Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The Kiss

For Anne Marie,
for the dance.
The Kiss

I swear it did,
it happened just this way

it was one of those nights,
ya know
where staying in, you couldn’t
because hearts sometimes
grow wings
where minds slumber

there’s that breeze
the one that plays like a dryer vent
to December’s cold hands
in a long ago alley
and smells like Mary Jo’s bakery
at first light.

pine cones become Dutch wind chimes
to irritated owls
and doves stay up later
than they should

first, you see the curtain ghost dancing
to the weathered sill
and television plays only
as a millstone about your neck

this is a night for jacket optional
and thoughts non-dimensional.

a night when old feelings run alongside
remembering when
to a forgotten how

a night when you’re invisible
to harm
and dollar free
of the tax man.

I looked to the moon
and cried
she smiled and sidled back
to my follow.

on to the river she led
and there,
cared for me more
than ever a lady til then
had dared.

that’s why I cried

she willow bosomed me
hedgerow and treeline
and blued my hair
in loving kindness

So I followed
her reason to my tears.

at the river,
she trail glazed turquoise magic
and I swooned
to her dusky charm.

I walked that river,
I swear I did,
thigh deep
on layer of whiskey wishes
and long forgotten dreams.

Not Jesus deep
as Lord
nor Hoffa deep
as scoundrel.

but the sweet deep
she gave to me.

then, and here’s the twist,
I raised my arms to her
and bore me to her,
she did

a marble blue gumdrop
I wrapped my arms about
as she cradled my legs.

she took me to the heavens
and shored me up
feather bed upon Jupiter’s layers

we spun, and laughed
to London in fetters of fog
and New York
deep-fried in conceit

when we skip rocked
an ocean
kicking at sails
just beyond my reach
she pretended to drop me
but love never let’s go
-not all the way
and we both smiled.

she brought me
then home
as had to she did
and we sat to a river bank
while her eyes told me, what my heart
had already known;

she couldn’t stay
and I couldn’t go
this was real,
but magic real
and time exposes the trick

and who of you
would believe me?
or the thousand fox of Samson?
or Neptune’s breath?
Or seas, parted for the destruction
of armies on wheels?

If I tell you
a boy killed twenty-three
this you believe.
if I tell you
the magic of a kiss
this you doubt.
funny things,

Monday, February 15, 2010

You Knew

I believe in a God that is not bound by time. I believe He sees all things at once and knows the end from the beginning. Some things He stops, some things He allows. I can not help but wonder why.

a king’s view
the clouds, how they wafted
while the dust swirled
to a peasant’s
heavy footstep.

What to do
when even the noon sun
plays to your scepter
and the arrow
lies shelved

she bathes
see how the light
from the sands surrounding
shadows her hidden valleys

does she,
you suppose,
a dune and a battlefield away,
her husband,
so true and valiant
shall be the wine
that pours
to hide her shame
and mask a king’s boredom.

and you knew

his son
would fare no better, you know,
he who wrote
in wisdom’s rancid leather
and polished it clean
with God’s tarnex

we marveled
and hoorah’d
to the preacher’s
of noble verse
and etiquette
but when he himself
needed a drink
the fountain grew thorns
and in an old age
wisdom grew crazy legs
and danced to
Ashtar’s waltz

and, again, you knew

Samson would fail
and grind in the dark
Abraham would deny
his wife
to save his skin
and Judas
would swing in the shadows
for the purchase
of innocent blood.

and all of this, you knew

Paul would hold
the coat
while Stephen
grew heavier
and the greatest of speeches
went unanswered.

this too, you witnessed
in look away un-alarm

There is another,
oh, at least one,
but a trinket upon the universe's heavy chain.
another to be spared
from so much
for so long
grace beyond grace
mercy upon mercy.
a thousand pardons
for a thousand

only to finally

to the treasonous
and history’s snare
as the rabbit
would lose it’s fur, once more
and man his prideful cloak
and shorn, shorn, shorn my hair,
shorn to the roots!

and you knew-
all the while
you knew

a toast then!
and a cheer
to the fallacy
of man
and his appointment
as jester
to his own muse
on spineless legs
and invisible twisted strings.



