If you want

I search for the words
of black and gray
but the words don't exist
at least not in that way.
Better they should be
born from my lips
to your ears.
No interference -
nothing in between
those that you hear
and the ones that I mean.
Any disparity
requiring clarity
can be resolved in our eyes.
So bring your face close
to mine, love
and if you want truth
it will tell you all there is to know.
And if you want kisses
all I have are for you
but if you want your freedom
then what am I to do?
It is yours for a song
for then all that I want
will already be gone.

I'm Thinking of You

"what are you thinking?"
you fancied inquire
like a game of truth or dare
and you couldn't believe
when I'd only answer
"nothing, it's all static in there."
But I didn't guess that
the question was loaded;
the tipping point past
where all trust is eroded.

Well, since you've been gone
the answer has become
emphatic and explicitly true
What am I thinking of now?
I'm thinking of you.

What am I thinking of now?
Now, now, now  and forever
Can't conceive I'd endeavor
to dam up the tunnel
my mind funnels through.
It's incontrovertibly true
I'm thinking of you.

All of my efforts
have been self defeating
and all of my words, regrettable
all the errors
that don't bear repeating
how I repeat them is simply incredible.
Even when I choose
to ignore them
your absence alone
has the power to restore them
though there's no interest left
for my singular debt to accrue.

I could try, I suppose,
to drown my thoughts
like so many others that do.
But that isn't in my make up
There's no casual craft
I can take up for awhile
to while the too much time away.
Can't just file them, sublimely, away-
the questions and the memories
that keep cascading through.
What am I thinking of now?
I'm thinking of you.
God help me,
I'm thinking of you.

secrets.

I wish I could let you in
on the answers. But you know
I don't have them
and I don't even know
if they exist.
I wish I could gift you
with reassurance that
everything will be alright.
But then, maybe it won't?

Even if I knew the words,
they are only a scripted cue
from the magician for whatever
his confederates have been taught to do
in order to hide the trick from view.
It's taken years of practice and deception
to make it feel so terribly real.

I wish I could divulge
the secrets you are seeking.
(Is it really any secret?)
I don't know.
Always seems as though
the secret of happiness
is in being happy
and the secret of life
is that it must be lived.
Not even love can
make happiness.
Not even love
can make things right.
Not even love can cajole
the rain to fall or end.
If it could,
I would always have flowers
for your table and the
honey for your tea.

all's fair

She's not invested in splitting hairs.
she only disagrees because she cares.
a modifier dangling from her dramatic lips
strictly speaking she never trips
or, when waxing on grammatic, slips.

Her voice employs my breath,
implores my attention,
impairs my judgement,
invades my conscience
with armies of memories,
fits of despair,
declarations of war
and delusions of surrender.

I need no defense.
I am lost and giddy in defeat.
My residence razed
my menu fouled and forgotten.
Pride has no function in the aftermath of a slaughter.
I will not accept mercy.

untitled No.2

On the playground 
near the picnic tables 
we'll be the best of friends 
until the game is up,
the sun retreats  
and shadows break hard 
over boundaries
once so easy to discern.
Still, the rules are there
to be ignored,
like homework on the slate board.

Players in a seasonal pageant, .
we are. The children
of our own misgivings.
Soon enough the voices call
announcing curfew for us all
and they are not so easily deflected.

So, will I turn the table over,
scattering plastic slugs
and penalty cards before
I concede to defeat?
There is no tally of the score.
I won't regret another loss.
The end is simply preordained
and it's always fun and friendly
until everyone gets hurt.

blood and ice cream

Pretty is not the word to describe her
Hinting only at a larger truth.
Beauty is an epic masterwork
in chalk on rainy pavement.
A cruel condition of
her probation - like an ankle monitor,
reporting her whereabouts to philosophers,
court physicians and men of God

Someday is a promise
Empty and frail as fragrance
imprinted on a lonely pillowcase
or lip gloss on a plastic cup.
Tomorrow is a memory,
a tantrum of blind possessive desire.
Think on that
when she forgets you,
waiting in the sun
on the heat of the sidewalk,
the ice cream dripping on your shoes
and realize you would lie to that cop's face,
grab his angry gun
and die in the struggle
if called upon, to aid in her escape.
If blood and ice cream
are all you have to offer
and even they are not enough.


