under bridges
except John Lee ******
and Muddy Waters

float down
bereft around drown in
ripple

when I get down through
the rapids all wet
sputtering

I get to listening,,,

I take strained walks on boulevards with my
derringer in me pocket cocked at the ready
walk I do warily through alleys seeking what we need baby
Anything for us, our desires our lusts,
through the darkest streets I go to prove to you,
I love, you and me. eternally
but,
I am armed in case.

Searching through my circumcised conceits
ransacking allegorical nature
for a more outlandish metaphor
alluding to your eyes glistening,

Though Shakespeare, were he to hear,
would revolve over over again
in his graves, may he feel free
to make jokes of.

I say with poetic assertion,
confidence, no other allusion
would come closer to truth,

to my purpose, than me saying,
your eyes contain the sparkle of ten million diamonds:
they are far

far brighter than any sun.

turns goes by, her house.
A yard scattered with her children's toys,
windows open, screens gone or torn,
a useless refrigerator, on the porch,  a Chevrolet on blocks
in the drive, ten ferile kittens she manages to feed.
I see her walking everyday ,
see how beautiful she goes around the end of a street, to
work at the convenience store. Making maybe what?
40 dollars. I said hello once. She smiled in
red lips, confidence. And kept walking
down towards the end
of our street.  Never  looked back held her
pretty head up.
I love her.

I sit and think who might I *******  
for the fun of it, I could
disrespect a host of  people
but really don't think it
would do any good.
but I need to rant and rave it's in my DNA
tonight
might have drank something with testosterone protagonists
earlier
I drank orange juice
the sun may have
zapped it with hormone inducing chemicals
or  the nuclear plant right next to the grove
of laden trees
might have glowed and no one saw it
or little green men
might have visited me and tested me while
I slept
probing and poking
and I am testy with
the subconscious memory of,
or perhaps I got a
***** somewhere hid
and I am ragging
all I know is I wanna
tear the world a new *******

have at heart the next breath
second then the minute
then the day the next week
healing
our broken spirits
into years we have been
taken into lives
into hearts we loved
into those we have broken
into dreams we spoke not of
into memories we forget
into days we choose  now
where the time
of a sunrise
is something
we choose
now
and is not at a whim

bad *** babe I met
a while back, we hit it off
immediately
then she confessed
she has been in love three years
and it took my breath away

I told her to keep her hat on
whilst we danced
and she curtsied
so femininely I **** near came then
we talked warily
then it seemed like I knew her

I saw she was much my other side
a reflection in the mirror
the yin to my yang
the flip side my nickle
pretty and shinier
and her

I wish I could make a nest
like  out of limbs and twigs
found things and make it beauty beyond a robin's nest
to her
to make sweet sounds
whistle

pose my tail feathers up

is to build a pole
high enough above
I can look down upon
myself and judge
which way to go
give messages to me
across a walkie
talkie
coordinates

in the blue vast chilling
on the hills covered in white
below my temperatures
dreaming of you
way below zero
I walk or ski or crawl
forward
with black limbs
frostbitten
toes or tongue
ice cube nose
all I came for frozen
to the ground
scents less the sounds echo
so well,
here, in dreaming.
The problem is remembering it all,
when I thaw out.

face down
       in the drain
my diary i write
       drops
in my brain
       soot
clings
       to my creosote
never burnt off
resolute
       chimney
unwept memory polluted
of days
past
clinging.

you start me off winter cold
as shivers then good as golden sundrops warm
me up as tea leaves swirl me as I used to laugh
good as staying under warm covers all afternoons
what day can be as this besides what I have
with tearing through the tv guide  when
the sun is low in the distance and the day begins
early and ends about five
not time to drive around nor time to save you

from bumping uglies to
changing diapers warming formula
to cleaning *****
watching every move
the evolution
of shaking the tree of life
to see what fruit falls
out
to making sure they have apples
or oranges along with cheese
sandwiches a bit of chocolate
in their pail as they board that bus
going off to adolescence
where the latest shoes become a two hundred dollar
necessity
the latest Apple phone or I-pad or drone
then prom night and it is all going so fast until
you find that letter they send on Father's day or your Birthday
saying how good their life is
and you smile
knowing that is how the circle comes around
and then next thing you know
the grandchildren are here
and your wrinkles and double chin grin
with pride
finally realizing
what it is all
about, as they leave two babies with you
on their date night. And you are happy as all get out!

quit me once!

