For Tomorrow (that we would do as much as you would)

nastiness on the internet
television full of fools
double-speak on the radio
hate on the telephone
wish it all blows away
in the radioactive snow

horns honk
brakes lock
stocks fall
a repeating
state of shellshock

pretend hope of families
left behind feelings
of youth
no wonder so many
become riddled
with trifled medicine

swaths of bristled insincerity
luxury vanity insecurity
bugs in your home
and under our skin
jewels of memory
taken by pirates
buried forever in a cheap tin

blinds drawn
in the pool of chemicals
for the golden dawn
innocence strip-mined
by soulless trappers
doomed ourselves with plastic bottles
and candy wrappers

take another breath
take another deep breath
for tomorrow

Ready / Colour Of The Hour / Memories of London

elegant towns
electric towers
branches that don't reach
much farther than the sky
you're a flower
amongst thorns
red chimneys
and the sea

on this horizon
sky changing color by the hour
whiskey, navels and staples
on the window across the way
you'd explode
left alone
in the same
vampires falling in love
at sunset

and out at sea
new ghosts
and old ghosts
dance the waltz
as daybreaks
like water on the sidewalk
outside the bar
where you threw
your life away

time goes
clocks explode into soon
while I get distracted tying shoes
I'm ready
take me
all the ideas and the
and the bad breaks and the fixated dilated dilapidated eyes
yeah, take me.
a millions panels of broken glass
a thousand souls washed away
by their own pasts
I'm ready

Stairs / Mystery / Figure /Waist / Face / Dog /Helmet / Road / Love /Comfort / 42 / Laundry

"Wolfie"

Dream Made Real

From A River To A Robin (Real Reasons On A Cliff)

is there ever any rest?
the target. Does it ever stop moving?
Nothing witty to say.
I want to be here
but I also want to be a thousand miles away.
some other person.
some other place.
a night club or walking in the valley.
its insincere, really.
a new day
robbed of laughter
of its light
how do a million other people see the fade
and not stop to see the
catastrophe?

the 12 inch mix, it goes a lot longer than 7 minutes

get down
boogie oogie oogie
'til you just can't take it anymore.
up on the floor
the ceiling laughs
as it has laughed
many times before
these are the good times
you don't know
you don't recognize
you cannot the fathom
the fathoms
the layers of water
you should have drifted through
in the back seat of that Aerostar van
is it always March?
and the waters always rising
here at the edge of the troubled world
you laugh
I laugh
but the tape comes to an end
your voice and applause trailing off into the hollywood distance.

funny man
funny woman
funny how love is
funny how life is
all new state of mind
the record runs to it's 'out' groove
and time is silent save
'for the crackles that move from the end of time to the gloom

this is fantasy
this is fabulous
this is the moment before the end  of time
where you and I and all that came before
are united in the moment, the minute, the last flapping end of the 8mm reel spinning into
oblivion.

Guide

Ghosts

Waves

light and shade
buried under the weight of
dead ideas
like an iceberg's cascade
sloth-like in visions
seething in seer's sessions
pretentious unmentioned
cord stretched tight
coiling pill clenched mouth
left in perfections,
predictions, predilections
distillery and artillery pointed at the anointed one
before the blue perfumed curtain call
and BLAM.
BLAME.
FAILED.
Flailing.
nails, rakes and rugs
rails, fakes and thugs
trails, lakes and
enough drugs to stay quiet
in the underground
til the plastic flowers come
where the insects sleep
beetles rattle and worms
withdraw winding sheets
care-worn rare room culture statutes
silks sheets beaten heathens
by slow poisons
tin foil hats on
pilloried posts
in the age of jetsons
lost.
No cars fly here
no space shuttled
muzzled
fizzled
dwindling
riddled.

not awake
here
in the room
with cold spirits
laughing gestures dead dancers pirouettes
with street muscle
black eyes sparkle against diamond shoals
layers
pulled back like aristocratic diction
slack-jawed and skull softened in the morning
of the evening
of the last day
of tormented words
flung through the trap door
to freedom.
-----------


"I came to find the last star
   and it was dust."

Light And Shade In The Waning Afternoon

Blue Period (self portraits)

On Fire And Forever (dream stories)

Clouds are mist at a distance
But when you wave your hands around them
they just get wet.

no poetry lately / wrung free from indifference
no words / too busy
looking at bright red coffee machines
I see severed heads
and turmoil
a field of corn here
1000 years previously
a boy leads his horse to drink
at the edge of the magic lake
counting the cracks in the sidewalk
aimlessly I dive into the lake
its made of fire on one side
water on the other

Not in either place
 a small price to pay
watching a white van speed by
windows blacked out
with duct tape mystery

thuggish hieroglyphics
scrawled like manifesto posturing
go by as animated strips
 in an rotoscoped vision of the damned
belies the plumbing parts and old xrays
I want to throw rocks
drown the fire out
but not so much
good happening
here flapping my
invisible hands

Meow Chillin'

Placed As Some (Extravagance)

Unearthed

the most beautiful boy

asleep in the beaming

of a smiling red moon

like a butterfly

come to rest (doesn't need the love of the world)

on a still leaf (doesn't need the twists and turns)

before flying (doesn't need anything a thousandfold)

to the future (just a need a sun that burns)

A bit of my weeping wine

a bit of chatter in the 

noonday sunshine

and some filth and laughter

mad enough still for love

and some strange manner of living

to be the catcher

when you're laughing

when you fall

the punchline

on my sleeve

talks of dreams

in the morning rides

from night to day 

as Sinatra sings

let's get lost

chet is so boss

but due without the

personality

a thousand notes will help 

you see

oh my heart

does it need

some connection

satisfaction

my man in man

zooms in 

to take heed

and smoke

blooms.

