you have gone deaf to the therapy
and will no longer attend the meetings
death has not yet appeared
so you sit watching television and wait
thinking little of the progeny
never understanding their inconveniences
am I waiting for the boxes in your garage?
to reclaim my youth
or is it already lost?
was it ever at my fingertips?
I do not have a desire to manipulate it now
only a wish to show my child it existed
because when they are born they never see it
but rely on my testimony as the truth
will her eyes meet yours before you go?
I always felt you had the advantage
and probably will continue to after you die
but perhaps something will change
I so want to feel something else
instead of the heavy bits of metal
in the valley of our lives together
that sway and slap my mind in a heavy wind
all I ever wanted from you was to cut loose those scraps
and melt them down and
recycle them into something beautiful
with a plaque in the front that reads:
father

for meike

hello my friend
on a long journey and then back you walked through the door
as if we were continuing a conversation without introduction or courtship
what a relief
because only strangers can be seduced
friends know better
thank you for the tour of the mutant building
half old and half new with a crumbling facade
and a spiral of new history wrought from glass and steel
we climbed the structure and I wondered
would the spiral rise above the earth
or crash down on the members of the parliment below
a perfect symbol of the eternal card game
of either dealing for war or jobs for the folks back home
i walked the memorial of horrors
and was caught in a photo walking into the light
maybe my death will mirror the myth in the photo
or be as simple as a twig snapping off a tree
heavy with too much snow to bear
your kindness will be balm for the wounds of my departure
may you always be the princess swapping clothes
exiting the castle into the sun avoiding detection
and embracing anonymity wherever you can find it.


fellow traveler

born on the same day but not the same year
we may never be twins in what we hold most dear
but walk hand in hand and follow the crumbs
of a kidnapped victim known as a cause
who drops a bit here and there
hoping someone is following the line
until the last crumb tells you that the game is up
and it is time to acquiesce
until you find a new sensation
don’t be weighed down by the execution
of your travel plans once you arrive
don’t fall on the knife once you have coaxed
a violent edge upon it with the stone
you cradled in your kitchen fingers so carefully
i love your respect for the animal you will slaughter
for a meal prepared
just remember
the animal may not know good treatment from bad
it will stare into your eyes just the same
because it thinks you will have the answer
whether you are ending its life that day
or fattening it for future harvest

for my daughter miranda

where is the dream when the honor fades
into work and drudgery and responsibility
it lives again here
your middle name is grace because it should never be
at the beginning or end of anything you do
always in between
you have given me the greatest of assignments with your birth
to be bumpers for your car to crash against
we all lurch along you know
and don’t always know when to make the turns
sometimes they are not apparent
take them anyway
you may find beauty there
when you said you missed me i knew it was real
for you always speak the truth
and i apologize for my impatience
i sometimes wonder what you are thinking even though you always let me know
in time
your life is the prize here
mine will pass on and yours will be given
to those supremely lucky enough to cherish it
be a beam of light my daughter
shine and avoid shadows
your love surpasses all others in my humble little time here.


lost in the flood

i’ve seen faith but can’t touch it
i’ve observed resolution but couldn’t stand on it
it’s sticky and porous and your feet become embedded though
you feel like you are slipping despite the grip
lines are being drawn and sides are being taken
but whose doing the drawing?
and who is indentifying the sides?
the north pole will be gone in a hundred years
melted by the earth as hothouse gases
and the sea will be coming for you and me
like the tsunami in indonesia
mister tourist man how will you fare
with four tons of water on your head
and missus high class how will you pass the great test of society
with a river of mud on your precious
ask me again pagan healing man
how i explain these things holding a child’s hand?
where my friend the hurricane
ripped the false faces off of the politicians
and opened up the mouths of the good people
would we have heard from them otherwise?
A man holding onto a tree in the flood
let go of the wheelchair as it floated away
his wife was still in the chair
he chose himself and said
why her god and not me?
why her god and not me?
doesn’t anyone have an answer for me?
i’ll need no draft i’ll sign up now
send me to the front as time allows
and i will fight at the river of greed
i will wade across it with my bayonet above my head
and try not to remember that i helped to fill it
with a few drops of my own.