[Halt! Who goes there? Please feel feel to comment constructively.]

untitled No.1

I want to listen to the sound
of your fingers pressing
against the strings, false notes intact;
live, without amplification.
That is your voice, the story
that is you in all your glorious
and sacred imperfection. 
Read to me aloud from
the book of your life
a chapter at a time.
And when you are done,
start over from the beginning.
A never ending melody.
You don't need to be draped
in doll clothes or walk on stilts
to merit attention.

Your simple essence curls up
and purrs against my spine-
Pale bare legs and cotton khaki.
Sparkling water and crooked smile - 
thrilling me more than some sideshow
or spectacle; more soothing than
any ceremonial rite.

Sea Legs

To where is this schooner bound?
Are we at the mercy of the currents
and the wind?
It sometimes feels like
we are sailing alone, you and I,
with only the stars over head
to guide us. And then an angler
hooks the sun and drags it from
out of the water
and I see the other travelers
on board all around us
weighing heavy upon this feckless craft.

We did not book passage together.
But it seems our travel plans were
crossed by agents well beyond
the line of our horizon.
I will call you by whatever name
you wish; stay beside you
though rough seas and ocean storms
stress the frail vessel to which we cling.
And if, when we reach a port of call,
this voyage ends, I will remember
the joy of even that one moment
shared with you beneath the stars.

at the edge

Friends that find me here
at the edge of the volcano,
balanced on one heel,
are quick to offer the steady hand
and the knowing nod.
Relax.  I have already heard
the warning shots trumpet
like a fanfare from the symphony
of self preservation,
and it doesn't insulate me
from molten heat
or save me from the fall
if I lose friction.
The game has always been fixed
but that's because the rules are broken.
Everyone wants to win 
even if their desires remain unspoken.
So all you can do is wish me luck
and, if I slip and tumble below the rim;
if I disappear from
this place of spectator safety,
say adios and console yourselves
by knowing I'll only get what I deserve.
But all I have is worthless
until I have given it away.

Baby looks good in blue.

Baby's gone in too deep
she's livin' on fruit loops
and given up sleep.
But no need to offer, cause
there ain't nothing much you can do.
Baby looks good in blue.

She frequents the circus
just to frustrate the clown.
she's been up there so long
she'll convince you it's down
There's got to be hundreds
of hues to go round
and go through.
Baby just looks good in blue

Yeah, Baby looks good in blue
she's not crying crocodile tears
The reptiles lie down just to
be in her shoes.
When her mood's dark enough
for the national news
And the weather report gets overcast, too.
Baby looks good in blue.

There once was a girl with
tats on her wrist
(Baby looks good in blue)
She quotes lines in language
that doesn't exist
(Baby looks good in blue)
Then she beats on the stage
till she bloodys her fists
but she never misses a cue
Yes, Baby looks good in blue.

[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]

Surprise Me

Whatever's in the heart of you,
surprise me.
Can't seem to make a start with you,
surprise me.
You  mystify my every plan
you keep me wondering what to do.
Been like this since it all began
I think I have you pegged and you
surprise me.

If mercy means a thing to you,
surprise me
Reveal to me the real you,
surprise me.
I'd like to share the mystery
Behind the secret of your smile
I wish you felt the same for me
But I think you don't.
Oh, won't you please surprise me?

What's hidden deep within your heart?
Surprise me.
This waiting tears me all apart.
surprise me.
I stumble over bluff and blind
and still I can't make heads or tails
I think that you've made up your mind
Then all else fails
and again I realize
how deeply you surprise me.



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]

When Worlds Collide

There is an aspect of your essence
which draws me to you instinctively.
A sequence in my DNA which
becomes all too clear in the vacuum
of my present space.
Engulfed in the exotic atmosphere,
your gravity will influence my trajectory:
Moving me only fast enough to circle,
too lazily to ever break free.
I harbor no affinity for the icy
independence of an asteroid. 
But it seems I've been an eternal satellite
This familiar dance
which I perform so well.
Facilitating the phases;
presiding over the tides;
Always facing the central sphere
as she encompasses my horizons.

Just once, before the invisible
threads of the universe unravel
and I am cast off
to disintegrate in the void,
I want to know how it might feel
to be the Planet.


[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

When you haven't the longing any longer

Do I have the 'je ne sais qua'
your senses require?
The chemical intensity
to ease your frantic fire?
I'd be the eager pup
responding at the first
to simply quench your thirst.
Just a stop gap; tap-tap,
are you still up?
You never have to rattle 'round
letting the darkness surround you.
You don't need to raffle off
your body and soul forever.
I'm pleased to simply be around you.
And then go away
at the break of another day,
when you're feeling that much stronger.
If you haven't the longing
any longer.
There's a difference,
I know in the description
between first aid and  prescription;
Between an occasional tick
and long term addiction.
I'll gladly put my arm around you,
and then 'come what may'
at the break of the new day
when you are that much stronger.
When you haven't the longing
any longer.
Call me a door mat? That's that.
are you so sure?
You have the right to call it what you like
I think I'll think of it as a cure.

