Wednesday, January 31, 2018



















DRUNK


I don’t sleep until I’ve drunk
all the wine to sea level
until I’ve come down
from the mountain
alighted on a limb
I don’t sleep easily when
I refuse to give in
secret lives make me hunger
for rare is the time
a story is realized
without the wine
when it comes, this sleep
this battle I’ve waged
silence reacts like
a dream uncaged
sober, I wake to what
the muse demands
sober, I write while
the cats eye the day
we miss you, they whine
in the creeping night
your drunken unburdening
your nail-biting ride
to a story you’ve
unearthed at the bottom of a glass
while we sleep in the daylight
and you are free at last
a paw needs licking
a head needs kissing
the rule book’s in place
and as she ages
they give her the floor
write a story, they say
until you can’t anymore
we’ll carry on leaping in
late night intent
while you carry on making
your way to repent
tomorrow is always a fickle thing
bravado or Zen is challenging
the secret of life
are cows not so far
from the writer
we trust or we don’t anymore
it’s the path we’d rather
a sober collective or
a bloody bother
I don’t sleep until
I contact the courier
I don’t sleep until
I drink the blood of the warrior

Saturday, November 18, 2017



















canvas sky unknown
game called travelers have flown
golden diamond

WHAADYA DO when your book is finally approved for printing? Sit back and relax and await delivery? Why you start back in on the next batch of short stories and their characters…all new, all waiting to be heard.

Saturday, October 14, 2017








Among Us


what was less then
what was lost
what was found in
in our round table
was mostly future
among the cats and the wine
what we failed was the nurture
we traveled away
from the canvas the studio
we huddled too close
to the answer the obvious
I shed you
I did
for my own self worth
Sacrificed you for me
Still undecided
You touched the bottle
a reprimand to my flight
I understood
too late
too angry to fight
Amsterdam pulled the plug
Amsterdam was the flood
that lifted me over redeeming waters
I was young then and mostly drunk
I was young then
and mostly alone
you tracked how I flew
my singular path
Breakfast in Amsterdam
Breakfast was a drag
And I made a picture
of us in the round
Of us as artists underground
the basement the studio
I have never recovered
your sly criticisms
your tiny canvases of mirth
I am still here

That’s my singular birth

Wednesday, October 11, 2017


the spell

For Carole with reservations
before I knew it I’m roped
tied to a heart you call dope
until the wheels fall apart
on that nail driven road and
I shatter the mirror that
fails your rear view
before I know it shit happens
hot as the blast from my secret weapon
when the clues break away
from the you meant to stay
under spells I’ve forgiven
who I am to rattle your mission
before you know it’s that rope
tightens years on those lies
hands me a wasteland too heavy to fly
nothing to do but drive on
through a firestorm of redemption
from the me meant to stay
it’s going and coming from under the spell
it’s me with the age of the tarot that tells
it’s me in a crown of the victory wreath
it’s you who’s to grieve
the race never won
nothing gained in those lies
nothing to do now but salute
that road we’ve been on
paved with dying allude
nothing to do but delete and drive on
from you

Saturday, October 7, 2017


it’s the miraculous
in the normal, he said
she glanced up from
her reading
what she did before bed
what do you mean
she asked
her question loaded
these small things
between them
often exploded
these small things
between lovers
that came with warnings

it’s the miraculous
in the normal, he said
she turned round
from her stirring
a traveler returned
with small gifts
that unraveled
like a story retold
lentils with cumin
simmered on the stove
they were still human
she kept them fed

it’s the miraculous
in the normal, he said
she glanced up from
her reading
what she did before bed
like the darkness
in prisons she said
like gold in decay
when night becomes
the hard light of day
keep it simple, he said
straight forward
at home or abroad
take time for the tea
wear good shoes for the road

It’s the miraculous
in the normal, he said
gently insistent
she glanced up from 
her reading
what she did before bed
I know what you mean,
she whispered

it lives in my head

Tuesday, September 12, 2017


the dog walker
you fall in love
undeniably
keep your heart
in check
give her the best
you walk that
fine line terribly
for years…

Sunday, July 2, 2017


beyond in love with you
leaves me among the stars 
eaten by monsters
scrabbling for stories
before we know it
beyond in love with you
carries a briefcase of regret
stuffed with earnest unforget
that is still undecided
beyond in love with you
keeps me quiet in
the dark silent night
you have your job
and I have the dogfight
beyond in love with you
is the message I carved in
the still wet cement
never easy
never repent
you loved me before the
message hardens
I love you like a threatened garden
I am yours
you are mine
lost the rings on our fingers
found the heart stopping reminder
in a small place in Paris
understanding distress
I came to you in
combative redress
and you welcomed me
you welcomed me
beyond in love with you
that is all
that was then
this is now
no regrets

Sunday, June 18, 2017


























CLASS WAR
They die by fire
histories are built on
wishful origins
dead arise to become
another’s story
there are as many questions
as there are redemptions
that room at the top
is she one of
a family of five burned
now to the ground
what is lost in a fire
is this:
memory
sweet empathy
bloodless revolution
left behind is the
crafted solution
to memory and godless
Innocence burns
faster than guilt
spontaneous combustion
controlled revolution
what is lost in a fire
depends on the flame
birthday candles alight
again and again
like the magic
of coming from a
long line of nobodies
they die in a fire
they are our story
They die by water
cities are built on
wishful origins
assembly lines hum
another’s story
there are as many questions
as there are redemptions
that home at the top
is it one of
a family of five poisoned
by water unsound
what is drowned in neglect
is this:
memory
sweet empathy
bloodless revolution
left behind is the
crafted solution
to memory and godless
Innocence drowns
faster than guilt
spontaneous disruption
controlled revolution
what is lost when they drown
depends on water
prayer candles alight
again and again
like the magic
of coming from a
long line of nobodies
they die by poisoning
they are our story

Monday, May 22, 2017



DELIVERY
church basement
heart casement window
a family of five
slow motion crescendo
breaks onto seats
at the table I serve
fire pending
boy chasing questions
a family of five
much older descending
slower to speak
at the table I serve
life downward
hot chile with white rice
a family of five
small eyes seek repentance
slower to speak
at a table I serve
this father
man burdened with white lies
a family of five
smells history’s acceptance
slower to speak
at a table I serve
his eldest
eyes growing without life
a family of five
mourns passive resistance
unlearned today
at a table I serve
They come to it again and again
and again there’s no where or when
a family of five
my mantra my alive
in the deep sweet archive
at a table I serve

Monday, May 1, 2017



unfinished
you start out small
half baked undecided
the reverence you learn
complicates arrival
at your feet your head
your heart your denial
until you make a start
with an argument
a holler
then unwillingly wander
into a pen or a brush it
sweeps away all betrayal
you start out small
in your honest repair
one line or two
the masters you learned from
are laughing at you
these strokes
that you dare
this unspoken poetry
is easier than you think
so stop thinking and
be unfinished
for once and forever
dip the brush
draw the chalk
drag the oil through memory
your face is a story
still to be told
your face is the memory
the future unfold
unfinished is sanctity
unfinished is bold
unfinished is memory
unfinished is gold

Saturday, April 29, 2017


LISTS
for Scott Garrison

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago

algorithms
inner cracking sound system
bleed me
bleed my
love or defeat me
I have met that person
I don’t do autographs
but I am up for the duration

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago

patriotism
secret weapon stashed within
free me
free the
horse underneath me
riding wild to reason
to a place unaware
of the knee-buckling seasons we share

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago

somnambulism
eyelids lowered to the scrim
teach me
teach the
heart that belies a
beating past of war cries
in the thin underneath
of the root killing history we know

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago