Tuesday, July 3, 2012

if I may borrow from Neruda

cicadas saw their symphony

the street light buzzes on

through muggy June darkness

the neighbor's old diesel rattles

and crunches to a stop

on the gravel drive

the creak of the swing

in idle time

passed between two lovers

a Shostakovich spirit

in the night

Saturday, June 23, 2012

dinosaurs bob their heads

I was sailing along
on Saturday night beer fuel
singing with the band
til a twelve a.m. last call
I'd put on the rockstar show
swaying with the crowd
in electric smoke and amber showers
yelling in unison and waiting
for the night to fall

we stumbled up to the
top of the tavern
for after hours shots of tequila
meeting up with Chris and Jerry
"there's a party at Anna's place"
they said
so we pulled out and piled in
the party wagon with a bagful
of 40 ouncers to go

as soon as we were there
Chris started fishing for flake
until he found a sap to split
an overpriced 8 ball with us
he chopped out lines
and I snorted sparks
shooting right to my soul

I was on top of the town
the world at my fingers
the night as my mistress
dangling playthings and
dinosaurs that bob their heads in time
to Train In Vain

blitzing the by-lines and not worrying
worlds with withering waterfalls
stumble step in straight lines
rush the rocks together with
no man overboard
no man left behind
on the mainline drag
as you float the sails
and bear down on the white powder winds
with magicians
who pull rabbits
with no ears
out of
baseball caps

until your climb comes crashing
down from the cliffs
in an overhanging undertow

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

My ebook of poetry, Summer in Russia, is available at smashwords, diesel, Barnes & Noble, and will be available at Apple in about a week.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012


Step on me, step on you
There ain't nothing you gotta do
In between accidents
Honey, you won't repent
            Rambunctious revelation
            Gotta be your salvation
I might have made a mistake
Love's gonna be my last disgrace
            The darkness around is deep
            Your innocent song just repeats
            Can I see my own grief
            And not see your relief?

My mother would kiss me to sleep
Like you coming here tonight
To sing of the peace that
Blows outside my window and
Rains down on the shadows
            But it always hurts
            On those rainy afternoons
When the sun don't come
Because it don't believe anymore
            The rain that surrounds us
            Is just not the same
            Can you feel heaven riding
            On a downtown train?

The rose always pricks me with her thorn
She's got no mercy for the weary and worn
Sink or swim; sympathy for sin
She won't set me free, so what have I got to give?
            The darkness around is deep
            The rose pricks at me with her thorns
            I'm weary and worn
            From your arms I'm borne

Monday, January 30, 2012

Wagon Before the Mule

Hush now don’t you cry                                          
I’m gonna fix you in the by and by
But she’ll swear I been runnin around
She’ll try to send me right out of town
But you can’t put the wagon before the mule    
And expect him to run with a full load too          

My heart ain’t believing
What my brain’s been receiving
My head can’t be right
If I’s out with her all night
You can’t put the wagon before the mule
And not expect him to run all over you

Now I ain’t afraid of you
Gimme a shot or two
Baby you know it’s true
So don’t you be so cruel
You can’t put the wagon before the mule
Without him cutting you clean and true

Adolescent Car Trips

We took off through the
states sinking into the sand.
We left no trail or trace except for
small bits of gum, oil and gas fumes.

We came upon the city
in the early morning.
Cold drunks shiver
 in the street lights still dark.

We knew no boundaries
except gas money, tea and sharks.

When we left,
she told us to be safe.
Don’t drown, wreck,
or fall prey to animals on the  road.

And taking off, make sure the door’s
locked and the radio works.

Keep fresh water cold in the trunk.
Keep yourself safe from the swamp.

Monday, January 23, 2012

the truth about that

the cat in the hat
speaks the truth about that
with sharp hair wiggles
and crusted over cats

i've pulled up my wheels
cause i'm tired of these quills
until they come off my fingers
in spite of the spills

thing one and two on distant hills
i wouln't like it to follow their will
sail off away in the thing a ma jigger
stay safe all you kiddies in spite of the deals