And at the breaking of  the day
I will go away
If the need goes faint
instead of stronger;
if you haven't the longing
any longer.


[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

blues and grey areas

I tell myself don't write
letters I can not send.
She's not in the market
for servants or slaves.
I don't even know what
she might want in a friend.
It would take alchemy
to make something of this
that will never be.
So I have to help
my hapless heart behave.
I have no place to speculate:
One can't caress treasure
encased in glass.
So my emotions must be
stillborn and sedate.
Yet the soul will be quenched,
I believe, by and by,
even when rain
that falls from the sky
is swallowed by the soil
while the lips remain dry.


[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

good soldier

You enlisted
my loyalties and
I believed we
would serve seamlessly,
indentured to fight
at the same front;
disciplined to obey and
protect each other's skin.
When did you receive
a change in orders?
Was I out keeping watch
against primal threats
from the dark
of some deserted post?

When the end arrives
and I am blown apart
by friendly fire
I will have seen it coming
and I will perish
at your pleasure
like a good soldier.


[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

Daisy (She Loves Me Not)

You summoned me to your gate
and said come in, but not too far.
You asked me for my blessings,
accompanied on guitar.
Caught a glimpse of who you want to be
but you don't know who you are.

Daisy, Daisy it's terribly sad, but true
You're half crazy but
I could easily fall in love with you.
Each time we're together
I feel more alone
Must be a bit like trying to get
love out of a stone.

Said you read all about my tribe
in a quarterly magazine:
A race of men who should only be heard,
and rarely, or never seen.
A mixture would yield a headier brew
but you can't have your beef cake
and converse with him, too.

Another day, another 24 hours;
another sunrise and sunset
lining up to break through.
Another 'been there, done that'
while I think about seeing you.
Another batch of bright brochures
painting April rain;
moon lit cruises and Eiffel Towers.
Impossible dreams to share
with someone who isn't there.

Daisy, Daisy. Sad but still true.
It's totally crazy I know, I know
but now it's me, crazy for you.
But each time we're together
I'm left on my own
I'd be better off trying to squeeze
love from a stone.

[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

hazel eyes

Hazel eyes.
your brows
and lashes thinned
by controlled burn from
so deep within
and no amount of tears
will douse the fire
fueled one cell
to another .

No answers in the
back of this book.
Hazel eyes skip
to the last chapter
but the puzzles
remain unsolved.

Hazel eyes see
her safe little house
shrink from view
for the last time
driving away.
It's the week leading
up to Christmas day
But no presents wait
for hazel eyes to unwrap.

Sleep until New Years
sleep until Spring
sleep until the
ending of everything
when I will wake you once
that I may see your hazel eyes

random letters cut from newspaper

A ransom note
is written on my face
I can read it
in the mirror, backwards,
and It states, "If you can see this,
demands must be met,"
and then,"or else."
but only in so many words.

It scares the shit out of me

As if a device is
hugging me
beneath my shirt;
strapped around my chest
with a singular objective
and, at my emptiest,
I understand most clearly
the threat is not.

No one
[Neighbor;
Waitress;
Store cashier;
Even the ones
who look at me]
reacts in any way.
Maybe because they are afraid?
Maybe because they aren't
or know they won't
be taken with me.
As with The Rapture
they will be spared.

Why the note is there
I cannot say.  Only that it would be
comforting if someone noticed.
Or do they see ransom notes
in their own mirrors?



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

steep inclines

I've been pedaling bicycles built for twos
Pedaling philosophy from warmed over blues
Dragging sand bags up steep inclines;
Slippery slopes without hopes or traffic signs.
It gets so cold here on the ground,
holding the business end of a seesaw down.
Fragments keep flying while I feel
as if  I'm wilting on the vine.
Pack it in and you're just another quitter.
Keep it up:  You make a damn fine baby sitter.
This getting old is getting old
Surviving simply for the sake of the story
in a land where dreams are
only so much inventory.



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]

Eclipse

Thee Man in the Moon has passed away
they're holding vigil in the park.
Best bring a candle or lantern with, 
it's apt to be very, extremely dark.
The sprites and spirits will offer toast
to their late and celebrated host
who has given up the final ghost
Thee Man in the Moon is dead.