Monday, February 8, 2010


Grey rides the day,
on a soft easy glow
below hush
it sings me to sleep,
my eyes,my eyes
oh baby oh baby all pet n purr

but it lies.

it charms the way of the wanderer with mellancholy come along on tethered hope

Streets of clouds on heartdrop pattern sing to the tarantula wind that plays mystic to the fiddler's prayer

as a door opens, fly and bang!

and the stock over shoulder look,

forgetting their cud and burst splatter udders

that sway as hades on opium.

the highway sings distant

not all pot and clang cachophony

while the grey rides silver morning trains

on blue hazy dreams

that blaze and sear the colours of your perfect


so trumped and shit upon

i walk the edge of shapeless time and withered green

sold as baker's dozen

and there!
is where grey found me needing.

so a begger I'll but be,
but not one of sullen enterprise
nor sandpiper compromise
-me for my egg

grey tells you
it is enough
I tell you,
it is not.

(I'm sorry, I did all I could but the spacing just wouldn't cooperate. A real disaster. It is what it is, I suppose.)


Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Alone, walking.
Mentor, ohio.
I arrived at my drop early and realized a wait was in order.
I slept just under 3 hours last night so i was good.
To the side, a rr track stretching into the mist of the heavy flakes which have fallen all night.
The area was just scrub brush and swamp. No wind, no sound. Just fresh white everywhere. There was a trail along the tracks. Kids in summer beats, i suppose.
I went 3 or 4 miles out off the track, running most of it. I bled off into a wood which led to a large, secluded pond. Near the edge, i heard a noise and turned. A small alone doe was gingerly making her way through the new palette. I breathed softly to check the wind. It was good. I slank slowly to my knees amd waited.
She worked her way near, then stopped close by and twitched her ears. We smiled to the day, and she altered her journey ever so slightly. It was a perfect agreement sans greed or malice.
I took the tracks back. The snow felt good.
Cont. Below
Walking part two.-
it's harder to walk inside the tracks, yet required. Just the way it is to train tramps.
A train came by to spank the new snow and i stood to the side and raised a closed fist and smiled. Don't know why.
A little later, farther down the tracks, a small flock of canadian honkers flew in low from behind me. I could hear their glide and easy purpose.
Then all went silent again. The tracks stretched, the snow did what snow does, and i walked deep pockets down.
It may have been a place of worship. Certainly one of peace and i was grateful.
I'm in akron, now.
The snow has stopped and become not just mud-dirty mud. City mud. The only geese are in kroger's freezer.
People are al punched in and mean. My windshield is dirty grey.
And for the first time today, in eighty degree heat, i'm cold.

Monday, February 1, 2010


i wonder, does it shine too loud?
Does one look?
Will they come?

How do you hide fire?

Feels good,
on my soul


them coyotes,
they have the scent.
stay still, you hunted.

will your racing heart
give you away? mine did.

no matter,
life and death
12 to 12

should've gathered more.
its cold up here, high
in the clouds
and wind

funny how the shadows creep the valley floor
searching out life
in collapsed exposure.

it the ray, i the prey in this empty sea of silent hunt.

if aliens landed,
would it be real? Would anyone believe my real?
Would i care?

I wonder why sparks fly up
what do they seek? A softer warmth?

do their asses burn as they fan tail up?
perhaps they so small just wish to be seen
seperate from the womb
baby fire learning legs
I'd pet them if I could
and tell them
it's OK

The fire grows quiet and low
played out, like my stare.

i wonder if fish know they're under water.
Am i under someone's water?
Do the moon and sun explore these depths i'm blind to?
Perhaps a great hand holds these lamps,
and chuckles to my ignorance.
a thousand years but a moment in thier reality.


the air turns cool at midnight
as if it knows.

I wonder,
if a dove set sail at midnight and learned the language, could it steal the sky?
Could it steal the thunder from god?
Or is being a dove ambition enough?
and God enough?

Here comes the rain to steal my wonders.