let go of the mouse

with a click of the mouse you were dropped along the information superhighway
your dry lips cracked and red and bleeding after twenty seven hours straight
of final extermination 4
guess what you are still here
and though you may have broken through to the next level and achieved your highest score
despite disallowing kidney function and suppressing any vague suggestions
of an erection
it’s a sad comment to see life move more slowly in direct proportion to how quickly
you traveled through that favored video game
you will be ok but i will foolishly be hoping of barely remembered ideas like
kindness compassion and dreams
does the cyberworld live next door or directly inside of us
two dimensional and unable to see gray only black and white and zeros and ones
he that liveth in darkness hath blinded his eyes right?
oh you never heard that one
that’s ok many others who haven’t either like to throw
quotes from it to suit their needs and agendas
it says thou shalt not kill but also states there will be many years and much bloodshed
right on all counts
what do you mean no one can verify the stories in it? then why is it relied on?
the disinformation started centuries ago with the square earth with the dangerous edge
you would fall off of it if you had the audacity to sail your boat to into the horizon
are you tired of my questions? yes i am too
come on you burned out video game child man or woman freak
there is hope for you and me
let’s take our hands off the mouse for a moment and reflect
information is not always knowledge and the news service airs only the stories it wants you to hear
you must disobey the holy orders and not carry out the suicide missions of the fanatics
who promise improvements on a higher plane
when you get to the higher plane you may not find me
either way
you might want to keep a knife handy.

creation

everything created
is stolen from ignorance
there is no authorship
there is only a second-hand account
it is a fight to the death
to remember anything
and history is the bad version
of what really happened
i am taken apart piece by piece
every day i think the right turns
will get me more
the only restriction is the size
of the paper and a slow right hand
and an idea
moving swiftly away as
it smiles at not being captured

first published in FLIPSIDE #109.

stop light in los angeles

as the meat turns
from red to brown
through the fire
i will buy oranges from
the latina woman at the stop light
hers is the best smile
i have seen all day
piercing and content
full of hope and beauty
the opposite of the tabloid
her survival has been pasted over
the hole she used to see herself with
as the years pass
her enemies and friends forgotten
can her new child make her happy
can it fill up what we need to express
our friends with no clue of marriage
do not realize it is improvised
she wants to say something more to me
but she does not know my language
it is ok
she has told me more than i discovered
today
surfing the cable channels
of our discontent

first published in FLIPSIDE #104.

we are warned against such friendships
the soft parts down underneath
you will find your comforts there
but answers are few in the river of information
amazing how much you missed isn’t it
i yield too often to the lazy fear
bitter touched happy for a seat at the table
of your day
you can’t help but share
o you god infected multitudes
mouthing a life you know you only wish for
do not wish for me just do what you must
i am the dreamer no one understands
standing in the middle of your land
a product of your school system
i refer to my own pages most often
never tire of them though i know every word
i will pass the book to no one upon my death
but will laugh at the scraps left behind
i researched my own life
collected the information and found little of it useful
no wonder history evaporates
guess we don’t need it all of it

first published in FLIPSIDE #102.

better word than love

no heart i know of clips the horizons of beauty
and fingers do not always articulate the sex
smile on ludicrous labels
and you cheat the ignorant of enemies.
crying on my shoulder
what’s wrong. everything. you got that right.
a major talent is in the womb
making a big comeback to birth
it is not addition or subtraction
it is not greeting cards as a way of escaping contact
it is found
it is good surrounding
bad you do not have to cherish
anymore.

first published in Realities #3 – REALITIES LIBRARY.

after kerouac

wow i had that same haircut
my brother had that same exact shirt
did you really dress like that in 1971

to be normal
here
keep your magnifying glass
on your neighbor

i wish i could remember
exactly the way it happened
it was almost like being there

some people are stupid
they are afraid of the self-expressors
who are good because they know
nothing is familiar.