No hope have I to offer you
No false reassuring words to share.
The news I fear is completely true
and laid my deepest daunting bare.
So call upon my heart no more
I'll suffer no greetings at my door
It's to this end the days have led
Thee Man in the Moon is forever dead.

300 grams

You cried, bitterly after each
and every nightmare.
Had me believing
you never dreamed.
Yet sometimes, just as you
succumbed to sleep,
I’d hear you laughing.
The heart is hardly larger
than a fist, beating against
the bleached and bloodless stare
of an innocent pillow case.
What stains, I wonder,
are concealed on the ticking beneath?

$mart Money's On You

Insiders will always be speculating
on one of those lucrative ladies-in-waiting
and trading on the strength of convictions;
But the market proves fickle for all but a fortunate few.
I’ll heed their advice, my honey:
Smart money’s on you.

Investing my Precious, time in this dance to the finish line.
All bets are off in advance in the realm
of romance and high speed chases.
What you characterize as a cake walk
I'm calling a day at the races.
I'm not banking on comfortable futures.
We both know the dividends.
So best plan your moves most cautiously
before you decide to withdraw from me.
There are things for which
none can make amends.
 
Centrifugal force pins me back in my seat
The risks are too dear to mistake it.
I refuse to default in the face of defeat,
but those are the brakes so you take it.
Conventional wisdom tends to suggest
Smart money’s on you and to hell with the rest.

Yeah, old money won't trickle down far
but for the fortunate few.
They're hedging their bets, my honey:
Smart money’s on you.



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

Dancing on A Brooklyn Roof Top (For Beatrice)

You could not be a model
prisoner. I see the empty chains
shimmer in the yahrzeit's glow
and I don’t know if I
ought to laugh or cry.
Thanks to you I got life
while you were punished
and tortured for sins unknown.
Now you have been gone
far longer than time served.
I saw you slipping away from here.
I hope you made it
free and clear
and you're dancing
on a Brooklyn rooftop.

wait for the rain

I could move to the east
find a welcome change there
I could settle in the west
I hear there’s home on the range there
Travel north, I’m getting colder
Go down south when I get older
but for now I’ll stick where I am
pointing like a worn weather vane
and wait for the rain:
to make the sky turn grey
wait for the rain
to wash my sins away
wait for the rain - if I can’t be with you
there’s nothing else to do but
wait for the rain.

The men in suits are only carriers

they leave my roots in grave condition,
The clouds roll in like ghostly barriers
We'll all assume the same position,
someday. 
We'll all assume the same position,
someday. 

I could go downtown
and be closer to the action there
I could join up with the carnival
I’m not opposed to the attraction there’s
no shortage of choices
"just take your chances", say the voices
but for now I’ll stick where I am
pointing like a worn out weather vane
and wait for the rain
to make the sky turn grey
wait for the rain
to wash my scents away
wait for the rain - if I can’t be with you
there’s nothing else to do but
wait for the rain



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

Not From Me

The words I want to say

would mean the world to you;

The things that I would do   

would make your dreams come true;

The feelings that I have within

could set you free; could set you free.

Coming from him, that is,

but not from me. No, not from me.

He’ll never do what I would do for you

He doesn’t feel the love I feel inside

the words I can’t contain

He’ll never think to say.

And you won’t have it any other way.

No, you won’t have it any other way.

For you consider me a friend
While my whole world comes to an end.
And he’s the only one your heartaches for
forevermore, forevermore.
So this is how it shall remain
for me and you; with you and him.
The circumstance remains unchanged.
Love lives alone in hearts estranged.


[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]  

Thinking too much on the No.7 bus

Remembering the morning rays;
first days of summer.  Ocean air
locks fingers with heaven scent 
On the 7 bus to the Regency.
with you sitting next to me.
We split the price of a popcorn;
I forget what we went there to see.
but I kissed you, half on
your mouth and your chin as
the theater lights dimmed
and you swallowed your gum when you
laughed and you leaned to get closer to me.

All of these memories
start me to thinking
and that’s the worst place
to run around free.
Go thinking too much
and I start sinking deeper
than is safe for a
lonely man like me.