Photographing Oranges In The Sun

go out now

and see the sun

and see the clouds

that played before this tune

100 days we walked around the world

a honking horn

a carpark 

and the boy you decided to be

a thousand memories

a millions songs

will they vanish

when I'm not me?

will the tape erase

my face and the songs that I sing

will there be anything

left that's good

when I am

nothing?

is that something?

more than anything

more than all the clouds in my heart

untapped ideas oranges unreeled

birds will run fallow

in their fathoms 

in the sky

witnessing eclipses

whales spray indicates time

where dreams run parallel

to flames that die down

like all things

its a replay

its a small thought

that means everything

but its something at least

today.

Elegy For Bruises And The Moon

out of the fireworks
comes disappointment
out of the fire
we all walk to the aisle
of disillusionment
the old man with the cane
that came
to shop for fruits
and dropped his bag
amongst the flowers
never again to sing
to the moon
another tail in the distance
we'd be remiss to waste
a kiss that will not bloom
a flower that will not consume
and you
broken like waves
on rocks
discounted for predatory flocks
in june
in white veils
that drape contusions
with bruises left over from a dream
a date with destiny
hammered steel,
coal black
blank reflections
in faces of the mill
made real
and hands that came
with secrets to steal
that went off the rails
when we still believed
quality, qualified then quiet
a gift forgiven, some quintessential tragedy
delivered
in an instant
the white flash
and static.

Untitled # 781

wagon
around the tree
birch rings in autumn
and no birds sing
to the vapors
ancestors
visitors
remade
veiled
curtailed
pictures in rafters
remembered
hereafters
out of sequence
delinquent
unmailed
recipients
*(unfinished)
--------

Hold The Old Dreams / Warm / Serene / Nothing to hide

after perdition
rendition
after the railways
had taken us away
after a hundred marilyns had
blown us a kiss
to say no more sighs
no more bloodshed
no more goodbyes
shower us with this
love that last
we are open now
to your brown eyes
we'll not love less
we'll not say yes
to your blasted bloody goodbyes
that shows us in stars
in broken glass
we are open
into the open ended
this is life's surprise

will you put your arms before me in
the air
will you hold your arms in the way
of the human dare
in the open swarm
when bullets sing
and warm air parts to let the screaming
start
here its chaos
I had put a bead on
just for us and
the name of silence
on the surface of the moon
its a jubilee watched
for care's cream soaked images
the tender years
its youth is mine
the darkness soaks its rage
to slag the merriment and the downy warmth
like flightless brides
in cages
where we can watch
your family circle
and
come back
to fire
where we talked so much
about infatuation
and come back on the heel of the moon
on the heel of the moon
on the skin on the moon
on this cave on the moon
on this cave on the sun\we're burning out
before we've
begun.

Conversation On Western Plains (for the Western Black Rhino)

under the Boabbab tree
a black rhino's ghost
waits for me
talk all day long why does
a man need help all along
and why, oh why
did it take me
to recoil in splendor
recline in revolving doors
tipped into meet men
powdered up
to engage in sin?

were you only to know
of the rape our harvest sews
in gallant nights
where bedsit fights
leave some scarring in
the afterglow
of ancient rites
to be buried in the snow

dashed in payment
wiped in semen
so majesty could banished be
by another failed
blood prophecy
but you
backed in
to this dead end door
of absolution
a trap door heaving wide
in false dream evolution
survival of the fittest
means men who fill with pain
and spittle drizzled swords and
spears and greed and tears
and diamonds raped
with speed and fear
what more to conquer?

in some kind of animal splendor
a creature that lived
and died
for your sins
and fake lust
you will not remember?

its tall proud shadow
the years of grass
in the endless meadow
too summarized and edited
for dimwits pleasure
and suffering
now dies in the heather...

we are a disease with shoes
an endless song that
plays the blues
we wipe every thing free of the beauty
while damning ourselves
with faint praise and duty
in the long grass
there are no more
hooves
no more earth pressed-weight
antagonism
we stripped you away
in absence of any danger
for black rhino's ghost singing
to be heard in the final hour
with its languor
would I lay down
wind down
so our songs would be be quiet
in some form of splendor
lost in gone waves
unending
surrender?

-----

p.s. - the human race is a pox on this world

From October to Afternoon / 145 Seconds / The Light Pours Out of me

They Really ARE All Against You / Ho-Mo-Phobia / Sing It With me Now!!

 the weight of our history is built up from tiny bits of memory.

What good is conspiracy when they are actually conspiring against you?

I could have made a better family out of wet paper towels and popsicle sticks.