I hated everything I ever said and did.

I went to my room, smoked

They did not help.

I saw, then, everyone,
   like an epiphany,
standing around smiling.

I smile back.,

commonplace
pervades the average
soul;

an alien, to this curriculum,
might see miracles
we take for granted?

or? In this-
war torn world,
may one see

from a different
perspective, the
killing of any kind

the propensity
to wage war
to defend

a missile or blow up
our brothers?
to blow up hate

would our almighty laugh,
or an alien
chuckle,

at our
insanity
our commerce

our folly?

see it as I do?

and then
the crowds disperse
the lighters quit flickering
the echoes in your ears die down
Steely Dan goes off stage left
and **** you forgot
Rikki's number
light another one up
sit in that seat
for an encore
rest your tapping feet

the spirit of holidays
the smell of turkey and dressing
pumpkin pie and a chardonnais chaser,
a sniffer of expensive scotch, and a good conversation,
around the dinner table
pervade through every home in America
better yet around the world
this Thursday,
and every day
from this one
forward.
I wish the whole world
a happy Thanksgiving!

How has the inevitable
Changes in the atmosphere
Affected you, my dear?
Did you watch in frozen fear
As the loud mortars crashed so near
Or think insanity has won the day,  give up the fight and fade away?
Or has the barometer of your opinion
became a beacon for touching time
Like sages of another rhyme when,
Known became a wing of air,
A tree limb on a barren oak,
A slowly cascading mountain peak, the haze of foggy bitter tears?
There once came by the now dry creek
A beauty lass with a smiling cheek
A breath of fresh a curl of new a hope to all who viewed her innocence
rare for years we thought her there.
But that must have been a smile thought just a scent of remembrance there one called her name in somnolence, and it echoes still,
her  name was whispered meaningful,
A heart, a tear,
A sentiment

I just had this light go off
in every brain cell I got
that as a young amorous lad
all full of it with no
other thoughts 'cept
girls and baseball
I might have come across
lustfully
or recreationally
the two )baseball and her moans( did meet,
with Susie in the back seat , in '75,
when I felt I could not hold back
long enough for her
to also reach the top of
Mount Ecstasy,
that is another story
so, several decades have passed
since grand
was
more grandiose, now
more with wisdoms
passions,
than the fertile
fumbling in a Rambler did
back when,
i think of words, and passion
more phonetically
than tactily.
And write as if
the metaphors
might bring the feeling
back.

mornings faster than were seemed  a night before
as seasons are and years
my mind eclipsed and crucified with human times
senses seem
farther removed more down
less low in the groin now
fog mass retained longer into the  hours each day
cataracts and wispy visions
transposed with long lost memories
I suppose time has its purpose  
to slowly decompose

get up get down all the millions who
are gonna go around
this

get high get higher than
in charge of foolish
realms

everything
is timeless

a leaf

Record a history, personal
    a personality a view complete
a movement made
     with you and I and
posterity
      in rhythm
a hymn sung
           of a future
demanding a vision
         colorless compounded
expressions of blinding
             visionless memorial days
a future resounding
          in words made true.
And you and I
             can do.

for my baby
I want her to see my desire
my total devotion hear the thunder in my roar
and as I am
just a man no god I cant sing a lick
in fact, I scare cats
dogs howl when I try to sing along
and I don't know the words I figured
I'd borrow some of our, hers and my songs to
romance sing strum under her balcony tonight!

