in lion eyes

He had a lion inside
his chest.
Every once in a while, he would
let it out for
introspection
and grooming.
He kept it at bay with a leather whip,
an old wooden chair
and the awareness
of what we are all capable of,  while i
could only see the lions eyes.

Yes,   a lion inside
his chest.

War... what is it good for?

 " Bombs Away !! " they shouted.

       Though, technically... it
            was
         just a pillow fight
     between grandpa and Cohen
           and Anders
      on the bedroom floor.

           " Incoming !! "

teacup

i'm not everyone's
   teacup... the fact is i might be
   nobodies
   teacup but mine.

dylan, brautigan and etheridge knight

did they leave anything
out there
anything for me
to say
any space for me
to fill
soft words
hard as hell words
plain-spoken or psychotic
sobered up
once narcotic
did they miss a beat
miss anything
i got my
arms raised
and my eyes down
and i can
feel
did they leave anything
out there
anything for me
to say

Ode to Mary

            " These are
     ancient questions " sang Pete Seeger
       " that were mined in Chicago
              and Minnesota. "
       and for a  brief moment
    they felt..... almost..giddy at the
           thought of it.
     That they would find the answers
          on the marble steps
            and in the music.

demanding rhapsody

i can't help but
try to be
who i think i am
there's nobody
standing next to me
takes alot
gives a damn
i need some luck
not chemistry
to make my heart go
BAM
BAM
BAM
i feel so roboty
demanding rhapsody, then
falling asleep
gram
by
gram.

cart-wheeling

          While high as a kite
                   i might
       have wasted precious time
               daydreaming
                      and
              deconstructing
                      and
          looking for meaning
                     while
             misconducting
                      and
cart-wheeling until i lost the feeling
                     in both
                 of my hands.

Two questions at 25mph

Father and daughter
are going for a ride ... while cajoling
 to visit the other side.
She's been his best friend for a good while.
He's as predictable as ocean tide.
One asks  " could life be a transportation riddle? "
One answers " are you thinking the end is really...  the middle? "
One re-positions.
One rolls the window down
and ruminates the
two questions at 25mph.

$200 and a bottle of wine = Forgiveness

                    What gets over-looked
                           is practically 
                               a-tomic.
                    What gets beaten down
                    won't come back  'round
                        Not in this lifetime. 
                  What gets scared and shook
                         becomes drastically
                                 he-donic.
                                 but then
         $200 and a bottle of wine  =  Forgiveness
                           

today we are Magi

It took 3,000 years to walk 3,000 miles.
In the East, we
traded clothes for destinations.
Today we are Magi.
Tomorrow we don't know.
There are trials and tragedies.
These are celebrations.

He Walked like Sidney Greenstreet

He walked like Sidney Greenstreet
and he talked like Benny Hill
He arrived like Billy Sunday
He washed up like an oil spill
He had one arm around you
It was maybe your best chance
He sang along w/Elvis
Costello in blue pajama pants
He turned his back on anarchy
and dead-bolted every door 
He wore cuban hats and JCrew T's
that people don't wear anymore
He was a sight for sore eyes
He never let you down
Once or twice,,,someone like him
in a lifetime...comes around
He walked like Sidney Greenstreet
and he balked at irony
He smiled like Billy Sunday
on Pentecostical t.v.
He said he's never leaning
that he's as straight as straight can be
He walked like Sidney Greenstreet
very...cinematically
...

I hear Otis Redding

                                           " oh -no "
                                       they're shouting.

                       " tell me something " says Lucy Ball ,
                              " are our best moments
                                        sewn together
                              like that afghan on the wall? "
                                                 *
                                           " oh-no "
                                       they're chanting.

