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?

We watched from a rooftop
across the great city
4 in the morning
lit up and pretty
a little drunk but
mostly just tired
dawn broke and
I was inspired
in central park
we made our bond
you said I love you
now and beyond
I said I love you
you answered ****
love floats in jetsam
drifts in bad luck.

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.

We met drunk at last nights party.
I thought we had a chance at love
You stayed the night. Strangers who
were broken over and over and found
common pain we shared, love of sorts.
We ****** the morning after hungover.

I love/hate the dance of romance.
I feel like I'm in a house of mirrors.
Nothing is what it seems. Where am I?
Is this love or a bent reflection?
Are we pretending at love in the dark
touching then surrendering our flesh?

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.

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.

Love is a dense forest of Joshua Trees
  in wind torn deserts without hope but
  full of lovers up for the fight of it.
  They can **** in cars and church pews.

Promise forever love.
You might promise the moon and stars.
Promise never any deadly cancer
or acne or dying in our bed.
Don't worry. I know your promise
is as vacant as mine. Love is a lie.

Love is not forever. It comes and go's.
  It's not a North Star to guide your heart
  in shifting waters. It makes babies and
  breaks hearts and tears families apart.
  It makes impossible promises with an
  earnest whisper we all must believe.
  We drag broke hearts to bars looking
  for real Love this time. Will we find it?

Love is made of infinite pieces of a puzzle.
The pieces are black or white and impossible
to work alone. It takes two people to solve.
It takes a lifetime to find a pattern maybe.
It's constantly changing in good and bad ways.
Love is making babies. Love is sleepless nights.
Love is colic and fevers and croup and selfless.
Love is many things but it is always selfless.

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.

If I brought you the sun would you smother it.
  Would you deem a moon unworthy and turn it off?
  If you had redemption could you swallow pride?
  When I die will you forgive my refusal to love?

I love Love. The idea. The rush. The chase.
I love the act. I love the lust. I love the end.
Love always has a timer.
Love always has a headstone.

I've never known a bad ****.
Some lovers are better dancers.
The ones who think they own
the crown jewels are just *****.
I've found Catholics to be guilty
but earnest participants in the end.
My favorite was a large Jewish girl
who devoured us both in a waterbed.
Patty was ******* centerfold stuff.
She was always in a hurry to finish
and complained of a sore jaw too much.
The first was Westside Story Maria
to my Tony and we dragged our ragged
families to our shotgun wedding and
played at marriage best we could.
It was the 60s and Summer of Love.

Hold your fingers like claws
on the guitar neck and stroke
her strings so she'll sing your
love song for silent hearts.

There's a stranger in my heart
  who won't let me get to know him.
  I learned he doesn't trust love.
  It broke his heart on a whim.
  He travels back streets alone
  sleeps under stars full of lies
  of lovers for money by the hour.
  Love's out of my reach 'til he dies.
  Then we'll find a place for our love
  with no doubt. A bed for love again.

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.

Lust blasts the roots
of love is its destroyer.
It steals trust from homes.
It ignores children and
breaks vows and sows guilt.
Lust is a storm always coming.

Love is fog that blinds you.
     It is perfumed lustful fangs
     into your neck as you laugh.
     Lust comes disguised as love
     to tear your holy vows to hell.
     Love can never pretend at lust.

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 Lust.

It scares me how you turn
  your face into a wall
  how you rip your ears off
  when I call
  You turn your lips to stone
  when I try to kiss you when I fall
  in love with you and kneel at your
  feet with ****** knees after I crawl
  your just an old wrinkled crow almost
  forgotten except for your distant caw.

I'll live alone in my madness
in a world of my own invention.
I won't ever compromise or admit
you're right and I'm wrong. I eat
what I want when I want it. I
don't believe in god, only Math.

I throw pebbles at your window.
We need to talk. You come down
and we sit in the dark and shyly
hold hands and touch cheeks and
embrace with all our hearts and
make love in the night again.

An institution offering shelter and support
to people who are mentally ill. Marriage.
We're all nuts! We're animals with urges we
can't control. We might as well fling ****
all over the place and parade red ***** to
the masses so they'll get we love them all.

To be or not to be?
   I paint a black halo around
   your blond hair at midnight
   while you hide the moon from
   me and I wonder at your games.
   It's all intense; music, acid,
   *******, the beautiful things
   I've known, but  not seen lately
   We wait naked in the dark for
   dawn's first vague glimpse of
love in our eyes. We stare blind
and reach into the dark for lovers.

I'm a part time atheist
praying to a 9-5 god
I fall in love with strangers
everywhere and always
I try to live outside my skin
until it drags me into rehab
I can't live in here and now
or then and there until I
find me inside a mirror
take a selfie with Alice.

Church bells are mute this time.
Carols are quiet in a silent night.
Tree lights are dim and children
laugh without mirth. It's a funeral.
Christ was stillborn to a ****** and
carpenter in a Holiday Inn Express.
Return all the toys and ***** the candles
and pour the eggnog down the drain.
We might as well burn the churches
and sell the Vatican holdings to feed
the world's starving and clothe the
naked and cure the sick and all of that.

