christmas eve. Presents wrapped under
the tree. A fire in the hearth. Kids are all
smiles and best behavior. We toast the
scene again and again until it clicks in me.

I'm a ****** up monster full of rage and
I'll never know why. I roar and throw
all the presents in the fire with my life.
I will always be an I. I'll never be an us.

Left behind with stuff we didn't need.
We found you as a puppy and kept you
safe and loved you 'til we had to scram
and left the stuff we didn't need.
Forgive us our sins. I ache for you.
The day will come I'm left behind.

We swarm to be heard.
We write to plant our seeds
in your furrows. Ideas take root.
Cocktail chatter and bedroom whispers
spread them far and wide from church
to AA to shooting galleries.
We shout words in sound proof rooms
wrapped in straight jackets and put down.

Oh what a time we had. Bohemians.
  We drank too much and laughed too
  loud and danced wild into the night.
  We shocked the frozen faced prudes.
  We pulled the sun up, ate croissants
  and slept naked and in love 'til dusk.

Oh what a time we had! Bohemians.
  We drank too much and laughed too
  loud and danced wild into the night.
  We shocked the frozen faced prudes.
  We pulled the sun up, ate croissants
  and slept naked and in love 'til dusk.

I've nothing left to offer
    and nothing left to keep.
    I smoked our treasures in
    a crack pipe made of glass.
    I'll never leave you poor
    offering yourself as *****.
    I absolutely love you and
    if our love stays the course
    we'll find our way in rehab
    and absolutely not divorce.

Where are the accolades?
One more beer and I'm Yeats.
Another **** I'll be Frost.
If I die on tour in NYC I'm Dylan.

Christmas vacation and promises
of  presents leave us frenzied for Santa's
magical visit on the Eve of
our holy child's birth.
We hover on the upstairs
at 4 am whispering.
Who will wake mom and dad?
The short straw descends in the dark
to their door. Knock Knock
and they stir and grumble
and prepare for the explosion
of 6 kids upon treasures.
Lights are lit and we stampede
down the stairs and think,
"Is that all there is?"
That's all there is.

I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of our kitchen
  I found my new soulmate
  I'm leaving you and the kids
  to write poetry with answers

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of your dorm room
  our last kiss and
  I'm off to Boston
  to discover myself.

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of my garret
  a broken fist I put in your wall
  I'm jealousy's beast of burden
  I won't bother for my stuff. I'm sorry

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  with a drunk *******
  I'm just another *****
  gather your stuff, bye
  why do I keep dying inside?

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  Nashville new job, we're over
  I'll mail your stuff.
  you were the cruelest month
  still I couldn't set you free

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  always
  no cure for romantics
  who believe in God
  and impossible love.

Kathy
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of our kitchen
  I found my new soulmate
  I'm leaving you and the kids
  to write a Great American Novel

  Betsy
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of your dorm room
  our last kiss and
  I'm off to Boston
  to discover myself.

  Georgine
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of my garret
  a broken fist I put in a wall
  I'm jealousy's beast of burden
  I won't bother for my stuff. I'm sorry

  Terry
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of my latest *******
  I'm just another *****
  gather your stuff, bye
  why do I keep dying inside?

  Lynette
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  Nashville new job, we're over
  I'll mail your stuff.
  you were the cruelest month
  still I couldn't set you free

  Jayne
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  always
  no cure for romantics
  who believe in miracles
  and impossible loves.

Love is a 4 letter word as is ****.
   I've given both like the ***** I am.
   If I were rich I'd buy the sweetest
   wife I ever wanted. I roll poor man's
   dice and live in walk ups with you
   and work a ****** city job bringing
   home the bacon and beer to survive
   panic attacks that last until I sleep.

Do you know the answer?
Do you even know the question?
We're all just dumb beasts of burden
when all is said and done.
I want pleasure where I find it.
I'll pay the wages of sin for it.
I'll betray Christ for the silver
or hand God to the atheists for
an hour with a pipe or needle.
Don't hate me for my addictions.

I was in a box the size of memory.
  A field of wildflowers I gathered
  to my heart. They were warm and
  your scent. I wept at your grave.
  We danced. We ******. We laughed.
  We slept in your grave. We died.

I was barely used to living.
The rug was yanked from under me.
I woke into the afterlife.
It's familiar. The people here
died already but I like them.
They get my jokes and drink like me.
We smoke **** and sit on stools
at an endless bar. Everyone has
an endless tab and we all yell
"Drinks are on me"!
Violence erupts. Nobody dies.
Hell's not as bad as I feared.