bring me the head of jerry garcia

the dead is finally dead
it died in a rehab bed
and the hippie dream is over
in an absence of crimson and clover
and the band can no longer be followed
though it’s sure still to be hallowed
and grief will turn to peace
as those that seek release
will find drugs of their own choice
in an absence of a voice
and a new chapter will be written
long time i’ve been waiting
i can’t curse a good idea
only follow it to the rear
and hope i too die trying to mend
those vices i cannot bend
peace, love and good vibes
were always exclusive tribes
of which i never was a part
seeking the kind hand of art.

for carrie

thanks
i need lessons on how to say no
in the wild wild west.
it’s a childhood in reverse
in my new home of bugs, cats
and a bird that screams in the night.
i know why you cry at the television babies
selling products to our hearts
they make us feel like liars
when we say we are afraid
of showing the world any more than we have to.
you have stored up centuries of love
harvested from lives you can feel in your back and fingers
all for the unborn child
i am honored to receive the remainder.
the landlord will always be your friend
until they take your money away
but i will fight for you.
keep teasing me and i will lose
my fear of blood
because we deserve a space someday
to watch our child run.

killing the squirrel

we shot a squirrel
with a bb gun
looking for something that looked like
eternity

chased it down a hole
i didn’t shoot it
but i chased them for two miles
on patrol

up a creek
made of concrete
instead of cartoons
i thought it was so dumb

i kept seeing them do it
before they did it
and it was different
when they did

first published in Postpoetry #67 – REALITIES LIBRARY.

i was a crossing guard too

my eyes are down again
at the moment i meet you
because my fear is my comfortable shoes
maybe i’ll break them in on you
the james dean face
is permanently in place
in this bad movie of a conversation
and if you shook one of my hands
you’d find them too soft
for the life on the road
you imagine i’ve walked
let me sell you some good ideas
that no one understands
whatever you do
don’t ignore the band
they’re your best ticket from suicide
have you ever been on that ride
i bet you have i bet you have
buy me a drink and i’ll hold you your hand
i’m good at it
i’m saving sympathy from extinction
singele-handed
in a world where two kids shot a crossing guard
did they get any of her money
hey call 911
call someone who cares
when you do
tell them they can call me anytime day or night
and if i’m not in
my machine will be on

drinking alone

harvest a hallucination
in your room
pumped full of humid air
and grown on wicked wood
who needs the hordes to hear
candy messgaes never clear
picked clean of innuendo and truth
freeze dried of opinion
dipped in political correctness
and left in the sun to dry
oh its hot today
maybe you need some time to yourself
maybe you have all along
maybe you were never wrong
maybe all the decisions were right ones
hello i’m talking
you are supposed to talk back
ok hang up now.

audition

approach the end of nerd
but don’t quite get there
paused at a stop light
i am unhappy with the radio choices
dreaming of the koka kola
fake color and real sugar water
why am i here
i need the corporation advertisement budget
put directly into my pocket
here is my picture
here is my resume
what type do you want
what style will work
no acting required.

for the cross wearers

a storm of vanity
drops ego drops upon the masses
to be absorbed into the skin
of the wrong people at the wrong time
to open the seed of mayhem
to stop the flow of knowledge
to end peace as if it were a nuisance
to the agendas of the abusers
who wear crosses
and pray every sunday
for more rain

i dream of a lost child
and wipe the tears of the mother
betrayed by antibodies
inside her own body
and look for the cross wearers
to see if they are responsible
i hold her hand and promise
a new project can be started
and with luck and science
maybe our family can exist
outside of the realm of the cross wearers
who have no control of us
can you trust the prayers of a liar
can you console the grief
of a thief
can you look for trust in one
who could never know hat it is
yes you can
we can together
we can show the cross wearers
the depth and misery
of their hypocrisy
and show them hell
is their current address
not their next destination.