won't you stay for toast and jelly
the day has just rose
like cream all over the hills
and vales are beckoning

with songs and daylilies
opening and the winks
of oranges tang sweet still

oh
the flowers just awoke
most of the village
is asleep
and will never notice

the beauty of
the sunrise of ten minutes more
enjoying
small nuances
of golden stars
setting

replaced by
the bright snowy clouds with an
angled sun glowing

I
wonder wither why the whipporwhill
whines
a plaintive cry
and the robin shrills
her calling a mate
the daffodil does not make a sound
the rose just stands beautiful
wiregrass grows so bountiful
and corn is hard to make
the season's make a mockery of spring and fall
and winter has become a memory
where tall trees stood proud
and now a thicket
grows of thorns of nettles
I think
of nature
in her way
genius considerate
and man
as a tick a flea
on her back
a bloodsucking
leach

everything seems thought and tried
wore out
nothing new to find
the same arranging
the flowers stolen
from
an old cemetery
chords
and words
all recycled
leftover
from an
old refrain
the rest is
just
cliche
and repetition
what
hope have
we
to make
a new
anything?

standing still  looking at the moon
through the limbs of the
mulberry bush

the taste of wet on my tongue
dew I had licked from her leaf
my thirst

quenched for one moment
gathering all my senses
in all her beautiful

limbs spread bare naked
in the night the silvery
reflections on my mind

the sweetest taste  
both sweet
and natural

and her arms and cries
and her fruit mine
for that moment

the view so much a scene
of limbs and hills and
fair prairies

and bountiful gifts this
from dust creation
might be

a miracle

conscience bequeaths I must amend this tale
of bravery to expose, I did nothing out of
this world nor above the call of a normal human
I only did what I saw was called for.

Bravery is a short-sighted woe of a fool
at times a man not thinking , seeing
someone in need I guess we have this blindless
to feel to go without thought impose

Our own cost of justice upon what we saw
and time has its limits for the mind
to fully digest, like a fine three-course dinner
we must have time for it to impress

but, once seen, once saw , once
the raw information progresses to the
pituitary gland and adrenaline
flows, instincts take over and we fight or fly

now this time, as this story digresses, I saw what I thought
was an insufferable transgression of a man
beating his dog alongside the road,
a Dalmatian she was, so I took his right arm and broke it.

I only spent one night in jail where they fed me bologna
Two pieces of bread and an apple.
Let me out the day after. And I have wondered
ever since what happened to the dog and
where that ******* is

I want to break his left arm, too!

she passed her day in the sun gone

took up with the clouds in the sky

I guess

one day here I could touch

then just not here the next

where she went I long to know

but my heart went with her

then, and now

Autumn changes
    into the cold of Winter
melts around
   April winds
as long

      longer than the Summer days
endless heat
           melts the green leaves
into redder orange
  
there I am
all variety

glowing

I have noticed
recently how the  grass
is never green enough
the sky though blue
is a bit more magenta
tinged
the daffodils
yellow but not that butter cup
yellow they were last year
may be my eyes
getting caterpillars in 'em
or whatever them things called

of do a lord hath laid an egg
and deeds have gathered up in tombs
seeking rewards and justifications
only leaves the lord listening

to
gnawing teeth of bugs of
blowfly
drawn by rotting flesh
and gases to pupal teeth

young maggot feasting on

a darkening wood moving
thresh;
here 

remains his last words
left without
a bit of sense

Charged headlong off-white
red gilled hard as any man can
rammed into the fortress
forehead first saw stars
and  stuttered
puked
then got my strength back
charged again
a bull in a straitjacket
wild I went off
all the sweat and pheromones
mutating my body into steel
and iron
so I charged again
unafraid
stupidly drunk
predisposed to rescuing
my snow white
from the evils of corporate
America and the rich guys
and she looked up saw my swollen eyes
came down from her tower
and took me to
her apt on Park Avenue
(how hell she pay for that)
but I was drunken by
thudding my head against
windmills
and took her to bed
thundered
like a lion on steroids took my lady hard
and lovingly
woke up
The next day to a note
left on the pillow
and banged my head on the
wall

I just love her, though,
at times she bites my fingers
when I try to pet  her ( )
belly, I will say, here.

