it’s getting dark out
and damned
if i hadn’t
been able
to shake that
all day
(1997)
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and damned
if i hadn’t
been able
to shake that
all day
(1997)
stainless pain
un-endearing
and harmless
i’ve yet to hold your
postmortem smile
and feel the darkness
shine through your teeth
and it makes me want
to kiss you
breathless
(1997)
i’ve got a tremendous
gorge of rocks
beside me
waiting to hurl them
through anyone comes close
and i close my eyes
wondering
waiting
for the steel knives
in my back
to grow dull
pleading with myself
to take a bath or
buy some flowers
but the guilt
and my sadness
is even too much
for me
to realize that
whatever it is
or was
or has been
is just a violent movie
i’ve seen
too many times
(1997)
i am
tattooing the shine
of absent light
upon your darkened
eyebrows
(1997)
he bites down
hard
on the steel rod
between his lips
tears on his forehead
as he tries
to wave
that
trains whistle blow
while
slow melodic notes
fade out
in his bruised fingertips
and
under the vacant light outside
i can still pick up
that perfect slur
in his voice
(1997)
in a ravine
on my way home
from her house
(1997)
give away your books
save the art
or burn it
resort to the familiar
then trash what’s left
(1997)
five years old
burning giant
moaning statue
writing songs
about children
laying awake at night
(1997)
and to the people
that matter most
he says
we don’t
but with a smile
drawn across his face
like somethin’
tellin’ him
we were next
he says
the things we sacrifice
the things we sacrifice
(1997)
and then there’s you
so gorgeous
and innocent
and beautiful
at the same time
and your long eyelashes
carry the grief
the dead and death
you’ve passed
stepped over
like
dodging cracks
in the pavement
and all that silence
sitting still
VIOLENT words in your head
as you smile
(1997)
we are scurvy ridden
bottom dwellers
searching through
shit sand and solace
for an at once
memorabilia
a cotton fold napkin
with enough space
to
write a poem
(1997)
the essence of using words
(1997)
smoke infested war ships
closer to us
than the horizon
as fire engine sinkers
and thousands’a beached
torpedo strikers
are on their way
straight from world war II
and as we leave
the three of us
in attempt to escape
the thousands’a headlights
and head lamps
comes searching fast
for what’s left
as we hold the master plan
in suitcase
treachery in our step
we gently stand
to fight by way
of the tennis shoe
our war
and theirs
together
(1997)
he pats my shoulder
i never
listen
to my friend’s
poetry
(1997)
are dark and cold
the tears from your eyes
are wonderful
(1997)
(1997)
BLOWN!
and the sun
is masking the seaside
with her gorgeous
hazel eyes
glassed over
with a mirror like
inferno
and as it burns
and lights the road
for the road side
observers
i sit fixated
that this set
of circumstances
comes like waves
hot air
as it blows
and cools down
the long
drive
home
(1997)
one step behind
tripping on my own
(1997)
know the rhythm
pat attention to your math
tend to the details
bit by bit
(1997)
too often emmerced
somewhere between
splashing water
and drowning
in it
(1997)
came as black-eyed susans
found light
in the midst of kansas
my soul was as young
as pickens go
lord have mercy
read the signs
i was touring hospitals when
my cousin and i
found new light
in blue lips
how nightgowns nurtured
what seemed like an accident
at first
(1997)
take a break
if that’s
what you need
(1997)
obsolete
in the big picture
just easing the hinges
on the old hardwood doors
when they bury us
(1996)
i can’t decide
could be me
but i think he died
(1995)
i descend onto the night
in shades of spades
and gleams of light
(1995)
bored and incoherent
lazy and ritual
beat and pulse
the page away
this is mine
(1995)
