watching you lay there tubes down your throat tubes in your arms your legs machines breathing infusing you grimaced in pain
i felt their sterile hands inside you, cracking through you like you were a crab manipulating your insides in red mortality
think about where we've been where we are
what was and wasn't appreciated til later generations and will my son see the same
the kings men put your heart together again but like a movie trailer knew we would be here again
patriarchal shift being there for the one who birthed, your wife doting over you, talking to you through the laudanum haze displays rare affection showing there how much and deep she loves
i don't expect so fair a fortune


ti jean

ti jean ti jean
where have you been
where did you go when
you were hiding inside me,
beside me, beside myself
basement excavations
ink wretched pages
dirty looks for crafted books
ti jean where have you been
legends in boxes and
wise asian foxes
heroes, bikus, sutras oh my
restless ghost driving within
ti jean where have you been

altar ego


i've become a stranger
to everyone I know.
a few know much
but none* knows all.
different sides or
different faces
presented as imagined.
could you really grasp it all
and still trust me
or worse yet love me
rag doll with
the black silk face
and frayed denim

words & spaces

processing the words repeated
the meaning of the spaces between
emotions stoked like a hungry fire
shadows make ghosts
dancing in the trees
no one there but withered leaves
waterfalls from autumn breeze




back to the bonfire burning
back now beneath the moon
the moon we share by distant night
twin bottles smoothly swallowed

come share the fire beside me
tell me your dreams and woes
til fire wanes and embers blaze
and the sun climbs slow in the east

come paint the skies with me
if not in flesh then dreams
come write the stars of night
beneath the moon i'll wait


dos cafés

sultry saxophones pianos grand
last sip of the evenings wine
two coffees large and sweet
fingers dance on ivory and brass
joy before the busy wakes
distance means nothing
and everything

to share a porch
on mountains overlooking
to hike their paths by day
at night the stars to sleep beneath
a cottage framed with hammocked trees
beauty is what beauty sees


church bells

tolling church bells carry
on grey winter skies of solid clouds
pacing parking lots to ponder
the wedding that wasn't
the wedding that shouldn't have been
and the marriage that was
not common law or common sense
but has been from the beginning
the sandy altar the waves bearing witness
if any seagull objects squawk now
or forever be silent