valentime

pure chocolate is bitter
too bitter to eat
pure love is like chocolate
and smells like my feet

that's what i wrote to my love
when i was but 10
now i am a old, i am wise
but i would write it again

We Olde Boys

Perhaps, just perhaps, there's a bit of adventure left in us.
Maybe we can stoke those fires going again.
Get our creaky ships back into ship-shape.

We need to shake off this smog,
All the rain that's draining us.
All this mundane that's stacked itself on top of us.
And just... Get Out. Take Off.
See Again.

There are corners of the world we were to explore.
Remember?
All those wines to taste. Vixens to chase.
You and I-- exploding into Legend!
... In the very least cutting our names into a tree
on some brilliant coast years away from here
so all the world would know
what we olde boys had been up to...

It just doesn't seem to sparkle.
None of the constellations connect
in these little lives we've settled into.
Old hat. Old sweater.
No more tricks...

I think fondly on our days of erratic energy.
Of the maybes and the shoot-downs
and the wonder of just not-knowing
where we'd end up. Or wake up.
Or if we'd know the language.

I think revisiting the wild might do us some good.
Lets pack light, oil the olde hinges...
Perhaps, just perhaps, there's a bit of adventure left in us...

Your Name Here

Those impossible eyes,
That improbable face.
Such incredible color
in this intolerable place.

Remind me again
why sometimes I fear
there's no Heaven.

Small Sacrifices to Pele

And She creates the land
out of love and anger.
Fire black, red billows,
pillows out to make more
for us to plunder...

And She creates not
because She's lonely.
Not because She wants
all the awe and company.

She creates because it
is inside Her.
This life.
This heat.
This everything that is to be--

Succulent colors not yet seen.
The unknown, ferocious passions
of all us beasts and angels...

We walk over what has dried,
as close to the flow as we dare.
Hoping not to
c
r
um
b
l
e.
Wishing there was something
we could give, a little bribe--
a small sacrifice
that could corrupt Her
just a bit. Enough
to know a secret or two.

Explain the heat?
When will it end?
Are we going to
start over again?

No answers at all. No hints.
No misunderstandings...

There's no corrupting eternity.
Something we already knew before
dropping in...

But what kind of folks would we
be if we didn't try?

the good times

how you been
where ever you are?
hope your hell
is as delicate as mine.

Grind

I can smell you.
Like ground coffee and
blueberries.
I can see
the stains and the crumbs.
I know where you went.
Thanks for asking
if I wanted anything.

Jerk.

Hueston Station

It's a shame when an old friend
from years ago dies. Too young.
A shame when you have to hear it
from another old friend
you happened to bump into at the market.

Such a shame.

Like a pretty girl
who is only craving a cigarette.

Or when there's no salt
left for your potato.

Such a shame what could have been.

jumping the shark

life is miracles & distasters
& some things we're just not sure...
there are servants, there are masters
& some things that never were...

love is delish and delicate
as a rock throw at your face...
lt will hit you calm and gentle
like an elephant fall from space...

Theatre of War

We are dark tonight
but go live again tomorrow.
How I wish the thunder was applause.

I will breathe in deep and hold it.
Think of you, asleep in our bed.
Think of that hair, of those freckled arms.
Of those ankles around another's head...

So I won't care how the shooting goes.

There's not enough whiskey they can serve me.
Not enough aces of spades.
All the dances the dames do
to ease me head--
just head.
Easily forgotten in the sand.

All I need is a photo. A kind word.
I need that blood, so red,
to be blasted out of the mountain.

If we can end it, why not end it?
Isn't destruction just another rebirth?

I only used to be torn...

Now I am hot. And I stink. And I think
that there is more than lack of movement...

And freckled arms, if I never kiss you again,
never see that kid again,
never take those ankles for granted again...
know that I left
knowing there was
so much
more of you I craved,
wanted to soil and worship...

Know that I left hating that I was here.
And not there. Ignoring what I was meant to.

We are dark tonight
but go live again tomorrow.