Susan had the house and
child support and alimony.
Rick had a young love and
a condo and bills that left
him short of breath and
missing old comforts.
He lost his hair and then
his mind and died alone.

Nature's fierce ****** finally spent
  we dare to leave our caves and stare
  at her debris. Neighbors in pieces by
  we don't know what. Picasso painted all
  of it years ago...madness on a canvas
  in our streets among us living dead.
  How can we explain it to the children.
  How can we sleep with the nightmare?

The music's still sweet and rocks!
  The band has liver spots and jowls.
  Fans on oxygen park in handicap and
  take walkers to their seats. Rock old!

I'm ageless as the ruins of Rome.
I live in the white cliffs of Dover.
I'm the Pyramids and Great Wall.
I'm the tiny voices in your head
that never leave you alone and
chant your failures out loud in
bed with lovers never satisfied.
I'm Death's brutal echo forever.

Now I love low light and shadows.
     Night is my flattering friend who
     understands the ugliness of aging.
     My skin turns purple as my veins
     capture hold on my thinning skin.
     Onion skin. Thin translucent, like
     strong wind could rip it off bones.
     I was a fetching beauty not too long
     ago. Full sun on the beach I had
     men staring agog. I strutted and
     knew they didn't have a chance. I
     decided who would plant their flag.

Coworker on a bus after nightshift
Waltham to Boston. He said he was sick
in a serious way. Doctors baffled and
he feeling worse by the day. I told him
not to worry because he'd be better soon.
They always figure it out. He died. AIDS.
Several years later at an AIDS hospice
I heard the rattled breath at deaths door.
Barely able to hold his cane he stood then
struggled mighty to make it to his grave.

Mad hatter. White rabbit. Tea party.
    Alice small. Alice tall. Cheshire cat.
    Hookah smoking caterpillar. Door mouse.
    The Red Queen. Steel yourself. LSD.
    Acid. Window pane. Loony tunes. Microdots.
    Tripping. Mind altering. I was then not.
    I have lucid moments. I'm catatonic.
    I just want to **** Alice again.

Empty wine bottles and cigarette butts.
  Old pictures of us in love and babies.
  Dust rests on every surface like death.
  I don't feel anything. I'm mostly dead.
  The only living thing is a keyboard where
  I pound tears into my coffin one at a time.

A long hair bearded man sits on a throne
taking a **** and reading poetry by Frost
and Auden and Elliot and Dylan Thomas.
He works as a janitor and lives frugal.
1956 and beats are howling for the truth.
2020 and a scream for the truth again.
I'm a long hair bearded man on a toilet
reading Howl and Kerouac, and Burroughs.
The next generation will whisper for truth.
Poets will bleed through the state's censors.

Just be my breath and heartbeat for a start.
   Be the stories that made me fiercely weep.
   Every lust that ever brought me to an end,
   the absolute to my doubt, strength to my fear.
   Be my broken vows and promises forgiven.
   Be my gentle ending when my end is here.

Alone
   Bon voyage in your
   lonely quest for fame.
   The band plays and
   locals bid adieu.
   Gulls and bells speak.
   Waves clap noisily
   slapping at shore.
   Cheering fades as
   miles add to miles.
   Now I know alone.

harvests can be bountiful
    they can be wanting
    I've known you both ways
    and I know elegance no matter
    always a pleasure when we dance in
    ballrooms or barns or not at all.
    One of us will kiss the other's hand
    goodbye in a casket then dance alone.

PTSD ADD OCD ABC XYZ
look in the Shrink's book they
pretend to know our afflictions
catalogued with treatments.
Our despair is hope in hopeless
shadows cast from burning bridges.

I'm an altar boy raised by nuns
trying to dance on the wild side with
guilt my constant companion. I bury my
conscience under absinthe and *******.
I wake naked and bewildered among people
searching for clothes caught in piles
never to be found again. We cover our
shame with anything we can and slither
out the door in splendid wonder at what
we dared do in such a strict world. We
are strangers who will meet again in
tomorrow's ****** of our own creation.

