hot and half gone on her vintage couch (9/2001)

i like the way
my dirty clothes smell
i am a man

i like the way
she moves so softly
and cautiously sure as
i love even more

and the words get me in trouble
wish for my muted double
enjoy the fruit with no seed
nurturing my every need

i've been a love so long
she's been along for novelty
to seem the best way to address
the need to reject my caress

two beers- disappear fears
and i look into her mirrors
and i see me smiling blindly
i'd like to take her home
to meet my mother
floor my peers
but i'm content to lay alone
hot and half gone on her
vintage couch

i say the wrong things.

i say what i feel and
it scares her while
it drives me insane

one more wrongful medicine
make my waking feel good again
at four at six and seven a.m.
it's fine 'till i'm forced to rise again
the talk 'till i'm forced awake again
when spirit guides they hide again
i need the answer from my closest friend
erotic then hot then cold again

message to the living

i don't know the night is over
until i puke
then the dreams begin
frustrated self-mutated
when i choke
sea water themes
again

the times grow subtle as
the envy
leaves and i attend the
lessons in my mind
just briefly
then the stars fall from
the
wonder

will the never-ending seem
a day too long
like lovers on the sunday
-friday night seems
dragging through the straw
never seek that place
again
but given that will-time
will you won't
look into his face again
or bury in her
shroud
that pride you flaunt
message back to
the living
message says it'll all just
be okay
message back to the
living
words struggle concieling this
bold shape
nothing new but starbelles
neck breaking and all
just bend to find
the heroics left sea shells
sand and lightning strike
birthdays and gifts
behind

come see 'bout me star shine
your mother's infantile
glows and grows a
year
since we buried the
life line
telephone and adder
attic stairs
'till we smell
the roses in the
spring time
-the spices in the
mean time we'll
make the most of
dream time
mosquitos and the
moonshine

painted black again
but as the song
cries
not for long

beached in jersey (10/02)

one more for
the shore
to the unsure

unraveling here a diary
of short range
memory
and long lost loves
regained
for one night
also
the feelings inspired
where in
only guesses lay blankets
as clues for them
and a warm
coat check for
mine.

blanketed
and real estate
i return us now
to
her theme
she, who moves with
so many faces through
my dreams
and my spilled reality

i selfishly dress her
i apply the lipstick
and blue shade to eyes
with no consulting
no care for the wishes
of tonights cold canvas
well none 'till later
i confess
-only kindling to her
fire
only wishing to inspire
her love to find me
next
seeking soft caress

and i may scratch
as junkies would
when all is well for
three hours of night
or i may write
as vagrants do
on dead wood doors where
i hide from sight
but now i wail
as sperm whales cry
when beached and under
threatening skies
or i may sit
and wait a while
as i have done
and can still do.

action (11/02)

moist after dawn comes
red days of blister red
time consumes all love vines
can you
show me where the
action is
lead me to my cigarette

three chains where love is
growing
cold after truth sets in
never love the path again
can we share with
all the love some sense-
a-bility is awakened slowly

can you
show me where the action is
blister red the cigarette
time just is as loves forget

make me feel like Boulder, CO (2/94)

i don't know if i've ever come up with
more clever rhymes to enter
the keyhole of my mind
but this will serve fine as an introduction to this
one time announcement meant for that
special no-one

it's like i'm living
in a broken down town and
the only things running
are running from me
running from this or this one,
i yell and jump and scream
and still they run

but this is perfect,
once again tasting my shoe i'm
left with the same
solution
just shut your mouth boy
she's sweet yeah
but not for my teeth

but that sweet tooth jones was coming on
and coming on to take me over, run me down
feelings like
now i exist in
every eye of every child
running from me in every
ghost town

once i thought it would calm me down
let me hang
but now those strings are
loose conversations
and written with too much
interruption
this
word corruption must now serve
as the only badge that sheriff wore
shot dead in the head trying to
save old Mr. Johnson's store,
poor poor poor wait-
i see another door

underneath my back on this cold floor
the dreamers weave and the weavers dream
and all of this in a swirling of violet
while every other page
they rage
and stab me in the gut some nights

so fuck you and the
muse which tried to fool me
and the things which were in you but falling short
and those which were in me all along
recognizing the mirror in some songs
some of fear
some of love
some of suicide

forgive
these senseless dribblings scattered
riddles like refugee camps built
underneath exits of
super information highways
run down possum on a country byway
and hey little kitty
come on down my way

come on down honey
or is it too flowery

too truthfully sickening to
make you not skip town

remember my ghost town
with it's millions of buildings
and the millions of killings which haunt
me
keep me company in this solitary
gets me done in a cell made for one
yeah
there's a cot in the corner but
sometimes baby this cat is a goner
so please c'mon over
laydown beside me
get lost inside me
you'll not have to hide me see
i've already taken care of that
so why not try me
try and understand me to
night would be dandy
once vacant cool room with
bed couch and stereo
flourescent purple light

come throw rocks at the window
make everything alright

sometimes i feel like the son of god
and i sometimes feel predictable
and sometimes feel i'm moving slow so
shift my gears and off i go

leaving another handle flying off.
blowing out one more candle on a
million years worth of birthday cake
and all of this leads to this one bit of info
that i've tried to but just can't fake
that
long long ago
and in a mind diverse but
not so strange
not so lame-
i used to love a girl by that name

stumer

my bed is bleeding black blood
champagne stagnant candy love
three more days
and three more trees
lay fell...spoken draft

columns of christmas less
plaster scene cheer
erase all withholdings 'till now
now will shed the light
down anyhow

and humbled when whispers
that i don't know why
and don't know the next
line until she stops by-
i don't know a passage
proven safe over time
to ensure the carriage
of these lines

the crippled lay beating their
canes into clay that
stares upward at a
concrete sky
-the man made skirt that
holds minerals down
is the blanket for all who
seek depth through
glory dirt

the ones who use silk to
bind fast their old shirts

street urchin flames

soft like sunflowers before now
hushed, thick lips pout wet
for a lover's touch
i before, like no man hurried
sprung into an active affection
by that call,
-left this heart of darkness
at her feet.

as sailors gave
to drag the bottom
i give now
as sailors knew
to return home then
i yet know not.
still i give the smallest of
my soul
the bucket to that ocean pour
away my weathered sleeves now...
-called away i left the theatre
and none of them are home with me
none of us sleep well now.

i said before, may my bloodied back
painted like
street urchin flames,
give answers if you seek to know
tells stories
if you wish to dig
the cities up of -no
wait, it's like
the pictures that are flashes,
the psychic and the mis-fired pulses
the images i know and love and
the ones that tie my mind up,
they're scratched into me like
ink on skin,
like cities on the rivers of whip scars
tiny places filled with many hours
of dreams.

i play host as i live inside,
i create them all between first light
and sunrise,
tiny places filled with many hours of dreams.