Cold winds were whipping the palms
by their roots till they Tango’ed;
entangled, like sprung guitar strings.
I was watching you taxi, never
thought you’d get airborne
with little more than will power
and blind faith for wings

All of these memories
start me to thinking
and that’s the last place
that I ought to be.
Go thinking too much
and I start sinking deeper
than is wise for a lonely man to be.
Does it ever get easier
wishing the ‘what if’s’ away?
And could I be any stronger
If I wasn't so sure I was wrong?
But the dark nights unravel
whenever my thoughts go astray.
The dark nights are endless
whenever my thoughts find that day:
And remember the morning rays;
first days of summer.  Ocean air
locks fingers with heaven scent 
You sitting next to me
on the 7 bus to the Regency. 
You sitting next to me
on the 7 bus to the Regency.
You sitting next to me.

Look me up if you're ever on Rainbow Road.

You don’t know who the hell I am
she advised. Potions
have neutered my delusions
with ritual scarification and choice.
Tiger’s tooth beneath my bed
I set about the business of
pretending all my dread full fears
come true.

The currents which connect
us with memory’s source
have followed the arrows of tide.
To struggle against them is to sink and

drown in an empty, inhospitable pool.

But buoyancy is most certainly
immune to amnesia;
and leaves have learned
their lessons by rote. 
They monochromatically cluster in spring
and, with death defying colors, burst
before they surrender to the soil
in free fall.
he replied.

La Vie

From the dark of the wings
none can see what
the voice over paints;
with notes that rise like
an infant’s cries from
the pain and  the
ecstasy of birth.
A sensuous girl poses
with limbs outstretched
and frozen in tableau 
blindly denying the break
in the bough which is
weakened from ages ago.
But the secrets she cradles
fall fragile as feathers
and land like sparrow’s eggs.

You lead with your heart
while thoughts play,
roundelay, in  your mind
Your chart was drawn from
stars that dance  and
descend on midnight’s
most delicate rim
where they fall , fragile as feathers
but  land like sparrow’s eggs

I wish that I could hear your voice.

I wish that I could hear your voice
if the choice were mine to make
I’d like to talk with you
Hear the shadings in your words,
the way your tongue and lips move
to form sounds. soft and harsh
the choking whispers and  the startled gasps.
Your breath flowing from deep
in your chest near to where
your heart resides
I wish I could hear your laugh
if the chance were mine to take
to make you laugh,
I’d take that chance
I’d make that choice
to hear your voice and imagine
that you are within reach
to hear the nuance of your
speech and catch the vibrations
in my ears.
I wish I could hear you sigh
as your voice begins to break.
the hesitation when you
hold back. The delight
in your own delight
when you release a phrase
and hear yourself for the first time.
The strange and the familiar blend
the voice from your mouth and the
one in my head; contrasted and compared
the woman and the girl,
the stranger and the friend
the mystery, the magic and the mundane.

hang the jury

You could search me
but I’m thinking you won’t.
You could make all of this
go away, but I’m hoping you don’t
So, arrest me with your eyes
The case against me,
casually summarize.
witnesses that name me;
evidence to frame me
is strictly circumstantial.
Coincidences, mainly;
But I have my own alibis
and your insinuations
may not stick.
The jury has a price
so even if we go to trial
I’ll risk rolling the dice
The Judge and I are thick
as thick any thieves.
The bailiff has my back
and a dirty trick or two
up his own sleeves.
I’m not above taking down
a bird of my own feather.
Internal affairs can get complex
especially if the two suspects
are caught in this thing together.

[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]

Down to my last heartache

I’m up to nothing special
I’m up to my old tricks
I’m up too high and way too late
to be playing pick up sticks
If I can't get down to the old brass tacks
ought'a put myself to bed
but I’m down to my last heartache,
so I’ll go with that instead.

I’m in for the duration
and a little off my game
I’m pretty fair at solitaire
but it always ends the same.
It won’t be long till sunrise
at least that’s what they’re warning
but I’ll just feel my last heartache
in the cold grey light of morning.

I’m out to gather rose buds.
I’m into plants these days
Down to my last heartache
it was bound to pass this way
O, its easy come and easy go
no matter what I endeavor
but the heartaches linger on so long
and the last one lasts forever.

[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]

playing patience

please take me in
I’m no stranger to you
are the days gone by
too many  for counting?

The image I see
is a light in the whirlwind
and time has caught up now
and left me behind

if changes are real
and the past is a phantom
clairvoyance and memory
are one and the same 

are we both playing patience
from a fortune teller’s deck?
are the chances we’re dealt
like a noose round the neck?

Oh, love me or hate me
but  please don’t ignore me
my suitcase has been stranded
in your house for too long

Embrace me or kill me
you’ll see that its still me
who waits in your shadow
and sings you this song


[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]