I'm an altar boy raised by nuns
trying to dance on the wild side with
guilt my constant companion. I bury my
conscience under absinthe and *******.
I wake naked and bewildered among people
searching for clothes caught in piles
never to be found again. We cover our
shame with anything we can and slither
out the door in splendid wonder at what
we dared do in such a strict world. We
are strangers who will meet again in
tomorrow's ****** of our own creation.

I am a man who doesn't
know how to love
no matter how many times
I try. I write poems
hoping my heart might be
captured by one love at last.
I am still not able to love.
I love impossible hearts.

I am a man who doesn't
know how to love
no matter how many times
I try. I write poems
hoping my heart might be
captured by one love at last.
I am still not able to love.
I love impossible hearts.

My brain won't stop spinning.
  I've drunk my share of *****.
  What's wrong with me? Am I
  diseased? I worry I might die.
  I thank God and chemists
  I have my blessed Ambien to
  fly me into Dreamland.
  I'll live again just better.

I neglect everything.
I care for everything.
I sleep in strange beds
but dream of you
young and perfect
like impossible saints
I light candles for
in impossible churches.

The plans are everywhere. How to
   live the American Dream. Be born
   on her soil in projects or mansions.
   Tame your anger like a stallion and
   ride it hard chasing the dream forever
   until you rope and tie it. Live it.

Spacious skies
    beautiful eyes
    you soothe the beast
    afterward the feast
    paleface took the bait
    red man chose his fate
    better never than late
    death served on a plate
    we set up shop here
    moved teepees there
    cleared the fields
    for lovely yields
    nothing else cares
    corpse never swears
    buy a black slave
    pick cotton and save
    your precious crop
    and blood they drop
    each day something new
    my open minded view
    set them free
    lost as they can be
    40 acres and a mule
    offered to a fool.

    Chicago. Baltimore.
    Jungles in city's
    in deadly playpens
    no hope. Deal dope
    die young a hero
    all you left was zero.

When I die and they try to separate
the wheat from the chaff they'll find
odd stuff like Love **** and magazines
with naked ladies and gentlemen.
They might find things I wrote drunk
and angry and godawful truth.
Everything is lost in the long run.
Memories die with time's certainty.

Birds cawing. Rats gnawing. Cats clawing. Craving.
  Bells ringing. Choirs singing. Dead bringing. Score.
  ****** faking. Thief's taking. Mischief making. Under.
  Alice small. Alice tall. Red Queen's fall. Floating.
  Birds cawing. Rats gnawing. Cats clawing. Craving.
  Death calling. End despair. Overfill syringe. Shoot.
  Nirvana calling. Fingers reaching. Lips turn blue. Bye.
  Tears spilling. Prayers empty. Graves full. Grief.

I learned abuse from my
war torn father. He taught
me cruelty and hair trigger
anger. Always anger at me
and those I hoped to love.
I hate me. I don't know why.

Anger Leaves Jagged Wounds
  Its wounds are horrible, never razor clean.
  Like a monster's dripping jaws tearing at
  the flesh with a mad hunger and thirst for
  blood never satisfied, always wanting more.

     Wounds Leave Jagged Anger
  A child is rained upon by anger until he
  crawls to safety in a dark silence of his
  own creation where he ponders how unfair
  it is and learns to lash out in his own anger.

We're angry angels
   with broken wings
   and tortured souls.
   You think we'll save you?

I work my little *** off filling Santa's shelf.
    We're non union cheap labor and I'm an angry elf.
    I can't feed my family like the fat man eats.
    All we can afford from the company store is beets.
    Communists keep infiltrating our elf bars at night
    buying us beers. They sow unrest. I see the light.
    Marx. Karl not Groucho had the whole game right.
    If you want to grab your share you have to fight!

The sun looks angry today.
Harsh shadows are everywhere.
Winds are kicking up and fires are
running wild. Pity the wildlife.
Abandon your homes in the hills
and hope the brave can save you.

Your beautiful corpse reminds me
of the kindest lovers I abandoned.
You're still Anne from death by gas.
Hair and makeup perfect after all.
Your poetry had you rowing out to sea
to die in saltwater ugly and shriveled.
You could never sacrifice your beauty
even for commitment to fierce suicide.

I speak to you from some dirt in a field
  I couldn't say where. We were soldiers in
  deadly combat. We all left intact lives to
  throw death's dice for some forgotten glory.
  We died in piles and found our way to burial
  as the months turned to years. Dead brothers
  in arms in historic battlefields with plaques.
  I miss your last kiss when you said come home.