call the surgeon!
his name is Art.
make sure he isn't drunk.
tell him about the carport.
and the disease.
he must remove my one hundred nightmares.
no numbers.
leave.
when you come back
we will have a party.
Rattle Snake Moments of Patience
I hear your voice in silver pillows.
tough because of guards and anxiety.
yesternight's snow fell down in ribbons.
I wrote your name on my kite.
but I didn't fly it.
let's share a cig.
tell me how it feels to be a broken heart.
for now.
Lay Escape
there are two warm unopened beers in my office.
I can't remember last ire.
secrets in lighthouse battles.
I am corrupted.
Everything can be so simple.
but more often it is not.
I spilled simple coffee on myself this morning.
Like a little clock,
calling ticks,
life sets its spiteful run,
just in time to tell.
Letters and drawings.
Her roof misses my shoes.
It might just be another sky.
The Sound of Bells and Cassettes and Bayonets
the church bells ring.
cars and trains.
discord and blame.
I'll be your sword soldier.
Your chapped-lipped confederate.
Be my lady river.
I wish you had wings,
and the heart of a child,
too.
fifty cents says you miss me.
let's go to the plot creek.
free form blues.
it's like Traver Hollow, I bet.
Amen, it's all relative.
and this ain't hell, but regret;
songs like this
end in endings.
Make Friends with the Color Blue
everywhere I survive, I die.
as a master gardner,
harvesting hearts east,
you need every tool you can get.
I plant dinner for two.
then have a heart attack.
fall down dead in the dirt.
I watch the navy blue sky.
I go with it.
to yellow morning.
there I sit.
just to sing to you next Thursday.
maybe these canyons have beaten me.
goodnight gluttony.
knitting nothing
sorry, Mr. Percy.
I say on a Sunday.
got stuck invisible as life.
on 29th street.
invisible as my hand.
which I see everyday.
ignore.
continue.
I come alight on 33rd and Park.
walk.
in the biggest rooms we die.
adios, Mr. Percy.
the loud librarian is now as good as dead.
lost in his automobile.
probably just another fender on 57th street.
coughing into life.
the search starts.
and should never end.
What is it you seek- God? you ask with a smile.
no.
Poem
my shoulders miss you.
they are sorry for making you sad.
I've been walking difficult for weeks.
the jewelry store next to my job got robbed.
I'm a bastard.
and darling, you're amazing.
Old Copper, Shoplifter
motionless stories to hide
in old mountains from me.
while we get silly,
with white eagles
on weekdays.
why would you take
yourself away from me?
I think you are gorgeous,
please keep your mouth shut.
happier,
why would you get silly
away from me
=
to ruin things?
facing the name that doesn't matter at all.
late show.
sparks.
I put a letter in the mail for ya.
Sand dollars.
you stole my shoes and my heart
and sold them to the moon
for a front-row seat.
beers and tears
I am home and sad as shirts.
T's and V's,
depending on the Brooklyn where's.
I am me and you are you.
every year I clap my hands
and you drift down to the main street
river horse of my goddamn doldrum dreams
of summer, but it is winter,
dressed in hats that old ladies
wear to markets.
don't worry about me.
I'm starving.
the tom is shimmy shake.
fact or fiction.
you are welcome
the noose drips off my nose.
trimmed as misery.
my haircut is not a haircut.
and my face won't speak.
hug your bones.
captain oh captain
I have no one to weekend.
I want to shoot off my big ol' mouth.
but I have no one to talk to.
trimmed in cranberry pants.
crackling wood gone white.
garage rock doldrums.
miserable beatnik dreams and sloth severance.
I'm well and writing.
clean the blood off my face.
42 days ago
I can't wait to fly
into Ft. Lauderdale.
I write, I eat.
I equal a man
with very bad posture.
back to the cellar prep:
Cod holiday, get drunk,
tune in time immemorial.
I was not yet sleeping.
In the meisner end,
I washed up on shore,
battered and benevolent and alone,
an ace in midnight Wellington.
the touch of Heaven grass
is rough in locavore eat...
since platters and guitars.
I hear voices.
Candles make defference
and
axe-handle restlessness,
details we have left,
with the fallen days
we have reminded ourselves,
there is no sympathy,
we focus on the fumes
and we remember what we chose:
fire or force,
both barely used.
big balls
don't just give me free-passes,
gimme a sing.
I don't know where it's all going.
but I can show you where it comes from.
it comes from behind the Wendy's.
on University Blvd.
now what do I do?
you gave me a marshmallow and a bow and arrow with which I killed myself.
what time is it in Germany
now?
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