the warrior rides

the warrior moves toward the the sun
as i ride behind on a borrowed donkey
carrying the equipment of battle
warrior your hair is longer now
and your eyes stronger from less grief
still i wish you would look behind you once in awhile
but as you say
that would be giving the game away
i know you see me warrior
stooped and less sure of our differences than you
it would be easy enough to lose me by riding fast
but if i had a horse that could always run at that perfect speed
i wouldn’t want the world to move alongside any more quickly
i would ride just as you do
without a map or a plan
only with the love that knows where to go
and how fast or slow to arrive
depending on the weather
do not be angry warrior if i am late
only promise me one thing
that when i do meet you when you stop
you will show me how
to remove the cloth from our eyes that blinds us now.

christmas comes but once a year

it’s slow burn to christmas these days, as the hours change all those decorations from hideous to beautiful and then back again, sometimes quite randomly. Everything feels forced no matter what your beliefs. As if christmas were a large mouth that opens quite slowly, made of the toughest metal. This mouth will not close once until the first week of january. The palest pictures of whatever the thing is are the ones most in evidence, the by product cards, wrappings and television specials, especially those that strive to be real. To replay old christmas’ in your head is to have the clearest picture of what this years’ will hold, regardless of the family members who may or may not be there. So why go? Because to suffer the dysfunction of the city on that day alone is worse. The biggest party on earth that for some reason does not take place outdoors. Scrooge muses the anti-beliefs but we all know he will not win. It is not a wonderful life. It is one where you can only make choices after you shed childhood, if you are that lucky. No one can shed christmas, that it’s greatest strength and most painful power. A dead deer on the back of every camper truck in america, edging its way home for the deep freeze and rarely the dinner table.

black ball

rebellion
is not just clothes
it’s in your head
a black ball
rolls over hands and fingers
without explaining

i thought it was the clothes
but on other people
your clothes are the same

it is
a warm low buzz now
in my head
better and stronger
fits like a glove
a slip
of an old feeling
traced the lines back
through limbs of stone

crawling back
braking apart
security put away.
a whisper still touched lightly
instead of sitting on my butt

an interruption
in the creation of the new
watches the feather move
on the water
until it gets too wet

hoping a call will come
to push harder
when it does not come
sharing with all of the others.

rented car

hang out awhile
your body is a rental car anyway right
why dwell on its looks
you need to be sure you can afford the fuel
one day it will stall at the top of the hill
because you didn’t let it warm up
and you will have to push it to get it to roll
all the time wondering if you will make it to the gas station
news flash you won’t
and you will have to face a beast more fearsome than your death
you will have to walk
you will have to sweat
you will be late for your appointment
and be thought of as a child unable to
meet the demand
will you love yourself then
or will you sit again before the mirror
and mourn the scratches and dents
you wish were not there
i will love you anyway that you are battered
for you have more hope and
i am redeemed in a peaceful afternoon
driving the streets with you
holding the wheel tightly
in need of alignment.

some men
look at women in
a different climate
without the usual tensions
but without the form
of trial and error
free
to the end of the sentence
bound
to keep feet to ground
all the days through
looking for knowledge
on the inhale
the veins are red
but a woman’s sweat
melts a different
heating system
but the thing to scare you
the worst parts of the picture
are blue and sexless
and what really tears
is how all the eyes
look the same.

unearthly mother

you are the motherless child now
that you always imagined yourself to be
official word has come down
you can proceed
harrowed and crook backed
carrying the daffodils of measured pain
pink and pale
ready to be burned by the sun
thanks mother for changing the meaning of the mother
it will no longer work for the following
planet enormity possesions
any non human form has been unleashed
free upon the world to infect
and mutate into new viruses
is this severing the final redress
or just another playlet to provide
the opposite of enlightenment
will death end the confusion
probably not it is not reliable
death will simply freeze the poisoned photograph
of our infection
painting itself ugly as dorian gray’s portrait would
aching with the wonder
of how our conflict refuses to age.

all the sinners are lining up
to have their heads chopped off
only metaphorically
rainwater born
smoke colored clouds
are washed clean
from the tight body fit
and the whiter teeth
and gray removed from my hair today.
where is your expression
where do you get off
where is the piece
you put into the lock
i forgive your fantasies
can you forgive me my dreams
i know i cherish them too much
kill my ambition with something better
daddy i need you here
don’t ever go away.