Friday, November 25, 2011



then, one day it all comes together.
and we gather within ourselves,
promise ourselves, push ourselves to the peak.
and, there, tie ourselves to the very fabric we
tried so desperately to free ourselves from.

and, finally, desperately, cut away the very fabric
meant to hold us strong. 
and, finally, it comes down to our babies
to pickup all the pieces
and tie together what we once began.

ah, the first frost!
so wonderful!
so refreshing!

a song!
a song in my heart!

Wednesday, November 23, 2011


looking back,
he saw his tail on fire.
it's as if she
is on the second page
and he's on the last page,
and they have passed
each other
in the twilight
of their passing years,
further complicating
all those brilliant
by all those dead prophets
that never seem
to stay dead;
always there
haunting our memories.
and careful
not to pass judgment
too quickly,
as this game
we so desperately play
has no end game;
has no pass go.
and the circle we're on
will never let us off.
only make us dizzy
and doubt
our own sanity.
something to do
with gravitational pull.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


she loves me
she loves me not
she bought a shotgun
but only
as an after thought.

whatever that's about
but who am I to ever doubt
and she likes them hung
like a polar bear

while I kill thoughts
as easily
as think them or not
never letting thoughts
run a muck 
or buck me off
as I saddle up old thoughts
I've been thinking about
as my time runs out

so, i say to her,
your place or mine?
she said to me,
i have no place.
and i say to her,
i have no place
so we do it 
right there
behind the bush
beneath the tree

there is not love
and our need is great
and our need
sets us free
behind the bush
beneath the tree

Sunday, November 20, 2011


and the dog rolled over,
said to the cat,
sniff my balls.

and the cat was incensed,
and was deeply confused
by all the uncertainties.

certainly, the dog meant
for the cat
to scratch its ass.

the dog has beautiful balls

imagine this:
you're in the middle of nowhere.
a flock of pigeons flies over.
couple hundred, or so.
those pigeons get right over you,
and they all shit at once;
right on top of you. 
but, only about 6 or 7
actually hit you. 
now, that ain't bad
out of 200 pigeons, is it?
lucky you. 


periphery of shadowy figures
blending in with nothing
but the mist of a passing day

Friday, November 18, 2011


the devil inside me
holds fast
all my madness

holds fast
all my sadness

and one
of these days
I'll get him
drunk as hell

and make
my death leap
toward heaven


she's just another pretty face
in a sea of pretty faces
and the sea is angry, angry

I ask her name
she tells me her husband 
is right behind me

and the sea is green
and brown, and yellow, and black
and I can feel 
his hot breath
on the back of my neck


there is change that needs change
there is change that wants change
there is change needing change
and there is change to change change

but nowhere timetable for change
changing whatever change is able

Science must not impose any philosophy,
any more than that telephone most tell
us what to say.


Saturday, November 12, 2011


I killed myself yesterday,
and the day before,
and probably tomorrow.

It's all about words, you know.
About words.

Even tomorrow
words will stand up,
stand right up
and shout.

But, the wind
will blow
all those words away,

and no one will hear
those words
had to say.

Better we listen
to the wind,

and put our money
under the mattress.

and the wolves came down
from the hills, and there
is nothing in from of them
and nothing behind them

it is as if the world is one
day behind itself, and
Heaven has moved on,
searching for its own Heaven

and we are stranded between
what Heaven was and what
Heaven will be, and  I may
not be a great artist like
Van Gogh, but I still have
two ears
and the wolves came down

I have surrendered; her love, the victor.


She threw me
           to the dogs,
but the dogs
         threw me back.
          she threw me
to the hogs.

Even the hogs
           threw me back

In desperation,
     she tied me in a sack
and hauled me,

kicking and screaming,

         to wal-mart,
and left me hanging

            on a rack
in the clearance isle.

She needs to smile more.

I carry my dreams in a paper basket.
avoiding rain, but never pain.

it is my pain, and I treat my pain
as a member of the family

and I treat my insanity famously 

and I keep my pain, and my insanity
close to my heart for protection

and I keep my heart close to home
to keep it from getting lost
in all that ugly haze drifting, drifting
and my life drifting, drifting

like it was wishing it was
like was wishing forever
was a slow boat
to that special place
where dawn and dusk
mix together
to make
a perfect soup

Thursday, November 10, 2011


Looking back
he saw his tail on fire.
It's as if she
is on the second page,
and he's on the third page,
and they have passed each other
in the twilight of their years;
further complicating
what should have been,
what could have been.
Or, even if their mating
is on equal terms:
Terminating all the
proceeding pages.

Pass the gravy.

too old to do what I want to do.
hot blood flowing
through a cold reservoir.

born for it
born into it
born with no regard
who, whom or what
was born before it
or why birth
was born so late
and filled
with so much hate

Wednesday, November 2, 2011


We took time out
to watch the coming,
but it never came.

So we got drunk,
went home
and watched the game.

Some think
we are insane,
but that's an entirely
different game.

We don't think
we're to blame.
it would be different
if we had a brain.

each of us is a bit weird
and each of us is a bit genius
distinction is up to us

the moon is responsible for 80 percent of all pregnancies.
the remaining 20 percent is open for debate.

trial and error.

you're always that other one
thinking I'm never the right one
as if I were born with no balls
and a corncob nose
that only blows snow
and the wind curls up
inside my style pigeon toes