                        "find one thing " says Ruby Dee.
                                  Walk the Easy Path or
                                       talk to Buddha.
                         She said " they both worked for me. "
                                                  *
                                            " oh-no "
                                            that's Otis

                                Redding, you fool, i swear.
                               If you're on  the Easy Path
                                      you don't know his
                                      " Lover's Prayer "
                                                 *
                                            " go-go "
                                         we're urged on

                                   to " find that one thing "
                                            Or repeat.
                                 Throw a blanket over Otis.
                                       He's a crime-scene.
                                          Like Cobain.
                                            Like Keats.
                                   

a blue jar candle

      Once upon a time there was this
       blue jar candle
      sitting right there
      on the corner of my desk.
       So blue.
       I didn't mind.
       I went about my business.
      It's gone now, but i
       remember.

       So blue.

The story as told

      So you pick up your life
         and you shake it
          and
      carefully, set it back
         down.
      You're wondering now,
        " did you break it? "
      You don't remember it
        making that sound.
      So you throw up your hands
        and get quiet. because
      that's what you do for dimension.
      Or you shake it again,
         somewhat harder, thinking
     maybe that'll get it's attention.
    Or you pick out a line
       from a movie
      and cleverly pass it around.
    But you're wondering now,
      " did you fake it? "
    You don't remember real life
       making that sound.
    So you blow up your plans
       to start over, because
     the glue and the clamps cannot hold.
     All that's left are
      the pieces and
     they're everywhere...though that's
     not
     the story.

     The story as told.
   
   
     

f*ck fantasy football

I like football.
I watch football.
I read football-related
 articles in the Sun-Times.
But i don't give a damn about
 fantasy football.
It's stupid.
F*ck fantasy football.
F*ck fantasy anything..... well,

     almost anything.
 

Waiting for an explanation from God

   Waiting for an explanation from God is
       not like waiting
       for a bus.
   It's not like waiting for the
       phone to ring.
   It's more like having a mouthful of dust
       on a hot summer day
        in Selma, Alabama.
   Waiting for an explanation from God is
    like
    writing f*cked-up poetry
    to yourself.
    at 2 a.m.
    in
    your
    underwear.


    Yep, that's what waiting for an explanation
     from God
        is like.

The Length of Regret

     The difference between a
            bad decision,
            a poor decision
            and a foolish decision.

Esmeralda Laughing

Her sudden
easy
laughter surprised me...like it had
spilled from a jar.
The kind of laugh that
breaks your heart.
Breaks your goddam heart.
Reminds you of someone that you thought you'd
 forgotten.
The kind of laugh.that
 you don't
 laugh along with.
The fact is
 you don't laugh at all.


it's HER laugh.

It's the kind of laugh that suggests  " everything should
                 be held closer. "

Mabel and Poor Henry

                             Mabel's got ants in
                                    her pants
                           Poor Henry's got 'em
                                   in his head
                   That girl is always squirming.
                                  Poor Henry.

                   He can't concentrate in her bed.

heartbeating

                      it seems like the
                      broken heart
                       never really heals....yeah, it can be
                       resuscitated,
                       re-surfaced,
                       renovated,
                       re-habilitated,
                       possibly re-located
                       and even..... re-claimed, but
                         " is it ever the same ? "
                        no,
                        i think not.

                                 kudo's to those
                            who can keep the beat
                              

Bullets

                            Let's pull the trigger.
                            Let the bullets meet
                              in the middle.
                            Nah, it ain't gonna kill us,
                               but it just might
                               hurt alittle.
                             Let's reach for something out there...
                                something we still hope
                                  to feel.
                             Then we'll talk about recovery
                                and give the
                                bullets
                                time to heal.

bellyaching

          I proposed to breakfast,
          but i married lunch.
          I prayed for dinner.
          Oh Lord, i think i ate too much.

Her

                                            What rhymes with disappointment ? 

                                                                    Her.

It's 1pm in Nairobi

There's hope.
There's still time. 
There's enough time to turn this thing around.
There's songs to sing.
There's conversations awaiting
There's this
and
There's that
and
There's more.

It's 1pm in Nairobi.

Mao's Breath

There was romance and
heartache
in the alley
when  darkness
 encountered
 innocence.
There was guilt and redemption.

She called it Mao's Breath.