Help! On a deserted island.
I desperately need toilet paper.
A bottle of scotch would be welcome.
Carol from junior prom please.

Christ! I hear the ice like thunder
in the tumbler and he pours wine
and drinks in metronome time.
Night after night he dissapoints.
We were perfect. Then we weren't.
Time ticks, ticks and ticks in time.

Our universe is on a slide where giant
  eyeballs will describe our lives in notes
  in some scientific journal of importance.
  We play our tiny parts as giants in love.
  You're constellations are prayers and beads
  we worry on. We live and die growing cold.

The streets are alive with barkers
  and for rent by the hour lovers for
  any taste. Cross dressers and trannys
  confuse your drunken *** with desire.
  You ignore your family and catechism
  kneel in her church and eat the host.

I haven't been inside a church
since my first marriage was annulled
after 2 kiddos and 5 bored years and
enough money to get some catholic
upper management to sign off on it.
I was lonely and cold on xmas eve so
I stood at the back of a packed church
midnight slightly drunk and nostalgic
for when I believed in youth's lies.
Black and white was true. Color is
blended into whatever you want it.
The play was comfort. The body of
Christ stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Some things never change, thank God.

I'm on a cusp of life or death.
     Not quick like suicide, more
     subtle.  Life's habits can be
     harsh on these bodies we've been
     gifted.  Treat it like a church or
     carnival side show. It's our choice.

     Alcohol is weakness or strength
     depending on one's point of view.
     My lab results raised grave concerns
     about my physical well being.
     I'd died long ago when I lost her.
     I knew that I'd regret my choice.

     The truth is when good and bad are
     placed upon the scale of God
     I believe it will favor my good.
     What brought me here was sadness.
     Joy died long ago when I lost her.
     Forgive me for my selfishness.

She's troubled and twisted
    my earth bound mistress
    offers me all my dreams
    without faulty promises.

    She lives in constant rain
    but loves without any pain
    and reaches me in places no
    honest woman could ever do.

I knew I'd break again. It was just a matter
of time. The insane monster inside of me
drives me mad. The whole **** thing needs to be
destroyed and buried deep inside my psyche.
We all live with these beasts in our heads. It
whispers, "I don't live normal like everybody".

There's a monster
that possesses me
living in my heart
never lets me be.
Angry as a boil
won't set me free.
You promise love
do you have a key?

I'm a monster
walking among my memories
scaring every **** one of them.
I've been here from the beginning.
I was born of pasts not mine and
guilt not mine and despair not mine.

When the monsters come looking for
my heart you keep it hidden in yours.
You always save me from my demons.
Keeping them away from my doors.

Last night's debauchery is washed away.
   The front stoop drenched in morning light.
   Blood fades into a stain that looks like Jesus
   with a wink and smile. That happens in Queens.
  
I wake from dark dreams in a room deluged
   in sunlight so bright I'm blind to my ugly
   truths from last night. I could eat a horse.
   I find the diner. That happens in Manhattan.
  
The heat is long shut off and I light Sterno
   to melt some ice for a spot of Dreamtime tea.
   Sunlight won't come this far north past 96th st.
   It knows better. This happens in East Harlem.

I have crazy dogs waking me.
  I fumble out of bed and ***.
  I feed the wild beasts and
  hold coffee with shaking hands
  from the night before wine.
  I walk them and pick up ****.
  One fine day they'll drag me
  to my grave chasing squirrels.

I have a bottle of tequila and
an attitude and straight razor
with the bleak night going on
for miles to endless horizons.
I'm looking for a motel where
I can rest a weary soul at last.

It offers cheap beds for
cheap thrills for white trash.
I love the ****** who love me.
They keep it clean with Mr. Nix.
The Waffle House is nearby
for a cheap date night after.

I'm 71 tomorrow and I'm losing ground.
I still run but slow. I lift less weight.
I know we die in increments. I don't want
to live forever and watch my friends die.
I'll take my turn and go on time. I hope
to see Bailey settled in her own nest.

She was my oxygen and gravity and heartbeat.
  She died and broke our universe. She loved me
  enough to bring me back from Mars. I was lost.
  She died out of our orbit and chaos made me mad.
  You rob me blind and I know but don't really care.
  Nothing matters anymore. I'm heading back to Mars.

I saw a dying brother bleed out.
   I saw a madman **** his flock.
   Parades celebrated the funerals.
   Little boys masquerading as men
   played war. Real men died for mud.
   Loved ones prayed their rosaries.
   No prayers were ever answered on
   our street. Gold stars filled sad
   windows. Widows cried in private.
   They never wanted to dance again.

I was Catholic from birth born with
  original sin and doomed to rosaries and
  Novenas and nuns, priests and confession.
  My guilt would tear God to pieces.
  Heaven would be empty and hell cool ash.
  Atheists would dance if they knew how.
Zealots still speak tongues with poison  snakes.
  Preachers would still make their fortunes.

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.

You can see heaven from hell.
   A fetching ***** beckoning but
   just beyond your chain's reach.
It's such a lovely piece of meat.
Love is seeing but not touching.
It's what we'd die for but never find.

I was dead all along inside my
chalk outline drawn around my
broke body from 7 floors above
where I wrote my last poem.