Jewel pink pony
Frozen in your scream
Studded blue carnival Adornments,
Your muted agony
Goes on forever
Only to move in circles
     Endless circles,
While your painted eye
Stares into the blindness
Of the sun.

Jewel pink pony
Frozen in your scream,
Studded blue carnival Adornments, Your muted
Agony goes in forever,
Only to move in circles,
      Endless circles,
While your painted eye Stares into the blindness
Of the sun.

Chill baby, it's the all acoustic set. Going home for the holidays.
A few laughs with Pops,
And never mind the drumsticks, her comes the *******.
Here comes weeping
In a Shiite village,
400 dead in Sadr City,
And pass me the yams.
Did you see that interception?
Here comes the 3rd and long.
         Here the sun falls away
In the twilight of winter.
I dream the Electro Light Fantastic. I'll see ghosts in
The mirror when I'm dreaming. None the wiser,
I saw it in fits and starts.
Better than waking on
New Year's morning in jail with the crazy lady 2 cells over yelling for a cigarette
Every twenty minutes
" Officer, can I have a cigarette?" I want to tell her
To shut up, Instead I ask
Her to get me one too.
And then I knew it's all come round.
Young and Stupid reporting for duty.
Not that it's my rag mag
Sad rag, nothing doing while
I try these new wings on for size. Its just the all acoustic set in a world of static.
Hazy cigarette voices
In trebelo. Though I threw
It out with the cookbook,
I have it all hanging on my sleeve. I thought it was all the rage. Later I found it was
Taxing on my soul.
This all acoustic set, away from the city lights and cyberspace. Left to one's devices, one sinks further into the page. What do you
Expect when candlelight
Falls across the flickering wall?

Two league below, a U Boat
Swims the Atlantic, Lost
In possibilities. Some mind
When I'm tongue tied like a lizard.
Kinda brings up Helsinki,
And she comes in all bells
And whistles. Me, I'm
All acoustic, something like a blank face, Low on cash
And overdrawn on character.
And the sun lights before
Columbus dragging up the rear. Man these ghosts
Linger in the hallway,
But it's better than crashing
The car into the statue
One Thanksgiving Eve.
The all acoustic set says
Death is a bore, Especially
After the ride in From France
I gave up meat some time ago, I gave up on you after
I got to the moon.
Well, it gets me out of the sun awhile. We'll get better when
The world catches up.

Sorry I changed the end around, but I thought it
Was the only out of Knoxville
Never mind The sage gravy,
I've got to tighten the lug nuts. A tither, but nothing on the rent.
And Hitchcock does the math,
While I corkscrew around the truth. While others weep
I dream of women laying in the sun. I guess it's better than ice cream in the rai n.
Who said pumpkin pie?

The wind turns northeast
The first October day,
When a squall
Blows down Erie,
Battering boats
And belting cars,
Blowing umbrellas inside out
With wind lifting skirts
As too busy people
Rush along Jackson
To whistles and hustlers
And high Commerce.
I perch like a principality
In the long avenue
Falling in shadow
From the 59th floor.
The rain blows sideways,
The lake disappears
In a wall of gray.
I'm a cat licking it's claws.
I wonder of the frivolity
Of everything else.

( three short poems of unease)

    From The Shadows

The ghosts within the room
Stirring to the outside of periphery, Blending
Within the shadow,
Silently they wait.
They await my passing
In forgotten rooms
Silent, but for a passing moon
Over books and broken horses,
          Shadow dust
Ghosts within the wall
Vibrate they're inner mantra
Turning in dreams of dust

               M.O.

Chrysanthemums chatter
To a blind moon lisping
Over a city where
Junkies and lovers
Embrace their torn heartbeats to a night
Devoid of stars.

    Another Town

Jeweled pink pony
Frozen in your scream
Your muted agony forever.
Only to move in circles,
Endless circles
While your painted eye
Stares into the blindness
Of the sun

Handful of stars
Falling between my fingers,
Catching a saucer of moons.
Dreaming of bicycles With red and white ribbons,
Wheels spinning in elliptical
Stars strung in the sky.
A paper bag spins
In a last winter wind,
Rising to the motioning stars.
I love you on your bareness,
As Sunday night falls to shadow. We fear death
In the passing of moments.
We collect our thoughts
On fraying strings,
Alight our hopes, bash our fears to the dying of the light.
Sweet as rain, all falls down.
Wake to shiny symbols
Etched in Sanskrit.
Loose our meaning In
The blindness Of the sun.
A billion birds lift to the sky
As snow falls in a lazy dream.
I close my eyes,
Open them, reaching upward
To catch a Handful of stars,
Burning eons in my palms,
I open, release them
To the sheltering sky

The insects rise with night,
Outside, you walk the dog,

A little poodle
That hates your guts.

It snarls and snaps at you
Every chance it gets.

The little ankle biter.

But that's been you lot
In life,

Remembering things
From way back when.

The least moments
Come back the most.

It's then I embrace
All the moments,

All of them
Lead me

To a place outside,

Where the insects
Rise with the night,

And symphonies
Smash through my brain.

The oboes and cello
Rise with the insects.

I switch of the music,
Feel the blind silence,

I strip naked,
Night ticks

In the quiet
Of clocks.

Movements of hands,
I breath,

The end.