Striped and sassy with fur so soft
she purrs , once  in awhile,
most of the time she runs.

She is essence and description
of feline, look her up,
Indignant, fierce.

She is my kitten. My best friend .

with almost nothing left to delve deep into
tonight
not much of  a quest to seek and search for left
I find myself writing this a lesson to all you
young fools
don't do as I said or what I did
only a fool shows his heart
bare
as I
do

Fifty-nine hard seems short now years
today heard about a massacre
Fifty-eight, so far have died,
all strangers to the psychopath
who mowed them down
and I sat stunned crying
then heard about Tom
and tears fell down my face over my hands
fifty-nine known just today lives taken
so much more I sit listening to Last dance
with Mary-Jane
thinking of  everyone who died today
and didn't make the news but
i cry anyways

we all be just chorals just the right rhythm
or floral cadences trying to sing like wind
or a limb breaks in a forest alone and the birds sing of it
and through the forest a murmur hushed to our ears deaf
sounds out loud?
And we sense it
mimic.

good in all visages
the wastrel wanders a road
to his, the poet sings along his ,
rich men have a road to them.

The industrious a well trodden path
worn by every man wishing.  To every man a path
which to him is given, and where he must tread,
or run or crawl or burrow into.

All this meaningless walking, or very heartfelt foot after foot trod
a meaning has. For the earth spinning and each new day's sunrise
becomes again each of our quests, whatever they are wherever they lead.

All lead to the same door.

some conjectural nonsense on a day
where she is working late
and I'm listening to her playlist
since we are, I mean I'm nearly positive
I am, therefore,
there can be no zero,
I got to looking at mathematical
conundrums, why?
your guess is good as mine.
What is 0 divided by zero, the question
pondered.
I looked through all the differing opinions and listening
to a favorite love song of ours,
recalling in all the detail
our fantastic times together,
the meals together, no one else
around a snuggle on the couch watching Netflix,
(where every movie has Morgan Freeman in it)
the calm contentment of nothing else
to prove nothing left to need, I had
her here,
and some argued 0/0
was one others said it was
undefinable a few said it was infinity,
and before I knew it,
It was seven o'clock and she was going home,
texted me that.
And I played real quick
a song we danced to way back when
last year, November it was
and I had her in my arms for real.


And,
I decided....there ain't no zero.

If words were gold
and intent diamonds
the life of one grain
of sand,
richest on
this planet, may be
wit coiled
upon itself to burn
its starter, fire might
consume the paper we
close in our wallet,
the pyre in which
I and the human race
turn to ashes
might be normal

passion, burning
for each other;
empathy or its comprehension,
celebrating the lowly, meek, the forgotten,
beggar  thief,
weeds of the leaves of grass,
be celebrated, by me,
now.

with no need
to justify my assumptions
there weighs judgement of
society,
the value of all,
I  and you are
the sunrise, experience it;
the newest day
feel the fire, consume my being with it,
glow with me.

shut doors closed windows hiding
play the music loud enough
only I hear it

going out for
only essentials
like flour and oil

cigarettes
beer and kitty
kibbles

shut-in by my own choices decisions
say nothing all day
just watch

how the web
in the corner
has grown  a foot

down farther into more
of the room nearing
the windowsill

now

the ashtray overflows
the black plastic bag
comprising

my day to day
spills out to reveal
all my decadence

but my mind calm sane
I see, must  be a tinge
of madness

in it, isn't seeking
or talking to corners or zephyrs
or back at the tv

just sitting here like the spider
in the corner
of a room

that needs painting
and a lot of bleach
to remove

this deadness
and the flies
bothering

entranced by my psychologist
I wondered at her phraseology
ten words into my diaphora
she instantly knew
came at me with pointed
questions I could see the intentions to
I stumbled
preparing another plan of attack
then thought
how about I make **** up
voices I have heard voices
she seemed uncaring like
she had heard this a hundred times
asked how do I think of my mother
father siblings do we converse
I asked her back the same questions
then started in
you seem to be attentive to the **** things
sweet pea
you squirm
fidget
nothings wrong
I see
are you ok
her face grew a bit perspiry
and then three thugs rushed in
and I was  bound
I had no idea
she had a
panic button

The day is come
to mind things gone
away the day is
now!

I say!
I quit!

Unscrew my ****** up head
and ****!

Down my neck, just sit
on the side
with a pathetic sign.

Shave me ***
'stead of me chin
from now on,

walk
back *** words.

At the 10 o'clock streetlight arc
glowing
sweet sweat our desires glistening
knowing
effervesce in the build ups

like dew on dry dead grass now
growing
a cigar split open green
burns
I lean in huskily mean
whisper
have a hit of this
you groan in answer
giggle
a lil' bit take me now you
said.

The water got lost on its trip down seeking level up
Oxymorically profound
the
flow getting wetter drip
drop drying
like a simile light that hides
at daybreak.
   dewness of a tap dry
tone
of a withered
      desert scene dry,
Like a concrete
firm scene.,

a rose I had
plucked her from
a ten foot high
bush growing
at the end of my mobile home
the city
loved her incomparable yellow
had many men ask could they have a
cutting
I answered
every one the same
she is nature's gift
her roots and thorns long stems
are a gift to us
her beauty is
not mine to hoard
go ahead
it'll cost you fifty

forsaking expressions of
                      love
there when we rejoiced
                      above
highest higher clouds
                      sounds
of harmonic rejoicing
                       found
acceptance bright darkness
                         around
full bodied forsaken
                           reasons
not causing words
                             or memory
not calling on yesterdays
                            unsound
reasoning or colors our palettes
                             round
about full of peaceful yellow
                             ground
a white mystique an authentic
                                 found
new way.

Feel I do
Feel like a serial killer at times
Fingers of mine tensing
Carotid arteries of an analogy
Squeezing warmth out of dead bodies
Of psalms into
Saying a prayer
Even though I'm agnostic
In case
And drastically overstating my case
Tasking a metaphor to
Gasping last breath blue
On the edge of a cliff
Just push over
The blood of the simile
Dripping
The flesh
rotting dead on a rock
The dangling dread
circles above
Overhead like
Vultures
I do

I was walking home past the Rose Hill Cemetery right
around the corner from my tepee here at 111 North Street,
when I heard a sweet voice call me, breathy and my *** immediately took notice, when she said my name like she knew me intimately.
She said, "I am Mother Mary, and I have come to relay to you your
destiny." I froze-recalling all those psychedelics I used back in the 70's.
She continued, " Your need is great, and Jesus awaits, and all of heaven will
welcome you as the newest angel."
I swigged again from my Olde English 800, and thought, well,
and turned around quick, and saw three broke *******, I laughed.
They, smiled sweet, and begged one cigarette. I gave each two,
and all of my religion!

favored memories you face faded now in spaces
of black blank places those jostled touches of
colors of hosiery ******* hung on lines that last touch
with old fashioned  wooden clips
the **** and the ******* and the line taut
between  stretched the left and right  
where dogs roam wild and nothing is washed or hung out
those fineries hidden from view now with an Aqualung
tracing his flute and deep bass
around the inside your skull
as you dance on the park bench barking ferile
unkempt flea and louse ridden crazinesses
scratching your self like that terror  
you demonized
the memory you became of that same man
who said hello
to you so long ago
and wretch throw up
so much now
it does no good

i wondered all by myself admiring the woods
if the Wren I heard was also thanking god
then did I hear another call a Sparrow
say something I thought might have been
Amen.